- written by David Robinson-Cooke

(Reprinted from the Apr-May-Jun 2003 issue of THEME)



(to read part one, click here)

During the autumn of 1961 the New York Staff Band was to conduct a concert tour throughout southern New England. These tours were always full, with little or no free time. The normal schedule was to release us at midnight, and expect us for breakfast at 8.00 a.m. The Sunday schedule on this occasion was tighter than usual. We were to perform during morning worship at the First Congregational Church in downtown Hartford. This was to be followed by lunch at another location across town ‑ then a march to City Hall for a civic reception, followed by a full concert in the High School - supper ‑ then bus back to New York arriving at about 11 p.m. We were to be dropped off at midtown Manhattan, and were faced with at least one or two hours to get to our homes. Of course, it was business as usual on Monday!

 We performed for the church service, and after the service, I happened to be standing next to our conductor when an elderly lady came up to him. She smiled and said how much she had enjoyed the male chorus, and that she would like to hear us sing once more. The bandmaster turned around and pointed to the empty choir area where we had played, shrugged his shoulders, and said that it was too late ‑ everything was already packed and on the bus.

 Tears streamed down the ladies' face. She said she would give anything to hear the band play and sing once more. The bandmaster stood and stared at her for what seemed like a very long time ‑ whatever went through his mind I will never know. Suddenly he turned to the bandsman standing next to me and said "get all the guys off the bus and have them come in here". The bandsman was incredulous. "Richard," he said, "you have to be kidding!" The bandmaster set his jaw, and then went a step further and said, "You heard me ‑ and I want full concert set up." This meant getting everything out again, including all flags, risers, etc. We set up and played and sang selections, and our audience was the little old lady, and four ushers. Five persons! At the conclusion everything had to be packed up and loaded onto the bus once again. The only way we could maintain our schedule was to skip lunch altogether and go straight to the march. Needless to say, that bandmaster was not too popular for some time.

 About two years later the bandmaster was transferred out and appointed to supervise all Salvation Army operations for southern New England, with his office in Hartford. About two weeks after he had settled in, his telephone rang and there was a lawyer on the other end. He said that a lady had died and left a sum of money to the Salvation Army - could he go and pick up a cheque at his convenience?

 The bandmaster went down to the lawyer's office, and learned that the lady was none other than the one we had played for. She cited the incident in the church in her will and said that because of that one act of kindness, she was bequeathing to the Salvation Army the sum of $500,000.00 - that's 1961 U.S. dollars!

 This little story made the front page of the New York Times.

David Robinson-Cooke is now retired and living in Ancaster, Ontario.