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Loughary Lines |
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Bagan Stories
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Growing Up On Jefferson Street, set 12 “Won’t You Play A Simple Melody” and “The Slide Trombone”
Dear Jack. These stories of our many years on Jefferson Street have brought up so many memories that have been hiding for quite a long time in the back of my mind. The games we played, the kids in the neighborhood, the ways we entertained ourselves are all such important parts of who we eventually became. A problem that has developed surrounds the dilemma of focus. Here's a tale of another very important part of our lives.
"Won't You Play a Simple Melody..."
While thinking about the kinds of leisure activities that occupied our lives as kids on Jefferson Street, it occurs to me that we haven’t written about the role that music played for us. I’ve forgotten just when you began to play the trombone and the drums, but it was in the fourth grade that the decision was made for me to start piano lessons. Remember the large upright piano that took up one wall of the living room? Mother was able to play simple tunes and often, when Aunt Mabel came over, they would harmonize songs learned when they were young. Aunt Mabel could “play by ear” and had an ability to chord just about any song that they knew. Both Mom and Dad had strong sweet voices, and Dad could whistle up a storm. I can still hear him whistling “My Man” and “Dark Town Strutter’s Ball” as he went about his work in the garden. They both had loved to dance when they were in high school and I loved to watch them two-step in the dining room to snappy tunes on the radio. As a result of all this whistling and singing, I began to gather quite a repertoire of songs. I learned to sing all the songs from the Twenties and Thirties that had been part of Mom and Dad’s early years and began adding a whole new agenda of tunes as Hollywood began to produce numerous musicals. Some songs, like, “Smile Awhile”, “Trail of The Lonesome Pine”, “Together” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” were leftovers from earlier years, but had words and melodies that were easy to learn. The advent of World War II inspired another generation of song writers with such songs as “You’ll Never Know”, “Coming In On a Wing and a Prayer”, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, and “The White Cliffs of Dover”. A whole roster of songs that spoke to the pains of departure and the sadness of war and what it meant to the human heart. I learned and loved them all.Piano lessons were not quite as I had imagined. They involved lots and lots of practice. As I was enrolled at St. Mary’s school, the nuns were the obvious tutors. The red-covered John Thompson music books became my major sources of study. The Holy Names Sisters were clearly interested in the theory of music as well as a disciplined approach to practice. Weekly piano lessons and daily practice sessions took place in the convent. A long hallway of cell-like rooms, each with an upright piano awaited the music students. Along with John Thompson we also had a series of scale and chord books which we were to initiate our daily practice sessions. Oft times, when we might wish to slip into playing a liked tune before the scale time had elapsed, there would be a rap on the wall from Sister warning us to get back to the basics. There were semi-yearly recitals where we music students all performed for the parents and school student body at large. Besides piano, the nuns also gave instruction in violin, cello, harp and voice. Of course, all students were instructed in the singing of Latin. I clearly recall the recital when I sat down at the grand piano keyboard and couldn’t recall a single note of my carefully prepared piece. After a few minutes of quiet desperation, I finally began and raced through the piece in record time. Sometimes, I was involved in playing duets, which was much more to my liking as the focus of the audience was spread between two and any clinkers I might make could be easily denied. When I entered public school in the seventh grade via Woodrow Wilson Junior High, I switched piano teachers. An older man with a foreign accent who had a studio in downtown Eugene located two flights up very dark stairs took over from the nuns. This strangely quiet man had a habit of wanting to hold my hands between songs. Either he thought I needed calming down, or as I suspected, his objectives were of a darker nature. At any rate, I attained my goal of performing live on the radio and then convinced Mother that it was time for me to quit. Six years of training had left me with a good understanding of the elements of music, an ear for singing and an ability to read music. I continued to sing in various vocal groups through-out my school years, but as there were many pianists who had far more talent than I, the piano became less important. Sixty years later, it’s not the piano that brings me sweet memories, rather, it’s the image of Dad’s whistling on a warm sunny day. It reminds me of the importance of melody to the human soul.
THE GARDENER Work clothes exchanged for more comfortable wear,
It’s time to get some tomatoes in the ground, Love, Marilyn
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Dear Marilyn, I forgot the number of years you studied piano and music. I vaguely recall starting piano lessons at St. Mary’s (especially the cell like practice rooms) but I doubt that I lasted longer than a month or two. Congratulations on your perseverance, one of your strong personality characteristics that I admire greatly. In analogous situations, I tend to conclude that I am wrong and go on to other endeavors. One of my most treasured memories was Dad singing to us after dinner as we washed, wiped and put away the plates, cups and saucers. Interesting how music is so important to each of us at different points in life and in different ways. I do recall your prize winning singing with the Albany Sweet Adelines. With a clumsy segue, here is my take on how important music was to me.
The Slide Trombone
It was during the fifth grade at Francis Willard that the music teacher announced that several band instruments were available and could be borrowed by students who promised to participate in the band practices, practice individually and take good care of the instrument and that anyone interested should come to the music room after school. Seemed like an attractive opportunity to me and so there I was at 3:00 p.m. waiting for the meeting to begin. It was short in both number of instruments available and students interested in same. I don’t recall what choices there were, but the trombone apparently was the one that most appealed to me. I was ready to enlist, but there was a hitch, namely parental permission. That night I explained the deal to Mom (who was the parent who dealt with school stuff) and she approved. Thus, the next day the mold ridden trombone was checked out to me, someone demonstrated how to connect the bell to the slide, showed me how to case it, and I was on my way to a famous career in music.
The slide trombone is not the easiest of instruments to play in that in lieu of pushing a valve or fingering a key, the player slides (what else) the slide to one of 7 positions and then blows. The trick is to remember the exact positions. It helps to have a good ear for music, but still precision of selection is critical. You just don’t slide around until you think you have it. I took a few lessons from a high school kid, went to band practice once a week, practiced and before long I could play a scale or two. I continued my musical career in the sixth grade, but do not recall any high points, or low points either, but I was enjoying the process. Being one to milk everything I could by adding fantasy to an activity, I day dreamed about what it might be like to be a band leader. The year was 1941-42 and big (dance) bands were in their heyday providing considerable reinforcement for my growing band leader fantasy. Then, as circumstance would have it, I discovered a magazine named “Band Leader.” It was published irregularly several times a year and most stories focused on a particular dance band and of course featured the leader and by association, if you want to go there, the instrument he played. Two of the leading big band leaders then were Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller, both trombonists. Both bands were profiled in articles that year. Wow! My fantasy life suddenly had been provided substance. Seventh grade was the beginning of junior high school and an opportunity to get another loaner trombone. More important, Band was more or less a regular course and met regularly during the school week. I also took a few more private lessons. I doubt that I practiced a lot, but I was enjoying the musician’s life. At the end of a summer of farm work II had saved sufficient money beyond that needed for school clothes to purchase a new Blessing trombone, a good second line instrument. During the ninth grade I had an entrepreneurial urge and took on a couple private trombone students, seventh graders who were just beginning the band. I think I charged fifty cents a lesson. I also tried to organize a small dance band, but there was no way to avoid the fact that we couldn’t play “Come to Jesus” in whole notes without musical arrangements, which we lacked, and even if we had we were in way over our heads.I did improve, if slowly, and by the end of the ninth grade was scheduled to perform a trombone solo in the final school assembly. I can’t recall how I got on the schedule, but there was my name in the program. Probably an early sign of inappropriate assertiveness. I practiced the pop tune I selected diligently for several weeks, conned some girl into being the piano accompanist, and was ready for my debut. Just minutes before the assembly was to begin, a teacher involved called me aside and noted that as it turned out the program was much too long and would I mind if they cancelled my solo. I wouldn’t have cared if they wanted to replace me with the president of the United States or even the King of England, there was no way I was not going to perform. I did, and without receiving a standing ovation, I should add. But I was on my way in music. At the close of summer before the beginning of my junior year at Eugene High School I traveled to Portland and purchased a King Silver Bell model trombone for just over $200. Top of the line! I got lucky and the senior who sat first chair trombone while I was a sophomore graduated, and solely due to the lack of competition I played first chair for two years and on into college where I began as a music major. That lasted a term until I realized there was no glamour or any other appeal to being a junior high band teacher, and that was about the only career option for a music major with average talent in those days. During a summer of high school years, the Eugene City Summer Band was short of players, and made offers to several high school musicians to waive the American Federation of Musicians union initiation fee and give us full union membership status if we would agree to play the summer schedule of weekly park concerts. Fortunately, I was a sufficiently adequate sight reader was included in the offer. There were no rehearsals, but then, marches and tone poems aren’t all that difficult. Lucked out again. Music provided a direction and purpose for the last 6 years of public school and into college and beyond. Changing my major to psychology did nothing to deter my interest in music and I was fortunate to be accepted by the semi professional musicians on campus. But, I realized that in order to continue my membership in that select society, I needed to be a performer. I still had the union card, but in order to play trombone in a dance band combo, one needed to ad-lib competently, and my handicap was that I still couldn’t play “Come to Jesus” in whole notes without a sheet of music in front of me. My solution was to purchase a ratty combination of drums (they didn’t qualify in any way as a “set”) and teach myself to play drums by playing along with records. Again, as luck would have it, one of the owners of the store where I purchased the drums also ran dance bands in town and he hired me to play in one of his “B” units. One thing led to another and by my junior year in college I had purchased a decent set of drums and was booking my own dance band at week end house dances. Fortunately for me, there was a fair supply of piano players and other side men on campus. A professional drummer friend taught me a few skills, and after that it was mostly organization not musicianship. One had to get the dance jobs, arrange a program of tunes that all of the musicians could play (no charts; it was all from memory), chat up the dancers, make reminder phone calls to unreliable side men who had tendencies to be late (or even miss a job) collect the money for the jobs and be sure the side men had theirs by the next Monday. A piano man who had been a graduate student in Iowa City and who eventually became a close friend, put me in touch with a band leader in Iowa City when we moved there to attend graduate school. I played drums for him for a year, and then organized and booked my own band for two years until graduation. I realize that I was never more than an average drummer. I could keep time and had good taste. Yet, the importance of being in music and finally being a jazz band leader was one of the major variables in my varied career. Acknowledging everything is relative, I enjoyed the band leader role as much as any of the many different kinds of work I have done. I suppose you could summarize by saying that I reached my initial career goal and also earned a Ph.D. by the time I was 28, retired, and then took up university professing . Love, your retired brother, Jack P.S. The King Silver Bell trombone rests in the garage with an estimated e-bay value of about $700. I gave the drums to St. Vinies, but hung the ride cymbals inside the garage wall. You know, just in case.
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© 2014 Theresa Ripley All rights reserved |
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Mom told me several times about how the Bagan house had been the center for a lot of music and dance when she and Dad were young in Stanfield. It seems that during her high school years, the local school board in Stanfield was dominated by a group of conservative Protestant gentlemen who refused to allow any dancing to take place within the school property. Her family home then became the gathering place for weekend dancing and games of cards. Someone played the piano, another a banjo, and sometimes a fiddler would show up for a Saturday night of fun. 