Reed His Lips: A Baltimore native who died in 2001, Larry Adler (left) elevated the mouth organ, or harmonica, to new heights and played in some of the world's grandest concert halls. (Archival file photo)

Virtually everyone in Baltimore’s Jewish community — well, everyone over a certain age — knows that Cass Elliot, the late singer from The Mamas and The Papas, grew up as Ellen Naomi Cohen in the Forest Park neighborhood. Folks here also generally know that such musical icons as Frank Zappa, Cab Calloway, Eubie Blake and Billie Holiday got their starts in Charm City.

But one of the most successful musicians and entertainers to come from these parts was someone whose name not many Baltimoreans today are familiar with — Larry Adler.

Arguably the world’s leading virtuoso of the mouth organ (he absolutely loathed the term harmonica), Adler enjoyed a prolific career spanning from the late 1920s to the start of the 21st century, playing with everyone from Rudy Vallee and George Gershwin to Elton John and Sting.

Adler elevated his humble, much-maligned instrument to new heights, performing in some of the world’s grandest and most opulent concert halls before presidents, prime ministers and royalty.

Not too shabby for a Jewish plumber’s son from West Baltimore who got thrown out of the Peabody Conservatory.

I had the distinct honor of interviewing Adler when he performed with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, three years before his death in August of 2001. He was 84 at the time but had lost none of his vitality, showmanship and skills as a performer. The man could still blow.

Adler was living in England, an expatriate and refugee of the McCarthy era since the early ’50s, but he came back to his hometown every now and then for a performance. He didn’t particularly like returning to Baltimore, he told me, because he was still haunted by the scrapes he got into as a kid with anti-Semitic thugs.

As an interviewee, Adler was a sheer delight, quite generous with his time and regaling me with incredible stories of his dalliances with starlets of the ‘40s (Ingrid Bergman? Ilsa?!) and rubbing elbows with America’s greatest musical luminaries.

His assessment of the “Chairman of the Board,” Frank Sinatra? “A real S.O.B., but there’s no denying his talent was a prodigious one.” His take on the iconic folk-rock singer and Nobel Prize winner Bob Dylan: “It should be illegal for him to even play or own a harmonica! He’s awful!”

But at one point during our interview in the restaurant at the Harbor Court Hotel (now the Royal Sonesta), Adler became rather distracted. I looked behind me and saw a group of attractive young women being seated at a nearby table. “Must be a bachelorette party,” surmised the BSO marketing rep sitting with us.

Immediately, Adler stood up and excused himself. Though a bit frail and wobbly, he strolled over to the nearby table of women and inquired which one was the bride-to-be. A woman nervously raised her hand. Adler congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials and asked if he could offer a little gift for the special occasion. She blushed but nodded, hesitantly.

Adler then reached into the inside pocket of his navy blue blazer and produced a large, shiny chromatic harmonica. He proceeded to perform a stunning, captivating rendition of Gershwin’s “The Man I Love,” with all of the bistro’s patrons stopping their conversations to listen in rapt silence. When Adler finished the impromptu performance a few minutes later, the entire place erupted in wild applause.

Like a courtly gentleman, Adler kissed the young woman’s hand and returned to our table, with the BSO rep suddenly standing up and announcing to everyone within earshot that they had just heard a performance by one of the century’s premier musicians.

It was a magical, transcendent moment, like a scene from a movie.

Larry Adler understood that the spirit of giving goes well beyond making a financial donation, buying a trinket or purchasing a gift card for someone. It’s also about lifting up someone else’s spirits and helping them discern a ray of light and hope in a world that often appears dark, cold and uncaring. He shared his gift of musical genius to celebrate someone else’s good fortune and happiness, and in the process touched all of us who were present.

That’s what the meaning of giving is all about. In our annual “Giving Issue” this month, we offer stories about those in our community who consistently donate their time, expertise and talents in the name and spirit of tikkun olam, the mission of repairing our fractured world.

We salute their efforts and thank them for their service to others. That’s what giving is truly all about.

Sincerely,

Alan Feiler, Editor-in-Chief

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