I have shed very few tears on the Pennoyer Park bandshell stage over the last 20 years that I have been emceeing the Kenosha Pops Band concerts- and that should come as no surprise since these concerts tend to be joyous occasions with moments that are downright zany. But amidst the antics of “Y.M.C.A.” or the rollicking fun of the Beer Barrel Polka, there have been some poignant moments when I had to do my thing with a lump in my throat the size of a basketball. Introducing the armed forced medley on the fourth of July is always a little tough but especially when we have troops in harm’s way- which unfortunately has been the case more often than not over the past twenty years. There was also Frank Germinaro’s final concert as the band’s director- and even though we all knew that he wasn’t really going anywhere, that was still a tough, tear-stained occasion. And then there have been the times when we had to say goodbye to someone in the band who had passed away. In most cases, these are not people I know all that well myself, but just knowing what they have meant to the musicians on that stage is enough to hit me in the emotional solar plexus.
That was especially true last night, when we took a few minutes to pay tribute to a true gentleman (in every sense of the word) named Bob Willems, who passed away last fall. Bob was a member of the band’s clarinet section for 55 years. That’s an extraordinary legacy – and it means that Bob played in the band for more than half of its entire history. And in this ever-shifting, ever-changing world in which we live, that kind of long-term presence means even more because it’s so exceedingly rare.
Last night’s tribute to Bob almost didn’t happen, thanks to Mother Nature and her soggy ways as of late. There were huge storms the night before and fairly significant rain during the day – and if anyone has been taking bets on the matter, I would have wagered that the concert would be rained out. But the evening rains swept just to the south of Kenosha, and although we had the rumbling thunder and even a bit of lightning, not a drop of rain fell- – – and actually by the time we got to Bob’s tribute, the clouds had literally parted, as though they wanted to join the tribute to our much missed colleague.
The tribute began with a lovely Vincent Youmans’s song called “More than you know,” which was sung by a good friend of Bob’s , Carol Rizzo-Larsen, who afterwards shared some touching reminiscences about him. They were friends from Holy Rosary Parish, and after Bob retired he worked for 18 years in their cafeteria, where he was known affectionately as “The Milkman.” We also heard briefly (and unexpectedly, I believe) from Bob’s son Patrick, who played right next to his dad in the clarinet section for quite a few years and is still trying to get used to his father’s absence from the back row of the clarinet section. His quiet, heartfelt words were tremendously moving. The tribute ended with the band playing the piece which was Bob’s favorite pops band piece above all others: Carmen Dragon’s magnificent setting of “America the Beautiful.” Director Craig Gall conducted it with special radiance and the band responded so beautifully – and I tried to sing it well despite the proverbial lump that was in my throat most of the way (but which eased off just in time for the high G.)
On my way home, I started thinking about what the world looked like when Bob played his first pops band concert in 1954. Dwight D. Eisenhower was president, and a monster named Joseph Stalin had just died the year before. “I Love Lucy” had just finished its fourth season. Elvis was about to make his big breakthrough – and “The Beatles” did not yet exist. For that matter, “The Sound of Music” and “My Fair Lady” had not yet been written, and the Metropolitan Opera had not yet invited an African-American to sing on its stage- and at this moment in time, most of America had not yet heard of Martin Luther King Jr. Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio, mass vaccinations for polio began, and Roger Bannister had just run the first four-minute mile. And the Dow Jones Industrial Average reached a new all-time high: 382 points. Think of what the world was like in 1954- and of all the ways in which the world changed over the ensuing 55 years. And through it all, Bob and the band played on and on and on. . .
There’s something profoundly comforting about that, and it makes me even happier and prouder to be a small part of it all.
pictured above: Craig Gall conducting the band as they accompany Carol Rizzo-Johnson.