We're saddened to share that Dr. Martin Berger, beloved History Professor Emeritus at Youngstown State University and host of the jazz program, Now’s the Time on WYSU for an incredible 53 years, passed away in April. In agreement with Martin and his wife Louisa, we're excited to continue broadcasting his program as an encore presentation of Now’s the Time with Martin Berger. We have also gathered heartfelt remembrances of Martin from his friends, James Rogers, and Lowell and Ellen Satre, to celebrate his legacy:
Martin and Me by James Rogers
For the lucky ones, there are those who come into our lives who remind us how important connections are. No one gets out alive, and no one navigates our time allotted on this rock without others to help guide us and inspire us. In turn, we do the same for them. Call me lucky for having Martin Berger show up on my timeline years ago.
I begin with the end. That being the memorial service for Martin, when Louisa, Martin's widow, began her remarks. She started with the lyrics to a song by jazz vocalist Dave Frishberg titled "You Are There." It gave me the chills. Not many are familiar with the artist, and when Louisa recited the words I was transported to the Berger's kitchen one morning. I stopped by for some reason and mentioned I heard a thought provoking tune by the artist on WYSU's jazz show recently. Both of them started naming other tunes by him. Not sure why I was surprised by their acquaintance with such poetry. I label it high art, another connection made.
Full disclosure here: this is my second article about my friend since he died. How many people get a second bite of the apple for a remembrance? When the person you are memorializing is a character like Martin, you keep pulling on new threads to share. The title of my first piece seen on Facebook was titled "Martin (MacGyver) Berger, and All That Jazz."
When I use the word "character," I have in mind a straight man comic in the mold of the late Bob Newhart. Martin's dry wit and timing, combined with understated minimalism, attracted me to him. Those who spent time with him knew he was well read, but he always left them laughing. I prided myself on being able to get a smile from him, like the time I gave him a small gift from a Unitarian Universalist annual convention known as GA (General Assembly). The button read "I Need a Nap." I gave the same button to my dad. They both are napping now. Pure Martinesque.
"Martin was a jewel. I was glad I was able to tell him how invaluable his jazz program was to me!" - James Weidman
Mr. Weidman was an undergraduate at YSU with the Dana School of Music's jazz studies program when I met him. He is now a renowned jazz pianist with recordings of his own, like many others from that program. When I contacted him about Martin's death, I told him the professor was a fan. Now's The Time was a jazz program Martin hosted for many years on WYSU. Jazz musicians and jazz lovers like myself would listen to hear the best of the genre and also to learn the history of the artists. Martin did his research and shared hidden facts abouts the musicians and the times they lived in. The show was another outlet for him to teach.
My friend had three Saab cars—one orange, one black and another one silver. The man was not a fan of American automobiles, and this brings up memories of the old NPR show, Car Talk that we both enjoyed listening too. Yes, Martin was a bit of a motor head too, and I'm sure he did his research on cars the way he did on facts about history. When I lived on the Northside of Youngstown years ago, I was without a car once and Martin pulled in my driveway with the orange classic Saab for me to use as long as I needed it. When I asked him why, he said, "Because, I know you need a car." Then there was the time he gave me a ride to the airport in the black Saab. He shared with me a new CD of his by another jazz studies graduate of the Dana School of Music. Sean Jones is another local talent who made it big. That day, my memory is of Martin bebopping his head with a smile to the notes of the trumpet like he was in a trance. When I got home from my trip, I bought the CD.
I saw him twice before the end. My first visit was at the hospital when he was weak, but able to carry on a conversation. Considering what was going on, that visit was special, and I will treasure it. We seemed to go along memory lane that day as we shared our deep, meaningful connections. I reminded him that he was at my retirement party from the public library in January of 2018. It was during a heavy snowfall, but Martin and a few other members of UUYO were present. He was impressed by the Shiner Bock beer I served that day. We both are finicky about our brew.
My last visit to see him was at the care facility the day before he died. As he lay there, unable to speak and opening his eyes from time to time to see who was with him, my mind went to what he meant to me personally, someone who could let you know tomorrow could be better than today. By his bedside, I noticed a portable CD player with music of the great baritone saxophone player, Gerry Mulligan. Of course, the next day I posted music by the late artist. Martin had a doctorate in history from Columbia University, but along the way he picked up another one in being a decent human being. I love him in so many ways.
-James Rogers
A Tribute by Lowell and Ellen Satre
We were friends, neighbors, and a history department colleague of Martin Berger for his whole time in Youngstown, Ohio. We listened to his jazz program, Now's the Time on WYSU-FM for decades. On occasion, we'd be startled when Martin's quiet, measured voice would break into our darkened bedroom as we nodded off late at night. It was not unusual for us to stop at the Bergers' for a visit, only to find that Martin was "at YSU doing a program." Even if he came home from that task fussing about some technological glitch at the station, Martin never, repeat NEVER, considered quitting his volunteer gig. He was totally devoted to his passion for jazz. In his last days, Martin wanted to make sure that his collection and his jazz program would live on.
-Lowell and Ellen Satre