Consider the poem
that carries the
same title as the
march.
The Stars and Stripes Forever
Let martial note in triumph float,
And liberty extend its mighty hand,
A flag appears ‘Mid thund’rous cheers,
The banner of the Western land.
The emblem of the brave and true,
Its folds protect no tyrant crew,
The red and white and starry blue,
Is Freedom’s shield and hope.Other nations may deem their flags the best
And cheer them with fervid elation,
But the flag of the North and South and West
Is the flag of flags, The flag of Freedom’s nation.Hurrah for the flag of the free,
May it wave as our standard forever,
The gem of the land and the sea,
The Banner of the Right.
Let despots remember the day
When our fathers with mighty endeavor,
Proclaim’d as they march’d to the fray,
That by their might And by their right,
It waves forever!Let eagle shriek From lofty peak
The never-ending watchword of our land.
Let summer breeze Waft through the trees
The echo of the chorus grand.
Sing out for liberty and light,
Sing out for freedom and the right,
Sing out for Union and its might,
Oh, patriotic sons!Other nations may deem their flags the best
And cheer them with fervid elation,
But the flag of the North and South and West
Is the flag of flags, The flag of Freedom’s nation.Hurrah for the flag of the free,
May it wave as our standard forever,
The gem of the land and the sea,
The Banner of the Right.
Let despots remember the day
When our fathers with mighty endeavor,
Proclaim’d as they march’d to the fray,
That by their might And by their right,
It waves forever!
Composed in 1896, The Stars and Stripes Forever is the National March of the United States of America (U.S. Code Title 36, Chapter 3).
http://www.potw.org/archive/potw270.html
1932 was not a very good year. This and the next year are the worst years of the Great Depression.
For 1932, GNP falls a record 13.4 percent; unemployment rises to 23.6 percent.
Industrial stocks have lost 80 percent of their value since 1930. 10,000 banks have failed since 1929, or 40 percent of the 1929 total.
GNP has also fallen 31 percent since 1929.
Over 13 million Americans have lost their jobs since 1929. International trade has fallen by two-thirds since 1929. Congress passes the Federal Home Loan Bank Act and the Glass-Steagall Act of 1932. Top tax rate is raised from 25 to 63 percent.
Popular opinion considers Hoover’s measures too little too late. Franklin Roosevelt easily defeats Hoover in the fall election.
http://www.hyperhistory.com/online_n2/connections_n2/great_depression.html
With all of that going on, the good people of western North Dakota and eastern Montana decided that a parade of bands might be a good thing. An invitation was sent to schools within a seventy-five mile radius, asking them to please show up in uniform on a Saturday in May and march the length of Main Street while playing Sousa’s best.
So every year in mid-April the high school bands in all the little towns scattered across eastern Montana and western North Dakota started practicing their marching routines on the dusty side streets, off the state highways that bisected our little farm towns. It presented what passed for annual excitement in our young lives – the next big thing after the Class C – District Basketball Tournaments that had been held in February.
Tuba players fine-tuned their ability to carry their large instruments without getting rubbed-raw-spots on their shoulders. Clarinetists and saxophone-players who had never marched while playing figured out fairly quickly they would learn how to step softly, even in march cadence, so that the mouthpiece didn’t jam the roof of their mouth.
The handful of eighth-graders who had been promoted to high school band status because of a shortage of their particular instrument in the group would feel a special pride, enjoying very much the fun of being out on the street with the high school students instead of being in their class room.
The town folks, especially the older ones whose days had become fairly predictable enjoyed the sounds of the marches floating over the neatly kept yards. Along with the crocuses out in the country hillsides and the tulips in their own yards, school bands marching in the chilly morning made it official – SPRING IS HERE.
Now in connection with all things Sousa – I woke up about four thirty on a July morning when I was about fifteen years old. Don’t know why.
The house is quiet. Dad and Mom are still in bed.
My bedroom on the second floor of the big farm house is actually the farthest point in the house from the front door or the back door, so slipping out of the house isn’t a matter of just stepping out of the door. But it’s a quiet, somewhat balmy morning and I suddenly realize that if I wanted to, I could go for a bike ride in my pajamas. Turns out I wanted to, so I did.
A pajama bike ride in the country is one of those things that just needs doing – like climbing the windmill or getting up on the barn roof when no one was home. So off I go on the long country road that is part and parcel of our life.
My bicycle was the prettiest sky blue. Pedals and spokes, handlebars and brakes were always in good condition both because we didn’t abuse our bicycles and also because anything that ever got twangy or out-of-alignment was pretty quickly made right by a big brother or by Dad.
I was the only one of seven children still at home that summer because my first up-the-line brother was working for a man over in North Dakota as a farm hand. That man farmed twenty-one quarters which is, of course, completely impossible unless you have six or seven farm hands who can get the summer work done. He had hired two – but that’s another story.
It’s a very slight incline on the first part of our 3/4 mile driveway as I head out, then turn on the long stretch north (the part that goes up-‘n-down, up-‘n-down the little hills).
The eastern sky is rosy red. The robins are just beginning to sing. When I left the yard, the milk cow was patiently waiting to be relieved of her overnight milk production, standing near the big sliding barn door . A rabbit or two sitting near the fence line at the top of the ditch startle, wondering why The Farm Girl is flying by her bike at this hour. By herself.
I got back to the house about twenty minutes before Dad and Mom would be getting up and I had an exaggerated sense of well-being that called for some John Philip Sousa. Again–it was one of those things that just needed doing.
I went to the piano and shuffled through the sheet music to find the one I had been working on and, without notice, shattered the silence with a grand rendition.
You realize, I’m sure, that one does not play Sousa at 5:30 a.m. in the old farm house with hesitancy or a sense of experimentation.
You do not work your way into it. Rendering an unannounced Sousa march on the piano at 5:30 in the morning when the farmer and his wife are still quietly in bed really had never been done in our house, but I just knew there was no looking back once the first chord was struck.
All Sousa marches have that framing of the thing in the opening bars before they launch into what, in band music, was designated as the trio (if it were vocal music, it would be called the chorus). The trio is always the most fun to play, whether on clarinet or piano. So, in full commitment mode by the time I got to the trio and past the shock of actually doing this to my parents, I made the most of it.
I wrapped it up with a flourish (which is also necessary when you play Sousa unannounced at 5:30 in the morning — finish with flourish and confidence) and then, having no other numbers clamoring to be played I went upstairs and went back to bed because it was still quite early.
Mom told me later how they had laughed and enjoyed the presentation. But I don’t recall being encouraged to do it again.
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An acknowledgement for long time readers:
Today’s MBOB is a combination of old and new, edit and rewrite.
If you remember reading some of it before, think of it as a pile of old family photographs that are completely familiar but perhaps, on the right morning, no less able to draw your attention and your heart.