Part One
Spring, 1966
Being a graduate student at the University of Iowa was a great experience. I had three roommates, all of us living in an apartment directly across from the main music building. Three of the four of us spent most of our leisure time together driving to Klona, Iowa, an Amish Community, for cheese and culturally diverse experiences, or to a lake north of Iowa City where we would float back to campus in canoes or playing Frisbee on the driveway of the fire station next door to apartment. But in reality, leisure time was at a premium because the dream, set before me a year and a half earlier, caused me to strive for the greatest success I could possibly attain.
The cold Iowa February came and I began the process of applying for the position of assistant band director at NWU.. “Write a letter to Dean Dahl indicating your interest in the position and I’ll work at this end to make things happen,” Mr. Marshall told me. I wrote the letter and waited. A week. Nothing . Two weeks. Still nothing. Finally, after three weeks, already March, a letter came from the Dean’s Office. He wrote, “ Dear Ron, I am sorry to inform you that there is presently no position available for Assistant Band Director at Nebraska Wesleyan University and the opening of this position does not seem likely in the near future. Kindest Regards, Dr. Samuel Dahl, Dean, Nebraska Wesleyan University.”
“Hey! He can’t do this! It’s all set up. Bob Marshall said so.” A quick call to Lincoln confirmed my worst fears. No job. “I’m so sorry Ron; it just didn’t work out the way I had planned,” Bob said. And I knew he was disappointed because we had discussed how my intended position would help build the band program. “Well,” I told my room mates, “I’ll just apply for everything I see.” High school jobs in Iowa and Nebraska were available and there were a few college jobs all over the country but in 1966 there still weren’t many schools looking for a young inexperienced percussionist with a master’s degree and only one year of K-12 teaching to his credit. There was no college or university in Nebraska that had a percussion instructor so applying for the position entitled ASSISTANT BAND DIRECTOR – LOW BRASS & PERCUSSION, at a little state college in Kearney was just one of many applications I sent out.
By April I was getting a bit concerned that I had not had many responses. It seemed that perhaps I was over educated for most small high schools, lacked sufficient teaching experience for most large high schools and was under educated and lacked experience for most colleges and universities. So, when a call came from Gary Thomas at Kearney State College asking if I would like to drive over for an interview, I was delighted and excited. “Kearney?”, asked Jack Gosslink, one of my room mates, “Never heard of it.” “Yea, it’s a school in the middle of Nebraska, I’ve driven by it on Highway 30 once or twice going someplace else, “ I replied.
The interview date was set and I drove home to Lincoln, stayed at the farm with Mom and Dad and got up early the next morning to drive from Lincoln to Kearney in order to arrive by 9:00 A.M. I followed the directions that led me into a part cinder, part concrete parking lot by the “gray storied walls” of the old administration building. It was a large three-storied building nearly a block long. Projecting off the west side of the Ad Building was an auditorium that seated 1,200 and around that, on the third floor were the class rooms, offices and small rehearsal areas of the music department. I found Gary Thomas’ office. We visited and toured the campus, I met several music faculty members, Arnold Sivils, Bill Lynn, Carl Easterbrook, Mildred McDonald, Jerry Feese, Myron Osterberg and others, all of them very nice and interested in me. They wanted to know all about what I had done, where I was from, what experiences I had had, I guess I was being interviewed. Later in the day I asked Gary Thomas what classes I would be teaching if offered the position. He walked over to a file cabinet drawer and pulled out a typed single sheet of paper that read,
FALL 1966
Ron Crocker – Instructor of Music
Assistant Band Director MTWTF 3:30 P.M.
Private Percussion Arranged
Sight Singing & Ear Training TT 8:00 A.M.
Introduction to Music MWF 9:00 A.M.
TT 11:00 A.M.
M 6:30 P.M.
“By the way, “ Gary said, “I forgot to mention that the job description has changed, there is no longer low brass included in the position. Does that make a big difference to you?” Actually it did make a big difference. It sounded like a great job before. Now it sounded like the perfect job. With my name at the top of the Fall schedule, I suspected I was going to be offered the position. But first, I had to interview with the President, Milton J. Hassel who was occasionally referred to by other names, and Paul Gear, Dean of Instruction. President Hassel was a big man with large ears and a booming voice who had started out as a band director and ended up being a college president. “Do you like marching band?” “Yes, absolutely,” I said. “Do you think a school our size can support a great band?” Why was I beginning to think that this was like my first teaching position at Mead, Marching band at KSC was the ticket to my future?
And then, the final interview with Dean of Instruction Paul Gear, a jolly man with a good sense of humor. He asked me all the necessary questions and I gave all the replies I thought he wanted to hear. Then he said, “What church do you go to?” Today, that question could result in an immediate lawsuit but I simply said, “I was raised in the Methodist Church.” “Well,” he said, pausing, “if you were a Baptist we’d offer you the job, but…,” pausing again with a smile on his face, “I guess Methodist will do. I would like to offer you the position of Assistant Band Director and Percussion Specialist at a ten month salary of $6,400.”
I just about jumped out of my chair with joy, I wanted to leap into the air and shout YES, YES with great enthusiasm but, instead, I sat there and said in all seriousness, “Could I have a few days to think about this, I have some other opportunities I’m considering.” What opportunities, Crocker? Staying in graduate school for another decade? Becoming a fireman? Pumping gas? But, I thanked him for his interest and the offer and said I’d be in touch in a few days. I told Gary Thomas that I needed a few days to think about the job offer as well. What game was I playing? I drove back to Lincoln, all the time thinking, “What if they withdraw the offer? What if they have someone else that they are interested in as well? Stupid move, Ron. Really dumb thing to do.” I drove into the driveway of the farm, got out of the car, walked into the house to the telephone and called Gary Thomas at home. “Dr. Thomas, I’ve thought about the offer for the position of Assistant Band Director all the way home and would like to accept it.” “Great,” he said, “I though you woul
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Two
August 1966 – The New Kids On The Block
When I arrived at KSC to actually begin teaching I met Ken Rumery, the newly appointed Director of Bands. Ken had his Master’s Degree and had been the highly successful band director in McCook. In those days at Kearney State, people were often hired based on their achievements and less on their academic degree. Ken was a high-energy dynamo always on the go with new ideas constantly floating in his head. Not only was he energetic, he expected everyone around him, faculty and students, to display the same level of commitment to the program that he displayed.
The marching band itself had fallen on hard times as was obvious from our interviews of the previous April. Don Stanley, a tuba player, was hired for the previous two years when Gary Thomas, the Chair of the Department who had previously directed the band, became overwhelmed with administrative duties. Don’s idea of a “marching band” was a stand in
place on the football field performance group. That concept, that was visited very briefly by a few schools around the country, didn’t go over well in Kearney nor did the KSC President, Milton Hassel, approve of football half-time concerts. For that reason, Don must have seen the writing on the wall and decided to go elsewhere.
There had been a graduate assistant named Jim Morey teaching and working with the percussion section the previous year so Gary Thomas was able to convince the upper administration that there was a need for TWO band directors to run the program. Enter Ken Rumery, Director of Bands and Ron Crocker, Assistant Director of Bands.
The week before classes started Ken and I began developing the new Kearney State marching band. During the day we would write halftime shows, recruit students, assess equipment needs – all the things that band directors do before a season begins – and in the evenings we would paint the interior walls of the house he had just purchased for his family who had not yet arrived in Kearney. I learned much from Ken about how to put a band program together, invaluable concepts that would, in later years, be helpful in my growing career.
In late August classes began and I was teaching three classes of Introduction to Music, one section of Sight Singing and Ear Training, private percussion lessons (only two lessons that first semester) and marching band. Of course, marching band took most of my time, energy and focus.
The Wagoneers had become a very popular group on campus, a group of thirty-two competitively selected girls, a dance team in the style of the New York Rockets of the 1930’s, 40’s and 50’s. This high kicking dance troop originally established by Dorothy Orcutt, performed at football halftimes and during basketball season and were very popular with the athletics fans.
Unfortunately, neither Ken nor I had any experience working with such a group and we felt that the Wagoneers were competing for available time on the field and audience support. Had we been able to look into the future of band programs we would have realized that a group of thirty-two attractive college women could make the band even more successful than it eventually became. Instead, we maintained a courteous amount of cooperation with the group but lacked the vision to seamlessly incorporate them into the fabric of the marching band. Big error.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Three
1969 – Becoming KSC Director of Bands
By the time I signed a contract to teach at Kearney State College, a position with the title of “Assistant Director of Bands and Percussion Specialist,” I had a comparative wealth of marching band experience. Ken Rumery, the newly appointed Director of Bands, and I were hired to infuse new life into a program that was functioning but failing to rouse football crowd enthusiasm and team spirit along with community recognition. Ken, who had been hired for his significant achievements as band director at McCook High School, was a dynamo of energy and aggressiveness. He possessed a keen intellect and outstanding musical gifts and was clearly on his way to great success as a college music educator. And I, with only one year of full-time teaching experience in a Nebraska Class D high school, brought enthusiasm and the belief that this little KSC marching band could be as good as anybody in the country. The Rumery – Crocker Marching Band Team created an instant air of excitement that laid a foundation for future generations. At least that’s what we believed and the truth is, through years of under funding and other difficulties, the KSC/UNK band has maintained a level of excellence and stability that few colleges or universities have experienced.
Timing and luck are sometimes the only ingredients required to send us in new and unexpected directions. It was early June of 1969, just a few days after spring commencement, when Ken informed Gary Thomas, the Chair of the Department of Music, that he was resigning to return to school in order to work on his doctorate. His resignation was on Dr. Thomas’ desk on a Thursday afternoon and by Saturday morning he was headed to the University of Colorado in Boulder without his wife and three children.
Immediately, Dr. Thomas established a search committee for the vacant position and a national search for band director was begun. Because it was now summer break there were only three search committee members, Dr. Thomas, Carl Easterbrook, and me. As quickly as possible, position announcements were sent out across the country advertising for an experienced band director who could also teach private brass lessons, music theory and arranging. By the second week of July several applications had been received and the committee had read all the puffing and sputtering self-adulation by each of the applicants. We narrowed the list to two or three people who looked promising and called the first on the list, a trombonist from Ohio, to come for an interview.
When he arrived, his interview was cordial and he seemed like a fellow that I could easily work with. He had good high school experience, played his instrument acceptable well and was well along on his doctoral degree. Gary Thomas asked me, “What do you think?” to which I replied, “He seems just fine to me.” But Dr. Thomas wasn’t satisfied and indicated that we needed to look at the second candidate. That was a Friday. On Monday of the next week, the Nebraska Legislature created a dramatic change of plans.
For most of the previous year there had been financial shortfalls in state funding and everyone was anticipating that the legislature would be raising taxes for the coming year. But the fiscal problems had reached a critical stage and the Governor called a special summer session of the Legislature to solve the problem. Their solution on that eventful Monday morning was, among other things, to freeze hiring of all state employees. That meant that Kearney State College would be short one Director of Bands for the coming fall unless someone could fill the position from within the department…….., someone within the department….., someone… . I’m not sure if Gary Thomas really thought that I could fill Ken Rumery’s shoes; if I’d been sitting in his chair as Chair, I would have had many misgivings. But, with no other options available to him, he offered the position to me. “Are you interested in being Director of Bands?” “Sure, I’d love it!” was my reply. Actually, the thought hadn’t even entered my mind until the moment he visited with me. But now, within thirty seconds, I had become Director of Bands at Kearney State College. Wow! Now what? Shows to write, new classes to prepare for, so much to do by the end of August.
That was a Monday. By Wednesday of the following week, the Nebraska Legislature, in their august wisdom, unfroze their freeze on hiring. Upon hearing the news I stopped by Dr. Thomas’ office to let him know that I wouldn’t be at all offended if we reopened the search for Director of Bands. After all, my experience was limited and I had only a master’s degree compared to some of the candidates who had doctorates or were close to finishing their degrees. “I think we’ve made the right choice,” he said, “Let’s not backtrack now. You’ll remain Director of Bands and we’ll look for an Assistant Director of Bands to work with you.”
A new search was conducted with different criteria and more applications were received. By now, it was only a few weeks before the fall semester was to begin. One applicant, a trumpet player with high school teaching experience and most of his class work done toward his doctorate, looked promising. He was unable to come all the way to Nebraska from Illinois on short notice but, one of our vocal faculty members, George Hicks, was going to be in Chicago for a convention. He would interview the candidate, Clayton Heath. George was our director of the opera program and had only the opportunity to ask Clayton a few questions about his background and education. But, George indicated that Heath was a friendly fellow and seemed anxious to find a job. Clayton came to Kearney and KSC sight unseen and began looking for a house for his wife and family. I offered to drive him around town to orient him with the city of Kearney. During one of our “get to know you” conversations Clayton said, “Ron, you and I are both aware that I should have your job as Director of Bands and you should have my job as assistant band director and I just want you to know that during the coming year I’m going to do all I can do in order to change positions with you.” I was shocked, amazed, angry and all the other emotions that could have been provoked by such a statement. Clayton didn’t seem like a power grabber, he seemed rather low key and unassuming. And, in fact, as we began to work together, he was cooperative and congenial.
But not many days into our marching band season he made a fatal mistake with the band members. While I was out of the rehearsal room working with the percussion section, Clayton said to the band members, “I’ve heard a lot of talk about this Ken Rumery guy and I’m sick and tired of it. I’m the band director now and I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise.” That statement quickly made it’s way back to Dr. Thomas and to me via the rumor mill. It was but one of the many things that lead to Clayton’s eventual resignation the following spring. He simply didn’t fit into the mold that existed at KSC.
So, once again, Dr. Thomas opened a search for an assistant director of bands who could teach brass. As is always the case there was a good number of applicants but one seemed to be exactly the person we were looking for. Don Meredith had been teaching in Hiawatha, Kansas for a number of years, played trumpet very well, had a solid background working with marching bands and concert bands and was exactly the kind of person who would relate well with college students. And so, Don was hired and became a “perfect fit” for the music department. There was an instant and immediate collegial connection between the two of us and Gary Thomas sensed that this team was an immediate hit with the students.
Don and I shared all the marching band obligations and he directed the concert band after the football season was over while I was the director of the Symphonic Wind Ensemble, the “top” band that toured each spring semester. In addition to our shared responsibilities in the band program, we shared a teaching assignment in the Introduction to Music class that was offered in the Fine Arts Recital Hall to over three hundred students each semester. The “Don and Ron Show” became an instant hit with the students because of Don’s good teaching style and his fun-loving sense of humor.
During one class Don was lecturing about the history of recorded sound from its infancy with the inventions of Thomas Edison to the present day. He told the students about the different kinds of records and record players out of the past that had become very valuable collectors items. He said, “I have a small collection of antique records that are very rare and very valuable. I’ll bring one to our next class session to show to you. Originally, the disks were made from hardened wax and later from a type of plastic similar to celluloid but, in all cases, they are very fragile.” Actually, Don was setting the class up for one of his monumental jokes. During the next class he continued his lecture about the history of recorded sound and at one point carefully pulled out an old worthless record disk from a velvet cover. Reiterating that it was delicate and very valuable he said to the class, “Let’s see if it will play on our class sound system,” and as he turned to place it on the record turntable he “accidently” bumped the large console smashing the fragile disk into pieces like a china plate. There was a loud gasp from all of the three-hundred and fifty students in the auditorium followed by exuberant laughter when they realized that Don had just pulled off one of the best practical jokes ever perpetrated in the halls of academia.
On occasion we wore various costumes to class to make memorable the information being presented; we would invite rock bands to perform live and then use the performance as a teaching tool and we would joke and laugh and present in-depth music concepts that seemed to have an impact on student learning. It was a joy to team-teach with Don.
Don and I continued the “Don and Ron Show” every Monday, Wednesday and Friday during both the fall and spring semesters and Don continued to assist me with marching band during football season. After the last football game we split the band into two concert bands, the select band that I directed being called the Symphonic Wind Ensemble and the “second” band directed by Don called the Concert Band and, unfortunately, sometimes called the “Funny Band” by some of the students. But, even though the Concert Band was not the select band they still played acceptably well and met an important need within the department and college.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Four
The Symphonic Wind Ensemble Tours and the Incident at the McCook Red Horse Inn Spring 1969
Over the twenty years that I directed the band we toured large and small towns throughout Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa and Colorado. In preparing for the upcoming tour season I would contact school principals to establish concert programs for school students, always emphasizing that our purpose was two-fold, to both educate and entertain. The music selected was often challenging for our music students to play, a good educational experience for us, and challenging as well for the junior and senior high students to listen to. To close out each performance I would often arrange a medley of current pop and rock hits that was always accepted with much greater enthusiasm then the “serious” or “educational” music that preceded it.
Spring 1969 – The McCook Red Horse Inn
Because it was the very first tour that I had to organize for the Symphonic Wind Ensemble, I wanted every detail to be perfectly prearranged so that no unexpected disasters could occur. In previous years when I traveled with the band in my capacity as Assistant Director of Bands there had been a great deal of heavy drinking among some of the students and Ken Rumery, the Director of Bands, not only did not object to that student conduct, he occasionally joined some of the parties. I was appalled by those actions having been on many band tours when I attended college at Nebraska Wesleyan where not a drop of alcohol was consumed by anyone. But the history of the Kearney State College band was much different.
After WWII there was a flood of returning veterans who came back to the Nebraska State Teacher College at Kearney, many from the U.S. Army Air Corps located at the Kearney air base. Some of them had played in military bands but had not finished their undergraduate degrees and returned to college to finish their college educations. In the military it was often customary to celebrate any and all occasions with alcohol and their partying habits didn’t change when they once again became students. For many of them, band tours were simply an extension of their military life style. That tradition then carried forward in the band for more than two decades from the 1940’s to 1969 when I became Director of Bands.
As the director I was determined to put a stop to the tradition of drinking on tour and discussed the problems of the past with the band members, handing out written guidelines about required conduct on tour and made it clear that I would not tolerate any more band binges.
We started our tour in Hersey, Nebraska and had performed a morning concert for all the school students in grades one through twelve and were served a school lunch for our efforts. Then we loaded our band equipment and drove to McCook for an afternoon concert at the high school. After the concert we checked into the Red Horse Inn, a motel on the east side of town, ate supper at the affiliated restaurant and settled in for the evening.
By chance I saw two students, each carrying a suitcase, leaving the motel parking lot walking toward downtown McCook. I asked them where they were going and they answered that they needed to pick up a few snacks. One would think that I would have been suspicious of their intentions but I was not. The evening was quiet at the motel. My wife Karen, who was the only other adult sponsor on the tour, and I hosted several students in our room where we played cards, ate popcorn and drank sodas. About 10:00 p.m. all the students went back to their rooms, I stuck my head out the door looking left and right at all the other motel room doors and found nothing but silence. “Everyone must already be asleep,” I told Karen.
The next morning, we needed to be on the road fairly early for our next concert of the day so I knocked on each motel door where the students were housed indicating that we would leave in twenty minutes. Everyone responded with bright-eyed enthusiasm, we loaded the busses and headed for our next performance.
After we returned home, having played a total of eight programs, we then performed our final tour concert on Sunday afternoon in the Fine Arts Building Auditorium. It was well received by a large and appreciative audience. After our performance, Milton Hassel, the Kearney State College President, came back stage and, with an enthusiastic double handshake, said, “Job well done, Ron. This is the kind of effort I’m looking for.”
That was Sunday afternoon. My ego was aglow; I was confident that my new position of Director of Bands was secure. But, late Monday morning a much different state of affairs presented itself. Gary Thomas, the Chair of the Department of Music came to my office and said, “President Hassel wants to see you, Dr. Hoffman, and me in his office at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow morning. It’s a matter of great concern.”
It seems that while in McCook the two students carrying the suitcases had purchased two cases of beer and had thrown a large but quiet party in their motel room. A number of students participated in the party but there was no outlandish behavior, no noise, just a orderly social event. After the party, the five guys in the party room cleaned up everything and decided to build a large pyramid of beer cans on the motel dresser in front of a large mirror. Actually, their effort was rather unique and visually interesting.
The next morning after we had departed, the motel maid found the beer can pyramid and thought it was amusing so she showed it to the motel manager. The manager also thought it was rather funny so he called the McCook Gazette. The editor of the McCook Gazette decided that a beer can pyramid was something not often seen in McCook so he had a photo taken of the creation and the picture appeared on the Friday afternoon edition’s front page with the caption reading, “A group of Kearney State College band students stayed at the Red Horse Inn Thursday evening and this is the result of their evening’s activities. Manager Timothy Edwards reports that there was no damage to the room, just the pyramid of beer cans appearing in the photo.”
Monday morning President Hassel heard from a Nebraska State Senator who asked, “What’s going on out there in Kearney when band students are building beer can pyramids in motel rooms while on tour?” Someone also sent a copy of the McCook Gazette to the President that arrived in Monday’s mail.
Tuesday morning as Doctors Thomas, Hoffman and I were walking from the Fine Arts Building over to President Hassel’s office in the Administration Building Dr. Thomas’ voice was shaking and I was sure that I was about to be fired. My only defense was a single page of Tour Conduct Guidelines that I had given to the students. In it I stated, “Any use alcohol will result in an immediate suspension from band and further administrative action.”
As we walked into the President’s office he was already red faced and was pounding the desk with his fist in anger. “The members of your band have given Kearney State College a black eye, they have discredited the name of our institution,” shouted the President still pounding his fist on the desk. “I’ve heard from State Senators, from alumni, from school administrators; it’s as if everyone in Nebraska knows about the antics of your band members. I want to know why you allowed this to happen and what you’re going to do about it!”
Dr. Thomas and Dr. Hoffman said nothing; the burden of explanation lay on my shoulders. I gave the Tour Guidelines to the President and explained what I had told the students before we left for tour. Finally, he began to cool down realizing that I had, in fact, attempted to set a standard of conduct befitting the institutional image as he saw it. He sent the three of us away instructing us to determine what consequences would be meted out to the students involved.
I was surprised by both Dr. Thomas’s and Dr. Hoffman’s response. They too seemed a bit amused by the misguided actions of the student perpetrators but realized that the President’s request needed an immediate and appropriate response. It was decided that the five male students that hosted the party would be dropped from band with a failing grade and would be ineligible to participate in any tours for the remainder of the school year. However, the punishment was rather mild because, although it was not discussed with the President, they would be eligible to play in the Concert Band and receive credit for that ensemble allowing each to receive a “C” for ensembles at the end of the semester. In addition, there were no other groups taking tours that year so that was also a somewhat hollow punishment.
Since that long ago event, those five students have led interesting lives. One became a prominent Nebraska banker and another a highly regarded school superintendent. A third student became a successful and influential farmer in Nebraska agriculture, the fourth was wealthy as a real estate investor and salesman and the fifth, a gifted tuba player that could have had a very successful musical career, ended up in prison for a scam involving the theft of valuable antiques. He died at age 43. From that incident forward, there was never any drinking on band tours – that I was aware of.
Years later when I became Chair of the Department of Music and Dance I determined that Gary Thomas’ former office needed to be reconfigured to be more relaxed and inviting for students, faculty and visitors. Also, with greater space being required for a computer, a larger desk was needed. Because UNK rarely discarded any still usable items, placing all unused furniture and equipment into a large storage area under the old T.B. Hospital on West Campus, now the College of Business classroom building, I accompanied one of the facilities managers into the dark dingy innards of the basement looking for a large office desk. After several minutes of searching we came across a large dusty desk with a beautiful wood finish. “That will be perfect,” I told him. “With a little cleaning and some furniture polish it will look very nice.” The desk was moved into my new office and I arranged everything to meet the needs of my new administrative position.
Several weeks after I had settled in to the new surroundings, Doyle Howett, a former member of two or three previous President’s/Chancellor’s administrative teams dropped by to say hello. After a few minutes of conversation he said, “Do you know whose desk that used to be?” “No, whose was it?” I replied. “That was Milton Hassel’s desk when he was President.” I told Doyle the story about staying at the McCook Red Horse Inn on band tour and after a good laugh, we carefully examined the desk top while imagining to ourselves that we could see faint dents on its top from the President Hassel’s pounding fist.
Several other tour concerts were also memorable. Perhaps the most well-behaved and appreciative audience we ever played for was at the Nebraska State Reformatory for Men in Lincoln. Upon arrival at Nebraska’s penal institution for criminals convicted of lesser crimes, we were escorted into a very dark, poorly maintained gymnasium. It appeared that the floor had not been swept in years and the walls were painted a rather dark institutional gray. Several of the lights in the ceiling were burnt out and there were no chairs on which the “audience” (inmates) could sit. Once we were set up and ready to perform, a prison employee indicated to the guards that the inmates should be summoned for the concert. Most of them sauntered into the gym, some rather grudgingly, and stood there, with arms crossed or hands on their hips waiting for us to play. After opening with “Tunings” that started without me conducting but playing one of the percussion parts at the back of the band, the attitude of inmates, perhaps a hundred or more, seemed to brighten and become acceptant of these young privileged college kids. We performed several pieces, some heavy and some light and they applauded and shouted their approval. It was as if they had encountered something new and different in their lives, something that filled a void that had remained empty much too long.
Our college students sensed that something special was happening in that unlikely environment and performed a remarkable concert. We closed with the pop/rock medley that I had arranged and the inmates responded with enthusiastic approval. And then they were gone, escorted by prison guards back to their cells or worksites.
That was our first concert of the day having stayed overnight in Lincoln the night before. Our next concert was scheduled for 10:45 am at Lincoln East High School. When possible, I would call ahead to each concert tour location to confirm our arrival time. From the Reformatory’s main office, I called the Principal’s office at Lincoln East and reached his secretary. When I indicated that we would arrive in about thirty minutes, there was a long silence on the phone and then she said, “I’ll have you talk to Mr. Evens the principal.” When he answered, he said they didn’t have us on the calendar for a concert but, “Come anyway and I’ll do my best to have a few students available for your performance.”
When we arrived at the school Mr. Evens met me at the door of the bus and apologized over and over again for the mix-up that had occurred. While we were traveling to Lincoln East, he had looked at our earlier correspondence and notes from our phone conversations and discovered that he had marked down our performance for Friday, March 15th instead of Friday, February 15th. Interestingly, every year, the dates in both February and March are exactly the same. If the fifteenth of February falls on a Friday, then the fifteenth of March is also on a Friday. He had simply turned his calendar to the wrong month when he entered the date for our performance.
I learned an important lesson from that experience, “Beware the Ides of February and March.”
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
1970 – Minnesota Vikings Football Halftime
Part Five
In the spring of 1970, after only two years of directing the KSC band program, I decided that attempting to follow in the footsteps of my college band director, Bob Marshall, would be a worthy professional goal. His Nebraska Wesleyan band had already performed for the Chicago Bear’s televised halftime shows six years in a row. If I could accomplish such a feat, my professional career would surely be secure. I made numerous phone calls to half-time directors of professional football teams. Never had I realized that there was such a job. After several responses indicating that the half-time performances were already filled for the upcoming football season, the Minnesota Vikings half-time coordinator, Red McCloud, called asking if we would be available the first weekend in November. With a bit of persuading and even some arm-twisting I was able to convince our department chair, Gary Thomas, and the Fine Arts Division Dean, Harry Hoffman, that a financial investment in the marching band to make a trip to Minneapolis, Minnesota in November would pay us back with national television exposer.
Don and I worked hard writing a half-time performance worthy of programming on national television. It had to be a show that lasted 8’30”, plus or minus two seconds, in order to conform to the very exacting TV program timeline. All the music used in the performance had to be approved for copyright guidelines, the marching maneuvers needed to be uniquely eye-catching especially for the high angle of the TV cameras, the music needed to be memorized by the students, the tempos had to be perfect requiring the use of a metronome and a stop watch during rehearsals and the performance, uniforms needed to be perfectly tailored, cleaned and pressed; no detail could be overlooked.
Rehearsals were intense, especially because the downfield march, a very complex series of rotating box drills created by Don, that required extremely intricate step patterns by each student marcher. It was an amazing sight to see. The Wagoneers practiced diligently on their unique routine, the Nebraskats, directed by Professor Bill Lynn, worked on the recent hit Baby, Lite My Fire and the band rehearsed other very complex marching drills over and over until perfection was achieved. Finally, after weeks of diligent preparation we loaded 116 students along with directors and other support faculty and staff on three busses and a couple of student-filled vans that were pulling equipment trailers and headed to Minneapolis.
After an overnight stay at a local hotel and a day of shopping at the Mall of America we once again loaded the busses for a short drive to the Minnesota Vikings Football Stadium. Upon our arrival we were directed to our stadium seats at field level in the far corner of the stadium‘s south end zone. As the game progressed we watched the stadium clock tick away minutes during the first quarter of the game and into the second quarter until an assistant to the halftime coordinator came to me and said, “When the clock reads six minutes left in the half, get you band organized and be ready to move quickly to your end zone set up position when first half is over. I’ll cue your drum major for the down field march.
In the 1960’s and early 70’s marching bands had drum majors but the band director often stood on a stepladder placed on the sideline at the fifty-yard marker to direct the music. Each piece of music in the show began with the flourish of instruments in a maneuver called Over, Out, Up, Play! that was initiated by four whistle burst in the tempo that the music was to be played. I was standing on the high stepladder as the band made its downfield entry playing a powerful arrangement of Rise and Shine. The students executed the box drill routine with flawless precision reaching their downfield positions precisely as we had so diligently rehearsed. I reached for my whistle on the lanyard around my neck to begin the next piece and it wasn’t there. I quickly checked my pockets and the ground around the stepladder and suddenly realized that I had left the whistle in my jacket clear across the football field where we had been seated. A sense of fear gripped me while seconds began fleeting by so I simply brought the band to attention with a shout and a visual command for “horns up.” For the rest of the show the commands I gave were visual directions, something that we had never practiced before, but the band members responded perfectly as if that was the normal modus operandi. The Nebraskats sang their feature, the Wagoneers performed their routine perfectly, the band marched their series of intricate maneuvers while flawlessly playing their instruments and we finished the show in eight minutes and twenty-nine seconds, one second short of our required goal.
During the halftime show some of the crowd observed us with interest while many headed for concession stands or restrooms but, in my mind, that wasn’t the purpose of our performance. This football game was one of only two games that day that received national coverage and our game was broadcast to the entire western half of the United States from the Mississippi River to the California coast. Kearney State College, the little college in the middle of Nebraska, became nationally prominent, if for only eight and a half minutes.
In that era, after the professional football season was completed, all the football halftime coordinators got together to review and discuss the halftime performances. In the spring of the following year I was notified by the Vikings halftime coordinator that our show was voted one of the top five shows of the season, nationally, a very prestigious compliment.
Kearney State College was one of the last schools to have its halftime performance shown on national T.V. Beginning in the 1971 professional football season many television networks began to feature halftime talk show analysis of the game’s first half and reports about other games that weren’t being televised. As a result, marching bands were no longer featured as football halftime entertainment.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Six
1973 – The Marching Band Rehearsal Tower Incident
On a cool, damp and cloudy Saturday October morning, the KSC Marching Bandtastics were rehearsing in preparation for the afternoon halftime show during a Loper football game. It was a common practice to run through the show from 10:00 to 11:00, change into our band uniforms and meet again at 12:00 Noon for a 12:30 PM step off to march over to the football field for the pre-game performance.
We had been rehearsing no more that fifteen or twenty minutes, me standing on the high metal director’s tower overlooking the marching band practice field with the band practicing their music and maneuvers on the turf below. “Tubas, don’t miss your step-off in bar fifty two and drummers, you have to give us more drive during the transition into…..” KABOOOM!!! With no previous warning, a lightening bolt struck less than a block away south of the practice field hitting a power transformer. The thunderclap was so instantaneous and powerful that it echoed off the campus buildings with nearly equivalent force. As I stood nearly fifteen feet above the marching field, the metal structure of the director’s tower served as a perfect lighten rod with me serving as the focal point of nature’s wrath.
Because the morning was cool and damp I was wearing a heavy wool pullover jacket. At the instant the lightening struck, I felt a surge of electricity crackle throughout the wool fibers of the jacket and off the hair on my head. Everyone in the band stopped all motion, as if frozen in place. There was no question about where we should be and our presence on the marching band practice field with lightening in the vicinity was not it. “Everyone, off the field IMMEDIATELY!” I barked to the band members. Although I don’t remember my exit from the tower, I can only imagine that the nearly a fifteen-foot leap to the ground and quick retreat into the safety of the Fine Arts Building occurred in the greatest haste.
We no doubt finished our rehearsal with a final play-through of the music, a review of the order of halftime procedures and a short pep-talk about pride, performance excellence and all those things that band directors expound on before a halftime show.
Why the lightening bolt struck the transformer and not me can only be left to speculation. I’ve read reports of victims being struck with far less reason and I thank God that I’m sitting here writing about it.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Seven
The Playboy Foldout Prank
The single most humiliating incident occurring on any of our many band tours involved a Playboy center page foldout. It had always been the custom while on tour for band members to play tricks on Ken Rumery, the director before me and that “expectation” became the norm when I followed him as Director of Bands. Ken had the habit of bounding onto the concert stage, grasping his baton from the conductor’s podium and holding it, pointed upward, in anticipation of the downbeat for the opening piece on the concert. The students found that mannerism to be a perfect opportunity for a prank so they deftly placed a large radish on his baton and hid it under one of the music scores with only the baton handle in view. He had already given the downbeat for the music when he discovered the red rascal radish affixed to his baton. Fortunately, the laughter of the band members and the audience didn’t result in the music coming to a grinding halt but it was close.
I had always wanted the KSC band to perform a tour concert at Holdrege, one of the best high school band programs in the state. Holdrege was where Karen, my wife, went to high school and played in the band and she, in fact, had been one of the most accomplished high school trumpet players in the state having been selected first chair trumpet for the Nebraska State Music Educators Convention Band for two consecutive years. I’m confident that that has rarely occurred in the long history of NMEA clinics.
Not only did I want to make a good impression on the Holdrege High School band director, Verle Strattman, and his band members, I wanted to impress the entire student body that was in attendance and many of their parents and, especially, my mother-in-law and father-in-law along with Lionel Barrett, pastor of the Church where we were married and were still active. All the most important people in my life would be at our performance.
I had written an opening piece for the tour called “Tunings” (later renamed “Jubilant Celebration”) that began out of the warm-up and tuning process which always occurs before the first piece is played. It was played entirely without me conducting, in fact, I stood in the back of the band in the percussion section and actually played one of the parts. When the piece was complete I would walk to the front of the band for opening introductions, thanking the school administrators for allowing us to perform for their students and giving a brief recruitment plug about the wonders of Kearney State College. And then, I would conduct the rest of the concert program.
At this most important concert some of the band students decided they would play a monumental prank on me by placing a Playboy foldout in the pages of one of the music scores that we were about to play. As luck would have it, they gave the task to a freshman who was to covertly sneak to the conductor’s podium before the concert began to place the foldout in a music score. But, rather than placing it within the pages of the music, he simply tossed the folded up foldout on top of the music scores and scurried back to his seat in the trombone section. No one’s eyes were supposed to see the foldout but mine but, mysteriously, the folded foldout unfolded on the music stand and became visible to absolutely everyone in the gymnasium where the concert was being performed. Draped on the stand, it lay there for the entire first number while I stood in the back of the band totally unaware of its existence. When the high school students were entering the gymnasium before the performance, I thought to myself, “This is unlike the Holdrege students I’ve come to know, they’re all so loud and rowdy.”
When “Tunings” was over, there was little applause, unlike all the other tour concerts we had already performed, and as I walked around the band to make the opening announcement there was total silence and rapt attention. As I neared to conductor’s podium I realized what was happening and tried my very best to dismiss the terrible humiliating situation. I picked up the Playboy fold out, folded it up, and tried to hand it to one of the flute players in the front row of the band who didn’t want to take it, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, “I don’t want that thing!”
I struggled to make a few conciliatory opening comments and from that point on the concert went acceptably well but the band members, having rarely seen me angry, knew full well they were in for a tongue-lashing. When we finished playing I said to them, “Tear down the equipment and get on the bus immediately.” Never before had there been such urgency; they were all seated on the bus within minutes at which time I discussed the implications of what had just happened and what we needed to do to make amends.
The several perpetrators of the prank soon admitted their involvement. They were all leaders in the band and, in a few cases, had close ties to Karen and me through church. Now I had the dilemma of what to do. Their punishment had already occurred in that their prankish idea had negatively affected the image of the band they all took great pride in but something more needed to be done.
I decided that each of the students involved needed to write a personal note of apology to the high school band director and another to the school principal, a note that I would approve and mail. It turned out to be a extremely difficult task for each of them because several had graduated from Holdrege High and were among the most prominent recent graduates.
Innocent pranks can have serious consequences. Thankfully, this prank resulted in only personal humiliation that was soon forgotten. But, it was many years later that the memory of the prank finally brought a smile to my face because, when I was in college, some of the members of the Nebraska Wesleyan Band and played exactly the same prank on our director, Bob Marshall. The only difference was that the Playboy Foldout remained within the pages of his music score and wasn’t seen by the audience.
Being a college band director resulted in many other important life lessons, some that changed how I thought and helped determine lifetime priorities.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Eight
1989 – From Band Director to Administrator
In mid-August, during a College of Fine Arts and Humanities faculty meeting the week preceding the beginning of the 1989 Fall semester, Betty Becker-Theye, Dean of the College of Fine Arts and Humanities, announced that, as a result of the fact that Kearney State College was about to become the University of Nebraska at Kearney, a new position of “Assistant Dean” was being established and anyone interested in the position should write a letter of application to her in the next two weeks. She would be selecting someone within the college to serve in the half-load administrative position. I made a mental note of the position opening but thought little more about it after the meeting was over.
A week later, as I was walking into the Fine Arts Building after a long, hot and intense marching band rehearsal, with perspiration dripping from my face and arms, rehearsal outfit soaked through because of the 96º temperature and high humidity, I encountered the Dean heading down the hall in the opposite direction. With no thought in mind other than to make a casual humorous comment, I said to her, “Boy, this is the kind of weather that makes me think I should apply for that Assistant Dean position.” Without slowing her pace but looking me in the eye in all seriousness and pointing her finger at me, she said, “You do it! I’ll expect your letter on my desk in the next day or two.” That was a Thursday. The following Monday I submitted a one-and-a-half page document briefly describing what I had accomplished while on the faculty over a period of twenty-three years and what I thought I could bring to the position if selected. On Friday of that week after Dean Becker-Theye had confirmed her decision with Gary Thomas, the announcement was made that I had been selected as the new Assistant Dean, the appointment to take place immediately. So, for the remainder of the school year, I finished teaching a full load of classes in the Department of Music and served in the half-time position as the new Assistant Dean.
It was unfamiliar territory for me and for Betty. She wasn’t sure how to use an assistant having never had that luxury in her office and I wasn’t sure what an assistant dean was supposed to do to be worthy of the title. But, most important was the necessity of searching for a new Director of Bands. My half load of teaching was to remain in the position of percussion specialist and other classes, as needed, most often one of the general studies sections of Music Appreciation.
From the day I was appointed to my new administrative adventure, I had already begun to think about the person that I would support as the new Director of Bands. Although I knew of several people that would be qualified, along with the pool of unknown candidates that always respond to position announcements like this, only one person was at the top of my list. Gary Davis and I had been acquaintances for a number of years and he had, at one time, taken a percussion workshop that I taught one summer. During one of our after class conversations, I remarked how enjoyable it would be to have an opportunity to work with him in the future and, only a few years later, that opportunity was presenting itself.
Gary was an enthusiastic and gifted music educator and was the rising star in music at Wayne State College and throughout Nebraska. He was in the process of finishing his doctorate at the University of Iowa. With a quick phone inquiry, “Gary, would you be interested in applying for the band director’s position here at Kearney?,” I explained to him the change in my assignment and answered a few of his questions. Our phone conversation resulted in a formal application a few weeks later, followed by an on-campus interview — along with two other candidates — and finally, unanimous search committee agreement that Gary should be offered the job.
He was ready to grab the offer but there was one obstacle. Gary and Deb’s daughter, Kristin, was a junior in high school and was very reluctant to leave her group of friends and the relative security of being known and recognized at school and in town. Gary said, “Unless Kristin is okay with moving to Kearney, I won’t, I can’t accept the offer.” It was now time to put on our Chamber-of-Commerce hats and pull out all the stops. I asked the Kearney High School Principal, Bill Kenagy, to write a letter of encouragement to Kristin, our daughter Amy talked to her on the phone and perhaps there were other enticements and arm-twists as well, but finally, the decision was made that Kearney was the right place to be for Gary and his family. Gary had a successful and prosperous career as Director of Bands and was greatly admired throughout the state for his numerous accomplishments in music.
The process of becoming an administrator at UNK did not result from “how to” training sessions but, rather, from on-the-job training that most often came from unexpected experiences that appeared out of nowhere.
One of the very first calls I received as Assistant Dean was from a mother who would not identify herself or her daughter who was a student in a philosophy class. The mother said that the professor was terrible, abusive to his students, unfair, too difficult, was impossible to understand and should be fired. “Are you going to do something about it?” she asked. Unfortunately, I lacked experience in dealing with irate parents and didn’t ask some of the obvious questions that should have been asked like, “Is your daughter having difficulty with this class,” or “how are grades on tests determined in the professor’s class?” The professor that she was complaining about was, indeed, recognized for his direct intensity but he was considered by both students and his peers to be among the best teachers on campus, although very demanding. I suspect that the young student whose mother was ranting and raving on the phone may not have been capable of dealing with in-depth philosophical concepts. Slowly, as the result of numerous other face to face and head to head encounters with students, faculty, parents and, on occasion, other administrators I began to gain insight into dealing with difficult situations.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Nine
1994 – Moving Up To Department Chair
Gary Thomas, Chair of the Department of Music and Dance had held that position for nearly thirty years. He was the person who had hired me and most of my other music faculty colleagues. He had determined that it was now time to retire so he and his wife Roma could move to Arizona where he could play golf for the rest of his life. While in his administrative role at Kearney State College, Gary was a strong and imaginative leader but had gained a reputation of being rather dictatorial in his approach to the music faculty and students. His word was law in the department. Even so, I always got along well with him and it seemed to me that he often favored my ideas and requests when possible.
When the announcement was made concerning his upcoming retirement and the national search for his replacement was advertised I decided to apply for the position even though some people thought that the position of Department Chair held less prestige than Associate Dean. In some situations that may have been true but the position of Chair in Music at UNK was, perhaps, among the most rigorous and demanding in all the university. With special effort I created the necessary “Curriculum Vitae” that accompanies all academic applications and chose as references the people who would best support my application.
A search committee was established within the College of Fine Arts and Humanities, applications were reviewed and two applicants were invited to interview for the position, me and a fellow named Rodney Miller. Rodney was well qualified, had published a book based on his doctoral dissertation, was an accomplished baritone with professional opera experience and had a very likeable personality. Even though competing candidates don’t usually meet one another, because I was an internal candidate and Associate Dean, he and I talked at length about the position, the university, the city of Kearney and about our families. It was clear that if he were appointed to the position we would be able to work well together.
After a day or two of waiting on pins and needles, Harold Nichols, the Dean of Fine Arts and Humanities who had replaced Betty Becker-Theye, said to me, “Ron, I’ve decided that you will be the next Chair of the Department of Music and Dance. You’ll begin your new assignment in August and I’ll look for an associate dean to fill your position in this office.”
Several times during the remainder of the spring semester and into the summer I asked Gary Thomas if we could visit about the chair position that he had held for most of his career at KSC/UNK. His answer was always a vague replay about “sometime soon” or “when the right time comes.” Finally, the day before I was to take over the position, after he had emptied his office of more than thirty years of memories, he called on the office phone to say that he had a half-hour available to visit. He offered only superficial insights into the complexities of the position, a few details about upcoming problems that I would face and assessments about dealing with some of the more difficult faculty members. I’m not sure why he seemed to withhold all the necessary vital information that would be helpful to a new chair, perhaps it was because he felt I would be intruding into his hard won domain of influence or maybe he just didn’t want to relinquish his power and authority.
Whatever the case, in the next few weeks and months, I quickly learned that being a chair of a department was a demanding and time-consuming position that required ten or twelve, sometimes fourteen hour days. But soon, the new position began to make sense and I quickly learned who, within the administrative domain, could answer questions and accomplish what was needed. For the most part it was never the person holding an important title that became helpful but his or her administrative assistant. I soon learned that calling the head honcho in whatever office was a waste of time; I would always call the office assistant and, more often than not, resolve whatever issue may have existed in half the time with half the effort. In truth, it is the secretaries and office assistants that run the university and their titled overlords receive the credit.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Ten
1995 – Navigating the West Nile
The West Nile virus, borne by mosquitoes, had been creeping across America for several years and was now in Nebraska. The virus infected birds, horses and humans but, seemingly, no other animals. It was not unusual for find a dead bird laying in the yard or the garden but, unless the bird was sent to a state lab for testing, it was impossible to know whether it had died from the West Nile virus or something else. Interestingly, a vaccine had been developed for horses although a number of horses statewide had still succumbed to the virus, but there was no protective vaccine that had been developed for humans.
When outdoors the best way for a person to protect themselves from catching the West Niles virus was to carefully use mosquito repellant, wear long-sleeve shirts and long pants and stockings and, if available, cover themselves with a fine net covering over their head, arms and body. Because we had a large garden that needed constant tending, I would carefully cover myself before going out to hoe weeds or pick vegetables. Only once during the entire summer was I aware that I had been bitten by a mosquito and that was on my ankle in early August. That once was enough to contract the virus.
During the week before classes were to begin at UNK there were a series of meetings for faculty and the last one on a Friday was a department meeting that I always chaired. The day before the meeting I had not felt very well and by Friday morning it was clear the I had some sort of medical issue but I refused to miss the ever important first faculty meeting of the year. Because it was August and the outside temperature was in the 90º range the air-conditioned meeting room was very comfortable for everyone except for me. I was suffering from extreme aching and chills and sat in a chair, arms folded across my chest, shivering intensely. Fortunately, I found a winter jacket and gloves in the lost and found box to wear in an attempt to stay warm.
Finally, after the conclusion of the meeting, I broke down and headed to the doctor’s office and, after a very brief examination, his response was, “I think you have West Nile but we’ll have to get the lab work back before that can be confirmed.” I went home and went to bed sleeping at least fourteen to sixteen hours a day while taking copious amounts of pain medication. The next Wednesday the lab report came back indicating that I did, indeed, have West Nile Virus. For the next two weeks I slept most of the time and finally recovered enough to return to school, first for two or three hours a day or until I was totally exhausted and then, little by little, week by week, a few more minutes each day.
The West Nile virus caused death of many people nationwide, it caused some people to be paralyzed in some body extremity, perhaps an arm or a leg, it caused acute exhaustion in many people and, for some people, other than a slight fever, it was hardly noticeable. For me, other than the two weeks of a high fever and extreme pain, followed by the next three months of intense weakness, so much so that on occasion I was unable to rise out of a chair, I was very fortunate because I had no long-term disabilities from the illness.
Then, in early November, after three months of battling the affects of the virus, I woke up one morning and realized that my strength and energy had returned literally over night. The previous day I had been moving about with effort and the follow morning the impact of the virus had totally disappeared. I felt extremely fortunate and blessed.
Recollections of Ron Crocker, Mr. Band of the Kearney State College-University of Nebraska at Kearney band and music program.
Part Eleven
1997 – What Goes Around Comes Around and Back Over to Associate Dean
Three years after I became chair in Music and Dance, Harold Nicholes, the new Dean of Fine Arts and Humanities who replaced Betty Becker-Theye, announced that he would be leaving UNK to take another administrative position at another university and that a search for his successor was now being established. While things in our department were going well I felt that applying for the position of Dean would be both a way to support the music department and advance my profession career. For that reason I turned in my application, a lengthy document filled with all kinds of fluffy self-adulation, just like all the other applicants’ submissions.
Three prospects were chosen from a pool of more that eighty applications, I was not one of them. One of the final three applicants to be interviewed was the same Rodney Miller who had been the other candidate for department chair, the position to which I had been appointed. Each of the three prospective candidates for dean were well qualified but Rodney, in the eyes of the search committee was the most accomplished; he was outgoing and gregarious and was, thus, ultimately selected for the position. My earlier thoughts about him were correct. He and I had a warm and friendly working relationship and, although he had six other departments for which he was responsible, it was clear that he and I spoke the same language, perhaps because we were both musicians, we had the same goals, we thought the same way and resolved issues in like manner. Although he was careful to avoid playing favorites among departments he was often accused by other Chairs and faculty of giving greater support to our department.
Back Over To Associate Dean-2004
It was Betty Becker-Theye who told me that a ten-year stint in any academic administrative position is all a person should endure. After that, she said, a person’s creative ideas begin to wane and their will to achieve new and beneficial accomplishments for the good of the cause begins to slacken. As a result, she said, new leadership results in enhanced benefits and achievements for the organization.
Based on that assumption, after ten years as Chair of Music and Performing Arts I decided it was time to step down from that position. In earlier conversations with Bill Jurma from the Department of Communication who was now serving as Associate Dean for Dean Rodney Miller, we had discussed several “what ifs” regarding our futures. Rodney had indicated privately that he too was considering an upward move to another institution and if that were to happen Bill was going to apply for the position of Dean.
I was now getting close enough to retirement that I was no longer interested in the dean’s position, in fact I was thankful that I had not been appointed to the position because of the impossible complexities that most often had no adequate resolution, but a return to the Associate Deanship was attractive to me. Everything fell into place exactly as Bill and I had discussed. Rodney Miller resigned for another position at Wichita State University, Bill Jurma was selected as the new Dean and he appointed me as his Associate Dean. I remained in the Associate Dean’s position until my retirement in 2012. Included in that position I served as Interim Director of Theatre for eight years while, at the same time, also holding the positions of Interim Chair of the Department of Communication for one year, Interim Chair of the Department of Art and Art History for two years, Interim Chair of the Department of English for one week when a member of that department finally agreed to take on that position and then, finally, Interim Chair of the Department of Music and Performing Arts once again for one semester while Valerie Cisler took leave to work on a book. Several people joked that I wouldn’t be allowed to retire until I had served as interim chair for each department in the College. Of course, the Associate Dean’s position remained a half-load appointment. Therefore, the other half of my load assignment was in the Music Department where I taught percussion lessons and directed the Kearney Symphony Orchestra.
I have sometimes looked at music teachers and administrators in other positions and wondered what it took to become THAT successful. And yet, I realize how fortunate I was to have been hired by small Kearney State College right out of graduate school. All that was necessary was for me to hold onto the surfboard and ride the educational wave as the institution grew and prospered to become UNK. What a wonderful ride it was.