Mr. George and the baritone horn

Recently the Optimist Club of McCook announced a drive for folks to turn in their old musical instruments to the McCook High School music department for the use of budding young musicians at St. Pat's School and McCook High school.

What a great idea. Laurie Hilker at St. Pat's and Donita Priebe at MHS have done outstanding work in building their bands, but can always use, and will welcome another horn player. McCook High has a long and rich tradition of outstanding bands, dating back to the days of Col. Sutton and Pop Kelley. Mrs. Priebe has proved that she belongs among the best of that long list of outstanding directors.

On a personal level, I am giving up my baritone. Giving up that horn leaves me with mixed feelings. I had always hoped that one of my grandchildren might choose to play the baritone in the band. None has and alas, Gabe, our youngest grandchild has chosen to play the trumpet, and now, as a freshman at MHS, looks forward, eagerly, to playing in Mrs. Priebe's band. On the other hand, that baritone horn has been the key to a very pleasant part of my life, as a bandsman, starting at age 10 in Mr. George's Plainview High School Band, and culminating as a member of the Scarlet and Crčam Marching Band at the University of Nebraska, led by Don Lenz. What great years those were, being a part of teams of outstanding musicians -- the fun, the great trips for games and celebrations. We even learned something about music -- (music appreciation for some of us not blessed with great musical talent.) Now, it is high time that some other young musician has the chance for a similar experience.

It is with great fondness that I remember Mr. George, from whom I learned a lot about life, as well as music. It was a thrill that day when Mr. George, a friend of my Dad, asked me to join the band, as a fourth grader. He even arranged for Jack Pubanz, an old Navy bandsman, to sell us his baritone -- for $25. It was a very heavy, silver-plated instrument that was hard to blow. When Mr. Pubanz had regrets about the sale, we agreed to sell it back to him, for $25. I had learned enough, and proved to my folks that I was serious about the instrument, so Mr. George arranged for us to buy a brand new golden brass baritone for $125. It was great. It blew so much easier, and was lighter to carry. A few days after I got my new baritone Mr. George came into the bakery about closing time and presented my Dad with a check for $25, his commission for selling the instrument. Dad didn't want to take the check. He thought $125 was a fair price and Mr. George deserved a commission, but Mr. G was insistent. He said that he was just pleased to get another horn in the band, and thought I would enjoy the experience. How right he was!

Foy George grew up at Carroll Neb., near Wayne. He dropped out of Wayne State College to go into the Army in World War I. When the war was over, instead of returning to school, he filed a claim under the Homestead Act in Wyoming, in what later became the heart of the Wyoming Oil Boom (unfortunately long after Foy had sold the property). After proving up on the claim for the required time, he decided that the farmer's life was not for him, so he joined a traveling circus, becoming a featured performer in the circus band.

After a few years of travel the Midwest, when the circus played in Plainview, he was persuaded by a group of local farmers and business men to stay in Plainview and form a band. Since he had no music degree he could not be paid as a teacher, so instead, in 1924, the people of Plainview voted in a mill levy to pay his salary -- a system that lasted until he retired in 1964.

In 1924 Foy married Edna, his high school sweetheart. Edna was blessed with uncommon good looks, and sang like an angel. She had spent the intervening years in Chicago, singing at concerts and radio stations in the Windy City. Tragically, they had not been married more than a year or so, when Edna was stricken with a debilitating disease. From that time until her death in 1964 she was confined to a wheel chair, with little or no use of her limbs or voice. Mr. George's sister-in-law and her daughter, Peggy (a class behind me in school) came to live with them. Those two, and Foy, cared for Edna at home until she died.

Mr. George was invariably in a good mood and had a fine sense of humor (a necessity in working with teen-age musicians.) Though his life must have been hard I never heard a word of complaint, or self-pity. And Mr. George took his job seriously. He believed that the band belonged to the people of Plainview. As such, he kept us busy. The High School band performed at football and basketball games and for any special occasion that might arise -- Opening Day at the Country Club, The Creamery Annual Meeting, A Store Opening. He always had a soloist or small group available to play for the Women's Club or the Chamber of Commerce. In addition, the Town Band, a mix of high schoolers and former band members, played for Memorial Day Services, Town Celebrations, the County Fair, Summer Friday Night Band Concerts in the Park, and area Celebrations.

Mr. George kept up with the trends in band music. He taught himself the basics of a marching band -- put his plans on graph paper and taught it to us on the football field. When he heard about the popularity of female baton twirlers in a marching band he taught himself to twirl the baton and sold the idea to innumerable girls, both grade school and high school.

He taught the girls to twirl the baton, but in a short time those girls passed him in the art of twirling.

In the '30s, at the Friday night concerts, a favorite was Stars & Stripes Forever, featuring Joe Ruzicka and Ennis Hughes' father. Joe, at 5-2 and 120 pounds, played the big bass tuba. Mr. Hughes, at 6'2" and 300 pounds, played the piccolo. Standing side by side, playing their solo parts, invariably brought down the house.

During the war "The Beer Barrel Polka" was very popular. All summer we played it week after week, till Mr. George almost gagged and one night announced we would skip that number. At the end of the concert nobody left, but the horns honking and people shouting for Beer Barrel went on and on, till Mr. George, with a pained look on his face, gave in, "Ok, get out your music for the Beer Barrel Polka, so we can go home".

Though social activities for the Georges were limited, there were two activities they could do. One was the movies. In those days we had 3 changes of shows each week. The Georges rarely missed a show, always sitting at the side, near the emergency door on the alley, where Mr. George parked their car.

The other activity Mrs. George enjoyed was riding in the car. They were a familiar sight riding on the country roads near Plainview on a summer's evening. One time, in the 30s, Mr. George bought a small camping trailer. With this the two visited the Black Hills, then looked over the location of Foy's homestead, near Buffalo, Wyoming -- by then dotted with oil wells. When Mr. George told of the incident later he laughed, as if it were a huge joke -- that he had once been so close to great wealth.

Though there were many times that Mr. George's patience must have been stretched, I only saw him really mad once. One spring noon day a couple of upper class boys roared away from school in their car. At the corner, a little crippled girl, on crutches, was crossing the street. Instead of slowing, they picked up speed, swerving at the last minute, but causing the girl to fall.

Fortunately, the girl was unhurt, and other students -- and Mr. George, rushed to her aid.

When the boys returned to school Mr. George was waiting for them and proceeded to give them a blistering lecture, bringing one boy to tears. There was more. At the next band practice Mr. George stopped the rehearsal and told about the incident.

He didn't use names, but of course we all knew. He told us that we should all be constantly grateful for our own normal bodies. Then he told how it was for someone to be handicapped -- to be dependent upon others for everything that had to be done.

To be handicapped, physically, didn't mean that they did not enjoy things even as we did, but they might have to so in a different way. As members of the Human Race it was our duty to help those with handicaps, not put further obstacles in their way. It was a stirring speech, delivered from the heart. I doubt that anyone who was at band practice that day has forgotten it.