On September 23, I lost a person very important to me on many levels. Bob Draga’s passing closed a lengthy chapter of my life. Whether or not you ever heard him, you most likely heard of him. He was larger than life as a musician, humorist, and entertainer. A self-professed disciple of Pete Fountain, he left his impression on many young musicians who came across him, especially clarinetists. For a couple of high-profile examples, you almost never hear an improvised solo coming from Dave Bennett or Chloe Feoranzo without a phrase or gesture they picked up from Bob—both first heard him play as young teenagers and he repeatedly invited them to sit in with whatever group he was in at the time.
My relationship with Bob Draga was complex, as was true of anyone who was in his orbit. I first met him in 1996 when trombonist Steve Yocum suggested me to take pianist/vibraphonist Spike Bamsey’s chair for a Midwest road tour he and Bob were doing as part of the Draga-Vax Connection. It was a wild two weeks! In the front line were three bandleaders, trumpeter Mike Vax, Draga and Yocum, with bassist Jay Hungerford and drummer Gerald French rounding out the rhythm section I’d be part of on piano.
My first encounter with Bob was when we all met at the airport before getting into two cars to drive four hours to the first gig. I was in the backseat of the car Mike Vax was driving, behind Bob in the passenger seat. I couldn’t sit behind Mike as there was equipment in that space. Bob’s only comment to me was “Nice to meet you” before he reclined his seat as far back as possible and snored his way to the first show, the top of his head not six inches from my stomach!! Not an auspicious beginning!!
As you might imagine, three musicians accustomed to being the “Alpha” sharing the limelight in a band made for some hair-raising experiences both on and off stage. These guys loved each other and also loved to get in each other’s way! I kept my nose down, played my best and somehow got through that tour intact. As Spike Bamsey declined in health, I kept getting invited to play with the DVC again, eventually becoming their first call pianist when Spike was no longer able to travel out of Florida.
During this time, I got to know Draga well. I observed how good he was with audiences and how funny he was onstage. Musically emulating Pete Fountain, his comic persona was somewhere between W.C. Fields and Rodney Dangerfield, two men he greatly admired. Over time, we became friends. We became close enough that when he decided he’d had enough of the DVC, he took me with him on his next adventure.
And WHAT an adventure it was! While playing with DVC at the Mammoth Lakes Jazz Jubilee in 1998, Bob and I went to see a set of the Titan Hot Five, an a band-within-a-band offshoot of Mr. Jack Daniel’s Original Silver Cornet Band. Regarding the breakout group, there were five of them and they were tight! What fantastic playing from these Nashville-based musicians. And the best part? Their instrumentation lacked clarinet and piano! We “invaded” their next set that weekend, a fan put up the money to produce a recording in Nashville of the TH5 with Bob and me guesting, and the resulting Titan Hot Seven would take off in ways I could never have imagined.
Everything Bob did was big and dramatic! He dove headfirst into every endeavor. It was this unlimited energy, plus an inordinate natural musical gift, that enabled him to run his air-conditioning company in Florida by day and play by night and on weekends throughout the country. He played hard, he worked hard, he drank hard, he partied hard.
He was a serial groom as well. He married five times, referring to brides 2, 3, and 4 as “my current wife.” Some marriages bore fruit of one kind or another. His son was the result of one. Another produced a band, a venue and a successful singing career. Bob opened the Wine Cellar Restaurant and Lounge with his band the Garden Avenue Seven, and featured third wife/vocalist Paulette Draga (stage name Paulette Pepper). Paulette was really green when Bob met her, and his playing Henry Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle guided her to be a strong singer and band leader. While the venue was short lived, the band became the darling of the trad jazz circuit in the late 1980’s-early 1990’s, and Paulette would then go on to her (still) successful solo career, appearing nationally for years as leader of Pepper and Fine Thyme and now concentrating on appearances in Florida and other points in the Southeast.
His final two marriages were as dichotomous as imaginable. He met club singer Daniella on one of the many cruises he enjoyed doing for the celebrated Jazzdagen travel company. She was beautiful and Hungarian, and he was hungering for beautiful love. When they first met, I reminded Bob he repeatedly intoned things like “I’m never going to marry a singer again, not after Paulette!” and “The next time I fall in love with a woman. I’m going to save time and buy her a house!” He would not be swayed. This tempestuous marriage was mercifully short; he managed to go to Hungary a few times, she managed to get a green card. She was, as were all of his wives, stunning and they both seemed stunned by how quickly they fell in, and subsequently out of, love.
Diane Amos Draga was always referred to as “my last wife.” Bob knew he’d found a woman who could handle his emotional challenges and see him not just as a celebrated musician and humorist but as a person. He was finally ready for an honest, calm relationship and he found it with her. Diane was also a strong woman and did not let Bob get away with much! Diane tragically succumbed to cancer in 2023. Bob never fully recovered from this loss.
In happier times, feeling wildly adventurous, Bob rented two ATVs for he and Diane and Anne and me to go into the mountains on some Caribbean island we stopped at during a cruise we were working. Off we went into the jungle, nearly turning over a few times, arriving about an hour later at a shack that had quilting material Diane needed to finish a special project: She was weaving a quilt that contained titles and images of songs recorded by Bruce Springsteen. She was able to meet him and give him this quilt, and it still hangs in Springsteen’s recording studio.
Bob could be savagely funny, simply savage, and endearingly childlike, often in the same moment. His elven sense of humor came out often. Once on a cruise, in between sets we followed a crew member through the hallways unplugging his vacuum cleaner when he went around a corner (yes, we’d had a few)…This went on for about 30 minutes until we were found out. The fellow knew he had to laugh with us but we could tell he was bugged. He was genuinely smiling when Bob handed him a twenty.
On one of the cruises Jazzdagen cosponsored with Arbor Records, Bob and I were both appearing but never got to play together until the final night of the cruise. He whined, “Barney, I felt like we were two bad school kids the teacher had to separate…I guess our rep precedes us!!” To celebrate our eleventh hour reunion, he switched from his usual drink (Jack Daniels) to martinis, ordering vast quantities for both of us. What transpired next will require a future column that perhaps I’ll invite my wife to write…
Bob’s life was filled with drama: some happened to him, some he caused. W.C. Field’s mistress Carlotta Monti said of Fields that he possessed “every single blessing and curse known to man.” I think that could be said of Bob as well.
He was generous to a fault: never allowing you to pay for drinks at the bar; giving, as I’ve cited, so much encouragement to young musicians; giving of his time and energy after a show for as long as audience members wanted to speak with him. A self-taught musician with almost no ability to read, he’d ferociously attack an uptempo number, playing chorus after chorus, that left both his audiences and himself breathless, then bring the crowd (and sometimes himself) to tears with a soulful ballad.
While his clarinet calisthenics could astound, his slow tunes melted hearts. Crowd favorites were “Amazing Grace,” “Memories of You,” and “Crazy,” but my favorite ballad to play behind him was the “Main Theme” for the 1976 film W.C. Fields and Me. Written by Henry Mancini, the melody can almost make you see Fields (or Draga after a few) staggering down a hall. He’d play the tune straight with that great tone of his, and then—with my chorus providing background, would recite some of Field’s choicest quips, ending with his line to Douglas Fairbanks when he found Fields on his deathbed with a Bible. When asked what he was doing with it, Fields replied, “Looking for loopholes.” Before he brought the clarinet back to his lips he’d finish, “I sure hope he found them.” We’d finish the tune and after the applause had ended, Bob would say “W.C. Fields died Christmas Day, 1946.”
Bob Draga died on September 23, 2026. I believe he knew exactly what he was doing. His sense of the dramatic was with him to the end; he died on his own birthday. Rather than loopholes, I hope he finds the peace that eluded him through his life. Mine will be a lot duller without him.
Jeff Barnhart is an internationally renowned pianist, vocalist, arranger, bandleader, recording artist, ASCAP composer, educator and entertainer. Visit him online atwww.jeffbarnhart.com. Email: Mysticrag@aol.com
