My Oboe Odyssey: Part I

Many of us learned to play the piano or some other musical intrument when we were young, often at the behest of a parent. In my case, I had a mom who was a fine violinist and music teacher. She also taught piano, but I absolutely refused to take lessons from her, or anyone else for that matter. Fifty years later, I regret that fact, but there is nothing I can do to change that situation. Fortunately, my mom did prevail upon me to play some instrument. She often suggested that I consider the French horn, the bassoon, or the oboe. In the summer of 1961, I decided to give the oboe a shot. What a decision.

I soon discovered that many of my colleagues already had been playing clarinet, flute, trumpet, or whatever, for a year or two. And I also quickly discovered the first rule of begining oboe players: "Develop a thick skin." When a flutist or clarinetist makes a mistake, they just shrug it off. But when an oboist makes a mistake, everyone knows it. It can be very embarassing. I was most fortunate in that we had an excellent band director at Plymouth Junior High School East. His name was Mr. Larry Livingston; he had grown up playing clarinet in the "big band" era. He could be a little crazy at times, but he loved directing the band. Each spring, we had a big production called the "Band Show," and it was a fun time.

There was also the question of taking private lessons. I started out taking lessons from a high school student and then a college student, but by the time I got to high school, I was studying with Ron Odmark, the second oboist in the Detroit Symphony. He was a great guy and very easy to get along with. He taught me how to make reeds and also how to play halfway decently. I played my share of solos for the Michigan Solo and Ensemble Festival, but I never really liked having to memorize the music. But I survived.

It was also my good fortune to have a great high school band director at Plymouth High School. Mr. James Griffith (affectionately known as "Griff") was a no-nonsense graduate of the University of Michigan. We played good band literature, and I appreciated his approach. Some of my peers didn't care for him as much as I did, but that's just the way things were.

During marching band season, I did NOT play my oboe. I got to play bass drum and tenor drum instead. Of course, marching band was a lot of fun, but I was always glad to get back to concert band when the marching season was over. Mr. Griffith knew good arrangers over at U of M, so we got to play some neat pieces in marching band, as well as in concert band. All of this was good preparation for college, even though I didn't know it at the time. In future installments, I want to share some of my experiences at Interlochen's National Music Camp and at Bob Jones University.