Band made high school survivable for me. I honestly believe I would have (for the most part) hated high school if it hadn’t been for band. I did also love English and writing classes and being on the yearbook staff, as well as being the editor of the annual literary publication, but even so…I was pretty much a dweeb with a limited social life. Even though I had wonderful friends, I never dated, I babysat every New Year’s Eve, and I served punch at the senior ball. So…band was my life. It was where I belonged, were my self-esteem soared. It was where my very best friends lived, it was where the boys whom I had any sort of interest had rock star status, and it was all wonderful for me because of the most incredible band director anyone could ever hope to have.
And I’d experienced the other side of that.
For the 1st half of my senior year in high school, I lived in Maine because my dad was transferred there with his job the summer between my junior and senior year. It was the worst possible experience somebody my age could imagine, after living in the same area throughout my entire youth. There are a million awful stories that I could tell about that, but the main thing was the difference in playing in the band.
Where I came from, it was an HONOR to be in the band, and I actually had two class periods of it — Symphonic Winds Ensemble (high-caliber and often edgy classical where I played clarinet) and Stage Band (high-caliber jazz and rock where I played baritone sax). Our pep band, a combination of us from Symphonic Winds and Stage Band who played for football and basketball games, was something to be reckoned with because of our unusual ability for that time (1970s) to rock out with trap sets, Moog synthesizers, Wurlitzer organ, amazing drum solos, and a brass section that consistently blew everyone’s socks off. We played “Smoke on the Water,” “Jesus Christ Superstar,” “Get it On,” “Shaft,” and music from Chicago, Jethro Tull, and Led Zeppelin. When our basketball team ended up going to state finals? The booster club, coaches, student body, teachers, and the entire community all petitioned for us to return early from a band road trip we were on at the time to Vancouver, B.C. so we could play at the University of Washington Hec Ed Pavilion for the State games (this is where President Obama spoke this past week!)
I remember that so clearly. I remember Uncle Bill, our awesome band director saying to us as we piled out of the chartered bus at the U of W from Vancouver, “OK, you guys, don’t be walking in there with your heads so big you can’t fit through the damned door.” Yeah, we knew we were good, but he did keep a reality check on us. He’d smirk at us in pride, but rip us a new one if we needed it.
I never thought of “Uncle Bill” Morrell as young or old at the time. My guess was he was close in age to my dad (who is 21 years older than I am). He was a Musician in every sense of the word: he played in several different bands 
and venues around the area, mostly trumpet where he was exceptional, as well as tenor sax. He was a partier, a heavy drinker, a smoker, a clubber. I babysat for his kids pretty frequently; I saw him come home from wherever in pretty wild states. But he was always kind and respectful toward me, even though there were times I know now that he ought not have been behind the wheel to drive me home! (The ‘70s were a different time…)
But he always showed up for work in fine form, always there to perch casually on his stool and whack the music stand with his baton, and holler out, “3! 7! 12! 9!” (In lieu of 1,2,3,4, if you know 4/4 time…) He was hip without trying to be; he constantly cracked me up — like the time a bird slipped into the band room and kept circling over his head and he’d dead-pan like Johnny Carson with his eyes tracking that bird as we tried to play without losing it (and we’d just explode in laughter, couldn’t help it). He and one of the drummers finally caught it with a butterfly net he purloined from the Biology lab. Bill Morrell was a hoot, sometimes an ass, and talented beyond measure with his rapport with teenage students, and as an amazing musician himself. (You should have heard him grab a trumpet during a football or basketball game and play “Charge!” It was like Doc Severinsen. True story).
So, back to Maine for that one semester of my senior year. Band was an extra-curricular activity. Not even any high school credit for it! It was considered a joke, and it especially was since the high school mascot was “The Witches” and the school colors were (yup) black and orange. The band director was an uptight fat dude who wouldn’t have known informality or a sense of humor if it bit him in his fat ass. And get this: All we played were Sousa marches. (I like Sousa marches, but not exclusively! And not for pep band!) There was no way in God’s Green Gravy that the band would play anything “modern.” Nor could it, really — the caliber was pretty much on the level of when I was in the 8th grade). He was horrified when I mentioned maybe playing some rock tunes for the football games. And no self-respecting band had a guitar! Or a trap set! Or, horrors, an electronic keyboard. And what is “Stage/Jazz band?” Band was The Military! Put on that orange and black uniform and march to Sousa!
So I quit band in Maine for that semester.
And I was very fortunate to be able to come HOME 2nd semester and live with a good friend and her family here in Washington to finish out my senior year. And play in a REAL band. Stage and Symphonic Winds. And I loved working with Uncle Bill again!
He died a couple of weeks ago. He was only 69! I never had a clue about his age, and 69 just sounds very young to me — turns out he’s 6 years younger than my dad. I think about those now-adult children I used to babysit. They’ve lost their dad.
Helen and I (who are in that photo above playing our saxes) are attending his memorial service on Tuesday. Followed by a gathering at the 2121 Tavern afterward that is well-known for their chicken and jo-jos!
I have a feeling Uncle Bill spent some time there.
I have a feeling he’ll be there.
Smirking.
~~~~~
