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, 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.
Shortly before the holidays our stage band performed with a guest singer, a Lieutenant Colonel who was the head of a department referred to as Pipeline. He was responsible for directing the activities of AF personnel as they transferred from place to place. Given that I was responsible for our squadron’s daily report and other administrative matters, I had the opportunity to meet with him one day in his office. While talking he asked when I was due to be discharged. I said, March (’56). He then told me that should I return to the US with less than three months service left, I would be discharged. I asked him, how does that work? He gave me a form to fill out and said all I had to do was get the Squadron Commander, Lt. Neal, to sign the request for leave and I’d be on my way. When I said how do I do that, he said “well, you figure that out and I’ll process you through Pipeline;” in other words, he would cut the orders. When I returned to the barracks, I worked on the application and on the morning of December 24, a day before Christmas, I took a bunch of papers into the SC’s office for his signature. Inserted among them was my leave request. I was hoping that he would read a few and then sign them all as he finished-up paper work before Christmas. He did to my delight and the day after New Years I took my application to Pipeline and my orders came through within days. When the Neal received a copy, he called me in to ask how that happened. With his signature clear as day, he had no recourse and on January 11th I was on a plane to Manhatten AFB in Brooklyn NY for processing out. With my honorable discharge in hand, on January 12, 1956, I walk passed the AP station on my way out of an Air Force based for the last time.
I returned to my parent’s store/family residence frustrated, having no idea what the future might hold for me, just as my parents had 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, head of the Woodwind Department 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 future 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. This, indeed, was “the first day of the rest of (my) life” to quote Charles Dederich. 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.