Half a Century Later, Part II: U.S. Naval School of Music

After a brief visit home, I reported to the U.S. Naval School of Music at the Anacostia Annex, Washington, D.C., sometime, I think, in September of 1963. I had auditioned prior to joining the Navy, so I was immediately assigned a major instrument: the piano.  No problem, or so I thought, since I had been playing and studying piano for many years. I was also assigned a “minor” instrument: the bass drum; after all, one can’t march with a piano. And I immediately begin classes in music theory.

Music theory was a breeze as I had studied that in college before joining. My memory is that I made a perfect score on all assignments (but my memory being what it is . . . ). The bass drum was simply a matter of practicing all the complicated rhythmic patterns. If one can read music, one can play the bass drum, at least on the level required here. But the piano became a problem: I was classically trained and knew nothing about playing popular music nor jazz. I still thought I could manage it, though, with a little practice and help from an instructor.  I was wrong.  The teacher would sit at the keyboard, whip through a jazz piece with elegance and skill—and then he would say, “That’s how it’s done; now, you do it.” And that was the full extent of my instruction in jazz and popular music. I didn’t learn a thing. And as the term wore on, I knew I was probably in trouble.

On November 21^st of 1963 I turned 21.  Great, except the drinking age at that time in D.C. was 18. But a friend took me out for drinks and an evening of soft-core porn movies; all I can remember of those were a lot of shower scenes and lots of women’s breasts bouncing around. I was not impressed, but I tried to put up a good front.

The next day President Kennedy was assassinated. I’ve chronicled my minor part in all the funeral activities previously in a blog and won’t repeat them here: http://garysworldinwords.blogspot.com/2013/11/my-brush-with-history.html.

By the end of the term, the school was making preparations to relocate to Virginia Beach; ten of us who were at the end of the first term were sent in advance to the new location to help with the relocation: moving pianos around, unloading instruments and music, and various other manual tasks.

Once settled in, my second term began.  The powers that be decided that piano wasn’t working out since I couldn’t (in their view) or wouldn’t (in my view) learn pop music and jazz, so they switched me to flute, an instrument I had picked up back in my music major days.  Again, no problem with this new major instrument. My minor instrument, however, was a sax, which I had never played before. Have you ever heard a beginning sax player? I couldn’t stand the sound, so I didn’t practice. The inevitable happened: I was kicked out of the U.S. Naval School of Music. After being there for over a year (including the move), I was shipped out to, where else: back to San Diego, this time to a guided missile cruiser, the USS Galveston. I had one more “kicked out” to endure, but I’ll save that for the next blog.