Not everything I tried to initiate at Niles McKinley was accepted. That was certainly the case with my venture into music.
The Ductorian Society, the group of student leaders that had been established in my Junior year, thought something new should be done with the morning announcements made over the public address system used throughout the high school. Surely music accompanying the morning proclamations about what was to occur throughout the academic day would help improve the school atmosphere, so long as it wasn’t “jazz.”
A friend of mine, Dick Rashilla, “Rash,” who had a collection of classical music records, said he would help me prepare for the daily events. Principal Sharp agreed we could broadcast “soothing melodies” for listening by students over the loudspeaker system. I was to be the equivalent of a D.J., although the term was not prevalent in the mid-fifties, and read the announcements which Mr. Sharp or his secretary had previously written. I could also give ad lib comments and earn credits in my public speaking class for ex temp events.
On Monday morning, Rash gave me a classical record he thought the kids would enjoy. The band I was to play came from Grofee’s Grand Canyon Suite; it was labeled “On the Trail.” I knew nothing about classical music. I was a little surprised when the sounds coming out of the classroom speakers were those of the Philip Morris cigarette commercial. The teachers ran from their classrooms and into the hallways faster than answering a call from Johnny, the bellboy. They marched on the Principal’s office to see what was happening. I promised we would offer less- exciting selections in the future.
On Tuesday, Rash provided me with music from Victor Herbert. The students said it was too slow and the teachers claimed it was still too noisy for the beginning of the day. Two days later, everything went wrong. The music was too loud in some rooms and too low in others. The announcements were too low to hear and nobody appreciated a tape-recording I had made of the Steno Club doing its own version of the typewriter song.
Over the next several days, I spoke with all of the teachers and learned that none of them liked the idea of music coupled with the necessary daily announcements. Meanwhile, the Ductorian Society discussed whether the series should be continued. The group wanted to restart the effort, which had been postponed while it was being reconsidered. However, Mr. Bassett, our faculty advisor and the head basketball coach, said the program must be discontinued. And it was.
In addition to the teachers who wanted the day to begin quietly, the only student who loudly was in agreement with the decision to terminate the music was my friend and rival, Scott. He continued to take great pleasure every time I failed at anything and made sure I knew just how badly I had failed. I guess not everyone was pleased about what happened in “River City” either.