Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 95, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 April 1916 — Th’ Ole Silver Comet Band [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Th’ Ole Silver Comet Band

If one is fortunate enough t s catch Prof. Clem Ilamer when he’s in one o’ his semi-annual good humors an’ proceeds with caution, a charmin’ half hour’s entertainment is assured him. Since' th’ ravages o’ time have disqualified th’ professor fer further activity in th' musical affairs o’ th’ town, he has grown sullen an’ (morose, only breakin’ th' silence at rare intervals t’ belittle some notable achievement o’ progress. “What has become o’ th’ ole time silver comet band, th 'ole time oom ta ta ‘Marchin’ Thro’ Georgy’ band that used t’ play on th’ slightest provocation?” I asked th' gnarled an’ grizzled veteran o’ many a hard fought band contest as he monopolized th’ only chair in front o’ th’ pust office. “Well, sir,” said be, eyein’ me closely, “th’ ole time musicians who used t’ play Jest t’ hear ’emselves have been dispersed t’ make room fer th’ modem blatant unionized an’ commercialized wind Jammers who only

show ’emselves on a guarantee. In th’ old days a brass band wuz a social organization. T’day it’s a cold blooded business proposition. Twenty bar rests are a thing o’ th’ past an| ever’ sour note is protected by th’ union. Th’ ole 38-pound red felt uniform, with helmet an’ plume, too, has passed away ferever.” "You’ve had many years’ experience as a band player, have you not? I ventured, at th’ same time placin’ a pale grocery se-gar in th’ tremblin' hand o* th’ ole bandmaster. “Forty-three years th’ last time Bryan showed here. It wuz a sour note that put me in th’ business. I’d been thrown in daily contact with a yaller clarinet when a child an’ at th’ age o’ fourteen, after I had it about two-thirds mastered, I run < away with a circus as a canvas hand. One night durin’ a performance while th’ band wuz playin' ‘ln th’ Sweet Bye an’ Bye’ th’ clarinetist dropped a sour note closely resemblin’ th’ terrifyin’ cry o’ a panther an’ th’ audience stampeded *n’Trine people wuz killed. Th’ clarinetpiayerwux discharged an’ I took his place. I traveled many years with circuses with Yar?&* success. Once j walked home from Tombstone, Arizony, at another time I wuz poisoned on canned corn at Hurley, Wisconsin, an’ carried t' th’ nearest white settle-

ment. From th’ front left hand comer o’ a gold an’ green combination bandwagon an’ hyena cage I had a fine location from which t* gather my imnressions.o’ America. But circus life has its drawbacks like ever’thing else but loafin’. Th’ hours wuz long, th* Bleepin' quarters cramped, breakfast alius five hours late an’ bathin’ a lost art." “After you took up th’ comet what wuz your favorite solo?” I made bold t’ ask th’ aged virtuoso, profferin' a second se-gar as a guarantee o’ good faith. “Th’ Levey Polka, a triple tongue solo that wuz very pop’lar durin’ th' ole Duprez and Benedick era, but rarely attempted t’day by even th’ most darin’ an’ reckless cometists.” Havin’ received enough se-gars th’ wrinkled leader continued without further urgin'. “Joinin’ a band wuz th’ hight o’ ever’ lad’s ambition in th’ ole days. It wuz th’ turnin’ point in his life. Belongin’ t’ th’ band wuz th’ steppin’

stone V th’ purtiest. girl in town. Epaulets an’ a plume were great beau catchers an’ when they were backed up by th' soft mellow notes o’ a slip horn or a second alto they wuz well nigh Irresistible. But tb’ hardest thing about belongin’ t’ a band in the ole days wuz loafin’ around waitin’ to be called out.” (Protected by Adams Newspaper Service.)

"Joinin’-a Band Wuz th’ Hight o’ Ever' Lad’s Ambition in th’ Ole Days. It Wuz th’ Turnin’ Point in His Life. Belongin’ t' th’ Band Wuz th Bteppin Stone t’ th’ Purtiest Girl in Town."