From Elementary School to Indiana University
Lawton Elementary School was a four block walk from home. Although I spent six years at Lawton, I remember just three outstanding “events” rather vividly. The first was playing football during mid-morning recess one day. When someone tagged me and I lost my balance, I hit the ground face down and broke a front tooth. My immediate thought after the initial shock of discovering a unfamiliar space between my teeth was – how am I going to tell mom and dad? To my surprise, they accepted what happened with little admonishment. Soon thereafter our dentist placed a crown (cap) over the fractured tooth. It serves as a constant reminder of what happened on that playground yard many years ago.
Another event makes me smile to this day, some eighty years later. During a school day, it began to rain hard, The plan when that happened was clear: dad would pick me up at the end of classes. And sure enough he was waiting for me by the front door with umbrella in hand so we could walk to our ’36 Plymouth. When we arrived, dad said “get in” and then he took the umbrella to the driver’s side and got in himself. As he sat down, I said “oh, a new gear shift knob?” I still laugh when I recall his expression and his “get out!” Abandon the premises! Well the car was not going to explode but I did think my dad’s psyche was about to shatter because we were in someone else’s ’36 Plymouth. I don’t think he would have been more embarrassed if his pants had fallen down. More than once we had a good laugh – after this “trying event” became a moment to remember.
Last but not least was my becoming a member of a saxophone trio most noted for our playing the National Anthem every morning standing by the playground flag pole before classes; weather permitting of course. We also performed during convocations in the auditorium and, on one occasion, appeared on a radio program. After graduation, the trio remained intact when the three of us enrolled in Harding Junior High School.
Harding Junior High School was a new venture in that I had to take a trolley car several miles to school. Our home and the school being on Torresdale Avnue made for an easy commute. While the trio and orchestra became an active part of my junior high activities, my memories are limited.
Frankford High School
At the age of fourteen, I began my freshman year at Frankford High School.
My first impressions were of size: it was a huge, block-long structure with an enrollment of some 2800 students, a far cry from elementary and junior high. Inside were more rooms than I had ever seen or been in and I thought I would never find my way around. Fellow students were always “dressed-up” even though there hadn’t been a expressed dress-code to follow. Upon seeing the upper-class boys , one followed suit. I remember wearing starched white shirts and ties, pleated trousers with cuffs and sports jackets every day for three years. Getting from home to high school and back required taking a trolley and then switching to a bus for the 45 minute trip. (See Coming of Age for particulars.)
Before long I joined the high school orchestra. Unfortunately, the days of performing with the sax trio ended when the three of us enrolled in different high schools. A confidence builder came when I was chosen to participate in the All-Philadelphia High School Orchestra under the direction of Lewis Wersen. More trolley and subway rides but it was so special that hardly anyone ever missed Saturday morning rehearsals even during snow storms.
Senior Trip and High School Graduation
Our senior trip involved a train ride from Philadelphia to New York City prior to a boat ride up the East and Hudson Rivers to West Point.
The trip was special in a number of ways. Although I had seen the Statue of Liberty many times from the Pulaski Highway and had often seen the Hudson River from the West Side Highway on our way to visit aunt Martha and uncle Nat.* I had never seen the beauty of the Hudson, the Statue of Liberty, the New York skyline, the New Jersey Palisades, Sing-Sing Prison or anything north of the city from a boat or otherwise. What a treat! Our yearbook clipping says it all.
P.S. Notice “his appetite and “his lunch”.
In our graduating class yearbook (The Record 1951), Helen Griffths and I appear in a photo captioned “Music Masters.” For the purpose of this photo, the sports jacket came off and, sure enough, there are the starched shirt, tie, cuffed trousers and dress shoes – commonplace at the time.
After turning down a music scholarship to Temple University, I applied and was accepted Temple University. Mid-year graduations were common when I graduated in January 1951. The commencement ceremony was held in the Baptist Temple on North Broad Street adjacent to the Temple University Campus.
The procession was special as we marched to Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance in the beautiful interior.
Temple University
Travelling from home to Temple was at least a forty-five minute commute going from the trolley car ride on Torresdale Avenue to the Broad Street subway and then a short walk from the subway station to the campus.
Upon arrival, having allowed extra time for travel, I would head to the chess hall before classes. During my first and only year at Temple I went there to play chess when I should have been going to classes. Because I no longer had music ensemble friends with whom to engage socially, I turned to fraternity life and missed even more classes. At the time, I was enrolled in 5, three-hour, courses that didn’t seem to have anything to do with becoming a surgeon. During the year, my mother had had major surgery followed by several scary setbacks – certainly no justification for my choices and the resulting consequence.
All began to crumble in January 1952 when I received a term paper back form Dr. Brown, professor of English Composition 101. It contained two grades: a C and a F. When I asked him why two grades, he said, “C for content” and, about the other asked, “what’s the name of the course, Fred?” The writing was on the wall, his grade for the paper only confirmed it. I had failed to clean up my act by the end of my second semester and the bubble burst when I received a dismissal letter from the Dean of Undergraduate Studies. I immediately made an appointment and received nothing more than a hand shake and “best wishes.” So I said goodbye to Temple, my military deferral and any hope of becoming a surgeon. I hadn’t yet learned that choices have consequences. After a couple of weeks working in the store and pondering the possibility that I would be drafted into the Army, possibly the infantry, I enlisted in the USAF and it was “Off We Go . . .”
Indiana University
Just short of four years later, while stationed at Pepperrell Air Force Base in Newfoundland, I met Willis Hackman who had been a doctoral student at the Indiana University School of Music. He was a musicologist and a trombonist and then a member of our AF Band. While I had already learned about The Eastman School of Music in Rochester, NY from Keith Kummer and knew about my hometown Curtis Institute of Music, having Will as a friend and colleague resulted in my applying to IU in the fall of 1955 in anticipation of my discharge from the AF the following March. I was quite disappointed, to say the least, when I received a letter from the Assistant Director of Admission saying that my application had been rejected. The four years in the Air Force hadn’t erased the fact that I had flunked out of Temple University.
After being discharged, I returned to my parent’s store/family residence frustrated and having no idea what the future might hold for me: just as my parents had experienced many years before when we were living with my grandparents in Brooklyn, NY. Being back in my father’s store was certainly disconcerting if not downright discouraging. After leaving home to join the Air Force (and to see the world), I found myself four years later back at the old grind.
It wasn’t long, however, before I received a letter that would change my life forever. It was from William Strong, Director of Admissions, Indiana University, Bloomington, IN. He wrote that he had reviewed the Assistant Director’s earlier rejection letter and added “should you ever be in the area, do stop by.” I was soon on a train, clarinets in hand, for an overnight trip to Indianapolis where I would board a bus to Bloomington.
After meeting and discussing my hopes with Dr. Strong, he arranged for me to meet George Kreuger, Director of the University Choir who also served as a student counselor at the School of Music. He, in turn, sent me to audition for Henry Gulick, Woodwind Department Chairman and professor of clarinet. After the audition, Mr. Gulick walked me back to the music building. As I waited anxiously, he presented his evaluation to professor Kreuger. After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Gulick finally left and I was ushered back into Kreuger’s office. Although he was a kind and caring person, he stood about 6′ 6″ and was, without a doubt, a very daunting figure. He said, using his deep bass voice, “have a seat” and, looking directly into my eyes, asked, “when can you be back?” I said, “you mean next September” and he repeated, this time with a little more energy, “when can you be back?” to which I replied, “next week”. He shook my hand and said, “have a good trip, see you Monday!” Without further ado, I was back on the bus to Indianapolis for the return train trip to Philly where I gathered my belongings and got my car ready in preparation for the long drive to Bloomington. To quote Charles Dederich, this indeed was “the first day of the rest of (my) life” . The following Monday I was back in Bloomington, settled in a dorm room and enrolled in classes as the third week of the second semester got under way. What a whirlwind! I had met three people and, after receiving their stamps of approval, was now where, just a week before, I never thought I would be: studying music at one of the most prestigious music schools in the country – truly stunning. A dream come true.