I suppose the incident that came
closest to getting our band completely
eliminated was the day that the state
police officer took our director away in
handcuffs. It wasn't nearly as bad as
it sounds, or as it looked at the time,
but it was another of those incidents
that our band had an unfortunate genius
for getting into.
Our director always tried nearly
everything to get us ready for the annual
band contest. With a crew like us, it
really never did any good, but he always
tried. Ours was a smaller school and the
number of people was limited. If someone
was too rebellious for ROTC, too careless
for wood shop, and too disruptive for study
hall, they usually ended up in band. Every
once in a great while, someone who knew
something about music came along, but, one
look at our band and they kept right on
going.
It was the year that our director got
the idea to have as many other directors as
possible listen to us that it all happened.
He wondered if he was simply too close to it
all, and that other directors would hear the
mistakes that he could no longer hear. Among
the guest conductors we had that year were
our director's own college band leader, an
elderly but energetic old gentleman, and a
man named Richard Smith.
Mr. Smith was the choir director
at his church, but his primary job was as
a state policeman. Our director asked
him to come out one morning and direct
our rehearsal, listening for errors. Mr.
Smith was only too happy to come help out
his old friend. He arrived that morning
in full police uniform and equipment,
driving his fully-equipped state police
car. Rehearsal was a huge success and we
got plenty of pointers to consider. When
Mr. Smith found out that the intermediate
band was scheduled to rehearse only an hour
from then, he called his dispatcher and asked
if he could stay. The dispatcher agreed,
and Mr. Smith retired to our director's
office for coffee and conversation. During
the break, Mr. Smith got playful and snapped
his handcuffs on our director as a joke.
They had a good laugh as Mr. Smith rummaged
in his pockets for the key.
It was at this moment that our
director's phone rang. He answered it clumsily,
being in the cuffs,and found that it was
Mr. Smith's dispatcher. There had been an
accident and Mr. Smith was needed at once.
Mr. Smith confirmed that he was leaving
immediately and hung up. There was no
choice but for our director, still in handcuffs,
to go out to the car with him. Halfway out to the
car, Mr. Smith got the idea that his handcuff
key might be in the bottom of his revolver holster.
He drew his gun and started feeling around in the
bottom of his holster. Our school district
superintendent picked that moment to drive up.
The first thing he sees is our director in
handcuffs with a burly state police officer
holding a .38 special on him. Neither of them
noticed right away that the superintendent was there,
and Mr. Smith finally asks our director to take a
seat in the back of the car. Mr. Smith was himself
badly startled when our superintendent told him that
the school would cooperate in every possible way
and would not make any attempt to shield our
director if the evidence warranted conviction.
Mr. Smith was then himself confused for a moment as,
holding a gun on a handcuffed prisoner in the back
of his police car, he didn't know what the
superintendent was talking about. Mr. Smith
holstered his revolver and found the key in the
glove compartment. Our director was released, Mr.
Smith was on-time for the accident, and our
superintendent was confused for months about just
exactly what he had seen. He never trusted anyone
from the band again after that.
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