Have a Glorious Fourth

Pacific Fleet Band in concert at Pearl Harbor Memorial, Oahu, Hawaii

In Thanks to St. John of Branam

I once asked my bandmaster why he'd stopped rehearsing a certain piece. The showband had been working on it for days, but progress had slowed.

"You have to know when to stop," Chief Warrant Officer Waldron said. "Eventually, you hit the point of diminishing returns."

Like so many of Tex's teachings, this one was a lifesaver when I became a bandleader. The time comes when you have to put music aside, imperfect, unfinished, and move on to the next piece.

John Branam had abundant opportunity to face this challenge during the reunion. As the new rehearsal director for the Navy Musicians Association reunion, John faced the built-in conundrum of this unique position: the NMA rehearsal director can't spend much time rehearsing.

We've got hundreds of charts to play through. One will obviously never sound right, no matter how much work we put into it. Another lays well the first time through and needs no further polishing. A third is fun to read but sounds like hell. A fourth would be great if we just had time to woodshed our parts.

So many charts, so little time. We've got a dance coming up on Saturday. We just want to play together for the enjoyment. We also want to develop our ensemble sound. "Could we take five? I gotta make a head call." The pianist hasn't shown up yet. The second alto doesn't have page two of "Don't Get Around Much Anymore. "Hey, man, can't we just read through this one more time?

Sound familiar?

Thanks, John, for volunteering to be the guy who stands in front of the band at the end of a swing tune that needs just a little tinkering here, a bit of tampering there, looks at his watch and says:

"Put that one away and get up #179, "Girl Talk."

Navy Lyres June Report

At the beginning of June, visits to Navy Lyres amounted to 5 or 6 visits per day. I was happy with this small readership, considering how little work I put into keeping the site going.

Then, as I saw the Navy Musicians Association reunion approaching, I improved my product and promoted it.

Improvement was simple: I provided frequent updates. Websites need fresh content like bands need new arrangements.

Promotion was more difficult. I contacted former MUs with functional email addresses and told them about my plans to "live-blog" the NMA reunion.

In a few days, Navy Lyres got 15 visits in one day and I was astounded.

Then word of mouth kicked in--NMA members told their friends and I began to hear from former MUs who haven't yet joined our organization. The day before the reunion started Navy Lyres had 41 visits.

Activity grew through the week: the last day of the reunion brought 68 visits.

Yesterday was the high point, with 76 visits, and that single-digit daily average has grown to 66. If this rate stays steady, I'll have 2 billion visits per day by the middle of next week.

That won't happen of course. The reason for yesterday's spike is simple: members have returned home from Memphis and are turning on their computers to check on the reunion coverage.

I'm not going to strain too many muscles patting myself on the back. Compared to YouTube, this site is a flyspeck. I'd be happy to hang on to even half of the current traffic as the year goes by.

But this has shown me the power of promotion. And promotion is exactly what it takes to grow an organization such as ours. It doesn't take a website or technical Internet knowledge. All it takes is an occasional phone call to an old friend. That's how Terry Chesson sucked me in a few years ago.

We already have a tremendous product in the Navy Musicians Association. As this year goes by, let's remember to promote it to those who haven't yet joined.

On the Optional Nature of Spirits

Looking back, I see that my posts from Memphis frequently refer to evenings in the lounge.

For those who have not yet attended a Navy Musicians Association reunion, let me emphasize that our get-togethers are not mandatory drunk fests.

Whereas some reunion organizations have hospitality rooms somewhere in the hotel, NMA members traditionally gather in the lounge at night. Rhythm section equipment is always available, members bring their axes, and we fill the joint with music and fellowship.

There's plenty of spirit, but alcohol is absolutely optional. Many of us enjoy the fun without drinking. I, for instance, hit the lounge nightly and--this will lift the eyebrows of those who knew me in the good old days--I haven't had a drink in decades.

This is not to say there aren't a few bleary-eyed MUs wandering the hotel lobby in the morning. But, as we used to say, if you're going to hoot with the owls . . .

Almost Home

I'm in a motel in southern Illinois. Only a few more hours and I'll be home, ready to go online and wrap up the reunion coverage.

Here's one thing I know for sure: after a few days in the Marriott, a night in the Super-8 Motel has lost its thrill.

A Crackerjack Performance

LT David LaTour conducts Navy Band Mid-South in "Army of the Nile" during the patriotic opener for the Saturday night dinner/dance.





NMA President Terry Chesson thanks Navy band Mid-South with the highest possible accolade one musical organization can offer another: an invitation to dinner with head-of-the-chow-line privileges.



As much pride as we former Navy musicians take in our service, our history and our musical abilities, today's active duty MUs are without equal.

Of course, these youngsters have an advantage. Nowadays they use these new things--"dynamics," I believe they're called-- that really add interest and variety to marches. If we'd had such gizmos back when I conducted the 7th Fleet Band, we might have given them a run for their money.

Goodbye, Memphis

Goodbye, geezers playing "Mustang Sally."

Goodbye, "Li'l Darlin'" played at the right tempo.

Goodbye, young sailors in laser-white uniforms playing a rendition of "Anchors Aweigh" that brings bent-over old men to ramrod attention.

Goodbye, bartenders who scuffled each night to keep things flowing.

Goodbye, volunteers whose sweat made this go so smoothly.

Goodbye, Marriott, hotel by whose high standard of service all our future venues will be judged.

Goodbye, Tex and Dee and Terry and Howard and Bill and John and Mel and Lee and Ralph, Merv, David, Bob, Kim Debbie Chris Doyle Wilbur and an entire boatload of friends who have made this and unforgettable week.

I'll be home tomorrow and resume posting. There's a lot to add.

Goodbye, shipmates.

Memphis 2008: taps

The equipment is torn down and stowed for departure tomorrow morning.

Last goodbyes are going down in the lounge.

There is much to say about tonight's banquet. And I will say it. I plan to provide a wrap-up report when I get home. More pictures. More sea stories.

But not now. It's late and tomorrow comes soon.

Now, taps. Taps.

All lights out.

Maintain silence about the decks.

Now, taps.