The signed photo Dorothy Ashby gave to Carol Robbins. (Read more about Dorothy Ashby.)

I was a teenager when I met Dorothy. I had been playing piano since I was a toddler in Chicago and, after moving to Los Angeles, I had started classical harp lessons at age 9. I was playing and singing rock and jazz on both piano and harp. I heard that the great Dorothy Ashby had moved to Los Angeles. How incredibly exciting. If only she would be willing to take me on as a student! I obtained her phone number. She was staying with her husband, John, at Hotel Drake in Santa Monica. I gathered the courage to call her. I told her who I was and related my extreme admiration of her. I timidly asked whether there was any chance she would be willing to teach me.

She sounded formal and polite but understandably wary. She agreed to let me come to the hotel, but she made it abundantly clear that this could very well be just a single meeting. She said she “really didn’t teach,” but she “could let me come for only an hour.” It did not sound overly encouraging, but, despite my rather retiring personality, I wanted this very much. When it came to my music, I was able to persevere.

At last the moment of meeting my musical heroine arrived. She received me politely and invited me in. She was beautifully spoken with a low, sonorous voice. She was surprisingly diminutive. I, at 5 feet 4 and a half inches, towered over her. Her husband John was with her, and an old, gold Style 17 harp and an electric piano were in the room.

Our agreed upon hour stretched into three. I played and sang for her. We talked about everything. She accompanied me on the electric piano. She demonstrated things for me on the harp. The hours flew by effortlessly. When it came time to go, I asked her how much to give her for the lesson. She said $10.

Hand-written lesson notes from Robbins’ lessons with Ashby.

These marathon lessons went on weekly for a few months until, one day, she said that she would no longer accept a fee. She wanted me to continue to come to see her but not as a paying student. When I look back, I realize that despite our age difference and disparity in life experience, we had so very much in common musically and personally that she welcomed my company and loved sharing her exemplary gifts with me.

Dorothy and John knew very few people in Los Angeles. My parents invited them to share Christmases and other holidays with our family. They had moved to an apartment in Santa Monica and they eventually rented another one in the same building to have more space. Dorothy had started to do many R&B, jazz, and pop recording sessions in Los Angeles. I remember when she was asked to accompany Stevie Wonder on his ballad “If It’s Magic” on his Songs in The Key of Life record. The song became a classic. Years later, a transcription of her arrangement appeared before me on my music stand when I played with Stevie Wonder at the Hollywood Bowl.

Dorothy also recorded “Portrait of Jenny” with one of my musical heroes Freddie Hubbard on his album Bundle of Joy. I was in the audience with my parents when she played with the jazz trumpeter and his group at the iconic Roxy Theater. This performance was especially memorable because my 21- year-old friend Billy Childs was playing piano. Billy and I had jammed together as teenagers, and I would later become a member of his Grammy Award winning Jazz Chamber Ensemble.

I went to hear Dorothy and her group at Pat Senator’s famous jazz club, Pasquale’s in Malibu. I was transfixed. She took endless solos and, at one point, took her tuning key, tuned a string and made the tuning a part of her solo. She also sat down at the piano and absolutely burned on Horace Silver’s “Nica’s Dream.” She and I had played many times together, she on electric piano and I on harp, but I had never heard her play a real piano with a group in a performance. She had so much skill on the instrument and played so forcefully and effortlessly. I was floored.

Dorothy and John were high school sweethearts, and they married very young. John was a fine writer, but he took up the drums to protect Dorothy from the many dangers, humiliations, and challenges she faced touring the country. I had never experienced deprivation or discrimination, and I was positively gobsmacked by some of the degrading things an artist of her stature had to endure on the road. John and Dorothy wanted very much to educate me about race relations and civil rights. I am grateful to them for broadening my empathy and awareness.

Few of Dorothy’s fans may know that Dorothy was also an accomplished singer. After her untimely death, her husband John brought over a gift for me. It was a 45 record with two songs Dorothy had recorded. She never released it, but John wanted me to hear one of the sides knowing that I would appreciate it. I knew that Dorothy could sing, but I had never heard anything like the rendition she recorded of Giacomo Puccini’s “Un Bel Di.” In her beautiful alto, she nailed the vocal while simultaneously accompanying herself on harp with her jazz trio. It is amazing. I think that Dorothy felt that she had an operatic, classical voice, which wasn’t a good fit for jazz. Bt I love the rendition, and it works for me. It swings, and it marries two genres perfectly. John shared with me that Dorothy was unhappy with the other side of the 45 and would not have wanted me to hear it. He and I together, respecting her wishes, scratched that side, and I have never heard it.

Dorothy and I shared a love for language. She wrote beautifully in a neat, pretty hand. Her meticulous writing also appears in her music manuscripts. She loved words as I do, and we both studied foreign languages.

One particular memory I cherish is a duo concert Dorothy and I prepared and performed together. We played it one afternoon for an audience at my parents’ home. Jazz Singer Carmen McRae happened to live down the street. My parents didn’t know her, but Dorothy did. She came to hear us. I felt so very honored that Dorothy wanted to share a performance with me. It was just the two of us with our harps—a unique musical collaboration with my friend and mentor.

One day when I arrived at Dorothy’s apartment, she presented me with a copy of her publicity photo autographed especially for me. She had written: “Very best to Carol, a great harpist. Love, Dorothy Ashby.” I didn’t ask her for this, but she wanted to give it to me. She had played a major role in the development of my musicianship. I like to think that this gift was her way of expressing her pride and approval of me.

I knew very early that music would be my life. I had the great fortune to have been mentored by my musical heroine. She didn’t have to give me 10 minutes, let alone years of her time, care, and guardianship. For some reason only known to her, she let me and my family in and steadfastly continued to be my friend, champion, and advocate. I will always be grateful to her and also to her husband John who also generously offered advice and support. We lost Dorothy way too soon. I can’t honor her enough, and I will never forget her.

About Dorothy Ashby

Jazz harpist Dorothy Ashby (1932–1986) built her early music career in Detroit after graduating from Cass Technical High School and Wayne State University. She performed in Detroit and recorded a number of albums both as a lead and a side musician, including the Hip Harp (1958) and Afro-Harping (1968). Ashby and her husband, John, relocated to Los Angeles where she played with many of the top musicians of the day, most famously on Stevie Wonder’s “If It’s Magic” on his Songs in the Key of Life album. Ashby became one of the most influential jazz harpists of the 20th century before her untimely death from cancer at the age of 53.