One of the things you could count on during this time in the Milwaukee Public Schools was no matter how fast they put up new schools they instantly became overcrowded. Apparently demographic studies just couldn’t keep up. Samuel Morse was no exception. As a result, there were two lunch hours during the seven period day. If your lunch came during the fourth period your day was balanced, but if you asked anyone they told you the afternoon dragged on forever. Any student, who like myself played an instrument in the band, had Mr. Krueger’s class fourth period and loved the shorter afternoon. Mr. Krueger left an indelible mark on every student he ever taught. He wore his hair pulled straight back with a part in the middle and a pencil thin mustache. He was brash, opinionated, egotistical, and quick to forget your name. At least, for me that was true. “Silverblatt, Goldsmith…Obeheine…you know who I’m talking about. Play from the third bar to the double coda and don’t forget the double-tonguing this time…ah one and ah two and…” Motivation was never a problem. He’d tap his baton a few times on the top of his music stand and if you weren’t ready to perform you lost your seat. For those of you who’ve never had the privilege of playing in a band or orchestra, when you lose your seat it means the person in the seat next to you moves up into your place and you move back into her seat. So, let’s say you play one of the two French horns in the band and you weren’t ready. If you were the second chair no big deal. You’d just feel a little embarrassed. However, if you were first chair you just lost your solo. Competing, when someone challenges you is one thing, but getting caught unprepared is a whole different story. Mr. Krueger spoke with authority. At least about music. His clarinet and alto sax were well traveled throughout southeastern Wisconsin. When he wasn’t playing at a union hall, park pavilion, or hotel lounge with one of the half dozen bands that considered him a member, he’d fill in for someone who had a conflict or was sick. I’m sure they did the same for him on our concert nights. Despite his brash nature, playing in his band was a refuge from the grind students went through in their other classes. And, he knew it. Kids who struggled in the academic arena became stars in the band room. Terry, an eighth grader large enough to start at tackle on the high school football team but unlikely to ever get the opportunity due to his usual performance on reading, spelling or math tests, would clown around with all of us while we retrieved our instruments off the shelves in the band room closets. But when Mr. Krueger rapped his baton signaling the start of practice, Terry slid into his seat tucked under the winding brass known as a sousaphone. He snapped his mouthpiece into place and grabbed a huge gulp of air in order to produce the distinctive billowing sound of this monstrous mountain of metal. Three things you could count on concert night. Everyone was prepared. Mr. Krueger would show up in his penguin outfit. And even though it was written in their programs, he would tell everyone in the audience that Terry was the featured performer on John Phillip Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever. Your comments and band anecdotes are greatly appreciated.
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