Article from July 1998

As featured in July 1998

Roy Eaton

Award-Winning Pianist Draws Energy and Inspiration from Challenges

By Vincent F.A. Golphin

Scales. One musical note after another. Sounds piling on top of each other. They form the basics of what we call music.

Every culture has its combination of sounds with which artists perpetually paint portraits of special moments or emotions such as love or hate. Roy Eaton favors the classics, sounds that withstand the test of time.

To say that he is a classical pianist hides his trademark versatility and energy. At 68, a graying afro contrasts against the brightness and freshness in his brown eyes, ivory smile and trim five-foot, eight-inch frame. He looks younger. Some attribute that to 30 years of transcendental meditation and the use of Ayurvedic (herbal) medicine. Eaton says it's a by-product of a deep, abiding spiritual nature.

He turned to meditation and alternative medicine in 1968 as part of a recovery process after a near fatal 1957 car crash. But he is quick to assert they run a long second to unwavering faith in God. "The spiritual strength was fostered by my mother," he said.

Bernice Eaton died last January, but throughout most of her son's life attended Presbyterian churches and was also inspired by the teachings of Unity, a movement based on a metaphysical understanding of the teaching of Christ and other spiritual masters.

In 1957, as Eaton lay in a coma with only a one-in-ten chance of survival, he said his mother told doctors she would give God that single opportunity. He said she prayed: "The light of God surrounds you. The love of God enfolds you. The power of God protects you. The presence of God watches over you. Wherever you are, God is." It was a Unity "affirmation" he said she used in that tragic moment and shared with others the rest of her life.

Eaton came out of the coma after eight days. Immediately he found he desperately needed his mother's spiritual strength and God's blessings. His wife of 10 months, Margaret Booker, was killed in the head-on collision. He had to rebuild his own physical and mental skills.

Eaton said he knew it would be a long journey back to his old self. The doctors never expected him to come out of the coma. He had no idea how the tragic turn of fate that forced him to fight to survive would transform his life.

He set his foot on the path. Determination became his companion. Faith was the food.

Eaton said his interest in Transcendental Meditation and Ayurvedic healing were outgrowths of a decade-long rise from the edge of death. "Transcendental Meditation gave me a technique proven through about 10,000 years of practice and not necessarily aligned with any traditional spiritual belief," he said. "Christian churches talk about meditation, but they don't tell you how."

There's another factor that accounts for his vigor. Eaton says he keeps his eyes and heart planted on beginnings, not endings. Literally and figuratively, he plays for the long-term. That's why many non-musicians might not quickly recognize his name, but they know his art.

First off, there is the commercial for Beefaroni, a once popular spaghetti product. Baby-boomers grew up with the familiar TV chant from the late '50s to the '70s:

"We're having Beefaroni. It's made with macaroni. Beefaroni's full of meat. Beefaroni's fun to eat. Beefaroni's really neat. Hooray for Beefaroni!"

In 1960, a Texaco jingle he co-wrote became equally popular: "You can trust your car to the man who wears the star, the big, bright Texaco star."

As stated, he goes for long-lasting accomplishments. Some of Eaton's commercials reach a new generation of fans (nostalgia lovers) today through cable television's TV Land Network. The station airs 1950s and 1960s TV series such as Burkes Law with the original ads.

Eaton, who began a career as a classical pianist at age 6, said no one should be surprised he could write commercial jingles. "That Beefaroni jingle is a tarantella," he explained. The commercial was among his first assignments when he came to New York's Young & Rubicam advertising agency. Eaton worked there from 1955 to 1959.

"They told me they were just introducing the product," he recalled. "Franco-American spaghetti, (a competitor) had a product, and Chef Boyardee wanted to make sure people recognized that their product was more authentically Italian." Eaton said a tarantella-a quick, bouncy Italian dance beat in 6/8 time-was a natural to bind the American-made blend of elbow macaroni, ground meat and spaghetti sauce to the across-the-water tradition.

"When I told that to the client, he said, 'No. I don't want to use that. I want to use Yankee Doodle as the tune. Made with beef and macaroni fits that melody perfectly.' I said, 'Yeah, if you want them to think you're making Early American spaghetti, that's fine, but not for this product.' Reluctantly, the client put it on the air and it became a hit for 20 years."

Today, Eaton said he teaches Manhattan School of Music students how to blend the vast and varied legacy of world music with the often crass craft of enticing shoppers. In his 27 years in advertising as a copywriter and composer at Young & Rubicam, and vice president and music director at Benton & Bowles, the pianist won a slew of awards for jingles for products such as Beefaroni, Kent cigarettes and Yuban coffee. He said the Yuban ad jingle was a good example of how musical knowledge can turn a failing product into a money-maker.

General Foods already had a Yuban jingle on the air. "But the product wasn't selling," Eaton said. "The whole idea of having another coffee in the General Foods line was that Yuban was one of the first premium coffees made with dark beans and extra roasting." He said the company had a good line to describe the product — deep, dark, delicious, Yuban — but coffee drinkers were not impressed. He was asked to rewrite the jingle.

Eaton said he wanted to create music to describe a coffee more delicious and satisfying than any other. "To me that was a very colorful and romantic concept," he said. "It was a rich concept and rich to me meant the harmony had to be very intriguing."

The composer reached into his "bag" of musical knowledge and drew inspiration from African-American and European classics. He thought about the harmonies of be-bop, jazz and Richard Wagner.

"My opening melodic interval is a major seventh (which is nontraditional), but with the words was appropriate — deeeeep, daaaark, de-li-ci-ous Yuban. It communicated emotionally what a good cup of coffee could be when it gives you satisfaction."

Eaton said, within two months Yuban coffee became the nation's No. 2-selling brand. "Obviously, that made a difference," he said with a smile.

Despite success, jingles and teaching only pay the freight for what truly floats Eaton's boat — musical classics. Within the last three years he has recorded and released three albums, Joyful Joplin on the Newport Classics label in 1995; Meditative Chopin, a 1996 re-release on the Seventh Wave label of a 1986 Hummingbird recording; and Joplin Piano Rags, a 1997 Sony Classical collection. The music is an audible expression of his family's traits — single-mindedness, endurance and the pursuit of excellence.

His parents were Jamaican immigrants. Even as a girl in rural St. Mary's Province, near Ocho Rios, his mother, Bernice Neil, planned to come to the United States. Between the world wars, at the peak of the cultural renaissance in Harlem, the then-single, young woman got off a boat and headed for what was called Black America's capital.

"She knew that, being black, she would probably have to work as a domestic, so she figured she would make her skills the best that she could," he explained. With an aunt's help, she came to Harlem and worked for a Jewish family in the city's garment district. Eaton said she earned the highest domestic pay. "She was practically the governess of the family."

Even in love. As the country girl boarded a boat in Kingston Harbor to leave Jamaica forever, she met Felix Eaton, a young mechanic from rural Manchester, near Montego Bay. "It was love at first sight," Eaton said. "They corresponded, and when he came here after a couple months, they got married."

Eaton was born in 1930. By that time, his parents were settled into an apartment on Sugar Hill, Harlem's most fashionable neighborhood. The Eaton's building was 375 Edgecomb Avenue, a one-block street between 150th and 155th street. Boxer Joe Louis lived at 381 and scholar/activist Paul Robeson was in 409. The family wasn't rich, but his father's pay as a mechanic was enough to pay the $60-a-month rent.

His parents were of like mind when it came to making it — whatever it takes. "I entered a piano competition when I was 13," Eaton recalled. "We were right in the middle of World War II then, and at the time we had a Mason & Hamlin upright piano." The then-teenager played a Schuman concerto, but the judges suggested he withdraw after the preliminary round because his fingers seemed too weak to handle a grand piano. "My mother said, 'What else can we do? He plays it well at home on the upright.' The judge says, 'That's the problem, you need a grand piano.' So my mother went down to Steinway and found a (grand piano) that was being rebuilt. My father to his dying day couldn't figure out where she got the money." Eaton won the contest.

He recalled his mother's striving speech: "She said, 'You are very bright children, but you're black, and getting 100 percent will not be enough. If you're going to be successful in this world, you have to do 200 percent.'"

The pianist said his life blossomed from "challenges." He said, "The challenge is your opportunity to grow. It's to your benefit."

The now-musician laughed and said, "If I came home with 97, the first thing was, 'What happened to the other 3 percent?'"

That was why the 1950 graduate of City College of New York (magna cum laude) and the Manhattan School of Music earned his Phi Beta Kappa key. It was the push that won him CCNY's Aaron Naumburg Award that allowed him to spend his junior year (1948-49) studying under Edwin Fisher at the University of Zurich and Conservatory of Lucerne in Switzerland. Those opportunities prepared and propelled him toward a graduate fellowship at Yale in 1951 and the completion of a master's degree in piano and conducting at the Manhattan School in 1952. Then, he found himself in a country that didn't know what to do with a black classical musician.

Eaton taught piano at the Manhattan School from 1951 to 1953. He also played concerts. Then, he was drafted. The rest of his unit went to Korea as telephone linesmen. His initiative and a lucky stroke got him assigned to a radio production unit at Fort Dix, New Jersey.

"Before I went into the Army, I went to Washington and saw the head of Special Services," he recalled. "I told him, as his boss (still being a civilian) that I would serve best in some capacity as an entertainer."

Most draftees might not think of telling the Army what they want to do. In surprise at Eaton's boldness or sincerity, the Special Services head gave him the name of a Warrant Officer in charge of the band at Fort Dix. "Lo and behold, it was a man at whose home I stayed in Germany.... He was the warrant officer of a black military band." The man introduced Eaton to the head of the radio station. The classical pianist-turned-soldier started there right after basic training.

"I learned about radio and television and had two concert grand pianos at my disposal to practice," said Eaton, who still begins each day with several hours of playing scales and working on compositions. "I did programs on country music and learned about aspects of music that I had never been interested in before. I would be a disk jockey in the morning or running a quiz show and had to know these things."

He also worked with Arlene Francis on Soldier Parade, which featured talented Army musicians. It was a recruitment program. "I would come to New York about once a month to play the piano."

In 1955, when his tour of duty ended, those experiences opened doors in television. Eaton began as a freelance writer for the then-Dumont Network. "I presented a created program, At Home with Art and Music, which I did as a remote broadcast from the Metropolitan Museum. I programmed baroque music to be played by a live ensemble, while artwork from the period was being shown. I not only wrote but directed the program and called the shots for the camera. It was a wonderful production for radio and television." He also wrote music and art segments for the Home Show with Hugh Downs. The job came through connections with Arlene Francis.

A yearning to do background music for dramatic television shows such as Studio One and Video Playhouse, led him into advertising.

He sent a letter to those programs seeking a chance to tryout. He got a letter from Young & Rubicam, which produced the show. Eaton went to the agency's personnel office and discovered a new challenge.

"He said we do advertising, but with your background you wouldn't be interested in that," Eaton recalled. "I said, 'Hey! I don't know what I would be interested in unless I try it.' In order to get rid of me, he told me, 'Why don't you go home and write some ads.'"

Eaton said his Army experience helped him understand the basics of production. "I went home and timed some ads for television and wrote seven ads over the weekend. Ironically, one of the ads I wrote happened to be identical in concept to an ad then in production for another product." He wrote the ad where the camera pans an Italian festival and zooms in on a single dish for Hunts Tomato Paste. Young & Rubicam needed a commercial for Chef Boyardee's Beefaroni. An agency official asked him to write some jingles. "I went home and wrote 10 of those overnight," Eaton said. "I didn't know you weren't supposed to write them that fast. He liked them."

Within two months the classical musician was hired. "He said he wanted a Jackie Robinson (he was also a baseball fan), so I not only did copywriting, but I had to write music for all of the major products. Eaton's works were featured in commercials for Goodyear, Proctor & Gamble, Johnson & Johnson, Kent cigarettes and Gulf Oil among others.

In 1982, Benton & Bowles (now known as DMB&B) decided to cut its musical department. "My instant response was this was an opportunity to do it myself," Eaton said. He handled the birth of Roy Eaton Music Inc., through which he still writes ads for popular products such as Coca Cola, as forthrightly as every other challenge. It worked.

"I called up Phil Dougherty, the advertising columnist at the New York Times, and told him (this was while I was still at the agency, during my two weeks severance period) I had this great idea for a revolutionary approach to music production. I went down to his office and adlibbed this company. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I got my picture in there with the announcement. Business started rolling in. In my first year, I earned three times the salary I earned at Benton & Bowles."

Since then, he has even moved into acting in commercials. He also casts other musicians for TV ads. None of which has diminished his hopes for a classical career.

At 68, Eaton's life trails a long string of accomplishments, professional and personal. His three sons, born by Minnette Delphin, whom he married in February 1960 and divorced in 1980, are established in their own careers. In their 30s, David is a financial consultant, Daniel is a lawyer and Christopher is a chef. In August 1996, the musician/entrepreneur wed Barbara Pittman, a nurse practitioner and acupuncturist. Her son, Joshua, now Eaton's stepson, is a film student at New York University's Tisch School.

Professionally, Eaton keeps his feet in several camps. He is a key performer in the Gateways Music Festival, a bi-annual gathering that showcases black musicians, composers and directors and their contributions to American music. Also, he plans to keep releasing albums and performing. Each day, another door opens. He seeks a new discovery or inspiration. A second Chopin album, Chopin at Twilight, is slated for release within the next year. On the back burner is an as-yet-untitled collection of Debussy pieces.

The biggest current challenge, he says, is to do more of his own music. He wrote "A Child's Christmas," for a recent Seventh Wave Christmas CD, A Very Green Christmas. That piece and a recent trip to Vietnam have inspired him to work on an album with a different song for each month. "I've gotten about halfway through that," he said. Still, he admits the polishing and perfecting will take years.

Eaton does not downplay his academic and professional accomplishments, but he lives in the moment. "The major part of me is not music," he said. "Music is a primary expression of who I define myself to be. The awareness of who I am is something that has evolved over many years of discipline and study. If I were going to define it in terms of what I do, as our society has a tendency to do things, I would say the one defining act of who I am is the fact that I meditate." Eaton said missing meditation is like not eating for a year.

A sense of peace that flows from his meditations inhabits every aspect of his music and conversation. The calmness in his demeanor makes discussions of challenges more dramatic. In the end, his secret for life is much like he describes the key to a great jingle-C+B=A. Eaton said, "Any goal you can conceive, and believe you can accomplish, you will achieve."

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