An unassuming cardboard box, water stained and fraying, sat untouched in a shuttered recording studio for decades. Inside, a stack of records shone beneath a sheen of dust.
“They didn't look like they had really been like even brought out of the box,” said Brennan Willis, director of music at Terra State Community College.
Willis discovered the vinyls last year when he was digging through Brownwood Studios, formerly Courier Empire Records, in Fremont. After a quick clean, he set a needle on its grooves.
He found an unreleased album of a jazz trio, performing American standards. The bassist was legendary across northwest Ohio’s jazz scene.
“Someone [told me], ‘That's Cliff Murphy,’” he said.
Willis’ accidental discovery is putting renewed light on the renowned Toledo jazz bassist, Cliff Murphy, who died several years ago. The lost record is finally being made public, more than half a century after it was first recorded.
The life of Cliff Murphy
Clifford Murphy was born in 1932. After returning to Toledo from the Korean War, his mother sent him out to buy new clothes. Instead, he purchased an upright bass, around 6 feet tall, from the shop.
“I can remember my mom just saying, ‘Now, how are we going to get it home?’ I said, ‘I'll walk it.’ I felt so proud, owning my own,” Murphy recounted in a 2012 interview, archived in the Toledo-Lucas County Public Library.
It wasn’t long until he became a staple in the local jazz scene, forming The Murphys with pianist Claude Black. Local jazz historian Doug Swiatecki said the band performed during the city’s heyday.
“You and I, we've probably never really experienced a town in the Midwest quite like Toledo's jazz scene. It was incredible,” he said.
Murphy was at the center of it all, playing alongside other greats, like Ray Brown and Jon Hendricks. No matter what song was called, Murphy had it memorized.
“That's my medicine: to get up and play. I can't wait to get there. Can't wait to get on that bass tonight,” Murphy said of performing in 2012.
Training new jazz musicians
Murphy didn’t just perform with the best of the best. He created the jazz club “Murphy’s Place” with the help of his musical partner, pianist Claude Black.
There, they attracted music acts from all over and trained new jazz musicians. The venue became a place to cut your teeth.
“You'll meet a lot of people who spent a lot of time and learned at Murphy's, learned how to play jazz on the stage because that's the old way,” Swiatecki said. “Now, you have to go to the university, right? So, they used to call Murphy's the university of Claude and Clifford.”
Even after his club closed, Murphy kept playing – well into his 80s – until he passed away in 2019.
Saving Murphy’s sound
Despite his big presence, not much of Murphy’s music has been left behind. He only pressed a handful of records, making the one that Willis pulled out of a dusty box a rarity.
So, Willis brought that music into a museum. The record now sits on display at the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Library and Museums, minutes from where Murphy recorded the soundtrack in 1964.
His contributions sit next to memorabilia from big name bands like the Kingsmen and the Beach Boys, who stopped by the same studio. Willis says Murphy has earned his place beside them.
“You don't have to be a household name to make art that's going to last the test of time,” he said. “You can make great things and leave that legacy behind.”
It’s not enough to be remembered: Willis wants Murphy to be heard. He’s working on rigging up a vintage phone booth so that the legend’s bass thumps as you step inside.
With every note, he said, a piece of Toledo’s jazz history finds its way to the present.
