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.
鈥淭hey didn't look like they had really been like even brought out of the box,鈥� 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鈥檚 jazz scene.
鈥淪omeone [told me], 鈥楾hat's Cliff Murphy,鈥欌�� he said.
Willis鈥� 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.
鈥淚 can remember my mom just saying, 鈥楴ow, how are we going to get it home?鈥� I said, 鈥業'll walk it.鈥� I felt so proud, owning my own,鈥� Murphy recounted in a 2012 interview, in the Toledo-Lucas County Public Library.
It wasn鈥檛 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鈥檚 heyday.
鈥淵ou and I, we've probably never really experienced a town in the Midwest quite like Toledo's jazz scene. It was incredible,鈥� 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.
鈥淭hat's my medicine: to get up and play. I can't wait to get there. Can't wait to get on that bass tonight,鈥� Murphy said of performing in 2012.
Training new jazz musicians
Murphy didn鈥檛 just perform with the best of the best. He created the jazz club 鈥淢urphy鈥檚 Place鈥� 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.
鈥淵ou'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,鈥� Swiatecki said. 鈥淣ow, you have to go to the university, right? So, they used to call Murphy's the university of Claude and Clifford.鈥�
Even after his club closed, Murphy kept playing 鈥� well into his 80s 鈥� until he passed away in 2019.
Saving Murphy鈥檚 sound
Despite his big presence, not much of Murphy鈥檚 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.
鈥淵ou don't have to be a household name to make art that's going to last the test of time,鈥� he said. 鈥淵ou can make great things and leave that legacy behind.鈥�
It鈥檚 not enough to be remembered: Willis wants Murphy to be heard. He鈥檚 working on rigging up a vintage phone booth so that the legend鈥檚 bass thumps as you step inside.
With every note, he said, a piece of Toledo鈥檚 jazz history finds its way to the present.