Just One More Teacher Story

The following story, coming on the heels of the Betty Hyde story,  may appear to be but a mere coincidence to many. However, I do believe that things happen for a reason, even if I don't know for sure what the reason is.

In August 2012, about the time that plans for the Betty Hyde luncheon were in full gear, I got an e-mail  from an old college friend,  roommate and music school classmate from Drake University. Seems there was going to be a "1st ever" Drake Marching Band Reunion held in October.  Thompson was on the committee organizing the event and he wanted my support. He also wanted to know if I would attend so we could hang out, get caught up with each other and reminisce about our days together at good ole DU.  One of the focal points of the reunion was to pay tribute to Don Marcouiller, who led the band program at Drake from 1956-1987 and who had yet to be honored in a distinct way."Chief",  as he was affectionately called, was still in good health, but at 80,  the clock was ticking. The event would feature a Friday night reception, breakfast planning meeting on Saturday followed by alumni band rehearsal. From there, it would be off to the stadium to sit in the end zone with the Drake Marching Band and play along throughout the first half.  We would watch the halftime performance where Don Marcouiller would be honored, then back to the music building for  a 3 hour reception/social event where more formal presentations and socializing would occur. 

A couple of weeks later, the event registration information showed up in an e-mail and I wasted no time in getting registered and placed it on my calendar. As fate would have it, the reunion was at the end of the same week Georgette and I were booked for our annual week at a condo in  Estes Park, CO. However, we were scheduled to return to Omaha on Friday which meant I would skip the Friday night reception, but would drive over early Saturday morning in time for the breakfast. With a full day of activities on Saturday, it would still be worth the trip. Sounded like a good plan to me.

Drake Marching Band at Soldier Field, Chicago, 1971

As the weeks passed  and the Betty Hyde event came and went , I began to think about the upcoming band reunion at Drake. Growing up in Des Moines near the University, this was more than a marching band reunion, it was a Des Moines reunion. What a great time to be back in the old neighborhood where on Saturday afternoons in the fall, the smell of burning leaves  in our driveways would color the air. Where on Friday afternoons, my brothers and I would hike over to the stadium  and listen to the Drake marching band rehearse in the empty stadium and where I began to dream of playing  in that band someday. We  would walk up Forest Avenue to the McDonalds where I would have my first job and earn the infamous "employee of the month" award in August of 1969.  We'd walk down Forest to 34th and wander down fraternity/sorority row where the homecoming floats would be parked  in front of Greek houses,  adorned with whatever homecoming theme was "in" that year. It all seemed bigger than life back then, and although much has changed in the landscape on and around campus, much had stayed the same and I was looking forward to taking it all in, one more time.

One day, checking on the registration site to see who was attending that I might know, 2 names in particular caught my eye . One was Robert  Lake and the other was Tom Lee. Surely this was more than a coincidence. After all, I had just attended a reunion recognizing a teacher 45 years after my last class with her. But now it seemed that I would also be attending a reunion where 2 men who, as young Drake students some 48 or 49 years ago, introduced me to the world of music education. Obviously they were attending for similar reasons as was I-they had attended Drake and studied under "Chief", had performed in the Drake Band as undergrads, then gone on to long successful careers as music educators. Yet, here was another opportunity to come face-to-face with teachers who had influenced and shaped me, this time in the area of music, something that has given me so much joy and purpose throughout my lifetime.

When my Dad asked me back in 1963, if I wanted to play a band instrument, I gave him a rousing "yes, I want to play the trumpet" and he responded with, "Good, but you can't play the trumpet. Your teeth aren't straight enough. But you can play the saxophone". My response, if I remember correctly, was " OK, what's a saxophone?".  Dad  rented an old Conn alto saxophone from Leach Music in downtown Des Moines so  I could join the newly formed instrumental music program at St. Augustin School. I was to take lessons on Saturday mornings and my teacher was to be Mr. Bob Lake. Eventually, there would be a few organized band rehearsals and they would be led by  Tom Lee.  Mr. Lee,  then a graduate student working on his Master's at Drake, had taken the job of developing the instrumental music program for the Catholic Schools in the Archdiocese of Des Moines. He hired Drake undergrads to work in the various schools as private teachers with beginners like me. Lake and Lee were my first instrumental music teachers and they would be at the reunion.

I keep things. In an old trunk, in boxes, piles of stuff. Music stuff, programs, race numbers from road races I ran in the 80's, record albums, memorabilia, lots of stuff.  I keep it without a practical reason for keeping it. I keep it just because. You might be thinking that I just changed the subject of this story. I didn't. Sometime after discovering that Mr. Lake would be attending the reunion, I began to have an  inkling that there were some old saxophone lesson books down in my trunk of stuff. I wouldn't have bet on it, but I had a hunch. Yep, there were 2 to be exact. My first 2 lesson books, complete with all kinds of notes and markings from Mr. Lake as he patiently and skillfully attempted to teach me how to play the alto saxophone beginning back in 1963.  When I dug them out and thumbed through them, the memories began to came back-a memory of Mr. Lake picking me up outside our house on 35th Street in the winter, in his old 1943 Dodge parked out front with the heater on. He stopped by before 8 o'clock and gave me a ride to my lesson at St. Augustin School, then I walked home, about 2 miles. As I looked at the notes and markings on some of the exercises I must have struggled to master,  I never once thought of quitting or giving up. I was given a solid start at playing a musical instrument that would turn into a lifetime of experiences. I was lucky and blessed....again. The lesson books would make the trip to Des Moines as I anticipated the reaction they might induce.


My first 2 lesson books found in trunk o' stuff.

Progressing to the Intermediate Book

 

Lesson book dated 7-10-63

The day would begin with a leisurely drive across I-80 from Omaha to Des Moines on the crisp fall morning of October 6th. The first event of the day was a breakfast reception followed by a rehearsal of the alumni band. As I checked in to the event I was relieved to see that name tags were provided as I was not sure I would recognize Mr. Lake. After all, it had been 48 years and I was quite sure he wouldn't recognize me. To my good fortune, I spotted Tom Lee right away and scanned the room for anyone else I might recognize.  Eventually I located a man who looked like he could be Mr. Lake. Armed with the 2 lesson books,  I read his name tag and sure enough, there he was, chatting with some other alumni. A pause in the conversation gave me the opportunity to break the ice.  "Excuse me, I was just wondering if you would recognize your handwriting?"  Caught slightly off guard, I decided not to make this any more awkward than it needed to be.  " My name is Dan Kingkade, you were my first saxophone teacher at St. Augustin back in 1963, and I just wanted to thank you for helping me get off to a great start as a young musician."  I thought his wife, who was standing next to him, was going to cry. We talked for several minutes, sharing our memories of that time, and I offered the lesson books to him if he'd like them. He passed on my offer so they remain in my possession. Later on, I caught up with Tom Lee and thanked him for his service as the first band director I had the opportunity to play under.  Mr. Lee had just retired after long stints at the University of Texas and UCLA, most recently. Bob Lake is retired after serving as a band director in the Edina,  Minnesota school system. 

Bob Lake, Tom Lee with me at the Drake Marching Band Reunion

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention a word or two about Don Marcouiller, the man we were there to honor. I had the privilege of performing and learning under Don's direction during my 4 years at Drake. He built a terrific marching band program at Drake and we had the opportunity to travel and appear at 4 NFL halftime games, several of which were televised ( this was back in the day when marching bands were shown at halftime on TV). I also played in the wind ensemble and concert bands under Don's baton.

Time went by quickly and there were more conversations with these 3 men throughout the day as well as with many other old friends and classmates. I had gotten lucky again, I thought as I drive back to Omaha that evening. Lucky that someone had put a saxophone in my hands at an early age. Lucky that I had been blessed with great teachers who made me want to continue to play and perform. Lucky that music has been a central element of my life. Lucky that this opportunity presented itself out of the clear, blue sky. Lucky that our trip to Colorado ended just in time where I didn't have to pick one event over the other.

You still may not believe that things happen for a reason, and it is not my intention to convince you that this story, on top of the Betty Hyde story, is anything more than a mere coincidence. For me, however, it was no mere coincidence. In the year 2012, I was meant to cross paths with teachers who had shaped and contributed to my life in significant ways. Why? I'm not entirely sure yet, but I will be forever grateful that I took the opportunity to recognize them when the opportunity presented itself.