Once upon a time, in the late ‘50s, before a then unknown group who called themselves the Beatles revolutionized the music scene, two young lads in Tucson, Arizona had the world by the tail and seemed destined to make musical history.

Gary LeMel , a music student at the University of Arizona and Pete Ronstadt, a Tucson Catalina High School student, weren’t much different from any other young performers singing their butts off back then, except for one thing. They both had hit records on the national charts, albeit releases from two small, independent Arizona labels – quite a major accomplishment at that time for a coupla schoolboys accustomed to entertaining fellow students at dances and at campus parties after football games.

Gary played bass and sang vocals in a group known popularly as the University Jazz Workshop Quartet, and with a similar group of alternating UA jazz musicians dubbed the Gary Lemel Quartet, that spawned future jazz artists John Grabkee and Bud Sessions on sax, Joe Byrd on vibes, Danny Membrilla on bongo drums, Louis Prichett on guitar and Danny Shafton on piano and recorder.

Before they went on to greater things in the jazz industry, those cats played at a lot of Arizona frat parties and were fixtures at Sunday afternoon jam sessions at Louie’s Lower Level, in the Student Union building on the Arizona campus.

LeMel, (who, at that time, spelled his name Lemel), later gained a certain amount of notoriety as a solo vocalist with a hip dance tune, “Rockin’ in the Halls,” released by Rev Records, an Arizona label, whose reps discovered Gary wowing patrons at The Clown’s Den in Phoenix.

Critics called the song “a potent driver,” whatever that meant. The beat was there, plus the song also included a gimmicked “monkey wrapped his tail around the flagpole” musical lick that created a good effect. But it was “Jolly Roger,” the flip side of the popular 45 rocker, a Connie Conway song written in conjunction with Al Alberts, formerly with the Four Aces, in which Gary scored vocally.

Ronstadt, on the other hand, was playing guitar and singing with his band, the Nightbeats, (fellow Tucson Catalina High School students Nate Foster, Lance Hoops, Bert Roberts and Don Grossberndt), when a talent scout from Tucson’s Zoom Records heard the group and rushed them into a local studio to record “Doreen,” the song which got all the radio airplay, and an uptempo dance hit, “Lonesome Road Rock.” (Before the boys cut the hit record, they were known primarily for performing at a local high school dance party once in their underwear after being drenched in their tuxedos in a driving Tucson rain storm).

LeMel was a shy, quiet young man whose main claim to fame, before he signed his record contract, was that he had been a member of the famed Tucson Boys Choir. Pete, on the other hand, was a gregarious, outgoing friendly dude who was a popular high school jock.

LeMel was born in London, England, while Ronstadt was a local home town hero. His father ran a hardware store in downtown Tucson, where Pete worked along with his younger sister on weekends and after school.

I never considered the two rivals and, in truth, they weren’t. The difference was, Gary was hooked on Dave Brubeck, Stan Kenton, George Shearing and the cool vocals of Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, June Christy and Dakota Stanton, while Ronstadt was intent on becoming the next Bill Hailey.

I remember running into LeMel once at a little pizza joint near the UA campus. He was sharing a table with a young Tucson Amphitheater High School jazz singer named Christy Tatum, with whom he had performed in a local musical extravaganza. Christy was probably really named Molly Carter, or June Smith or Helen Jones.

She had picked up the Christy Tatum namesake from the last names of jazz artists June Christy, whom she imitated, and Art Tatum, who moved her with his music. Despite her young age and immaturity, she was being compared by critics, while only a teenager, to the late, great Billie Holiday and the likes of Anita O’Day and Chris Connor.

When I introduced myself to the couple, and Gary found out I was from Dallas, he asked me if I knew a show biz columnist named Tony Zoppi, who worked at the Dallas Morning News. Gary said one day he’d like to perform in Dallas and get his name mentioned in Tony’s column.

It was only a matter of time before I began digging the Sunday afternoon jazz sessions at Louie’s and sending Tony column items about this young lad who sang somewhat like a young Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme and Mark Murphy, but also played the string bass as well as, if not better, than he sang.

When Anita O’Day played an engagement in Dallas, and told Zoppi she was looking for a bass player who could also handle backup vocals, Tony told her he had heard good things about this hip kid in Tucson, who was talented enough to pay his college tuition by “moonlighting” as a jazz musician in local clubs.

As luck would have it, Anita was later booked at a jazz haunt in Tucson, and came to the old pueblo a few days early to hear and meet LeMel on the Arizona campus. She later invited him to drop by the club and catch her gig. In a matter of minutes, he had shed his coat and tie and was sitting in on stage for an impromptu session with the jazz vocalist.

Gary’s official bio today says he left school at the age of 21 to go on tour with Anita, and launch his musical career on a national basis. With all due respects, that was not exactly the case. Anita did offer Gary a spot in her band, but he opted, instead, to play occasional dates with her group and remain in college in pursuit of his degree. But that was soon to change.

One day I received a phone call from an old friend, Ted McMichael, the founder of the famed Capital recording artists, The Merry Macs. The Macs had played Tucson many times and hung out after late night gigs on my patio, eating hamburgers and having fun into the early morning hours.

Ted told me he was in a jam of sorts. He was calling me from Jamaica., he said, and the group was due to open at one of the major hotels on the strip in Las Vegas in two weeks. The problem was, Ted said, one of the guys in his group had come down with a bad inner-ear infection, and the doctors said he couldn’t fly to Nevada with the group for the Las Vegas opening.

McMichael didn’t want the press to get wind of the situation, and asked me if I knew anyone in Tucson who was talented and smart enough to learn their intricate vocal and musical charts quickly and fill in temporarily for the Vegas gig. I told him about Gary. Ted said they’d take the dude, sight unseen, without an audition, based upon my recommendation, if I could get him to leave school and join the group in Nevada.

Ted said he’d send Gary the airline tickets, pay his hotel expenses and whatever he wanted for the two week engagement. I had a hell of a time convincing Gary to leave school. He was a conscientious young man who wanted to earn his degree, and the idea of dropping out of college was about the last thing on his mind, even if it meant joining a world famous vocal group like the Macs for a fabled Las Vegas booking.

The modest young man also found it hard to believe, but was flattered, that the Macs had agreed to offer him a “carte blanche type deal” without ever hearing him play or sing. He said he’d think it over and get back to me. It was touch and go for an hour or two, and then Gary called and said he’d take the Macs up on their offer. He opened as scheduled with the group in Vegas without even so much as a rehearsal, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Gary toured with the group extensively, and, as fate would have it, later returned triumphantly to his old stomping grounds in Arizona to perform with the Macs at the Tucson Inn’s Bagdad Room, a posh supper club where he had often dreamed of performing. After a few years of being on the road with the Macs, Gary eventually left the group, and, along with then fellow Mac Vern Rowe, formed a group with Peggy DeCastro, formerly of the DeCastro Sisters, known as the Peggy DeCastro Trio.

Pete Ronstadt, in the meantime, graduated from high school and planned to go on a tour of his own to promote his new hit single, “Scotch and Soda.” When the Pioneer Women of Tucson held their annual charity variety show, they called me and asked if I would produce it for them. They wanted me to persuade Pete Ronstadt and his band, the Nightbeats, to headline the extravaganza.

When I approached Pete, he said he’d talk to the guys in the band. A coupla of days later he called and said he’d do it, with one condition, if I let his kid sister, who was then a pig-tailed 12-year-old cutie, and two of her friends, sing backup vocals on the show. I had never heard her sing before, much less her friends, and I had some reservations, but I agreed, and the show played to sold-out audiences.

The band, and Pete’s kid sister were a big hit. As far as I know, it was the debut performance of a chick singer revered today in the music industry named Linda Ronstadt.

You know how things go in the music industry. Entertainers come and entertainers go. Anita O’Day continued to snare plaudits in jazz magazines and other publications like Playboy and the Merry Macs kept setting records around the world wherever they played. One day I read that Pete Ronstadt had quit show business and became the police chief of Tucson. I wrote him a letter wishing him well in his political career.

“Police Chief Ronstadt” became a popular fixture in Tucson social circles over the years before he retired from law enforcement. I followed his colorful career in newspaper articles and heard about him in quotes in all the show biz columns from his kid sister, Linda, but I never heard another thing about my friend Gary LeMel.

Then, one day, while in Hollywood on business, I was walking down the Sunset Strip taking in the sights when I looked up on the marquee at the Playboy Club and saw his name in lights. And, as luck would have it, my good buddy Joe X Price turned out to be Gary’s publicist. It was good to see him again and catch up on all the gossip. After a stint in the Army, Gary had been signed by Vee-Jay Records.

In 1964, he released his first album, The Gary LeMel Album, to critical acclaim. A few months later, Vee-Jay signed a little known band named the Beatles to their first record deal. Naturally, the label’s promo efforts were directed to the popular rock group, and LeMel’s singing career, at that time, anyway, came to a screeching halt.

Later, in the midst of “re-inventing” himself in the music industry, so to speak, he began writing music between singing engagements here and there and eventually turned his interests to publishing and A&R, producing record sessions for other talented artists such as Neil Diamond and Vicki Carr. During those years, however, Gary’s dream of someday singing again never died.

“When you give up your dream, you die,” Gary told friends in the business. “When you revive your dream, you revive your life,” he said.

In 1973, Gary was hired by Jerry Weintraub’s Management III as vice president and, three years later, began his career with First Artists, also as vice president.

A few years later, Gary was hired by Casablanca Records. Here, he supervised all music for Warner Bros. Film releases, a position he would later re-acquire some eight years down the road. Well, anyway, while at Casablanca, he oversaw “A Star is Born,” with Barbra Streisand, which went on to sell over 6,000,000 units domestically, a record at that time.

After a short stint at Boardwalk Record Company, Gary was hired by Columbia Pictures as executive vice president of music, where he was responsible for the huge multi-platinum successes of “Against All Odds,” “Ghostbusters,” “The Big Chill” and “St. Elmo’s Fire.”

Beginning in 1986, Gary became associated with Warner Bros. Studios, starting as president, then being promoted as president of world wide music in 1997. At the studio, he has overseen some of the biggest-selling musical soundtracks of all time. “The Bodyguard,” released in 1991, became the biggest selling soundtrack of all-time. Then came the likes of “Singles,” “Space Jam,” “City of Angels,” “The Matrix,” and “Exit Wounds.”

Today, the kid who used to sing for his supper at the University of Arizona campus cafeteria, and spent his spare time hanging out at the movies, has become probably the most respected man in music today for film.

I guess it was only natural that LeMel budget his time to eventually get back to his roots. With the experience, reputation, contacts, funds and some of the best studio musicians in the world behind him, he released his “comeback” album, “Romancing The Screen,” on Blue Note records in 1997.

“It’s never too late to follow your dream,” observed LeMel, who admitted he looked to athletic heroes George Foreman and Nolan Ryan for his return to his first love.

Gary’s smooth vocals, together with lush arrangements, transported listeners to a time when luminous black and white images combined with soaring orchestrations provided a convenient escape from everyday realities.

“Romancing the Screen,” however, was more than just a stylistic nod to nostalgia. LeMel offered sometimes edgy, current interpretations of great classics like the Jerome Kern-Johnny Mercer tune, “I’m Old Fashioned,” from “You Were Never Lovelier,” the Burt Bacharach-Hal David song “Alfie,” from the movie by the same name, “The Way You Look Tonight” by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields from “Swingtime” and “All the Things You Are,” by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein from “Til Clouds Roll By.”

In 1999, LeMel signed with Atlantic records and released “Moonlighting,” a tribute to the late great Bobby Darin. When Gary first talked to Bobby Colomby about producing the album, Colomby said, “If this is going to be another big band and singer album, then count me out.” Once he traded musical ideas with Gary, Bobby jumped at the chance to record a musical tribute to the late Bobby Darin.

The album was recorded in New York City with Elton Jones, Randy and Michael Brecker, Grady Tate and some of the best players in the world. Vocalist Paula Cole did a guest spot on the Sammy Cahn-Jimmy Van Heusen tune, “Call Me Irresponsible.” None other than the legendary George Nauful handled the A&R for the project. The album was a musical milestone that’ll be talked about for years and set the stage for Lemel’s latest album for Atlantic, “Lost In Your Arms.”

“Lost in Your Arms” is a deeply emotional and romantic collection of great jazz standards. It’s drawing rave reviews from critics all over the world.

Today, the 6-time Grammy Award winner for soundtrack of the year, teaches masters classes at both UCLA and USC. He and his sculptor wife Maddy LeMel have two children. The musical fire still burns as strong within him now as it did when I knew him during his Tucson heyday. Probably even stronger.

Recently, the Merry Macs legend, Ted McMichael, passed away at the age of 94 after a bout with pneumonia. I know if he were alive today, Ted would be loudly and enthusiastically singing Gary’s praises.

Man, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday that Gary was a young music student on the Arizona campus, chasing his musical dreams and a dozen girls and setting his priorities straight in the process.