Vibist has played it smart with some sound investments

Jazz and monetary rewards rarely have gone hand in hand.

The Herb Alperts, Diana Kralls and Kenny Gs are exceptions; the great majority of dedicated jazz artists are more likely to become millionaires by winning the lottery than by playing music. At least while they’re alive. All too often a jazz player’s music has risen to its greatest monetary value after his death. Think Charlie Parker, among many others.

Then there’s Charlie Shoemake. Best known as a world-class vibist and a highly regarded teacher of jazz improvisation, he quietly has used his innate curiosity to establish a firm financial foundation for himself and his wife, singer Sandi Shoemake. He didn’t do it through his playing or his teaching; rather he achieved independence through hard work, careful planning and good luck.

“We bought our house in Sherman Oaks in 1965 for $35,000,” Shoemake says, “and we sold it in 1990 for $500,000. That’s a pretty good markup. Good enough to allow us to make the move to Cambria, [Calif.], where we’ve lived for the past decade in a house with an ocean view.”

Shoemake isn’t the only Southern Californian who stuck with a property long enough to gain the full measure of profitable appreciation. But he is unique -- especially in the jazz world -- in how he has balanced his artistic and creative efforts with a comparable quest for financial independence, particularly via the stock market. But it didn’t happen overnight.

“Sandi and I were married in 1959,” he says, “just about the time when interest in jazz was practically disappearing. We didn’t have any money. We weren’t getting any money from our families, and we struggled along for a few years, working around Los Angeles wherever we could.

“But we got lucky with the studios. Jimmy Rowles got Sandi some work with Nelson Riddle and helped her get on staff at NBC to sing on all the TV variety shows,” he says. “I went into freelance studio work for a while, then joined the George Shearing group in 1966 and stayed there for the next seven years.”

Starting with what he describes as a “pretty good joint income,” Shoemake began to invest in the stock market in the late ‘70s.

“I decided,” he says, “that even though really great jazz artists should be paid handsomely, they aren’t. And they aren’t going to be. There are certain guys where lightning strikes -- Wynton Marsalis or, in an earlier era, Oscar Peterson or George Shearing. But not for the rest of us, no matter how well we played. And with the way I wanted to play -- since I’m not good at making artistic compromises -- I figured we’re going to get old and we’re going to need some protection.”

Shoemake could hardly have known the market’s potential. At the time he dived in, the Dow Jones industrial average was below 1,000.

“That was the big thing at the time,” he says with a laugh. “If it could ever get over 1,000, then we’d all be in Utopia.”

Although it didn’t quite turn out to be Utopian, Shoemake has had, he says, “a great winning percentage.”

His success in the market parallels his work as an educator. Approaching improvisation in a precise, pragmatic fashion, involving meticulous study of the harmonic elements, he has guided more than 1,500 players through the thorny passageways of jazz spontaneity. (His students have ranged from saxophonist Ted Nash and trombonist Andy Martin to smooth-jazz exponents Kenny G and Richard Elliot.)

Jazz, unlike the stock market, eventually moves into a much more subjective realm, but its foundation, Shoemake believes, involves a similar study of basic building blocks.

“The real difference,” he adds, “is that the market has no sentiment in it. In music, although you start with that fundamental stuff, what you’re pulling for is the stuff that you love, that’s yours, even though other people might not feel the same way about it. In the stock market, none of that matters; it’s making a true business decision.”

Shoemake and his wife have built a pleasant life in Cambria, touring whenever the mood strikes them. Since 1991, they have produced 25 to 30 concerts a year in the Central Coast town, featuring, in addition to their own performances, such artists as Joe Pass, John Clayton, Teddy Edwards, Herb Geller, Walter Norris and Albert “Tootie” Heath.

Does he recommend his financial pathway to other jazz musicians?

“Only if they enjoy it,” Shoemake says. “That’s the only way you can make it happen. But it’s there for anyone who wants to put in the time and the study. It’s worked for me. I put in three or four hours a day on my instruments. I watch CNBC to keep track of the market. And I try to catch a Red Sox game whenever I can.

“It’s a good life.”

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Charlie and Sandi Shoemake appear with their trio Tuesday at Charlie O’s, 13725 Victory Blvd., Valley Glen. 8 p.m. to midnight, (818) 994-3058. Also Thursday at the Vic, 2640 Main St., Santa Monica. 8 and 10 p.m., (888) FOR-JAZZ.

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Herbie Mann: The passing last week of one of the seminal jazz flutists was not unexpected; Mann, 73, had been ill for some time. Even so, it’s hard to accept that his buoyant musicality now is stilled.

His impressive eclecticism, reflective of a constantly curious musical imagination, probably lessened the impact he might otherwise have had as a pure jazz improviser. And that’s unfortunate, because careful listening to even his most commercial recordings reveals a player who effectively balanced a driving sense of swing with a gift for instantaneous melody-making.

Mann was one of a kind, and he will be greatly missed.