Experiences of a Bandmaster | Page 5

and the nervous tension manifest in every one, gave proof that a panic was probably imminent. I called softly to the band, "Yankee Doodle!" and the men quickly responded by playing the good old tune from memory in the darkness, quickly following it with "Dixie" on my orders. The audience began to quiet down, and some scattering applause gave assurance that the excitement was abating.
"The Star-Spangled Banner" still further restored confidence, and when we played "Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be?" and "Wait Till The Clouds Roll By," every one was laughing and making the best of the gloom. In a short time the gas was turned on, and the concert proceeded with adequate lighting.
In the desire to do especial honor to a certain foreign representative during the World's Fair, I had a particular piece of music in which he was interested arranged for my band, and agreed to play it at a specified concert. The music was given to a member of the band with instructions to copy the parts and deliver them at the band-stand.
The foreign gentleman was present at the concert with a large party of friends, whom he had invited to hear this particular piece of music. When the librarian asked the musician for the parts, he could not find them, and a search high and low for the missing music was without avail. Much to my chagrin, it was necessary to omit the number and send explanations 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, the player 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 a good house, although there was no advance sale. He explained this by saying that the townspeople did not like to buy their tickets until the last minute.
The theatre was on the second floor of the town hall, the ground floor being given over to the fire department, the especial pride of the community. Twenty minutes before the concert a large crowd had gathered round the box-office to buy tickets when the fire-alarm sounded, and the entire population promptly deserted the muse of music and escorted the engine and hose-cart to the scene of action, leaving the band absolutely without an audience.

A Tuneful Locomotive.
Once when we were playing during warm weather in a theatre situated near a railroad, the windows were left open for ventilation. The band was rendering a Wagner selection, and at the climax was playing with increasing force. The last note to be played was a unison B flat, and as I gave the sign to the musicians to play as strong as possible the volume of sound that followed fairly astonished me. I had never heard fifty men play with such force before and could not account for it, but the explanation soon became manifest. As the band ceased playing, the same note continued in the blast of a passing locomotive that had opportunely chimed in with us in unison.
The Marine Band was once doing escort duty on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington to a body of citizen soldiery returning from camp. It was at night and the parade was preceded by a wagon-load of fireworks which were to be discharged at appropriate intervals along the line of march.
By some accident or design the entire load of pyrotechnics was simultaneously ignited, and the street immediately filled with a perfect fusillade of rockets and Roman candles.
A stampede followed and the parade faded away. I stood my ground until my eye-glasses were knocked off, and then I groped my way to the sidewalk. When the confusion had subsided, all that could be discovered of my band was the drum-major in front and the bass-drummer in the rear rank. Their comrades had fled, but these men were good soldiers, and having 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 the statue of Admiral Farragut in Washington, it was suddenly proposed to have a reception at the Executive Mansion in honor of the many distinguished visitors. The informal invitations were issued while I was participating in the parade that was part of the ceremonies.
At seven o-clock in the evening, when I was at home, tired out after the long march, word came to me to report at the Marine Barracks. I went there and was ordered to take the band to the White House at eight o'clock p.m.
The bandmen did not live in barracks, and it was practically