Bee all, end all

Guitar player chooses family life over successful local band

Mark Ross is sitting in the family room of his Lemont home, animatedly recounting the time his band opened for blues patriarch B.B. King. His smile is wide. With his right hand, he is patting the head of his giant German Shepherd, Lucy. His left flails excitedly to add emphasis to the special details of his story.

The guitar King signed for Ross hangs over the entertainment system to his right. Somewhere in the system, a dusty television sits. It is not turned on, and is dwarfed by stacks of compact discs and vinyl records. A picture of Ross' band, Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band, rests below the B.B.-signed guitar. Behind Ross, in his music room, about 30 guitars hang from a rack. He wears a blues T-shirt.

While he tells his B.B. King story, a hint of amazement is in his voice, as if he still has a hard time believing Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band -- and his own guitar playing -- has come so far. He also can't believe how accommodating King was. Recognized as one of American music's foremost geniuses and one of most famous musicians in the world, King wasn't cocky or elitist, and was nothing less than a pleasure to work with.

"B.B. is just great," Ross says, his smile growing wider. "He's just so nice."

Suddenly, Ross' story is interrupted. He stops talking and listens as his 2-year-old son, McKinley, cries louder and louder from upstairs. At first, he wears the expression of a concerned parent, but as the crying subsides, he explains that "Mackey," as McKinley is called for short, probably just isn't ready for bedtime.

Ross has completely forgotten the B.B. King story he was telling. Although he loves the blues, the men and women who inspired him, his bandmates and the fact that he has been able to make a living of doing something he is so passionate about, Ross loves his family much more.

So, when Tonya "Queen Bee" Browne decided she wanted to play even more shows than usual, upping the regular 200-nights per year schedule, Ross knew his time as a Blue Hornet had come to a close.

"His family is the high priority of his life," said Queen Bee bassist Rene Witzke. "That's pretty much the reason why he has to slow down."

Knowing that more touring meant more time away from home, more time away from his wife, Cindy, and more time away from his children, Ross decided he would leave the band he founded 14 years ago.

"I want to see my kids hit their first home run," Ross said. "I don't want to hear about it on the phone. As much as my kids need me to be around, I need to be around my kids."

After graduating from Penn State about 15 years ago, Ross had his mind set on putting a blues band together in State College. While Ross had been in love with blues music since he saw a Nighthawks concert at age 19, he had a hard time finding musicians with his same tastes. State College isn't exactly the most fertile ground for aspiring blues musicians, and when it came time to find a vocalist for his band, Ross was at a loss.

Ross, however, would eventually find the right singer for the job at a now defunct local bar called The Brickhouse. The Brickhouse, as Ross describes it, was a very unique bar for the State College music scene. It had what State College usually doesn't -- diversity.

A drinking hole that was frequented by a wide spectrum of the State College community, The Brickhouse also brought a some nationally recognizable bands and musicians to the borough. Among those who played at the long-gone, dingy bar were blues master Taj Mahal and southern roots rockers The Outlaws.

"The great thing about The Brickhouse was that it wasn't just a college kid bar," Ross said. "A Vietnam veteran owned the place, so there were always three to four vets in there, three to four bikers, 10 independent students, two sorority girls and three to four fraternity guys.

"The thing was, they all got along."

One particularly empty night at The Brickhouse, Ross couldn't help but notice one of the house waitresses shooting pool and singing brilliantly along to the jukebox. Almost instantly, he knew he had found his singer, and her name was Tonya Browne.

Now all he had to do was convince her to sing the blues, even though her tastes leaned toward the popular music of the day. She wasn't exactly a blues nut, yet.

Ross offered her a deal -- if he beat Browne in pool, she would have to join his band. Browne wasn't going for it, however, and Ross went home defeated. As luck would have it, though, Cindy, his girlfriend at the time, also worked at The Brickhouse. One night, Cindy called Ross at home and told him Browne was asking about him and considering taking him up on his offer. Ross picked up two six-packs, bolted down to The Brickhouse and spent the rest of the evening introducing Browne to the blues.

Suddenly, Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band was born. And although Ross admits they "weren't really that good" when they started out, the band enjoyed immediate success.

"We were kind of the flavor of the month right away," he said. "The thing is, the flavor of the month is always changing. If there are 300 kids at a show, you can figure that about 100 of them really dig the music and the rest are just there because everyone else is."

The band, however, seemed to have a little more going for it than passing popularity. Through the years, they have established themselves as one of the region's most popular bands, recorded two studio albums and two live albums, were nominated to the initial ballot of the 36th Annual Grammy Awards for Best Traditional Blues Album for Dealing The Blues and have toured all over the world playing their brand of blues.

The band has opened for and played with some of blues' greats -- besides opening for King, Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band has shared stages with Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, Buddy Guy, The Holmes Brothers Band and even played two sets with Eric Clapton's guitar hero, Otis Rush.

"As long as those guys know that you're not using the music just to get laid, or that you're not going to use it as opposed to love it, they'll be cool to you," Ross said.

Playing with Queen Bee has taken Ross places and introduced him to people he could have only dreamed of when he started playing the blues. He knows he is playing as good as he ever has, and that he won't ever play with musicians as talented as those he plays with right now and he knows that he's going to miss playing the music he loves so much.

"My wife thinks I'm going to need counseling," he said, giving the impression he's only half-kidding.

When Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band breaks up in December, Mark Ross is going to have a lot more time on his hands. With it, he plans to help children -- first, he'll spend more time raising his own, and then he'll go back to doing what he went to school to do.

Ross, who majored in human services at Penn State, spent five years between 1983 and 1989 teaching at the Rainbow School in Pleasant Valley. As an aid at the school, Ross taught and counseled children who had been mentally, physically or sexually abused. Most of these children's parents cared little for their children, and the abuse these children endured often left them introverted. Most had a hard time expressing themselves because of a paralyzing fear of punishment or failure.

"They made me so angry," he said. "Most of them were abusive parents. They really didn't care. They only did what they were told to make sure they didn't get their kids taken away so they wouldn't lose their welfare check."

Still, every child he helped made the job worthwhile, and he often used music to do so. He was no guitar virtuoso yet, but he could at least strum some simple melodies, and before long was using his music to help the kids. By using music therapy, Ross was able to help many of his students express their pent-up fear, frustration or anger. He also taught them simple lessons using music, and his lessons, though unique, proved to be successful.

But as Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band grew more popular, Ross knew the band could be something special. He also knew that teaching and playing five nights a week wouldn't work.

"I was probably a better teacher than a guitar player," he said. "But I also knew that I probably wasn't going to be able to play with somebody as talented as Tonya ever again."

He decided to leave his teaching job and play guitar full-time.

Although he left teaching, Ross always thought he could someday go back. Now, as his days with the band are numbered, he might just do that. He plans to record an album of children's music sometime soon with hopes it will be used by teachers to aid in music therapy.

"He's wonderful with kids, and not just his own," bassist Witzke said. "It's obvious if you know him that he has that mentality."

But he isn't going to return to teaching just yet. Before he helps other children, Ross wants to stay as close to home as possible and raise his own. For most of their lives, Ross has been away most weekends. When he hangs up his guitar come December, Ana and Mackey will for the first time be able to spend every weekend with their dad.

"Of course they miss him, but he's almost always been away weekends," Cindy said. "For the first month or so it's going to seem like a vacation."

It's "Olympic Night" at the Ross household, and as Ana and Mackey sit anxiously on the couch, their dad is trying to demonstrate how to perform a triple jump. The kids just seem anxious to get out there and jump themselves, so they pay little attention as Ross leaps across the family room. Lucy the German Shepherd excitedly leaps around the room.

Ana has a hard time figuring out the intricacies of the triple jump. Her first jump follows correct style, but she can't quite figure out the second or third. Ross keeps trying to show her the right way. But Ana, decked out in a red, white and blue gymnastics suit with star trim, doesn't seem to care about form. She just wants to see what the tape measure reads when her dad calculates her jumps.

Ross smiles widely as his son performs his last jump of the night before bed. Mackey takes three big jumps, then a few more, then a few more. Ross ignores the violations, and when the tape measure reads 131 inches, Mackey's face breaks into a brilliant smile. He runs to his dad, arms outstretched for a hug.

"I did it!" he yells.

"You did it," his dad responds with an equally large grin. "You're the man."

Later, after Mackey and Ana are finally asleep, Ross stands in his kitchen, sips on a glass of Chianti and contemplates the future without Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band.

There's plenty he's going to miss -- the band, the clubs, the fun of playing blues, seeing new places and meeting new people. But the travel is one thing he won't miss -- not because he doesn't like the road, but because he just hates having to leave his children behind.

It's just getting too hard to leave his kids when they ask him to stay.

The last time Ross came home from the road, he went upstairs to bed, dead tired and beat. He wasn't in the best mood, but Ana came in to cheer him up. After a while, she did. When Ross asked her if she was going to be happy when he stopped playing with his band, she answered just like every honest 5-year-old would have.

"She said, 'I'm going to be happy, but sad,' " Ross said. "When I asked her if she would want me to be in another band, she said, 'Yes, but one that you don't have to go away with for as long.' "