9th Grade: Drum Major: Tiffany Key. Show: The Wizard of Oz. My Goal: To be "cool" like my brother. Basically that meant that I spent the year hating band and almost everything it stood for. My secondary goal was not to get Kyle Finley pissed off at me because I knew that he had it in him to beat me up. I was the podium bitch, and back in my day it was twelve miles to the practice field and uphill both ways. There was usually waist-deep snow and was over 110 degrees outside. We had "The Beast" and us poor freshman also had to push that large monstrosity around. The band made Ms. McKinney cry several times, and Patrick Faircloth joined the ranks.
10th Grade: Drum Major(s): Tori something and Susan Thompson. Show: Superman. My Goal: Not to be like my brother. He was leaving and I couldn't find any willing disciples to take on the duty of hating the band. Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So I started actually showing up and caring. It's amazing what this will do for you. Towards the end of the year, I turned 16, got a truck and a job that I absolutely hated. Rob graduated much to the delight of the directors. Mrs. Madlock had tears of joy running down her face. Quite emotional... That summer I attended the MASH camp and it spawned my "Dr* C" nickname... (which, to some strange and unrelated coincidence is what my friends up here call me now.) The bandhall was about to be renovated, and I watched Manteca drive golfballs into the old paneling in the main room. Somehow we made Faircloth leave for a better job with better pay.
11th Grade: Drum Major: DeAndre Palmer (a.k.a. Dr. Jazz) Show: Jazz, but I'm too white. My Goal: To terrorize the saxophone section. I got an office in the bandhall. Eric wanted to piss me off, and I was starting to get an early case of senioritis. During one pep rally, Eric pissed off Manteca and he came charging up through the stands to yell at him. I swear that he was going to kill him, but then he fell halfway up and lost some steam. Now Eric was just going to get pummelled. Then he fell again right on top of me. Eric got lucky. Manteca just propped himself up on both Sid and my heads and started a tongue lashing so severe that it made me laugh when I probably shouldn't have. Good times. I was appointed "loading overlord" and the freshman started to hate me even more (Eric). I quit my terrible job. I join jazz band and soon realize that I have no actual musical talent whatsoever. Regardless, it was a stupid good time and usually some free food at the gigs. How could I help myself? That summer I went to Governor's School with Paul and had one of the stupidest good times of my life. If figured out that I wanted to fly for a living.
12th Grade: Drum Major: Myself (a.k.a. Dr. C*, The White Guy, or The Guy Eric pissed off) Show: The Beatles. My Goal: To have the best damn senior year ever. My enemies were Eric and his cronies, and almost the whole of the clarinet section. Went to Murfreesboro, TN with Manteca, Mrs. Madlock, Arla, and some other chick I didn't know. Watched drum corp, wet my pants, and actually started to love marching band. I developed a rather rudimentary understanding of time, but soon learned that it really didn't matter since no one watched me anyway except Paul, Eric, Tim, and Ray, and they all had better time than me. Jamie coined the phrase "Groove Juice." We went to camp, and it was miserable. I spent most of the afternoon "sectionals" time sitting in the air conditioned cabin eating flavored ice before returning to yell some more at the peons. One day on the field Manteca got pissed at the band and started to throw things from the podium. I got nervous when he ran out of stuff to throw and I was the only thing left. Mrs. Madlock got on a morning calisthenics kick, and it sucked because she made me do so just like everyone else. Manteca got pissed at the band and threw one of those paint marking devices across the field and missed me by about three feet. I got a "new" car and started carrying an old trophy cup around for people to put money in. It worked and I got 15+ dollars in change for my new car's ashtray. I managed to get out of many classes due to my "duties" to the band, and the football team made it to the state championship. I experienced Drum Major nightmare #1 and the band didn't hear my count off despite screaming as loud as I could. Somehow, it didn't phase me. I'd had a blast that year. Mrs. Madlock made me rejoin the group and pick up my saxophone after I managed to sit behind her on that table for a week of concert band. I guess she just didn't notice. My second semester in Jazz Band I didn't enroll in concert band but promised to "audit" the class. That lasted approximately three weeks before I learned that I could sleep in every day. Manteca got pissed at Eric some more and managed to kick a large stand on top of me. Towards the end of the semester Mrs. Madlock made me rejoin the band and I challenged Guy Royston for second chair with a large sign on the front of the building. I graduated and started work for TECH.
Band was my staple throughout school. Most of my friends were/are in it, and I can think of very few high school memories that don't somehow involve it or members of it. I could probably think of stories all day long, but I've got places to go... oh, wait... no I don't.
Jeff C.
Former Head Nerd, HHS Band.
