Clark Terry has been coming to UNH for 30 years. Photo courtesy Clark Terry

They've gathered around the conference table in the New Hampshire Library of Traditional Jazz to talk about an upcoming trip to Terry's home on Long Island. An exhibition of the musician's memorabilia is planned for the fall, and they discuss possible items to include.

A few months later, some of those items are laid out on the very same table: a photograph of a young Terry wearing his Navy uniform, a snapshot with Lionel Hampton, a photo with the late pianist Bud Powell, an early '60s menu from Birdland, a handwritten list of songs from a long-ago date: "Swinging the Blues," "Walkin'," "Milestones."

Considered the preeminent jazz educator, Terry wears that label with humility. He's obligated, he says, to give back, to pass on the language of jazz, a language he helped to define over the past half-century. Lionel Hampton, Billy Taylor and now Wynton Marsalis -- all have been recognized for their roles in jazz education. Taylor's Jazzmobile program is known for bringing jazz to children of America's inner cities. Less well known is the fact that the Jazzmobile grew out of the Harlem Youth Band, started by Clark Terry.

In December of 1971, the National Association of Jazz Educators called Terry "the world's busiest jazz clinician." And, in 1985, he was recognized as an "American Man of Music," joining William Warfield, Aaron Copland and Van Cliburn, among others.

Terry is in his element when he works with students. In the master trumpet class, he coaxes, cajoles and growls in an effort to share his gift with six classically trained trumpeters, trying to push them into new territory. "Take the vowels A, E, I, O, U," he instructs. "Now, think in terms of different levels, different highs, different lows."

"Noo-dell soup doesn't taste like noodle soup," he quips, accenting the final syllable of the word. "Well, maybe with classical trumpet it does." Soon he's got the group dropping syllables and swinging. Then it's on to hum, buzz and flutter tonguing.

"Dooba, dooba, dooba," Terry mumbles, with the mouthpiece of his shiny blue trumpet still at his lips. "Doodle, deedle, daddle." The language of jazz, interpreted by Clark Terry. ~

Michael Jones, director of University Publications at UNH, says he plays a great radio.

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