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Photograph courtesy of Richard Ferrie
Endless Strummer:
Music lover Ray Ferrie kept up a busy schedule of volunteering and playing until his final days.
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Hundreds of friends gather to eulogize Glen musician
Ray Ferrie, Pied Piper of the banjo and the organ, dies at age 90
By Jessica Lyons
Richard Ferrie points to a picture of his father, Ray. Ray's wearing a blue band uniform jacket and playing the guitar at his Rotary Debunking, a type of friendly hazing for Rotary presidents. Rick smiles, and shakes his head: "Dad looked like that up until the day he died. He never changed."
Ray Ferrie, 90, was a musician, a salesman and a philanthropist until the end. A retired music store manager with Sherman Clay, Ferrie played with the Peninsula Banjo Band and the Peninsula Jazz Band, and frequently played his banjo for several local senior centers and convalescent homes. In the early morning hours of St. Patrick's Day, March 17, Ferrie died of cancer while an up-tempo tune by his favorite clarinet player and band leader Benny Goodman played quietly in the background. He lived in his Willow Glen home for 48 years. He is survived by his son, Richard; daughter-in-law, Josephine; grandson, Ross and granddaughter-in-law, Cheryl.
But to the salesman in Ray, selling organs and pianos at Sherman Clay was more than a job. It almost qualified as community service.
"That's why he was so successful as a salesman," Richard says. "He really thought he was doing his customers a favor. He thought he was doing them a service by selling them musical instruments."
One of Ray's lucky customers was none other than Charles Manson. Ray unknowingly bought a piano from the serial killer. Manson used the money to move south to his infamous Los Angeles home.
"Dad liked everybody," Richard says, "'He really seemed like a nice guy,' was all he had to say about Charles Manson. He wasn't destined for law enforcement."
Around 250 people packed Ray's memorial service on March 22 at the Lima Family Funeral Home, and at least 20 of them eulogized Ray.
A marching band played at the funeral, followed by a New Orleans-style procession of bass, reeds, drums and banjos, to the St. Joseph's Mausoleum at Santa Clara Mission Cemetery. Twenty musicians played in the band. They hadn't all played together before, but they had all played with Ray.
"For 90 years old, it was a huge funeral," says Floyd Oatman, president of the Peninsula Banjo Band and a friend of Ray's. "Then we had the marching band into the mausoleum--it was really something. The last song we played was 'When the Saints Go Marching In.'"
In his younger years, Ray traveled the globe on luxury cruise ships, playing the guitar and ukulele. A professional musician, his true love was the organ, but banjos were more portable, and easier to transport to the several senior centers where he frequently played, sometimes up to three times a week. Ray had quite a cult following with the seniors, according to his family.
"No matter how low Dad was feeling, he'd grab that old banjo and play for this one old lady just to see her face light up," Richard says. "No matter how low he was feeling, that one lady's face always made him smile."
Ray continued to play the banjo almost to the end. On Dec. 10, he played at a convalescent home for two hours straight. He returned to his Willow Glen home feeling weak, but not knowing that his first extreme arrhythmia would mean he would never walk again. He went out on the bandstand, with his banjo and his groupies.
Ferrie served in World War II, was a Rotary member and an active volunteer in the community.
"We were sports addicts, but golf was our favorite," Rick says. "He'd shoot 104, and I'd say 'Dad, you shot your age again.' But he never did actually shoot his age."
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
