Polka King Page 10

  It’s not every day that a country bumpkin like me is welcomed into the music industry’s inner circle, so I flew to Los Angeles two days before the show in order to soak up as much atmosphere as possible. The night before the ceremony, I was invited to a cocktail party where virtually all of the guests were nominees and I met everybody—Paul Simon, Bruce Hornsby, Andre Previn, Jim Henson, Ronnie Milsap, Doc Watson, and Doc Severinsen (who lived just outside of Florida), to name a few. I don’t think too many of these folks knew who the heck I was (for that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them knew anything about my genre beyond “Beer Barrel Polka”), but they were all gracious and kind, and made me feel like I belonged.

  Up until the morning of the show, I wasn’t too concerned about whether or not I’d take home the award, but from the moment I woke up until the moment the award was announced at the chilly Shrine Auditorium, one thought kept running through my head: Am I gonna win? Am I gonna win? Am I gonna win? I didn’t have my heart set on winning, but if I did, well, I sure wouldn’t complain. It turned out Eddie and I garnered an equal number of votes, so we both took home a trophy, and I loved that. As far as I was concerned, every polka nominee should get a Grammy.

  As I walked up the aisle toward the stage (shivering the whole way because it had to be sixty degrees in there), it dawned on me that virtually all of the other award winners had thanked God for helping get them to this point. So after I went through my list of acknowledgments, I wrapped it up by saying, “Finally, like everybody else here tonight, I’d like to thank the Lord for helping me win this award . . . but I’d also like to ask him if he could turn down the air conditioner.” It brought down the house.

  The following year, 1987, I got the nod for Please Have Them Play a Polka Just for Me, one of my first recordings with The Jordanaires. (That’s The Jordanaires, as in Elvis Presley’s background vocalists. More about them later.) That was an especially enjoyable outing because it featured some newer tunes, recent additions to the book such as “Cajun Creole,” “Cedar Stump,” and “Scolding Mother.” Eddie got another nomination for Let’s Celebrate Again. Our competition was Lenny Gomulka and Dick Pillar for their sharp album In Polka Unity, Walt Groller’s terrific Polkamatic, and Polka Mania from former Starr Records artists the Kryger Brothers. This time I managed to get a few more votes than Eddie and took home a Grammy that I didn’t have to share.

  Jimmy accepting one of his Grammy Awards.

  In 1988 my set Born to Polka was nominated, a record that, like Please Have Them Play . . . , featured some newer songs like “Sweet Rosie Kowalski,” “Polish and So Proud,” and “The Devil’s Fiddle.” Lenny Gomulka and his own band, Chicago Push, were honored for Join the Polka Generation, an album that it saddens me to say is currently out of print. (I have my own copy, thank you very much. If you promise to return it to me in perfect condition, I might even lend it to you.) Joining us were Jimmy Weber and the Sounds with Sounds from a Polka Party, Stas Bulanda’s Average Polka Band with Let’s Have a Party—apparently 1988 was a good year for parties—and Walter Ostanek and his Band’s All Aboard, It’s Polka Time. Known as Canada’s “Polka King,” Walter is one of the best, and topping him for the award was kind of bittersweet. (If I’m being honest, though, it was a little more sweet than bitter!)

  Walter and I were up against each other again the following year; I had All in My Love for You, and he had Any Time Is Polka Time. Our competition was Gene Mendalski and the G-Men and the raucous Moldie Oldie Golden Goodies, Gordon Hartmann and his cleverly named Polkaholic, and Penn Ohio Polka Pals Souvenir Edition by, you guessed it, the Penn Ohio Polka Pals. Those were four excellent, excellent recordings, and I was frankly surprised that I pulled that one out, but I was also ecstatic to have my third Grammy.

  The year 1992 saw a showdown between me and my friendly rivals, Eddie Blazonczyk with All Around the World, and Jimmy Weber with Sounds from the Heart. The other two groups were the Polka Family Band and Toledo Polkamotion, a band that sounded good both in and out of Ohio. Before the show, I figured that at this point, the Grammy voters might be sick of me, so I fully expected Eddie to snatch up the award. But, surprisingly, I did it again! I suspect that it had something to do with the fact that the album, Live at Gilley’s!, was, as you might guess from the title, recorded in concert. It’s not every day you come across a live polka album from Gilley’s.

  In 1992 for the first time, I didn’t win the Grammy for which I was nominated, even though the album, Sturr It Up, featured “The Greatest Day in Baseball,” a song I really liked. (Not that I don’t like all my songs, mind you, but anytime I can do something that involves baseball is extra special.) Walter Ostanek took that year’s award . . . and the next . . . and the next. Everybody says it’s an honor just to be nominated—and it was, it was!—but when I Love to Polka earned me the 1995 Grammy, well, I have to admit that it felt pretty good to win again.

  The Grammy nominations were announced during the winter months, which meant that I was generally down south in the state of Florida. After 1995 for nomination day, I got into the habit of getting a bunch of friends together and hitting a restaurant in Jupiter called Jetty’s for the big announcement. We’d eat and drink, and I’d stare at my cell phone, waiting for Gussie to call and say either “Congratulations!” or “You didn’t make it.” No matter how often I got “Congratulations!” it never got old; for that matter, it actually got more exciting every year.

  I won the next three in a row—’96, ’97, and ’98—for, respectively, Polka! All Night Long, Living on Polka Time, and Dance with Me, and while it’s impossible to pick my favorite Grammy—it’s like picking your favorite child—these were among the top five. They were such fun albums to make because they featured guest appearances by some of my favorite musicians of all time—Willie Nelson and Bill Anderson to name two—but also because the competition was at such a high level. Eddie, Lenny, Walter, and Frankie were among the usual suspects, and they were at the top of their games, believe me. I honestly thought the 1999 award deservedly went to Brave Combo, a hip group from Texas that brought a harder rock feel to the polka party.

  Between 2000 and 2008 the award for Best Polka Album was taken home by either Brave Combo or yours truly, with Combo winning in 2000 and 2004. (I wasn’t actually nominated in 2005, which I found odd, because I felt like my 2004 album, Rock ’n’ Polka—which featured the likes of Lee Greenwood, Duane Eddy, Willie Nelson, and Alison Krauss helping me cover such rock, pop, and soul classics as “Splish Splash,” “Personality,” “Fun, Fun, Fun,” “Don’t Be Cruel,” and “Since I Met You Baby”—was my best one of the 2000s. But you can’t get nominated every year, I guess.) Chronologically, my albums that were honored were called Polka! All Night Long, Touched by a Polka, Gone Polka, Top of the World, Let’s Polka ’Round, Shake, Rattle and Polka!, Polka in Paradise, Come Share the Wine, and Let the Whole World Sing, and each had a special place in my heart.

  Fans and reporters all over the world have asked me if the process ever got boring or repetitive, and my answer is always a resounding, emphatic no. It took a long time and a lot of hard work, long bus rides to shows performed at tiny venues for only a handful of people, and more self-promotion than I care to discuss. But when you have tangible proof that the music industry is paying attention not just to you but to the music you’ve lived and breathed for your entire career, well, that could never get boring.

  For reasons that were never made clear to me, NARAS eliminated the Best Polka Album award after the 2008 ceremonies. Right now, after a couple years of being shifted from one genre to another, we’re lumped into the category for Best Regional Roots Music. In 2011 my record Not Just Another Polka was nominated, but instead of sharing the honor with the likes of Lenny, Walter, and Brave Combo, I was up against two Zydeco greats, C.J. Chenier and Steve Riley, a Hawaiian guitar virtuoso named George Kahumoku Jr., and the eventual winner, New Orleans’s wonderful Rebirth Brass Band. When I heard the nominees, I knew that wou
ld be the end. There’s no way that a polka artist—any polka artist—could compete against a hugely popular, hugely visible group like Rebirth, or an accessible, popular artist like C.J. I’m still disappointed that polka probably won’t have its own Grammy category ever again, but when I’m feeling down about it, all I need to do is look at those eighteen awards displayed behind the bar in my living room, and think about how lucky I am.

  Postscript #1: After that first Grammy Award, calls started pouring in from major booking agents who’d likely never thought about hiring a polka band in their lives, and while I don’t have official statistics, I’d estimate that over the twelve months after I won my first Grammy, I played twice as many shows as the year before. We played fairs all across the country, fairs that, until I brought home that statue, had probably never heard of me.

  For example, there was an agency in Ohio called Variety Attractions that started landing me jobs as far west as North and South Dakota. I mean, while I was playing all those shows up and down the East Coast, I never dreamed that the band would get beyond Illinois, let along the Midwest and beyond.

  The venues got bigger, the crowds got louder, and the shows, if I can brag a little bit, got even better. Those Grammy trophies sure look shiny and pretty up on the shelves above the little bar in my living room, but as beautiful as they are, the most important thing about winning those awards is that it gave my career a boost that I’ll be feeling until the day I hang up my clarinet and sax.

  Postscript #2: I might get in trouble for saying this, but what the heck . . .

  I believe part of the reason that NARAS dissolved the Best Polka Album category was because it didn’t want a polka artist to be the biggest Grammy winner of all time. (As of this writing, I’m number six on the list.) Before polka was melded with the Regional Roots Album category in 2011, we spent a couple years with the folk albums, and NARAS’s reasoning for that was thin at best: It claimed that there weren’t enough polka entries to merit a category. Now if you go into my basement, look at my record collection, and see how many polka albums were released in 2008, 2009, or whatever year it was that this backroom decision was made, you’d realize that that’s plain ridiculous.

  Much to my surprise, and probably much to somebody’s chagrin, I earned a Best Contemporary Folk nomination in 2009. Even though I didn’t win, I feel that somebody in the NARAS braintrust thought, “We can’t have this Sturr fella getting another award. Let’s lump him in with Roots. He’ll have no chance to get nominated there.”

  Shows what they knew.

  In 2010 they stuck me in with the pop artists, which was so absurd, I had to say something. I gave NARAS a call and, after being passed around to about four different secretaries, I finally found the right person. “Why am I in with the Lady Gagas of the world?” I asked.

  “Well, Mr. Sturr, um, you see, the committee feels that your music is too smooth to fit in with the folkies.”

  “Too smooth?” I asked.

  “Yes. Too smooth.”

  There’s no such thing as smooth polka. Polka is raucous and jagged and exciting and fun. That was just a convenient excuse. I know they were lying because I had friends who were members of NARAS, and they were given the opportunity to cast their ballots for other polka records in the Contemporary Folk category.

  I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again: I may be a country bumpkin, but don’t ever try to pull the wool over my eyes. If you don’t want me to win another Grammy, just tell me. I’ll be a bit sad, but it won’t stop me from making records and trying to make those records into the best records they can be.

  14

  Causing More Trouble

  I might have ruffled a few feathers with that little Grammy rant in the previous chapter, and if you were offended or upset about anything I said, I apologize, especially if you’re a NARAS voter who has nothing to do with the big decisions that affect how the awards are given out. But now I’m going to make some waves in my neck of the woods.

  In the interest of accuracy, here’s what the International Polka Association (IPA) has to say about itself. And the text below comes directly from its website (www.internationalpolka.com) so the association won’t be able to complain about being misquoted or misrepresented:

  The concept of a national polka convention had been developed and pioneered originally in Chicago. From the popular yearly moonlight dances starting in 1960, which attracted thousands of polka lovers from all sections of the United States and Canada – the first polka convention emerged in 1963. This developed into the International Polka Convention which was presented each succeeding year in Chicago, Detroit and Buffalo, New York.

  In January, 1968 a steering committee comprised of Johnny Hyzny, Leon Kozicki, Joe and Jean Salomon, Eddie Blazonczyk and Don Jodlowski met to discuss plans for the next convention. After a series of meetings they began preparations for the formation of the International Polka Association. The Association was officially chartered by the State of Illinois as a “not for profit” corporation and was registered with the County of Cook (Chicago) in August of 1968.

  Since 1968 the International Polka Festival has been presented under the auspices of the International Polka Association. The delegates to the 1968 Convention approved the establishment of the Polka Music Hall of Fame and the presentation of annual Polka Music Awards.

  As stated in its charter, the International Polka Association was organized as: “An educational and charitable organization for the preservation, promulgation and advancement of polka music and; to promote, maintain and advance public interest in polka entertainment; to advance the mutual interests and encourage greater cooperation among its members who are engaged in polka entertainment; and to encourage and pursue the study of polka music, dancing and traditional folklore.”

  The International Polka Association presents many special awards each year to encourage the promotion of polka music. Through the efforts of the IPA, the month of January has been proclaimed as National Polka Music Month and the annual festival has served as a show place for new, deserving polka talent. Many functions under the auspices of the IPA are presented in various states, a weekly radio program has been established and a monthly news bulletin keeps the members informed of the business affairs of the Association, as well as polka related events and news from across the country.

  The International Polka Association is also responsible for the continued operation and growth of the Polka Music Hall of Fame and Museum. It is through this branch that the Association has been able to continue its historical, educational and research goals on behalf of the polka music industry.

  In spite of the fact that I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to raise polka awareness, to the International Polka Association, I’m a black sheep. Unlike my old radio nemesis, the Irish-fearing Ron Kurowski, the IPA doesn’t care that I’m not Polish. In this case, the association’s issue with me is my style of music. According to the IPA, its style is the only style. As noted, Midwestern polka and Northeastern polka are radically different schools of thought, but that shouldn’t mean they can’t coexist, right? Not according to the IPA.

  The association also takes issue with my choice to mine other genres for interesting songs and incorporate these non-polka tunes into our repertoire. Now, I’m all for traditionalism, but not everybody likes traditional polka, and this kind of attitude might exclude people who can’t decide whether or not they want to take the polka plunge. The International Polka Association is entitled to its opinion, of course, but what sense does it make for a musical subculture like ours to snipe at one another? Wouldn’t it be more productive if we all pulled in the same direction? Snobbishness or personal preference shouldn’t be a factor in how you run your organization, especially if your organization is one that’s supposed to support the arts. Our only concern should be banding together and figuring out how to build and nurture the largest fan base we can.

  To that end, back in the day, I was a big supporter and promoter
of the IPA. From the very beginning of my career, even when I was a kid, I’d talk up the organization at appropriate shows, try to recruit members, and just generally spread the good word. In exchange for all of my good work, I’d receive a halfhearted invitation to perform at its annual convention. Actually, it wasn’t even an invitation—it was a request to submit a bid to perform, meaning IPA wanted to find out how much I’d charge for my services, and if I fit into the budget, maybe, just maybe IPA would consider thinking about deciding whether or not I should possibly be asked to play. Even after filling out the form year after year, I never received a call back.

  At first, I assumed IPA wasn’t responding because my bids were too high, so I asked a bandleader friend of mine who’d played at several of the IPA conventions if he’d feel comfortable telling me the amount of his paycheck. He gladly did, so the next year, I put in a bid below his bid that had been accepted the previous year. Nothing. The next year, I lowered the bid again. Still nothing. The next year, I cut it all the way down to $1,200, which wouldn’t even cover transporting my band from New York to Chicago and back again. Somebody actually phoned me that time . . . to tell me that IPA couldn’t afford it. Being a never-say-die sort, the next year, I told the association that all it would need to do is cover my band’s hotel rooms.

  Again, the answer was no. I may not be the sharpest tool in the onion patch, but if you tell me something over and over again, eventually I’ll get the point.

  I don’t know how or why it happened, but in 1984, I was voted into the IPA Hall of Fame. Again, in the interest of accuracy, here’s what the IPA website has to say about the Hall of Fame: