Growing up in Louisa – Band Directors
Weekly feature . . . by Mike Coburn
When I first started with the LHS band the director was Richard ‘Dick’ Wilson. I remember when he stopped by my house a couple of times trying to interest me in joining up and playing. One problem that I had was that I couldn’t afford an instrument. Back when I was in the fourth grade I was given a rental trumpet to play in the fledging LGS band, but the horn fell victim to one of my cousins who damaged it by banging in the mouthpiece. My poor mom had to find money to reimburse the school for the repairs. I wasn’t welcome in the little band after that. It was basis for a fear of that it could reoccur.
So when Mr. Wilson showed up with the promise of a ‘free’ loaner horn I was reluctant. In spite of the aforementioned history my mother encouraged me to go ahead and join up. She had played during her high school years. How could I ignore a family tradition? I weakened and agreed to join. Besides, I really wanted to learn how to play music. A few years ago Billy Elkins sent me a copy of an old film enabling me to actually see my mom in parade. I’ve seen photos in old year books where she stands out in band picture after band picture.
A short time later, Mr. Wilson came by the house and dropped off a loan of some LP records. The recordings were of some classical music that he felt I would want to hear. Well, the name of the composition was foreign to me, but I kept my mouth shut and pretended to know about the music and show interest. After all, it was the polite thing to do since he had gone to all this trouble.
The joke, if there was one, was on me. I took the records to my room, put them on my new Hy-fi and began to listen to them. The set of records was a complete recording of Handle’s Messiah. Wise as Mr. Wilson was, he had also left a score of the music so I could follow the notes and hear all the intricate movements. I loved every page and every record. There were a number of records in the set. They were full of choruses and solos by clearly accomplished people. The music itself was wonderful. The words were straight out of the Bible and surprisingly known to me. I had heard the words in church in the telling of the story of Christ.
A small historical introduction told me of how George Frederick Handle had locked himself in his room, taking little refreshments, or sleep, to write the oratorio in 24 days. The story went on to say that Handle said that he felt as if he was guided by the hand of God. It was subsequently arranged for full orchestra and choir. I listened so much over the next several days that I actually learned the parts and knew much of the music by heart. Today it is the most recognizable music of its type. Even non-Christians know the Hallelujah Chorus. The history goes that when it was played before the King, he rose during that chorus so everyone in the audience rose as well in celebration. It is now tradition that during this chorus we all continue to rise, as well.
A couple of months later I reluctantly returned the records by taking them by Mr. Wilson’s house over in Little Italy. He invited me in and showed me his large box grand piano. I had seen grand pianos before but the antique box grand shape was new to me. It was very ornate and beautifully carved, a master piece of furniture, but more as a beautiful instrument. I think it was his mother that served something, perhaps tea, while I told Mr. Wilson of my love for the music I’d been lent.
I had begun a lifelong journey in learning about classical music that is still an important element in my life, today. Yes, I appreciate blue grass, mountain music, and pops, and was an avid listener to the ‘Hit Parade,’ but because of this introduction I grew to recognize the major composers and how music progressed from Baroque to modern works. I came to understand Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Gershwin, Baccarat, Bernstein, and finally even the Beatles. I was now able to watch a movie and understand how important the background music was to the production. If you doubt that, try watching Jaws, Jurassic Park, or Psych with the sound off. Then listen to the background music but don’t watch the screen. Your eyes will be opened immediately that it is often the music that sets the mood and tells the story.
I suppose it wasn’t more than a year or so later that I heard that Mr. Wilson was moving to take a band director’s job in Virginia. I was very disturbed that my ‘coach,’ or mentor, was to leave my life. It didn’t seem fair. I was new in this journey and needed his expert guidance and advice. When I spoke to him about his leaving he showed me some pictures of Pulaski, the town in Virginia that he had grown to love. He, like me, loved to oil paint, too, so he shared the pictures of foggy mornings in the meadows he had painted just as they occurred. He was in love with a new opportunity to teach music in those beautiful surroundings. I could only wish him well in his new endeavors, wondering how this would affect my life.
When I heard that Smith “Pete” Armstrong was to be the new band director, I relaxed. I had known him and heard him sing at church over the years. He was the son of my first grade teacher who was also organist at our church, so it was befitting that he would come home and take the now vacant position. Within the first year I came to enjoy his professional approach as a bandmaster so I settled into the evolutionary growth that would come to me over the next years. He would also take over the directorship of the church choir, so I came to know him well. When Pete came home he also brought his pretty young wife, Naomi, who would become Glee Club director at LHS. I sang with that group, with the church choir, and continued to play in the LHS band.
Mr. Armstrong had returned to town after a tour with the US Air Force Band in Washington. He was also a member of the Air Force Singing Sergeants, a well-known national group that performed at the White House and at other important affairs. He would pass on to me some training materials given him in the Air Force that would enable me to later play with an Air Force band. I would also direct a chapel choir while in the Air Force and a year or two afterward.
Just prior to my senior year Mr. Armstrong called me at home to ask me to meet him at the school. He was there planning the agenda for the upcoming band camp to be held at Cabwaylingo. To my surprise he presented me with the suggestion that he wanted me to be Drum Major for the upcoming year. In spite of the honor of being recognized as a possible leader, I was shocked and really not as pleased as you might think. Like many of my male friends, I felt the position a little ‘sissified’ and that it might make me the subject of ridicule, or at the best teasing. Mr. Armstrong went on to insist that I was an excellent marcher, was a good leader, and by being tall and slender I would stand out. Standing out is not the same as outstanding, and was precisely what was worrying me. As a teen, standing out wasn’t on my bucket list, if you please.
I wanted to be polite and was certainly honored, but I said I wasn’t much in favor of taking the position. He told me to think about it. I did. I talked to my family and to several of my friends. To my surprise they encouraged me, but they were also quick to add that the decision would have to be mine. Growing up isn’t fun, I discovered. Mr. Armstrong continued to call, coming by one afternoon with the big stick with the shiny globe on the end (baton). He showed me how to give signals for the band to start up the music, to march, and to stop the music whenever it seemed right. He also gave me a big fancy whistle. It was clear that he figured the decision was a given. I felt turning it down at this point was at least, ill-advised.
Many parades later I found out that I could survive and taking the helm was sometimes fun. It wasn’t without challenges, but with the support of Mr. Armstrong and others, I had a successful year. We marched in Morehead, and a very cold morning in Frankfort, and at ribbon –cutting ceremonies with Governor Happy Chandler for the new ‘river road,’ and at many football games and the like. It was a good year. I turned in the uniform with a little sadness that this part of my life was over.
Mr. Armstrong remained at school for a time, but I heard that he took up a new career path by studying dentistry and then becoming a professor of dentistry. I was sorry to hear that he had passed away, but I was pleased to have known him and to have earned his trust. I know that he played an important role for a number of us. During his years the size of the band increased, the number and types of instruments grew, and the cultural lives of the student body expanded. We took state honors at concert, and even cut a record, as I recall.
If you have memories of those days, write a paragraph or two and tell me about it. I’d love to hear from you. mcoburncppo@aol.com
