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 withfringed 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” fromThe Poet and Peasantoverture toListen to the Mocking Birdwith 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, 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 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.”
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, thenfall 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 removedit. 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. Herbertmet 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 overcomeit.” 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 andOrban’s Methodfaithfully, 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 anoffer 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 1905European 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 inHuntsville, 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 areAloha Oe,Whirlwind Polka,Ah Cupid, andLong Beach Is Calling. He made more phonograph records than any other cornet player, both in the United States and in Europe.Sounds of the HudsonandDebutanteare 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.
“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 younghe 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.
While the circus was at Madison Garden in New York City, Lillian Leitzel, the great woman aerialist, asked him to write some special music for her act as she had never liked her music. King, inspired by her beauty and grace, wrote a special waltz for her act. The melody and rhythm gave her wings she insisted, and for the rest of her life she refused to have any change made in her musical accompaniment.
“In 1918,” said King, “I thought I should settle down and devote more time to my composing.” So he left the circus life and returned to Canton, Ohio, where he became the conductor of the famous Grand Army Band.
Two years later Karl King went to Fort Dodge, Iowa, to lead their municipal band, “the premier concert band of Iowa.” He established there the Karl King Publishing Company which he still owns and manages.
In spite of his colorful career, Karl King, a handsome, six-foot-four-inch giant with piercing dark eyes, is noted for his modesty and unassuming manners.
But he has reason to boast about many things. He has numerous devoted friends in the musical world who realize what he has done. He is past president of the American Bandmasters’ Association and of the Iowa Bandmasters’ Association. For years this militant andenthusiastic champion of bands and band music has been a guest conductor of massed band festivals in nearly every state in the Union.
Karl King has written more than 200 compositions, some of which most people have heard in various places or over the radio. Among the college marches he wrote are:Hawkeye Gloryfor the University of Iowa;Mighty Minnesotafor the University of Minnesota;The War March of the Tartarsfor Wayne University; andPride of the Illinifor the University of Illinois; andMichigan on Paradefor University of Michigan.Ponderoso,Barnum and Bailey Favorite MarchandMoonlight on the Nilewaltz are also favorites.
Maestro King is married and has one son, Karl Jr. Their home and business is in Fort Dodge, Iowa, and he is proud to direct the hometown band. Fort Dodge is proud of Karl King who, since 1920, has advertised their town the country over with one of the few big bands that has had a continuous existence of many years.
The municipal band of Hagerstown, Maryland, organized in 1915 has the city government solidly back of its well-known band and its noted leader, Dr. Peter Buys. Their summer concerts in the city park draw huge audiences and they are in demand for out-of-town engagements. Dr. Buys, composer, conductor,and teacher, came to America from Amsterdam, Holland, in 1902. For nine years he arranged music for Sousa’s Band. Since 1920 he has been the Director of Music of Hagerstown. He has worked continuously with the pioneers in the band field and takes an active part in school band festivals and clinics over the country.
Dr. Peter Buys and Karl King have done a great service to our country by proving that a municipal band of high artistic merit can make a continued contribution to the cultural and entertainment life of their communities.
Everyone loves a parade, particularly if it has a band in it. For the better part of a century municipal festival parades have been a tradition in some of the large cities of our country from New York to California.
But one of the most fantastic is the Mummers’ Parade in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on New Years Day. It is said to have originated in the early 1800’s, when it was led by Eph Horn, the famous minstrel. However, the only records available tell of the first, an individual organization with three musicians—two fiddlers and one artist on the triangle. The first formal parade was held January 1, 1901, after the Council had decided to make it a city function.
Now the colorful parade is miles long and is madeup of three units—fancy, comic and string bands. King Momus, god of ridicule, is the leader of the parade. The Police, Firemen and PTC Bands at the beginning of the line start the procession rolling. But the swinging groups all march down Broad Street to the tinkling music of the string bands.
Some years there are as many as fifty string bands, spaced a block apart. In them from fifty to one hundred musicians play guitars, banjos, violins, saxophones, accordions, percussion instruments, and cymbals. Their theme song,Oh Dem Golden Slippers, is in keeping with the gold painted rubbers which the gay marchers always wear.
Their fancy costumes “as splendiferous as a parade of peacocks” cost thousands of dollars. In most clubs or units, the captain wears the showiest costume with a flowing satin or velvet cape a block long and requiring sixty or more page boys to support it. One headdress contained 300 plumes while another stood ten feet high and had 700 plumes with lights blinking on and off among them.
Philadelphia and the surrounding country is proud of its parades, and in fair weather more than a million people jam both sides of Broad Street to see Quakertown’s traditional pilgrimage.