In the mid-60s, a struggling vibraphone player named Charles Stepney and his wife, Rubie, visited their pastor looking for career advice. Stepney’s work as a jazz musician in Chicago was intermittent at best: when he did get work, Rubie was unhappy about spending nights at home alone. “So the pastor prayed,” says Stepney’s daughter Charlene. “He said, ‘Dear God, please give him a job where he can be at home with his family at night but still be able to do his music.’ Mom and Dad laughed all the way home. They were like: ‘Hmm, we could have said that prayer for ourselves!’”
Salvation, nevertheless, came shortly afterwards in the form of a job with Chess Records, the renowned Chicago label that had introduced the world to Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Bo Diddley. Stepney was employed to write out lead sheets for the label’s producers and arrangers, and as an arranger in his own right. He wasn’t making much headway in this department until he was in a meeting with Marshall Chess, the son of the label’s founder, who noticed that Stepney was carrying a portfolio “six or eight inches thick”. When he asked what it was, Stepney blithely informed him that it was “a symphony I’ve just written”.
