It Was A Very Good Year When I Was 13

          

                                               

     At the tender age of 13 I had been learning to play the snare drum for a year. Then my teacher, Giovanni Baietti, said he taught me all he knew. So I had to find another teacher, although I was already playing with the Salvation Army Band in Coshocton, Ohio.  Population 12, 000.

     There were 25  musicians in the band. I was the youngest, and we played mostly for marches to the town cemetery. An older drummer, Lewis Bucklew in his 40’s, was cross-eyed and could never stay in step. He was always skipping to catch up, because we were in the last row.

         Giovanni Baietti was also assistant director of the 300 member Ohio State Fair Band, high school boys representing 88 counties in the state. They camped on the fair grounds in Columbus for two weeks every August.

     Mr. Baietti said I could be a gofer that summer, even though I was only in the 8^th grade, and to bring my drum along. Also, I would get to stand last in line with twenty-four percussionists during concerts and be allowed to play  “Stars and Stripes Forever.”

     I was terribly excited to be with such a huge band, under the direction of Dr. Louis E. Pete.  He was a 50-year-old conductor of the Ashland Symphony, had a prominent mustache and would sternly castigate any musician who didn’t follow his waving baton.

       During the first week of rehearsals I was busy passing out the mail and running errands for staff members. But I did find time to practice and look over the music I hoped to play the following year. I didn’t make any friends in the band because they were all older boys.

     Then came opening night of the Ohio State Fair.  There were 10,000 people in the Grand Stand watching us play a 15 minute concert broadcast on the NBC Blue Radio Network. I was at the tail end of 24 drummers when a strong wind suddenly blew over all the wire music stands!

     In the middle of von Suppe’s “Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna,” panic prevailed among the young musicians. No music stands, no music. Dr. Pete clutched his head in vain. He might as well be trying to ride a dead horse.

      That’s when I jumped into this sea of flying sheet music and fallen stands. Without missing a beat I began playing a series of cadences mezzo forte as Dr. Pete conducted. Several dozen staff members frantically dashed about picking up music and stands.  Giovanni Baietti, with a huge smile on his face, held up a sign reading START AT LETTER ‘C’ ON COMMAND.

     Our concert resumed and ended with sighs of relief. Dr. Pete said, “Drummer boy. You saved the concert. I could kiss you.” One bandsman shouted, “I’ll bet your mustache tickles.”

     I became Number One drummer immediately and four years thereafter.  It’s called serendipity.