Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories.
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It was some time in the spring of 1939 when I was in the first grade that our teacher, Miss Westlake, marched our whole class from the West School building to the high school to see a band concert. I had never before seen a concert, so I was really looking forward to it.
The auditorium was packed with students. When the curtain opened, I could see the whole band. They were all dressed in white, and each one wore a snazzy blue cape. The music was wonderful, and by the time the concert ended I had decided that I would be in the band when I got in high school. I had no idea what instrument I would play, but I thought I would look nice wearing that blue cape.
A year or so later when I was in the second grade, I was going through some things in my grandmother’s upstairs storage room, and I ran across an odd looking black leather case about three feet long. It looked pretty old and it was covered with scuff marks.
There was a clasp at one end which I loosened. That opened the case. There was something shiny inside. I took it out and was thrilled to find that it was a trombone. It had several dents, including a really large one in the horn’s bell. But that trombone looked great to me. By golly, I now had my own musical instrument, so I could start taking lessons. Then I could be in the band when I got in high school.
The following morning I got to school early, and I took my trombone with me. I put it in my locker before I entered my classroom. During recess I went back in the building and retrieved the horn. I took it to Mr. Euverard’s music room. He was the music teacher. He was between classes, so he was alone in the room. I told him I had a trombone, and I wanted to start taking music lessons so I could be in the band when I got in high school.
I took the old trombone out of the case and showed it to him. He smiled when he saw it. He could see how excited I was, and how much I wanted to be in the band someday. I was obviously too young to take the lessons, but he was searching for the best way to tell me.
He told me he was pleased to see how much I wanted to be in the band. He said he was confident that I could be a band member someday. As we talked, he was searching for a way to tell me that although I was currently too young to take lessons, I would eventually be old enough. He didn’t want to dampen my enthusiasm.
As we talked, he went to his desk and took something out of a drawer. It was a tape measure. He had me hold my right arm straight out in front of me and he measured the length of my arm. Then he turned to me and told me my arm was too short to play a trombone, but at the rate I was growing it wouldn’t be too long until we could start the lessons.
That was all I needed to hear. Eventually Mr. Euverard would give me trombone lessons.
I took the instrument home and put it back in my grandmother’s storage room.
Over the years, I forgot about the trombone and lost track of it. That’s a shame because today, my arm is long enough to play it. Of course Mr. Euverard retired years ago, and lessons are no longer possible. So I guess I will have to forget about playing that trombone.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at williamboyd514@gmail.com