Chapter III: Part 3

Although Pryor remained identified with his band until his death, he virtually retired in 1938. He was always proud of his birthplace, St. “Joe,” Missouri, but New Jersey had been “home” for a long time. Here he lived with his wife, the former Maude Russell, whom he had married in 1895. Their two sons, Arthur, Jr., a bandsman and New York advertising executive, and Roger, orchestra leader and movie actor carry on the inherited musical strain.

Typical of the popularity of the genial, kindly Arthur Pryor was his election in 1933 as freeholder of Monmouth County with 5,000 votes over a veteran politician.

Arthur Pryor, noted bandmaster, composer, and greatest trombone player the world ever had, died June 18, 1942, at his home, in West Long Branch, New Jersey. But his music, which for more than fifty years had set the feet of millions of people throughout the world to marching, lives on.

PATRICK CONWAY

“Don’t worry, Mother,” said fifteen-year old Patrick Conway. “I’ll go to work at the carriage factory and make some money for you.”

Patrick’s father, Martin Conway, had just died, leaving five children and no money. There had never been much money in the Conway home and Patrick had never known his father to be well. Martin Conway while living in Ireland, had served in the British army and had been wounded at Sebastopol during the Crimean War. In 1863 he had brought his wife and baby girl to America, the land of his dreams. He proved his loyalty to his new country by joining the Navy and fighting in the Civil War. Tuberculosis developed and finally caused his death.

Patrick was born July 4, 1865 in Troy, New York. His life, even as a child, was not a carefree one in this home where there was both poverty and illness.

At the time of his father’s death Patrick was an honor student at Homer Academy in Homer, New York, where the family had moved. He willingly gave up his school work for a while in order to help the family. Three of the children were ill with tuberculosis and died within a few years after their father’s death.

Little did Patrick know that he would find his job at the carriage factory a dual one. When Charlie Bates, one of the workers who led the Homer Band learned of Patsy’s interest in the cornet, he said, “So you would like to play the cornet? If you will come to my house after work I’ll give you lessons.... Maybe you can be in the band some day.”

So Patrick worked all day learning the trade of carriage trimming, and walked six miles every evening to take his lessons. But that never seemed to tire him.

Later he joined the band and returned to school for part time work. After he was graduated from Homer Academy at the age of eighteen, he began playing with “Happy Bill Daniel’s Country Band Orchestra” where he gained valuable experience. This proved to be the beginning of his career as a bandsman.

But he needed money to help the family and to continue his studies in music. As soon as he had accumulated enough cash he bought a small cigar factory, which was soon a thriving little business. He left the making of fine cigars and the management of the factory to his brother Martin, so that he could devote his time to his music and study. He enrolled at Ithaca Conservatory of Music and at Cornell University.

“Patsy” continued his band work along with his college work. While he was playing for dances at the old Glen Haven Hotel, he met pretty Alice Randall. He decided at once, “That is the girl I am going to marry.”

After their marriage they lived in Courtland, New York, where their son Paul was born. Then they moved to Ithaca in 1895 when Patrick accepted an offer to teach music at Cornell University. He organized the Cornell Cadet Band and directed it for thirteen years.

Meantime about 1900, the city of Ithaca asked Patrick to start a city band. With the financial backing of Ebenezer Treman, one of the civic minded, wealthy merchants of the town, Patrick was able to bring some of the finest musicians in the world to Ithaca. Some of these musicians took their families and lived there, playing in the old Lyceum Theater Orchestra during the winter season when the band was not on tour.

This band played in practically every music and amusement center in the country. They went on many tours such as: the Buffalo Exposition; the St. Louis World’s Fair; the Cincinnati Zoo; Riverview park, Chicago; the Corn palace at Mitchell, South Dakota; and state fairs in the western states.

About 1904 Patrick’s engagements at Willow Grove Park, a popular resort near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and at Young’s Pier at Atlantic City, New Jersey began. These continued for many years.

In 1908 Patrick took over the Ithaca Band and gave it the name, “Patrick Conway and his Band.” People who had never heard of Ithaca began to hear about the band which took prizes at concerts given in various cities of the East. An old Ithacan used to reminisce, “Some bands wouldn’t even enter if they knew ‘Patsy’ and his bunch of terrors had.”

The next move was to Syracuse, New York. By that time Conway was making transcontinental tours with fifty or sixty men in the band as well as a dozen fine soloists.

In 1915 he played a long engagement at the Panama Pacific Exposition in San Francisco. His friend Sousa was there at the same time, and on one occasion they each conducted part of a great concert in which both bands were massed.

In Syracuse during the winter months Conway organized and conducted the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra as well as a theater orchestra. He also did some composing but published only one march. His band made a number of records for Victor.

During World War I Patrick Conway was commissioned as Captain in the U. S. Army Air Force and sent to Waco, Texas to establish the first Air Force Band. At the same time Sousa was starting the Navy Band at Great Lakes Training Station.

Sorrow came into Patrick and Alice Conway’s lives when their son Paul died at the age of twenty-six. Paul, a pianist of great promise, had also played an instrument in his father’s band until his health failed following an accident when he was eighteen.

The family moved back to Ithaca in 1922. Patrick was made dean of the Conway Band School which was affiliated with the Ithaca Conservatory of Music. During the school year he trained a remarkably fine student band. He took a number of these boys with the big band on the summer tours. How the boys worked for that privilege!

During the winter he went into New York to hear good music and to broadcast on the General Motors Family Hour with Mary Garden, Nora Bayes, and other celebrities. He organized and rehearsed amateur symphony orchestras made up of business and professional men and women in several small cities of New York.

Bandmaster Patrick Conway, like his Irish friends, Patrick Gilmore and Victor Herbert, had two gifts often said to be peculiar to their nationality--the gift of music and the gift of making friends. But Patrick Conway had still another rare gift--that of inspiring his students with his own ideals. Countless young men turned to musical careers after finding a master teacher and a loyal friend in “Patsy” as they affectionately called him.

Conway was a striking figure as he directed his boys in almost faultless renditions of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Greig, Debussy and other great composers. The simplicity that characterized him was evident in his manner of conducting. He believed, “The conductor’s motions are intended as signs and suggestions to his musicians--nothing more. He doesn’t need to do a thing to entertain his audience. His band is there for that purpose, and the more he devotes himself to directing, the better the band will succeed in its purpose.”

A Conway band was equally at home with military selections and popular music. No leader of that day knew better how to make programs that the public wanted and yet make them like only the best.

If Conway had any leisure time, he knew what to do with it. Reading or hiking with one of his dogs as a companion were popular pastimes. He collected authentic stories about early days in the West.

His favorite sports were boxing and baseball. Each year at the opening game at the New York Polo Grounds he took a small band to play for his old friend, John J. (Muggsie) McGraw.

Patrick Conway died at Ithaca, June 10, 1929, at the height of his usefulness. At the time of his death the _Ithaca Journal News_ paid the following tribute: “It is no small thing to have gladdened the hearts of the people, to have lifted them repeatedly above the mundane and trivial, to have made them forget the heat of the working day in the exaltation of good music. This was Patrick Conway’s contribution to his time, and for it he has earned the heartfelt gratitude of more than one generation. His own tradition of uncompromising musicianship, his belief in offering the best to popular audiences will be carried on by those who have learned from him.”

EDWIN FRANKO GOLDMAN

“What do you want to play young fellow?” asked the instructor of the grade school band, turning to the applicant next in line.

“The cornet, sir,” replied the boy.

“You’re pretty young, aren’t you?” said the teacher, looking closely at the small, bright-eyed lad.

“I’ll soon be nine, sir,” the youngster replied, eagerly, though he was really stretching a point.

“Well, we’ll try you on an alto horn in the second alto section. What’s your name?”

“Edwin Goldman, sir.”

Just two weeks later Edwin was asked to remain after band practice. “What’s the matter boy?” asked the bandleader, “You don’t seem to be able to play.”

“It’s hard to read that second part, sir,” said Edwin. “I’d rather learn to play the cornet.”

“You’d better wait a year or two. I told you before that you are too young. That’s all. Turn in your instrument.”

Eddie rushed out of the room fearing his tears would be discovered, while the young teacher hurriedly wrote “No talent” after the name of Edwin Goldman.

However the boy’s keen disappointment was so evident that two weeks later the teacher said, “Well, Edwin, I’ll give you another try--on the cornet this time--we’ll see what you can do.”

Edwin quickly showed what he could do. He made such amazing progress that it was evident he had his full share of his family’s talent.

Edwin Franko Goldman was born in Louisville, Kentucky, January 1, 1878. He had a rare heritage in a fine musical and cultural background.

Edwin’s mother, Selma Franko, came of a line of famous musicians. She was the oldest of sixteen children, and so many in that large family were musical that eight grand pianos were kept in their home to allow all who wished to practice. Selma, a talented violinist and pianist, was one of the five Franko children who toured the United States and Europe as young musical prodigies.

David Goldman, the father of Edwin, was also a brilliant pianist and violinist, but as an amateur only. He devoted his life to the profession of law. He was highly educated, widely traveled and very prominent in his field. Having descended from such a family, it is small wonder that from his earliest boyhood young Edwin dreamed that some day he would become a great musician.

The Goldman family moved to Evansville, Indiana, later to Terre Haute. When Edwin was eight years old they left the middle west to live in New York City.

Through his admittance to the public school band Edwin had obtained possession of a cornet. His faithful practicing nearly drove the neighborhood to distraction. Even his devoted family protested at the labored trills, runs and scales. But deaf to all criticism, the boy persisted. Before very long Edwin was asked to play at all the neighborhood parties, and his music was the pride of his school. He was voted the most popular boy in his class and received a prize for excellent playing when he was graduated.

At fourteen, Edwin Franko Goldman won a scholarship at the National Conservatory of Music where he studied composition under the great Antonin Dvorak. Next year, Jules Levy then the world’s greatest cornetist, hearing Edwin play, gave him an approving pat on the back as he said, “Someday you will be a great cornetist--you put your whole soul into the tones.” Levy, realizing the boy’s talent was happy to take him as a free pupil.

Two years later--at seventeen--Dr. Walter Damrosch chose Edwin Franko Goldman to be the solo cornet player in the Metropolitan Opera House Orchestra. “The Baby of the Met,” the players called him; he was so small and so young. In fact, he was the youngest musician ever to hold such an important place in that great organization. There Goldman had the privilege of playing under the direction of Mahler, Hertz and for a while, under Toscanini.

For ten full years Edwin Goldman held this position. In the meantime he organized and directed small orchestras which were then in popular demand. Later on he began to play in various bands during his vacations at the Metropolitan. In 1912 he announced that he was going to give up his work in the Metropolitan Opera House organization. His family and friends disapproved and objected.

“What do you intend to do?” they asked. Goldman would not give them a direct answer. He had an idea, but he was not ready to disclose it. He began to teach the cornet and the trumpet. He attracted pupils from all parts of the United States and even from some countries in Europe. Goldman’s warm, magnetic personality combined with his outstanding musical ability made him a marvelous teacher.

While continuing his teaching this energetic young man conducted many series of band concerts in the New York area. He liked this work, but he was surprised and disgusted at the lack of systematic and adequate training among bands. They played in a haphazard way, trying solely for volume and noise. Goldman had always felt that this great difference between band and orchestra playing should not exist. He determined to form a band and train it in accordance with his own ideals. This had been his real reason for leaving the Metropolitan Opera House Orchestra.

For a long time Edwin Goldman had envisioned a band with great wind instruments of much power, yet rivalling an orchestra in delicacy of tone and style. Now he hoped to form an organization of fine musicians and direct them in the production of great works played in this symphonic manner.

Few people sympathized with Goldman’s ideas. Most of those to whom he confided his plans assured him that he could never succeed. But Edwin Goldman had great faith and unlimited persistence. His first object was to collect the best available players of wind and percussion instruments, and with them raise the standards of bands and band music.

Having assembled his quota of chosen men, Goldman, as manager and conductor, founded the New York Military Band. (A few years later this name was changed to _The Goldman Band_.) With this group he put into use the methods, and ways of directing which he had learned from the great conductors under whom he had played at the Metropolitan Opera House. Goldman directed each player as if he were giving him private lessons. He marked instructions in red ink on their music scores, even telling them when to breathe. At first, the men objected to his strict supervision. “He treats us like kindergartners!” they said. Goldman held long, careful rehearsals which many of the players resented at the time, but later they found that a man trained by this expert teacher could become a welcome member of any first-class symphony orchestra.

By his own efforts Goldman collected a fund of $50,000, and in 1918 on _The Green_ of Columbia University, _The Goldman Band_ opened its first season of free summer concerts. This new Symphonic Brass Band was a distinct success. The newspapers praised it highly and people by the thousands flocked to the concerts. A few years later Columbia needed _The Green_ for new buildings, and the band concerts were given on the Mall in Central Park three nights each week. On two nights weekly, concerts were played in Prospect Park in Brooklyn.

In 1924 Daniel Guggenheim took over the costs of the concerts, making them a gift to the city of New York. The necessary money is now donated by the Daniel and Florence Guggenheim Foundation. The Goldman Band has given many programs in other parks, other cities and even in Canada.

An interesting new feature was initiated on the Goldman Concert program on the Mall in 1925--an Annual Music Memory Contest. For twelve consecutive years Aaron Gold, a middle-aged, leather craftsman, from the Bronx, won the first prize in this event. This music lover claimed to have gained all his musical knowledge through his attendance at the Goldman Band Concerts.

The Goldman Band, one of the first great organizations to play over the radio, was chosen to play on NBC’s opening program, November 15, 1926. This band is said to have had a greater listening audience than any other musical group.

In 1930 Dr. Goldman founded the American Bandmasters’ Association made up of all the prominent Band Conductors of the United States and Canada. The members elected Goldman their first president and some years later he was made honorary life president. This influential group has become a power in upholding the ideals of band music so long desired by Dr. Goldman.

At first bandleaders were obliged to use orchestral scores of the great masters’ compositions, rearranged for band instruments. Only expert musicians could make such arrangements successfully and it was an expensive procedure. Early in his career as bandleader Goldman had written to every living composer of note asking them to compose music for the band. “At first they all thought it was a joke,” said Dr. Goldman with a chuckle, “but now, more band music is written than can be used. A number of famous men, such as Grainger, Holst, Copland, Shostakovitch, Milhand, Gould and others, have been contributors to the repertoire of band music.”

On Dr. Goldman’s seventieth birthday, January 1, 1949, an unsurpassable tribute was paid to this man who had worked for years to have music--good music--composed especially for bands. The august League of Composers presented in his honor a program of their music for symphonic bands which was played by Goldman’s Concert Band in Carnegie Hall, New York City.

The Band was jointly led by Walter Hendl, the assistant director of the New York Philharmonic Association Society, and Percy Grainger, composer-conductor. This was the first time a program of art music written by noted living composers especially for the band, had been offered to the public.

Edwin Franko Goldman and Adelaide Marbrunn were married in 1908. Throughout the years they have shared a great love for music. Two children were born to them, Richard Franko and Louise Elizabeth. Richard Franko Goldman a thorough musician, a pianist, composer, arranger and musicologist, is the assistant conductor of the Goldman Band. Louise Goldman married and has a young son who seems to have inherited the Goldman musical talent, and incidentally, he is the apple of his grandfather Goldman’s eye.

A short time ago this eight-year-old Michael who began studying music at the age of six, brought a brief music manuscript to his grandfather. It was entitled “A Song to Music” and it was “Dedicated” to Gramp. Neatly written in the key of four sharps, the final measure began with a half-rest and ended with two full-toned chords high on the staff in the right hand part.

“Gramp, do you know why I put the half-rests in the last measure?” asked the budding composer.

“No, why did you?” queried Dr. Goldman.

“Why you see I had to have time to get my hands up there on the keyboard,” replied the lad proudly. So watch for his name among future composers, “Walter Michael Freed.”

The dynamic, but genial and kindly Dr. Goldman likes people and people like him. He has many friends among the musical “greats” of today and yesterday. And he knew intimately the noted bandleaders of the past generation.

He admired the inimitable Patrick Gilmore who was the real founder of the Concert Band. He enjoyed playing cornet duets with his good friend, Herbert L. Clarke, known as the World’s greatest cornetist.

Although Goldman was almost a quarter of a century younger than John Philip Sousa, the two were firm friends. At a party one evening at which Dr. Goldman entertained a number of noted musicians, Sousa remarked to the younger man, “I have always meant to tell you that I owe much of my success to your mother’s family. The first really fine music I ever heard was played by the five Franko children. When I was a school boy I attended their concert in Washington and I was thrilled and inspired by their wonderful playing.”

“Would you like to see one of those children again, Mr. Sousa?” asked Dr. Goldman.

“Nothing would please me more,” replied Sousa.

“Come with me then,” said Goldman. He ushered the guest into the next room, and proudly led him to a lovely white-haired lady. “Mother,” he said as they smiled tenderly at each other, “I wish to present my good friend John Philip Sousa who heard the Franko children play long ago.”

“Do you remember the little girl with the long braids, Mr. Sousa?” Her dark eyes twinkled as she pointed to a photograph of the five Franko children on the wall nearby.

“Indeed I do,” said Sousa. Stepping close to the picture he added, “There she is, the one on the left.”

“I am she--Selma”--said Mrs. Goldman smiling.

“At last I can thank you,” Sousa replied, “for your fine music which gave me inspiration and strengthened my desire to be a musician.”

If Dr. Goldman were the kind of man who glories in display, the walls of his spacious studio would be crowded with various medals, emblems and scrolls. He has received countless gifts and honors. He is the first musician to have been given official honors from the City of New York, including a beautiful New York City flag, several medals and watches, besides scrolls upon which are written official resolutions. Boston, San Francisco, Toronto (Canada), many other large cities and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts have bestowed similar recognition upon this outstanding musician.

An unique honor has been given to Dr. Goldman by the Pawnee Tribe of American Indians who made him an Indian Chieftain and gave him the name of Chief Bugle. And not only has his native land shown its appreciation of Goldman’s achievements, but other countries as well. France made him Officer de l’Instruction Publique. Italy presented him with the medal of Cavaliere of the Order of the Crown.

Czechoslovakia made him a member of the Order of the White Lion. Various Universities have conferred upon Dr. Goldman their honorary degree of Doctor of Music. He also belongs to many musical organizations, fraternities and unions. And indicative of his love for young people, Dr. Goldman never fails to name his position as Music Counselor of the 4-H Clubs of the United States and also of the Boy Scouts of America.

But the honor which gave Dr. Goldman the “most profound satisfaction of all” was the presentation by Mrs. Sousa of her late husband’s favorite baton. Mrs. Sousa said, “I feel that my husband would have wanted this baton to go to his good friend, Edwin Franko Goldman.” Most leading musicians agreed that the honor of being the “Dean of American Bandmasters” rightfully went from Sousa to Goldman, “the man who had brought the band to a high pitch of musical perfection.”

Several books, very valuable to bandsmen, have been written by Dr. Goldman. _Band Betterment_, published in 1934 and _The Goldman Band System_ which came out in 1936 are two of these. His first book, _The Foundation to Cornet Playing_ has been most popular with ambitious cornetists and it quickly sold more than one quarter of a million copies. A new series by Dr. Goldman is being brought out.

_Facing The Music_, the famous bandmaster’s autobiography, is to appear shortly.

More than one hundred marches have been composed by Dr. Goldman, many of which have become so popular that he ranks next to Sousa in that field. _On The Mall_, Goldman’s best-known march, is often requested by the concert crowds who, without a signal from the leader, spontaneously join in singing or whistling the trio. Brooklyn is equally enthusiastic when he plays _Hail Brooklyn_, a march which Goldman composed and dedicated to the people of Brooklyn.

The United States Government recognizes Dr. Goldman’s great musical ability. Recently he was appointed on a committee of three to make a survey of the Government Service Bands in various centers including Japan and the Philippines, and to suggest ways of improving these bands.

Dr. Goldman generously gives much time to worthwhile musical efforts of various groups. Regularly, once each year, he conducts the Salvation Army Band in New York City. And also, every year, he leads the band at the Swedish Orphans’ Home to aid their money-raising campaign.

Young, talented musicians may be sure of a sympathetic hearing from this great-hearted man of music. He is always happy to discover and promote new musical geniuses.

At the funeral of the well-known Negro singer and composer, Harry Burleigh, Dr. Goldman was attracted by an unusually beautiful voice among the singers. He at once sought her out, gave her an audition and offered her an opportunity to sing at the Goldman Band Concerts.

Dr. Goldman is an unforgettable figure. He is a handsome man with wavy, white hair, brilliant dark eyes and a quick friendly smile. He is not tall, but slender, trimly built and of distinguished appearance.

This maker of “music for the masses” is one of New York City’s best-known men. While band music is his chief interest, he indulges in a hobby, that of collecting autographs and letters of composers, conductors, musicians and other famous people. Besides his other numerous activities, Dr. Goldman finds time to aid his “pet project”--_School and College Bands_.

Since the beginning of this movement Dr. Goldman’s efforts for its advancement have been continuous. As a judge at contests and music festivals, adviser and consultant, he has freely given his time. “These High School and College Bands have a wonderful future and will exert a great influence upon our country’s music,” said this music authority. Dr. Goldman is in great demand as a judge or speaker at all music festivals.

He firmly believes that every child should learn to play a musical instrument. “With that hobby,” says Dr. Goldman, “boys will not loaf or linger on the streets, not knowing what to do with their spare time. Now, with shorter work hours, people have more unoccupied time. Those who become interested in music will be interested in all the better things of life--art, literature, and sculpture. The only worthwhile things that last are cultural things. Music will remain with them forever.”

_Municipal Bands_

Clang! Clang! went the firebell. The members of the Lone Tree Band practicing in a room above the fire department, dropped their instruments and scuttled pell-mell downstairs to go to the fire. They were led by their bandmaster who was also the fire chief.

Lone Tree might have been any town in the early 1900’s when a band was as necessary to community pride and self respect as was its fire department. The usual practice room was back of, or above the engine house, or it may have been in the back room of a grocery store if the proprietor chanced to be a bandmember. Here the public-spirited citizens tooted away through long hours preparing for the weekly or monthly concert.

To the townspeople these blaring sounds were a promise of good times to come; for the band concert was a big social event, not only in the towns but also in the surrounding communities. Stores remained open on those nights. Hitching racks were all occupied. Families and young couples came in various kinds of conveyances from lumber wagons to surreys with fringed tops and occasionally a Ford or perhaps a Pierce-Arrow. The young people strolled around the commons or parks in the moonlight; older women visited with relatives or friends; while the men gathered in small groups to talk about politics or crops. All discussed their favorite “pieces” from _The Poet and Peasant_ overture to _Listen to the Mocking Bird_ with variations. The latter gave the cornetist an opportunity to display his technique, and he seldom failed his audience.

The municipal band became a unifying influence of the entire community, and by 1912 nearly every town of any size in the United States had some kind of a band. Victor and Columbia Record Companies were selling 1,000,000 march records a year. The march kings were as eagerly followed as the popular jazz kings of today.

Maintaining a band was not easy, but subscription and taxation plans were used in many municipalities of all sizes even in rural communities. Major George W. Landers of Clarinda, Iowa, a prominent bandmaster himself, fathered the Iowa Band Law, a model for similar legislation in more than half the states of the Union. This law permitted towns and cities of less than 40,000 to levy a local tax “for maintenance or employment of a band for musical purposes.” Major Landers holds a high place in band history.

Police and fire department bands, many of which are still in existence, have rendered a real service to their communities. Service clubs such as Kiwanis, Rotary, Exchange, and Lion, have sponsored juvenile bands in many towns and cities. Fraternal orders, American Legion Posts, Veterans of Foreign Wars and other organizations today support some fine bands.

The small-town band is a distinctly American tradition, one of those we often associate with “the good old days.” But today’s municipal bands are directly descended from those town bands, good or bad as they may have been. Colonel George Howard, leader of the Army Air Force Band, says, “Town bands were organized and conducted by men who had a real love for music, organizational ability, and community spirit. We must never underestimate the tremendous job they did in helping to elevate the plane of American culture.”

Although relatively few cities maintain municipal bands now, there are still some excellent ones to be found in the smaller cities. There seems to be a trend toward more community-supported bands again with an increased interest in public concerts, particularly park concerts where large numbers can meet.

THE ALLENTOWN BAND

The Allentown, Pennsylvania, Band has authentic records to prove that it was organized in 1828 and that it played at a “celebration in honor of General Lafayette, who had recently died, held on July 31, 1834. In the center of the troops, leading the white horse draped in mourning, the band marched to the rumbling of the muffled drums.”

Marching at the head of the first firemen’s parade in Allentown was one of the various important holiday functions the band has participated in. “The band was followed by the hose company with four horses and a fine banner; the Friendship engine, drawn by two horses and having a banner; the Lehigh engine, drawn by four gray horses, with a banner; and the Humane engine, drawn by four horses with a banner. All were decorated with laurel, evergreens and flowers.”

During World War I the band played for many civic and military affairs, including the launching of the first wooden ship by the Trayler Shipbuilding Company at Cornwells, on July 5, 1918.

In 1926 the present director, Albertus L. Meyers, who had many years of professional experience with Sousa, Conway, Pryor and Liberati was elected leader and business manager. Under his direction the Allentown Band has grown into a concert band of seventy members which has played in Toronto and Montreal, Canada, and in various large cities of the East.

This is Allentown’s own municipal band. It plays a series of winter concerts in a local theater and a summer series in West Park, as well as many concerts in nearby communities.

THE BARRINGTON BAND

The Barrington Band in East Barrington, New Hampshire, is just four years younger than the Allentown Band, but it has the unique distinction of having had only three leaders, all from three generations of the Wiggin family. In 1832 James Wiggin, grandfather of the present leader, organized the Wiggin Band with his five sons and a few neighbor boys as members.

George Wiggin, one of the five sons, “had the band in hand” at the age of seventeen and carried on as bandmaster until 1880. During this time George had five of his sons in his band.

Elmer Wiggin, the present leader, had his four brothers in his group when he took over in 1880. “After I became leader, we played our initial job for a Garfield and Arthur torchlight parade,” he says. “But our uniforms weren’t as colorful and elaborate as those of my father’s band, purchased about the Mexican War time.”

In 1890 the name was changed from the Wiggin’s Band to the Barrington Band. Now Elmer Wiggin, loved and revered by his community, carries on with his son and a grand-nephew representing the family in today’s band of thirteen players.

“I am now in my eighty-ninth year,” says Bandmaster Wiggin, “but I expect to lead my band on Memorial Day as I have for sixty-nine years.”

HERBERT CLARKE

Five-year-old Herbert Clarke stealthily crept up the attic stairs as he had done for days when his mother was busy. He quietly opened up the cases of wind instruments stored there. Not daring to take them out, he sat entranced as he examined each one separately.

But his favorite play place was soon discovered. His father ordered him to stay out of the attic and then began to teach him violin. The boy progressed surprisingly fast, but the forbidden instruments were constantly in his mind.

Herbert Lincoln Clarke, born September 12, 1867, in Woburn, Massachusetts, was the fourth of five sons of William Horatio and Eliza Tufts Richardson Clarke. His father, a celebrated organist and composer, disapproved of band musicians although he could play any kind of instrument made. He wanted his sons to learn and enjoy classical music and frequently roared at them, “Music is an art, not a profession!” But band music was Herbert’s heritage.

He watched the torchlight processions of the political parties prior to the election of 1876, the fife and drum corps, and bands of all kinds marching and playing with hundreds of men, all bearing torches and wearing multi-colored capes. He would lie awake nights listening to bands playing in the distance, then fall asleep and dream that he was a man playing with them.

After his brother Ed bought a cornet and joined a band Herbert’s band fever grew worse. On their first parade Herbert marched alongside Ed and announced to all they passed, “This is my brother playing the cornet.”

When Herbert was twelve the family moved to Toronto, Canada, having previously lived in four different cities where Mr. Clarke had been called to play the church organ or take charge of school music. At first Herbert had to content himself with trailing bands and keeping his brothers’ instruments polished and their uniforms brushed and spotless.

After he had heard Bowen R. Church, his first cornetist hero, Herbert again hopefully invaded the attic collection. He took out the old brass cornopean from its box and plastered it together with beeswax. Watching his chance to practice he found he could draw only wheezy noises from the dilapidated old horn, but he did learn to play some of the cornet scales. Finally one loud toot blew the old instrument apart.

Regretfully, Herbert went back to his violin and with some of his schoolmates organized a little orchestra which did so well that they were soon playing at church sociables. Herbert’s music attracted so much attention that he was offered the second violinist chair with the Toronto Philharmonic Orchestra of some fifty players. Here the thirteen-year-old boy learned much good music.

One day he persuaded his mother to let him “try just once” to play his brother’s silver cornet. She was so surprised at his performance that she asked Ed to hear him. As a result Herbert was allowed to play in his brother’s small orchestra at the opening of a new restaurant. The fifty cents he received was the first money he had ever made from music.

This spurred him on to further practice and to begin saving money to buy his own cornet. He shoveled snow furiously at twenty-five cents a job, but at the end of a month his cornet seemed far away. His father, usually so generous, refused to contribute a cent to this cause.

Discouraged, Herbert decided to try for a job playing with the Government Regiment Band as he had heard that they furnished instruments free to those who did not own them. In spite of the fact that he was only fourteen, he was accepted and took the oath of allegiance to Queen Victoria for service. The bandmaster gave him a cornet, a plain brass one with badly corroded slides; but he happily cleaned it up and polished it till it glistened like new. No one worked harder than Herbert. With distended cheeks and bulging eyes he practiced faithfully.

His big day soon came. At the opening of Canadian Parliament he put on his regimental uniform to perform guard duty. In twelve below zero weather the band marched through snowy and icy streets. At first he could not keep step and hold his mouthpiece in place. Then the cornet froze to his lips. It not only made no sound, but it took the skin when he removed it. His proud schoolmates who trooped along home with him after the parade did not know that their hero had not played a note during the entire march.

That fall after a hard fought football game, Herbert contracted pneumonia and was kept in bed from December till April. His brother Ed who was now playing a violin in an orchestra felt so sorry for Herbert that he allowed him to use his cornet. Father relented enough to say, “Get well, son, and I’ll let you play the cornet since nothing else will do. That is, if you behave yourself and keep your school work up to the mark.” Herbert returned to school and was graduated with his class in 1884.

Then his family moved again--this time to Indianapolis, Indiana. There, fortunately, each musician had his own room. Herbert and his cornet, Ern and his trombone, Ed and his violin, Mr. Clarke and his organ. Besides, the boys and their father began playing together. Many unsigned notes were left in the Clarke’s mailbox, all expressing the same thought--that the family was the “neighborhood nuisance” and that “they should take their instruments and move to the country.”

Herbert got a job playing at a roller skating rink for fourteen dollars a week and proudly began to pay board at home, a dollar a week. Now he was making enough money to buy his own cornet. Although it was not a silver-plated one like Ed’s, it was a prized possession.

The boy’s ambition was fired again when Patrick Gilmore’s band came to play in Indianapolis. Herbert met them at the station and, standing first on one foot then on the other, tried to get enough courage to ask to carry the great Gilmore’s bag to the hotel. Failing in this he sat in a front seat at the concert where he could see every move of the musicians as well as marvel at their technique. Then and there he vowed that some day he would play in Gilmore’s band, the only traveling band in the country at that time.

Still thinking of Gilmore the next morning, he was up early to practice when a call from his father interrupted, “A letter for you, Herbert. Come on down!” Will, the oldest son who had remained in business in Toronto, had written glowingly of a job he had found for Herbert in a store. Mr. Clarke was sure that this was a fine opportunity for his young son, and he cited instances of many wealthy and respected citizens who had started with similar jobs. With visions of wealth and prestige, Herbert left home to try for a business career.

Upon his arrival his hopes were a bit dashed when he learned that he would be paid only ten dollars a month. So that he would not have to pay any lodging, his brother Will allowed him to sleep in the upstairs room of his boathouse. The boy was always cold, but he was too proud to ask for help from home. When summer came, he began playing with the Regimental Band and that trebled his income.

Herbert began to doubt that his career was business as his music interest grew. He said, “There is something that makes me restless and only music will overcome it.” One day at the store he was discovered working on cornet solos and drawing staves on brown wrapping paper. For this he was reprimanded by his manager and later lectured by Will. Before he could be fired, however, a telegram came for him.

He had received an offer to play at English’s Opera in Indianapolis at fifteen dollars a week. This he accepted with alacrity. Back in Indianapolis he found that his income was sufficient for him to buy the books and music he wanted for the cornet. He studied all the music magazines and _Orban’s Method_ faithfully, and worked hard trying to devise a method of his own. He sat where he could watch good cornetists at concerts then went home to practice for hours trying to imitate them. Clarke, in writing of these years, said, “No one will ever know the many obstacles I had to overcome in the early part of my career.” But his love for the cornet kept him at work in spite of many disappointments.

The next year at the age of eighteen, Herbert won the cornet championship at the state band contest in Evansville, Indiana. Henry Dustin, celebrated instrument maker, presented him with a gold-plated and elaborately engraved baby cornet with an oval bell. Six and a half inches long and five inches high, this was the smallest cornet ever made, and it could actually be played.

Herbert went to visit his parents who now lived in Rochester, New York, and at their urging, patiently canvassed the town for a job. But when he received an offer from the Citizens Band in Toronto, who wanted him as cornet soloist, the pleas of his father fell upon a mind already made up. “My career must be music as it is so continually thrust upon me,” he decided once and for all.

Back in Toronto he reenlisted with the Queen’s Own Regiment. Then the ambitious young man organized and led an industrial band of thirty employees of the Taylor Safe Works Company. For this, his first directing work, he spent long hours before his mirror, wielding his baton with different rhythms until he could use it easily.

His reputation as a musician spread and the Toronto Conservatory of Music hired him as instructor in “violin, viola, cornet and all brass instruments.” In the fall of 1890 Clarke was honorably discharged from the Regimental Band so he could lead a forty-man band for the Heintzman Piano Company.

Clarke also formed a little company he called “The Canadian Trio.” They gave concerts all over Ontario, and in a short time Herbert Clarke was known as “Canada’s Favorite Cornet Soloist.”

But he was to receive a still greater honor--a chance to try out for a place in Gilmore’s Band. He went to New York and passed a strenuous test of both ability and endurance.

At twenty-four he had realized his teen-age dream of being a soloist with the great Gilmore and of traveling over the country with him. Two Clarke brothers occupied solo chairs--Ernest, trombone and Herbert, cornet. The band began by touring the New England States, then played a month at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Manhattan Beach was the next engagement, and then the St. Louis exposition. Here Patrick Gilmore suddenly died.

Speaking of this time Clarke wrote, “Back in New York and broke, I played at the new Manhattan Theater and any place I could get work. To avoid paying carfare, I walked many miles to and from my jobs.”

But the next year he joined Sousa’s Band for a tour of the United States and Europe and remained with him for several years. Clarke, encouraged by Arthur Pryor, twenty-three-year-old trombone soloist with the band, began writing his own solos.

Many times between tours the musicians were without work and salary. During these years Clarke played with various groups, among them Victor Herbert’s 22nd Regiment Band and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

Then he rejoined Sousa for another great tour. When they returned from Europe, Clarke took over the American Band in Providence, Rhode Island. At the same time he led the bands of three regiments. After a year he resigned and filled engagements under the name of Clarke’s Providence Band.

However, when Sousa called to ask that Clarke rejoin him for a world tour, he was greatly tempted. He was ready to play solos again and leave booking problems behind him. He consoled his wife and three children by promising to take them with him on the 1905 European tour. “My life seemed to be one of change,” wrote Clarke. “But I surely gained experience in all kinds of music.”

From 1904 till 1917 Herbert Clarke, the self-taught cornetist, was soloist and assistant conductor of Sousa’s great band. On the podium he had the same appearance and directing style as Sousa. Outstanding as an arranger of band music, Clarke was invaluable. The two men worked together through all these years in confidential relationship.

Between tours Clarke spent more time on the farm which he had bought near Reading, Pennsylvania, getting acquainted with his family and teaching and practicing. He told of his small daughter forgetting him after a long tour and running to tell her mother that a strange man was at the door.

At the age of forty-five Clarke began to think of retiring from concert work. He went to Elkhart, Indiana, to head the cornet and trumpet department of C. G. Conn’s large factory with the understanding that he be released for tours with Sousa. Clarke held this position until Mr. Conn sold his factory in 1915.

As a young man Clarke had declared that he would leave the concert field at the age of fifty. He insisted that he wanted to “quit in good standing, stay in one place, sleep in the same bed every night and quit traveling all over the world.”

In September, 1917, Clarke severed his connection with Sousa’s band and accepted an offer to conduct the band of the Anglo-American Leather Company in Huntsville, Canada. At the end of this five year contract, Clarke moved to Los Angeles, California, where he planned to spend the rest of his life. No sooner had he got well started in teaching cornet and in launching a correspondence course than he accepted the leadership of the Long Beach, California, Municipal Band, for a six-month period.

Under Clarke’s baton this band of twenty-five musicians grew to fifty-two and the six months lengthened to twenty years. Then Clarke’s physician ordered him to retire from work.

During his many years of public service, Herbert Clarke made an enviable record. The degree of Doctor of Music was conferred upon him by Phillips University in 1934. He was the author of four books on the cornet. He traveled all over the world with the greatest bands of his day, having made thirty-four tours of the United States and four of Europe. He played over 6,000 programmed concert solos.

Among his popular compositions are _Aloha Oe_, _Whirlwind Polka_, _Ah Cupid_, and _Long Beach Is Calling_. He made more phonograph records than any other cornet player, both in the United States and in Europe. _Sounds of the Hudson_ and _Debutante_ are among those that have inspired thousands with their flawless technique. His records were still listed in the catalogs well into the 1920’s and many cornetists play them today.

As a teacher Dr. Clarke had pupils from all over the world seeking his counsel and guidance. He told them, “You can be a great cornet player if you wish. There is no such thing as a born cornetist. Each is made by and for himself.”

Dr. Clarke had a keen interest in school and college bands and was in great demand as guest conductor and lecturer at national band contests and clinics. His kindly mannerisms and warm friendliness endeared him to young and old alike.

Bringing joy and happiness to others through his music and his encouragement had made a full life for Herbert Clarke who died January 30, 1945, in Long Beach, California.

In 1948 a monument was unveiled and dedicated to Dr. Clarke in the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D. C. It was erected by the Pennsylvania Bandmasters’ Association in collaboration with the American Bandmasters’ Association and the Sousa Band Fraternal Society. On this monument not far from that of his beloved friend, Sousa, are these words: Herbert Lincoln Clarke, _World’s Premiere Cornetist and Bandmaster_.

This memorial was erected to a man who had never had a cornet lesson in his life, to a man who was known the world over as a great artist and a great gentleman.

KARL KING

“Mister, can you tell me where the circus lot is?” asked the tall lanky eighteen-year-old Karl King.

“Yep, it’s right down that road, son. But if you’re looking for the show, it left a week ago--where it went I don’t know,” answered the old man as he walked on down the street.

Karl, laying his baritone horn carefully on the ground, sank wearily to the curb. Taking a crumpled letter from his pocket, he read it again. “Yes, the Yankee Robinson Show bandmaster did say that I was to report here in Emporia, Kansas, today for a job,” he said to himself. “And here I am with just eighty-seven cents in my pocket, and the circus has left town.”

Fortunately for him a circus follower, who had been left behind, came along the street and stopped to question the dejected-looking young man:

“The Yankee Robinson Shows? Come on with me. I’m following them too. They went off without me, but we’ll catch them.”

With his help Karl caught up with the circus a few days later and began a career that has made history.

Karl King, a true Midwesterner, was born in Paintersville, Ohio, February 21, 1891 to Sandusky L. and Anna King. Before he could walk, Karl’s parents noticed his fascination for music, and when very young he began to study music. He sold papers on the streets of Canton to make money to buy his first horn.

Karl’s urge for writing and composing was the talk of the neighborhood. His first march written at fourteen was sold three years later for ten dollars. Shortly after this a road show piano player gave him a lesson in harmony and taught him to play chords on the piano, and that was the only technical instruction he was to have outside of his own study. Like Herbert Clarke, Karl King is a self-educated musician.

He became baritone soloist with Thayer Military Academy Band of Canton, Ohio, at sixteen. Other similar jobs followed with such organizations as Weddemeyer’s Band of Columbus, Ohio, and the Soldier’s Home Band of Danville, Illinois.

This was work he enjoyed, but it was necessary for him to help support himself. At the age of thirteen he began setting type and doing other odd jobs for the newspaper, the Canton, Ohio, _Repository_, even trying his hand at reporting.

Then at eighteen came the exciting letter offering him a job with the Yankee Robinson Circus. That changed the pattern of his life and he began trouping.

The combined Sells-Floto and Buffalo Bill Wild West Show owner soon heard about this young musician and hired him for their bandmaster. His fame spread, and at the age of twenty-three he was directing the Barnum and Bailey Circus Band, the youngest man ever to hold that position.

As the circus traveled from one place to another, Karl would find a quiet corner where he could compose music. He knew that better music was needed for the circus, and he wrote original and catchy marches and waltzes which were very popular with the performers.