Ray Greer's "Kenilworth Marching Band"
Kenilworth's own 'Music Man' once formed a Memorial Day Parade marching band.
I think it was early in 1977, when Ray Greer called me, and asked that I come by his house, on Warwick Road, one block over from my family’s home on Leicester Road, to discuss forming a marching band. Although I didn’t really know Ray, we both lived in the bucolic village of Kenilworth, nestled in Chicago’s North Shore, for which one of the “Welcome to Kenilworth” signs posted at the north and south ends of the village, along Sheridan Road, reflected a population of 3,000, and the other touted 2,800 (where were those two hundred missing people sequestered?), and, in a community of that size, one is bound to at least know of everyone living there; his daughter, Julie, had been a classmate of mine at Joseph Sears School.
By this time, I was an upperclassman at New Trier East High School, and playing in bands and orchestras there, but I had received the roots of my musical training at Joseph Sears School, in Kenilworth, provided primarily by Elayne Tootelian, the instrumental music teacher (I know, her last name was a natural for a musician - her husband, Robert, was also a musician, and, his obituary reflected his nickname, “Toots”).
Kenilworth has had a quaint tradition of celebrating Memorial Day exactly one week ahead of the rest of the nation, perhaps driven by two key dynamics: as a pretty small community, Kenilworth’s ability to secure marching band, equestrian, and military units was hampered by competition with other, larger communities; and, many of Kenilworth’s residents liked to escape town on Memorial Day weekend, visiting their vacation homes in Lake Geneva, or northern Michigan, or some other, more exotic locales. And, yes, Kenilworth was able to exercise its clout to simply adapt the Gregorian calendar to its use. Ed. note: According to kenilworthhistory.org, this early Memorial Day remembrance began in 1919, when the newly-formed Kenilworth Boy Scouts were asked to march in nearby Winnetka’s parade - not wanting to embarrass themselves, they practiced a week early on the streets of Kenilworth, and the tradition held - feel free to choose amongst the three options presented - we here at Rule of Three have never been particularly hung-up on reporting the truth (a trait we share with some mainstream news outlets).
Having been a Kenilworth Memorial Day Parade participant (really, in a village of either 2,800, or 3,000 people, depending upon which direction you enter, virtually everyone is a participant) for many years, beginning with threading red-white-and-blue streamers through the spokes of my bicycle, and joining the “Bicycle Brigade” (I made that up - I don’t think that contingent had a formal name); and marching with the Cub Scouts; and then the Boy Scouts; and sometimes convening for a post-parade ice cream at the ice cream social on the grounds of the Church of the Holy Comforter, I was familiar with the importance of the parade in the Kenilworth ethos.
So, when Ray Greer shared with me his vision for a Kenilworth Marching Band, I responded, “Sure, I’ll help you.”
If Greer was the “Music Man” (a/k/a Professor Harold Hill), I suppose that made me Tommy Djilas, “a young man ’from the wrong side of town’; secretly dating Zaneeta Shinn,” according to Wikipedia’s synopsis of the 1957 musical by Meredith Willson. Much like the Tommy character, my role was to marshal the forces of musically-minded Kenilworth kids to join the band. Although, I think it’s fair to point out that Greer didn’t slip me a few coins to treat a local girl to candy at Blann’s Pharmacy. Nor did he attempt to sell band instruments or uniforms to unsuspecting youngsters.
By the way, the picture featured atop this column will be familiar to Kenilworthians: it is the view east down Kenilworth Avenue, framed by elm trees (before they were felled by Dutch Elm Disease), towards Lake Michigan, taken from the vantage-point of the Kenilworth Train Station, with the iconic fountain in the foreground, and the Kenilworth Club in the background on the right. This picture appears to have been taken in the early 1900’s, judging by the hats sported by both the men and the women in the photograph - around the time in which “Music Man” was set - I see no evidence of a new pool parlor, however. The enormous American flag is a nice touch - perhaps people are assembling for the (Kenilworth’s seven-days-early) Memorial Day Parade.
In my band recruiting effort, I likely called Elayne Tootelian, to ask that she direct current Joseph Sears band members to us, and may have also put the arm on former Joseph Sears bandmates to join the cause. I didn’t post an impassioned plea on Facebook, because. . .it didn’t exist!
Speaking of recruiting, we are legally obligated to recruit you right now to become a subscriber to Rule of Three - click the button here - it's free!
We assembled the band, and Greer conducted a couple of rehearsals in the band room at Sears School. He distributed sheet music to all the musicians assembled, a group composed mostly of grade-school and high-school youngsters, but which also featured a couple of more-seasoned members, including: Homer Flentye, another classmate’s father, who was a pretty solid trumpet player, and Bob Kenyon, who had some drum-playing skills, and Curly East (sorry, Curly, I know you probably had a different given name, but I cannot recall anyone calling you anything other than Curly), who may have also labored in the percussion section.
The band, with about thirty or 40 members, performed classic marches, such as: “El Capitan,” “Under the Double Eagle,” and John Philip Sousa’s classic, “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” The latter piece calls for an exhausting musical contribution from a piccolo player, and we were fortunate to have the services of Phil McDowell, a German language teacher at New Trier East High School, who, as I recall wore Scottish kilts on occasion - he may have opted for something more typically American on (Kenilworth’s seven-days-early) Memorial Day, however.
Then, on Memorial Day (that is, on Kenilworth’s seven-days-early Memorial Day), the band did its thing at the Kenilworth Memorial Day Parade festivities. Now, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t remember if the band marched, and played in the parade, because my brief marching band career, with the well-regarded, University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks, taught me that fielding a successful marching band was no small task, and required hours of preparation, and rehearsal-time, and music holders, known as “lyres,” none of which the Kenilworth Marching Band possessed in large numbers.
But, I do recall performing in a concert with the band that day in Kenilworth’s Mahoney Park, just across Sheridan Road from Lake Michigan, fulfilling Ray Greer’s vision. It was grand.
I have no idea whether the Kenilworth Marching Band was a “one-off,” or if it endured after its 1977 premiere. I mean, plenty of things that were around in 1977 are no longer with us today: Radio Shack’s TRS-80 Micro Computer System; the Son of Sam serial killer (David Berkowitz); and Studio 54 (it’s technically still around, but it’s not the thing it was in 1977).
Perhaps we should begin planning now for a 50th year reunion of the Kenilworth Marching Band - it’s a scant four years away - email your contact information to: ruleofthreebs@gmail.com, and we’ll ensure that you get an invitation to the (Kenilworth’s seven-days-early) Memorial Day Parade festivities.
Kenilworth’s rich musical history was not limited to marching (or, maybe, non-marching) bands, however. Kenilworth’s own Bill Lacey co-opted Lerner & Loewe’s Camelot, the title song from the 1960 musical of the same name, and penned his own alternate lyrics - you can find Richard Burton singing Camelot on YouTube, but I think Bill Lacey has an excellent singing voice - enjoy. . .Bill Lacey's "Kenilworth"
I don't think Bill Lacey was a member of the Kenilworth Marching Band - it's tough to march with a piano - but you can join the Rule of Three band right now - click the button here - it's free!