Word: tubas
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Leroy Anderson doesn't have time to play his trombone--or his tuba, double bass, organ or cello, for that matter--any more. But no one scems to mind. People who have heard "Wintergreen," "Fiddle-Faddle," or "Sleigh-Ride," are quite willing to settle for Anderson as a composer...
...composer has to eat in the meantime." This was one reason why, after completing one year of graduate work in music, and getting an A.M., he decided to switch to Scandinavian Languages, intending to become a teacher. During the next four years he tutored music at Radcliffe, played tuba and string bass in Boston-area orchestras, returned to the Band as director and arranger, and, of course, studied. "I even learned Icelandic," he says. It was in this period, in 1932, that Anderson made his Wintergreen arrangement for the Band's Army game show...
...composer (Robert Russell Bennett) had tried to dignify the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball club with a Symphony in D (TIME, May 26, 1941). Last year George (Tubby the Tuba) Kleinsinger had the Metropolitan Opera's Robert Merrill warbling his Brooklyn Baseball Cantata. Last week, all such pretenses of musical dignity were gone, but with two new tunes in their bat box, the National League's colorful Dodgers were slugging hard in the jump, jive and jukebox league...
Bugs & Slide Trombones. As a freckle-faced boy, Chuck was mostly interested in collecting bugs, growing gourds and sunflowers, hunting with a .22 rifle, and fishing in little Mud River. He played in the school band, starting with a big bull tuba but settling finally for a slide trombone. He went to Methodist Sunday school, stayed out of trouble, and was quiet almost to the point of being timid. "Nobody ever noticed Charlie Yeager much," says Lyle E. Ashworth, a classmate, "until 1943 when he buzzed the town in a P47 and sent old Mrs. Lon Richardson to the hospital...
...Detroit Symphony Orchestra musicians, peacefully packing their instruments after rehearsal, gave a startled gasp. Across the stage, bellowing like a Straussian tuba, rushed Henry H. Reichhold, the terrible-tempered industrialist (Reichhold Chemicals, Inc.) and chief financial backer of the orchestra. His shouts were directed at First Cellist Georges Miquelle for "disloyalty." Miquelle left, but his leaving snapped an old and mounting tension...