THE EXPERIENCES OF A BANDMASTER

By John Philip Sousa

During eighteen years spent in playing music for the masses, twelveyears in the service of the United States and six in that of the generalpublic, many curious and interesting incidents have come under myobservation. 

While conductor of the Marine Band, which plays at all the statefunctions given by the President at the Executive Mansion, I saw muchof the social life of the White House and was brought into more or lessdirect contact with all the executives under whom I had the honor ofsuccessively serving--Presidents Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland andHarrison. 

They were all very appreciative of music, and in this respect were quiteunlike General Grant, of whom it is said that he knew only two tunes, one of which was "Yankee Doodle" and the other wasn't!

The President's Embarrassing Demand. 

I think I may say that more than one President, relieved from theonerous duties of a great reception, has found rest by sitting quietlyin the corner of a convenient room and listening to the music. 

Once, on the occasion of a state dinner, President Arthur came to thedoor of the main lobby of the White House, where the Marine Band wasalways stationed, and beckoning me to his side asked me to play the"Cachuca. " When I explained that we did not have the music with us butwould be glad to include it in the next programme, the President lookedsurprised and remarked:

"Why, Sousa, I thought you could play anything. I'm sure you can; nowgive us the 'Cachuca. '"

This placed me in a predicament, as I did not wish the President tobelieve that the band was not at all times able to respond to hiswishes. Fortunately, one of the bandmen remembered the melody and playedit over softly to me on his cornet in a corner. I hastily wrote outseveral parts for the leading instruments, and told the rest of the bandto vamp in the key of E flat. Then we played the "Cachuca" to the entiresatisfaction of Mr. Arthur, who came again to the door and said: "There, I knew you could play it. "

The ladies of the White House were always interested in the music, andfrequently suggested selections for the programmes, Mrs. Hayes beingparticularly fond of American ballads. During the brief Garfieldadministration there were no state receptions or dinners given by thePresident, and the band did not play at the White House, except for afew of Mrs. Garfield's receptions immediately after the inauguration. While Mrs. McElroy was mistress of the Executive Mansion for herbrother, President Arthur, the lighter music was much in favor, as therewere always many young people at the Mansion. 

Miss Rose Elizabeth Cleveland was much interested in music, and evinceda partiality for Arthur Sullivan's melodies. Mrs. Harrison's favoritemusic was Nevin's "Good Night, Beloved" and the Sousa marches. Thesoundness of Mrs. Cleveland's musical taste was shown by her liking forthe "Tannhauser" overture and other music of that character. 

The Marine Band played all the music for President Cleveland's wedding, which took place in the Blue Room of the White House. The distance fromthe room up-stairs to the exact spot where the ceremony was to takeplace was carefully measured by Colonel Lamont and myself, in orderthat the music might be timed to the precise number of steps the weddingparty would have to take; and the climax of the Mendelssohn "WeddingMarch" was played by the band just as the bride and groom reached theclergyman. 

President Cleveland's Veto. 

A few days before the ceremony I submitted my musical programme toColonel Lamont for the President's approval, and among the numbers was aquartet called "The Student of Love, " from one of my operas. Even inthe anticipation of his happiness Mr. Cleveland was keenly alive tothe opportunities for humorous remarks which this title might afford toirreverent newspaper men; and he said to his secretary: "Tell Sousahe can play that quartet, but he had better omit the name of it. "Accordingly, "The Student of Love" was conspicuous by its absence. 

When North Carolina celebrated its centenary, the Marine Band wasordered to Fayetteville to participate in the ceremonies. The littleSouthern town was much interested in the advent of the "President'sBand, " and the prevailing opinion was that "Dixie" would be tabooedmusic with us. Before the exercises a local committee waited upon me andintimated that "Dixie" was a popular melody in that vicinity. 

"Of course, " said the spokesman, "we don't want you to play anythingyou don't want to, but please remember, sir, that we are very fond of'Dixie' here. "

Bowing gravely, I thanked the committee for their interest in myprogramme, but left them completely in the dark as to whether I intendedto play the loved song of the South or not. 

"Dixie, " by the President's Band. 

The ceremonies opened with a patriotic address by Governor Fowle, lauding the glories of the American flag and naturally the onlyappropriate music to such a sentiment was "The Star-Spangled Banner, "which the crowd patriotically cheered. 

The tone of the succeeding oration was equally fervid, but the speakerenlarged upon the glories of the Commonwealth whose one hundredthanniversary was being celebrated. The orator sat down, there was amomentary pause, and then as I raised my baton the strains of "Dixie"fell upon the delighted ears of the thousands round the platform. 

The unexpected had happened, and such a shout as went up from thatthrong I have never heard equaled. Hats were tossed in the air, gray-bearded men embraced, and for a few minutes a jubilant pandemoniumreigned supreme. During the rest of our stay in Fayettevillethe repertoire of the Marine Band was on this order: "YankeeDoodle, "--"Dixie;" "Star-Spangled Banner, "--"Dixie;" "Red, White andBlue, "--"Dixie. "

In all my experience the acme of patriotic fervor was reached duringa reunion of the Loyal Legion at Philadelphia some years ago. Theexercises were held in the Academy of Music, and the band occupiedthe orchestra pit in front of the stage, which was crowded withdistinguished veterans. 

I had strung together for the occasion a number of war-songs, bugle-calls and patriotic airs, and when the band played them themartial spirit began to stir the people. As we broke into "MarchingThrough Georgia, " a distinguished-looking old soldier stepped to thefoot-lights and began to sing the familiar words of the famous song ina loud, clear voice. The entire audience joined in, and as the swellingvolume of melody rolled through the house, the enthusiasm waxed moreintense. 

Verse after verse was sung, interrupted with frantic cheers, until itseemed that the very ecstasy of enthusiasm had been reached. It wasonly when physically exhausted that the audience calmed down and theexercises proceeded. 

A Chorus of Ten Thousand. 

During the World's Fair at Chicago my present band was giving nightlyconcerts in the Court of Honor surrounding the lagoon. On one beautifulnight in June fully ten thousand people were gathered round thebandstand while we were playing a medley of popular songs. 

Director Tomlins, of the World's Fair Choral Associations, was on thestand, and exclaiming, "Keep that up, Sousa!" he turned to the crowd andmotioned the people to join him in singing. With the background of thestately buildings of the White City, this mighty chorus, led by theband, sang the songs of the people-"Home, Sweet Home, " "Suwanee River, ""Annie Laurie, " "My Old Kentucky Home, " etc. , and never did the familiarmelodies sound so grandly beautiful. 

The influence of music to quiet disorder and to allay fear is quite aspotent as its power to excite and to stir enthusiasm. A case in pointhappened at the St. Louis Exposition, where my band was giving a seriesof concerts. There was an enormous audience in the music hall when, inthe middle of the programme, every electric light suddenly went out, leaving the house in complete darkness. 

A succession of sharp cries from women, the hasty shuffling of feet, andthe nervous tension manifest in every one, gave proof that a panic wasprobably imminent. I called softly to the band, "Yankee Doodle!" and themen quickly responded by playing the good old tune from memory in thedarkness, quickly following it with "Dixie" on my orders. The audiencebegan to quiet down, and some scattering applause gave assurance thatthe excitement was abating. 

"The Star-Spangled Banner" still further restored confidence, and whenwe played "Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be?" and "Wait Till The CloudsRoll By, " every one was laughing and making the best of the gloom. Ina short time the gas was turned on, and the concert proceeded withadequate lighting. 

In the desire to do especial honor to a certain foreign representativeduring the World's Fair, I had a particular piece of music in whichhe was interested arranged for my band, and agreed to play it at aspecified concert. The music was given to a member of the band withinstructions to copy the parts and deliver them at the band-stand. 

The foreign gentleman was present at the concert with a large party offriends, whom he had invited to hear this particular piece of music. When the librarian asked the musician for the parts, he could not findthem, and a search high and low for the missing music was withoutavail. Much to my chagrin, it was necessary to omit the number and sendexplanations and regrets to the dignitary whom it was designed to honor. 

At the end of the concert, when the men were packing to go home, theplayer found the missing band parts stuck in the bell of his instrument, where he had placed them for safe-keeping. 

In a little Michigan town my band was booked for an afternoon concert, and on our arrival the local manager assured us that we should have agood house, although there was no advance sale. He explained this bysaying that the townspeople did not like to buy their tickets until thelast minute. 

The theatre was on the second floor of the town hall, the ground floorbeing given over to the fire department, the especial pride of thecommunity. Twenty minutes before the concert a large crowd had gatheredround the box-office to buy tickets when the fire-alarm sounded, and theentire population promptly deserted the muse of music and escorted theengine and hose-cart to the scene of action, leaving the band absolutelywithout an audience. 

A Tuneful Locomotive. 

Once when we were playing during warm weather in a theatre situated neara railroad, the windows were left open for ventilation. The bandwas rendering a Wagner selection, and at the climax was playing withincreasing force. The last note to be played was a unison B flat, andas I gave the sign to the musicians to play as strong as possible thevolume of sound that followed fairly astonished me. I had never heardfifty men play with such force before and could not account for it, butthe explanation soon became manifest. As the band ceased playing, the same note continued in the blast of a passing locomotive that hadopportunely chimed in with us in unison. 

The Marine Band was once doing escort duty on Pennsylvania Avenue inWashington to a body of citizen soldiery returning from camp. It wasat night and the parade was preceded by a wagon-load of fireworks whichwere to be discharged at appropriate intervals along the line of march. 

By some accident or design the entire load of pyrotechnics wassimultaneously ignited, and the street immediately filled with a perfectfusillade of rockets and Roman candles. 

A stampede followed and the parade faded away. I stood my grounduntil my eye-glasses were knocked off, and then I groped my way to thesidewalk. When the confusion had subsided, all that could be discoveredof my band was the drum-major in front and the bass-drummer in the rearrank. Their comrades had fled, but these men were good soldiers, andhaving received no orders to disperse had stood their ground manfully. 

A Tale of the White House

One more story of the White House. At the time of the unveiling of thestatue of Admiral Farragut in Washington, it was suddenly proposedto have a reception at the Executive Mansion in honor of the manydistinguished visitors. The informal invitations were issued while I wasparticipating in the parade that was part of the ceremonies. 

At seven o-clock in the evening, when I was at home, tired out afterthe long march, word came to me to report at the Marine Barracks. Iwent there and was ordered to take the band to the White House at eighto'clock p. M. 

The bandmen did not live in barracks, and it was practically impossibleto get them together at that time of night, as they were scattered allover the city. 

"Well, those are my instructions and those are your orders, " said thecommanding officer. 

So we sent the band-messengers out to the men's lodgings, and they foundjust one musician at home, and he was the bass-drummer. 

At eight o'clock, arrayed in all the gorgeousness of my scarlet and golduniform, I sat in front of the band platform in the White House lobby, and the bass-drummer stationed himself back in the semi-obscurity of hiscorner. There was a dazzling array of music-stands and empty chairs, butno musicians! The President evidently saw the humorous side of it, andwhen I explained the situation he said it could not be helped. All theevening we sat there and listened to humorous remarks from the guests. We had "reported for duty, " though, and the drummer and I stayed tillthe reception was over.