A Martinsburg Boy's Memories and Stories from the 1950s

John Bush was raised in Martinsburg and graduated from Central High in 1961. He spent most of his adult life in the Pacific Northwest. He has many memories as a boy in the 1950s that give some insight to the people and culture of Martinsburg in the 1950s.

John likes to tell stories and over the years he has repeated the stories of his youth many times. His belief is that those years in Martinsburg influenced him all of his life. Some of the stories are historical in nature, some are colorful, and some are personal. He wishes that you enjoy them.

SCHOOL BANDS AND

‘POP’ FISHER

School bands were an integral part of the culture in the Cove throughout the 1950s.

Martinsburg, Roaring Spring and Williamsburg had several parades during the year and marching bands were key elements. Various school bands put on concerts and played at sports events and special ceremonies.

I began trumpet lessons in seventh grade and was in the band until graduation in 1961. For me, it was not about the music but the people. It turned out that the band was a structure for growing up, discipline, socialization, diversity, and regional education.

Paul Fisher or “Pop” Fisher was the band and chorus director at Bean Hill, as well as the music teacher. I had Mr. Fisher from seventh through eleventh grades. Everyone in Martinsburg knew Paul Fisher and his four daughters. The youngest, Janice, was in my class.

Mr. Fisher gave private lessons at night in our homes and sold new and used instruments through a store in Altoona. He sometimes arranged music lessons given by his daughters at his home. I took lessons from his oldest daughter.

The band at a parade or concert was well organized. I was always talking and goofing off, but when the whistle blew or the baton rattled on the podium, I shut up and fell in line. My classmates acted as a unit to be on time, be at the right place, and perform the best we could. I realized this was one time my antics were not acceptable to my classmates. I could not stay in step when marching in formation, so everyone around me would watch and discretely tell me to change my gait. I am not sure why we behaved so well as a group. Was it the generation or was it the fact that parents were watching?

Band members were not all my age and not just from my home room, thus band provided interaction with students from families of varied economic, educational and occupational backgrounds.

The band traveled by bus to march in parades many times during the year. Some of the towns we went to included Williamsburg, Altoona, Roaring Spring, Hollidaysburg, East Freedom, Cresson, Bellwood, Portage, and State College. We had more than 50 members and the only adults besides Mr. Fisher were the bus drivers.

Generally, the band arrived fairly early for each parade, before needing to be in formation, in order to park the bus on some side street.

This created the best part of the trips – free time, without parents or teachers. We explored these towns in small groups as if we were in Paris, France, for the first time. The main objective was to get soda pops, ice cream, or just look cool in a foreign town. We generally broke into tribes. I often hung out with Harry Brubaker, Wendell Gahagan, and Steve Dilling. Another boys’ tribe consisted of Wilbur Rhodes, Clayton Pheasant and Cary Ritchey.

It was amazing that so many of the Martinsburg grade-school girls from my class were in the band. Most played reed instruments and I recall that Ella Mae Dixion, Dotty Hamm, Lonna Blattenberger, Linda Stoudnour, Mila Gay Nier, Joyce Lehman, Suzy Ritchey, Carol Dilling, Janice Fischer and Jean Furry from grade school were all in the band.

At times, two or three of the girls would join us as we walked around the town. Since we had grown up together, I thought of these classmates as sisters or good friends, not as girls to date. I had a lot of fun on those walkarounds.

One of the longest trips each year was to State College for Band Day at a Penn State football game. On Band Day, high school bands from all over descended on State College. We left Martinsburg early in the morning and would not return until time for a late supper. At morning practice, these bands, each in its designated spot, filled most of the football field.

After practice, we were set free and most headed downtown. Some went to a supposed hot spot on campus for lunch, trying to look cool in spite of disdaining looks from the college students. For most of us, this was our only insight into college life.

One year, all the brass instruments were lined up along the boundary line with the rest of band behind us. We were located in front of the student section, looking up at the first rows of seats. The students were rowdy, sometimes yelling and laughing at us. The girls wore more risqué outfits than my female classmates at school. The boys were distracted until the word came down the lines to stand straight and pay attention to the director, who was in a dazzling white uniform and gloves standing on some sort of portable staircase.

Every trip for Band Day was exciting for a boy from small-town America and I got to miss my usual Saturday work day with Dad at home.

One of the most memorable trips with Mr. Fischer was to Pittsburgh to attend a concert for high school students at Carnegie Music Hall. Louis Armstrong and his orchestra were scheduled to perform. I had seen Louis on TV, but generally in short variety show skits. I was expecting to be laughing a lot. We gathered alongside the buses before entering the hall and Pops gave one of his few lectures on behavior as he tried to explain etiquette at such events.

Entering the auditorium, he walked along side of me and said I had better not embarrass him and our school.

For some reason, Armstrong’s orchestra could not make it, so out walked Louis Armstrong, alone, onto the stage with his trumpet, a stool, and his signature white handkerchief in his sports jacket pocket.

A glass of water was delivered to the stool top. I was already wondering about how long we had to sit there. Anyway, I had often heard George Baker and Wilbur Rhodes play solo trumpet in our band, and they were good.

Then this clear, crisp trumpet sound rang out and in a theatre filled with high school students all movement and sounds stopped. Louis played for nearly an hour, only stopping to wipe his brow, say a few words in his raspy voice, and take a few sips of water. I was mesmerized; this was my first appreciation of what a great musician was all about.

I talked with Janice Fisher many years after her father Pop had died, and she said that she did not like the parades because the girls and their mom hurried about to get him ready. The girls had to help with the other organizational needs to keep the show on the road.

In retrospect, she noted that he was always tired from standing most of the day and giving lessons in his spare time. If there were no parades, he and one of the girls went to Altoona most Saturdays to the music store and their storage area for used instruments.

In addition to buying used instruments, they salvaged parts and other musical equipment. If a family lacked funds, her father would drive a hard bargain with the store for what they needed.

I don’t think any of us thought much about what Mr. and Mrs. Fisher and their daughters did for the community.

I also wonder if anyone understood what an effort it took for Mr. and Mrs. Fisher to raise four daughters and send each one to college on a 1950s teacher’s salary.

As students we often made fun of Pops. But later, in my mind, band was a very important part of growing up for me and Pop Fisher was an unsung hero of the 1950s in Martinsburg.