Friday, July 16

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July 16, Friday - Didn't work as hard today. Spent afternoon in office. Didn't feel too hot all day. Boss said I didn't have to work Sunday. I'm glad!

July 17, Saturday - Took Bud to hobby shop first thing. He told me I was one of the good ones. So is he! So ends my first week back. Hot today. 93°

July 18, Sunday - Intended to go to church, but slept until 10. Rained on and off all day. Went over and showed Mom Colorado pictures in evening.

The office in Kroger parlance was usually a square platform near the cash registers at the front of the store. For mom, it meant she could sit on a stool and count tills, make deposits and change for the checkers. I learned to count tills from my mom. She'll get through the next day and have Sunday off. Saturday was her day to work until close, finish off the week's books and make deposits. She would typically turn around and be back at work at 8:00 a.m. on Sunday. Turn and burn.

The "Hobby Shop" is Northeast Toy and Hobby, directly across Independence Avenue from Northeast Junior High. Owned by the Collins family, the Hobby Shop was my Saturday addiction, mostly car models, greatly detailed, and way more expensive than I would have thought, considering. Model kits by AMT or Revell would have retailed for about $3.95 - about $32 in 2020 purchasing power. I had boxes and boxes of spare parts from other kits, and would use them to build custom versions and one-off hot rods. Jesus, I was spoiled.

The good news is that the time I invested working on 1/25 scale model cars returned benefits when it came time to work on real cars.  The analog is flawed when it scales up, but I knew where everything went, how most things worked, and I rebuilt my first small-block Chevy engine the following year. The Visible V8 Engine helped me there.

I can't remember, but I think the firing order was the same as Chevy's 1-8-4-3-6-5-7-2. You're welcome.

The rest of the kits were by AMT, Revell, and occasionally, Monogram. The vast majority of my cars were customs, hot rods, and a few race cars. 

Shoot, if I was doing this now, you could even get a White Freightliner Cab-Over.

That earworm is provided at no charge. I got all the way into July without posting a music link, or a reference to Lyle Lovett. This video showcases some of my favorite people in the music business doing a favorite Townes van Zandt song. They are all consummate musicians, but pay particular attention to Keith Sewell's amazing flatpicking skills. Bonus: one of the great drummers of all time, Russ Kunkel, not behind a huge drum rig, but perched on a little cajon. He looks happy to be there. (Russ Kunkel and I sport similar hair styles.)

Tuesday, April 13

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April 13, Tuesday - Felt less tired today. Cold and damp today. Patty called, said her doctor recommended surgery. Hope she doesn't put it off too long.

(tilt)

April 14, Wednesday - Didn't get check from union. Called Roberta. She called and then turned it over to (unknown name).

April 15, Thursday - Marv and I went to Northeast's Easter Assembly. Bud was in it. Very good. Depressed today. Talked on phone a lot - an hour with Florence.

The Pattons continue to help keep up the doctors' Lincoln payments.

Roberta is mom's Union Shop Steward. The union provided for lost wages during sick leave. Retail Clerks Local 782 was a monster union in grocery retail in Kansas City, outmuscled only by the Amalgamated Meat-cutters Union. This association by proximity will become more evident later in the year.

The Easter Assembly. This seems hard to imagine here in 2018, when religion in public schools is relegated to the close cover of the individual. In 1965, the schools didn't so much as participate in the establishment of an official religion as allow the majority Judeo-Christian faction to express its majority openly. It's just the way things worked back then.

We had a Christmas Assembly, an Easter Assembly, and others as needed to support the beliefs of the residents of Northeast. As a musician, I was always somewhere in the mix, usually in the horn section, playing Christmas carols or other music in support of the holiday.

The Easter assembly was one of the few school functions held during school hours that was well-attended by parents and family. It was a big deal, a series of living tableaus staged by the previously mentioned freshman Drama Club, "Taming of the Crew".  It depicted The Last Supper, The Crucifixion, and the Resurrection and Ascension. If the school year lasted another 40 days, they probably would have celebrated the Pentecost, but I digress.

The scenes depicted were taken from famous works of art - The Last Supper was modeled on Da Vinci's 15th century mural in Milan. The Crucifixion was actually the Descent from the Cross, as depicted by Rubens. The source of the Resurrection's artwork is lost to me, but I remember it being a simple depiction, probably also by Rubens.

Here's how it worked. The stage was set with the basic set pieces and props, but without actors. In my part, The Last Supper, there was a long table center stage, set with plates and cups, Judas' salt cellar and various other pieces designed to recall the Da Vinci fresco. I kept imaging the whole thing laid out with Fiestaware, Melmac, and depression glass. The cups and the Holy Grail might have been some of those colorful anodized aluminum tumblers.

Aluminum Grails, Non-Holy Variety

Between the stage and the audience was a semi-sheer scrim in white. It lowered the amount of detail visible on the stage, and gave the scene a painterly effect, with several small lights sweeping across parts of the scrim. More light equalled less detail.

Last Supper, Leonardo da Vinci, Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan
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Portrait of the artist as a disciple. Bartholomew, the missionary; also Nathanael

At a signal, the orchestra began to play. I don't remember the music, but I'm sure it was something subdued and reverent, probably a simple Bach piece rendered entirely unlistenable by the screeching eighth-grade violins and shrill clarinets. On the same cue, the actors started to drift onstage, in full costume and makeup, and made their way to the table. It looked like total chaos, until, at the last possible moment, the players snapped into the positions depicted in the painting. There was a crescendo from the orchestra, an audible gasp from the audience, and we heard someone in the auditorium exclaim, "Oh, my God". We were truly awesome.

Offstage, someone read the account of the Last Supper from the Bible, probably from Mark 14. I can't imagine who it would have been, as no one in our group had the voice to carry it off, and most were on stage. You certainly didn't want a pre-pubescent male channeling "Our Miss Brooks'" Walter Denton. It might have been Mrs. Womack, the drama teacher. I don't know. I knew a couple of eighth-grade guys that were shaving twice a day, and might have been able to lend a solid baritone to the proceedings, but it was unlikely that they were actually able to read, much less evade detention long enough to participate.

I was Bartholomew, on the far left, mostly because I was so tall that I could lean over the table next to James and Andrew and still maintain the height relationship. St. Bart had flowing robes, and greasepaint-enhanced facial lines and wrinkles. I don't remember who played Jesus or some of the other major characters, but I do remember being relieved that I didn't have to play Judas. My dad, the Sunday School teacher, would have had a litter of three-legged calico kittens if I had been chosen to portray the betrayer of Christ. 

Parenthetically, many years later, one of my professors at seminary was known to say that the actual event, if it happened at all, would have been a rough, crowded, and a wholly unruly affair. He should have seen the level of chaos that a bunch of Junior High School kids brought to the story. Maybe they should have had it in the cafeteria.

In retrospect, it's probably a good thing they didn't try this with Christmas, too. Anyone playing a 14 year-old pregnant Mary would have been the laughing stock of our rowdy and somewhat unruly blue-collar school, although I know who they should have picked for the part. 

Ahem.

Thursday, February 25

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February 25, Thursday - Cold again 5° Getting starter fixed. Fell in the store. Hope I didn't injure myself. Bud and I made out his schedule for next year. He's taking band at my suggestion.

February 26, Friday - Stopped at Mom's this morning. She's better but not her old self. Busy today, warm - 50° at 6 p.m.

February 27, Saturday - Had a good day. Felt real good and got a lot done. Spring day - 70°.

Not much to see here, but it bears mentioning that I would have been in band, no matter what Mom suggested. The push here was to step up to Varsity "A" Band at Northeast High School while I still had classes across the street at the "Junior Building". This put me in marching band, for what that was worth, at Northeast. The marching unit was a small, ragtag, group, 25 members tops, with questionable musical talent, and marching skills to match.

Truth be known, I was pretty excited about the whole thing. After six years of trumpet in the public schools, private classical lessons, and suffering through the hormone-infused middle-school shenanigans of eighth-grade band, "A" band seemed like a free ride to Juliard. They had uniforms in the Viking signature purple and white, and silver metalflake Shako hats with white plumes. It was Meredith Wilson's "Music Man" come to life, and I loved it. Did I mention the white bucks?

I'm glad no recordings of our actual playing exist. It would be horrifying to hear that today. The best connection to come out of Varsity Band, under the direct tutelage of one Mr. Harry Bianco, was Stage Band, what most might call Jazz Band today. Here I learned to improvise, 12 bars at a time. It was a small, select group of high school musicians playing hits from the Big Band era. We visited tea rooms, women's clubs and nursing homes and played the music of their lives.  This connected me back to my folks in interesting ways. Because of this connection and a family dedicated to the musical TV stylings of Mitch Miller and His Sing-Along Gang, (don't judge) I still have a soft spot for the music of the forties. Mitch helped me appreciate mens' choruses and Welsh Mens' Choirs.

Magnus Chord Organ

My dad had an emotional attachment to music that I never could put my finger on. He encouraged me at every turn, and the songs he reacted to the most were songs that I wouldn't have guessed he would have a connection to. He bought me a Magnus chord organ from Jenkins Music when I was about twelve. I wanted something I could noodle out trumpet arrangements on, and a piano was out of the question, money-wise.

The Magnus was actually pretty cool. It was a reed organ, which meant that it was basically an accordion with legs. There was a motor inside providing air that was channeled through the reeds based on which keys were pressed. It had thirty-seven piano keys and twelve chord buttons on the left side - six major, six minor. The sound was not at all unlike a parlor pump organ, a harmonium, or a large Melodica. Sheet music was available for these things that had the key notations by number as well as the chord designations. I didn't need the numbers because I could sight-read but the chords were pretty handy, because my left hand wasn't.

Outside of Christmas and the ever-present Baptist hymnal selections, dad's request list was pretty short - "The Band Played On", "Back Home Again in Indiana", "The Banks of the Wabash", "Yankee Doodle Dandy", and not much else. I always suspected that these were songs that reminded him of his first wife, an old flame, or just another time, but dad never really said as much. There was definitely a connection to Indiana, or so it seemed. He had never been to Indiana that I was aware of. I know he was envious of my ability to read and play music, but he grew up dirt-poor, and music was a luxury when there were eight people living in a 700 square foot house in Fort Scott, Kansas.

Music was a gift my dad gave me that has lasted my entire life. He bought me my first horn and signed me up for classes without even checking with mom when I was six, and used his connections to get me a classical tutor from the Kansas City Philharmonic, and it has made an incredible difference in my life. I really should have stayed with it and done more with it, but the fact that it occupies such an important part of my being is good enough. Thank you, dad.