When saxophonist, clarinetist and composer John Ellis enrolled in the University of New Orleans in 1993, it was clear the place would be a breath of fresh air. Unlike "factory-type schools," such as Berklee and University of North Texas, UNO was intimate and peer-to-peer.

His mentors would be none other than Harold Battiste — the esteemed musician, composer and arranger — and Ellis Marsalis, the pianist, educator and patriarch of a jazz dynasty (which includes trumpeter Wynton, saxophonist Branford, trumpeter Delfeayo, and drummer/vibraphonist Jason).

Almost immediately, Ellis realized he wasn't in for a conventional jazz education. It would be far richer than that. "[Marsalis'] approach was kind of Socratic. There was a lot of questioning," Ellis reflects in 2022. "Like a guide, he'd show you, and then encourage you to think for yourself."

He's not alone in this perception. Although bassist, composer and educator Roland Guerin didn't study with him per se — he studied with Battiste and later played in Marsalis' trio — but Marsalis' keen sense of inquiry outside the classroom still radiated.

"A lot of times, it wasn't flat-out information that had a single purpose to it," Guerin continues. "A lot of the things he shared were multipurpose. It was a reflection of life."

Indeed, Marsalis' techniques as a musician and educator weren't simply a means to an end. Almost three years after Marsalis' passing at 85, it's abundantly clear he didn't just teach us how to play, or listen. He taught us how to live.

What lessons for life did Marsalis impart through his musical instruction? One was staying flexible. Yes, Marsalis was authoritative, and he didn't suffer foolishness gladly. But in his music-making, he was dynamic, loose and fun-loving, believing — in Ellis' words — that "truth could come from unlikely sources."

"He was always attuned to youth and attuned to learning, and considerate of that," recalls trumpeter and composer Markus Rutz, who studied under Marsalis in the 1990s.

This also tracks with the experiences of saxophonist and educator Derek Douget. Douget played with his mentor for 25 years — and remembers astonishingly seat-of-his-pants gigs.

"He would just start playing a song, and I would have to figure out what it was — where the bridge goes, and if there is a bridge, what it does," Douget recalls. "And then he would look at me with a little nod: 'OK, now you play over it.'"

Rutz says Marsalis' teaching style was commensurately formal and informal. He wasn't chilly in his demeanor, nor stingy with sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of music. "He was incredibly erudite and astute," Rutz says. "For such a serious and masterful musician, he was fun to be around."

At all times, Marsalis cut to the heart of the matter. "He was a curious person, in terms of he enjoyed getting to the root of whatever situation," Guerin says of his mentor. "He would ask a question to expose and spark the thought of the root of whatever it was."

Oftentimes, that question was simple yet incisive: "What did you hear?" "He taught them how to think and hear music and develop their own sort of dialogue," says Sascha Just, who directed a documentary about Marsalis. "He helped them to grow into independent thinkers."

Marsalis filtered these characteristics through an uncanny self-possession. In 2004, Wynton said this of his father: "The house could fall down and everyone would be running around, and he would still be sitting in his same chair."

And just as Marsalis stood on his own two feet in the classroom and onstage, he instilled this sense of integrity in his six sons — both the musicians and nonmusicians. "It makes a lot of sense that his sons became such expert debaters," Ellis says. "He was pressing them to defend their ideas."

Marsalis' loss reverberates through the jazz world, but he lives on through not only his progeny, but his students, including GRAMMY-winning artists like Nicholas Payton, Terence Blanchard and Harry Connick, Jr.

"I think that's the biggest gift you can give a student," Patscha says. "How to keep on going even after your journey with your teacher is over."

This article appears in the 2023 GRAMMYs program book, viewable here.

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