I wanted to be a trombonist; instead I became a reluctant tuba player. I was turning 8 years old and we had just moved from Westbury to Massapequa on Long Island. I remember I had recently seen The Music Man with Robert Preston and that I had loved the film sequence, 76 Trombones. So, I did what any kid does in that situation: I pleaded for a trombone.
I was entering 3rd Grade in the fall of 1960 and I signed up to be in the Concert Band as a trombonist. But you had to buy or rent your instrument and since my parents had just moved and paid a lot more for our new house than initially planned, they did not have the extra money in the bank to even think about purchasing a musical instrument for me.
There were choices for my parents. They could spend $150 or $200 to buy me a trombone or they could pay a much lower amount to rent one. My dad had been out-maneuvered when he bought our house and when the seller saw how over-eager my dad was to buy the house, he refused to budge. So we paid about $3,000 more than my father wanted to pay, but he loved this house and he had dug himself into a hole. $3,000 was a lot of cash back in 1960. So they got the house and I got no trombone.
My father, an accountant, preached that money doesn’t grow on trees and this was a man who never believed in borrowing or using credit. My father could not be budged. So I was screwed but did not realize that in my 8 year-old brain. I imagine my parents thought it was a passing fad for me and they couldn’t afford to be saddled with a trombone monthly payment after I was sure to lose interest in playing the damned thing.
So I attended band practice empty-handed along with the other wannabe trombonists with their shining new instruments. Our music teacher, Mr. McCalmont, led us in learning how to read music, how to understand our instruments, how to play softly since most 8 year-olds want to play every note at 200 decibels. Week after week I would sit and learn (not by doing) the nuances of reading and interpreting music without ever playing a note and just watching my band mates getting better and me never getting started. I had to listen and follow along without a trombone. It was right out of a famous scene in The_Music_Man: Professor Harold Hill telling me to use Thinkology to imagine my playing the trombone! Not the image I was going for.
One day, Mr. McCalmont took me aside and pointed to a sousaphone just sitting alone in the Band room. He suggested that until I got my trombone, I could at least follow along on the sousaphone and begin learning how to actually play an instrument. I can recall him telling me that both instruments were played in the same key, so going from sousaphone to trombone would be easier. Really? Going from a valve instrument to a slide instrument will be easy? I was a kid, what the hell did I know? So I discussed it all with my parents and I’m sure when I left the room, my dad was doing backflips since he wouldn’t have to fund my musical education (most schools owned their own sousaphones as most kids did not rent them due to the high expense of such a massive instrument).
Needless to say, I never saw a trombone except on one of my bandmates’ extended arms. Mr. McCalmont encouraged me to climb into the sousaphone – it was actually suspended on its own chair with a support attached and you had to crouch down and climb through the opening then swing around to sit on the chair. I was now encircled by a ton of gleaming brass, or so it seemed. I was ready for my first lesson. I was no longer a trombonist, I was a bassist. Great.
I played, I learned and eventually I forgot about wishing for something that was never gonna happen. Instead I became the player who set the tempo for our elementary school band, providing the steady oom-pah in each measure. I stuck with it through 3rd grade, 4th grade and by the time I entered high school, I was pretty good. In 9th grade, first year of high school, my music teacher was Mr. Martin and this was a guy who had played both trombone and sousaphone. He helped me transition to the tuba (which is the orchestral instrument) that plays the same as the sousaphone (which is primarily used for marching bands).
Mr. Martin prided himself on being part of the brass section and he pushed us all to be better musicians. Tempo, fortissimo versus pianissimo and interpretation were a lot more important now that we were playing more complex works such as the William Tell Overture, showtunes and Night on Bald Mountain. We were being pushed in practicing, appreciating and performing at a much higher level than when we had all started out in 3rd grade.
Under his tutelage I became better with my tone and my ear. I knew when to hold back and read the score’s notations to understand when to build a crescendo or play staccato. I also learned to watch him, the conductor, for when he wanted to slow down or speed up the pace. By my junior year, I was first tuba, a dream come true (not). In my junior and senior years, I was named to the All County Band where we played symphonic works including Wagner’s Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral from Lohengrin and Giannini’s Symphony No. 3.
In my junior year I also became part of our High School Orchestra and began playing along with more classical-nuanced musicians, a group which now included the string section of violins, violas and cellos. The balance had shifted away from a brassy sound to a more orchestral sound (think Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms) sweetened by the strings and more emphasis on the woodwinds such as oboes, bassoons and clarinets. Many of us in the band also played in the orchestra which meant we had to practice twice as often than if we had just remained in the Band. But it was worth it because on Concert night, we would perform twice for all the parents and perhaps a few curious or loyal students.
In January, 1971, I received a letter from the Universal Academy for Music inviting me to audition for the All Nation Band. I was in the process of sending out college applications and I had already been accepted to Wichita State University and Rider College. This would mean committing myself to spending the summer practicing and performing in concert in New York City, Washington, D.C, and six European countries that would culminate with a concert in Austria. Austria, the cradle of classical music? Yes, that one. It also meant that the tuition I was planning for college would now be used up by the tuition for the Academy and all the tour costs. So it was this incredible opportunity – or college.
I discussed it all with my parents. But was I really going to pursue a musical career? Become a tuba player as in Professional? Was that my end game? I guess the dream was take this musical journey, then see where it took me: to a music program, university or direct to a regional orchestra? Did I dream of one day playing tuba as part of the NY Philharmonic? Part of a Broadway ensemble deep in the orchestra pit as the same play unfolds night after night?
Or did I dream of something else? After just a little thought, I decided not to audition and to leave the tuba behind and attend college. After all, I had taught myself guitar so I could write cool rock songs and maybe one day have my own band.
Looking back I am so glad I learned to play a musical instrument. Although I would have preferred trombone, as a tuba player I really developed a deep understanding of music theory and performance. I have a keen ear, perfect pitch (I was informed of this by Mr. Martin) and because of my participation, I am well-versed in jazz, classical, Broadway tunes and many forms of popular music (Charles Ives, anyone?). My favorite is rock and blues as I came of age as a teen in the furious 1960s when the British Invasion changed rock music. A few rock groups later began incorporating many classical elements (think Moody Blues, Procul Harum, the Beatles under the influence of their classically oriented producer, George Martin).
I never did form that rock band but I passionately follow music and have a deeper appreciation of it than if I hadn’t learned to read, understand, interpret and perform music. It’s like everything else in life. The guys who excelled on the Varsity football team have way better insights into the game than those of us who just watch the NFL on Sundays. The students who were more serious in the science courses and also had the best grades were most likely to become doctors. It goes back to what Malcolm Gladwell wrote in his book, Outliers, about devoting 10,000 hours of practice to your profession or field: you work hard, study, practice and usually if you have the raw talent, you might be good enough to be among the best in your field.
No regrets. I wanted to become a Writer, write the next Great American Novel like so many other aspiring writers. Things change. Sometimes, dreams get put on hold or they just fade away. After majoring in Philosophy, switching to English Literature and then to Business, I discovered Marketing 101. Wow, that was it.
After a rewarding and successful 44 year career in marketing and market research (1976 – 2020) I retired and resolved to begin writing. It would be on my own terms. No boss. No editor. No structure. Certainly, no ridiculous mission statements. Just write whatever the hell I want each day.
That’s how this blog was created, in my own voice and my own vision. Every day I write whatever comes into my head. No one’s gonna keep me from playing trombone ever again. That’s not residual anger coming through, that’s just passion. And that is music to my ears.
Chris Ebel
10/12/2021
Photo credit: @lulafreire