(PART 2) How DCI and Star of Indiana changed my life

(make sure you read Part 1 before reading this.)

1991 Star of Indiana

I've never doubted the existence of God. I've always known His divine presence. Just when I think I'm out of it, something always happens to get me to the path that opens doors for me. I may not really see it then, but retrospectively, I can recall numerous accounts. Analyzing all of these moments, I can see they have always been major life altering events. This was certainly one of them.

I left Chris' dorm room down and out. With every step, gravity was sinking in. The gravity of improbability. It was pretty easy to be consumed by self pity at this point. Here's the moment that changed everything. As I was walking down the hall, I passed by one of my friend's room and I notice a lot of people in his room. This guy was Chris Gilmore, a trombone player from Pensacola, Florida. He was a fellow Freshman music major at Southern Miss. I really hadn't talked to him very much. I knew him in passing from marching band rehearsal and just exchanged greetings with him from time to time. In the room was all Freshman music majors. Chris Gilmore. Chris Prather, a trumpet player from Clinton, Mississippi. Sean McCartney, a trumpet player from Pensacola, Florida. Ryan Duvall, a trumpet player from Pensacola, Florida. I know, at lot of Chrises and a lot of trumpets and a lot of Pensacola. Stay with me.

"What's going on guys?" I said, attempting to change my mindset. I figured with this cast of characters, they were plotting something that would take me out of my current "funk.""I'll be honest with you, guys," I added, "I'm pretty hacked off right now. I was supposed to ride up to Rockford with Chris Fox to the Phantom camp and he just dropped a bomb on me that he's flying..." They all looked at me as if I had an answer to a million dollar question. "Well, dude, we were just trying to find one more person to help out with gas. We're going up to tryout for Star of Indiana," Gilmore replied. WHHHHHAAAAAAATTTT??????!!!! "Yes! I'm in! Yep! Count me in. Just tell me what time and where to be!"I shouted. Here it was: my chance. I went from no hope to all the hope in the world AND Star of Indiana!

The plans were being made. The camp happened over the Christmas break at Southern Miss. The marching band had been called to come in, also, for the All-American Bowl in Birmingham, Alabama. That game was on Friday -THE FIRST DAY OF THE STAR CAMP! Another obstacle. Well, we decided that we were going take Chris Gilmore's mom's minivan. He would drive it to Birmingham and we would leave after halftime of the game for Bloomington, Indiana. And so, we did. This is a worried mother's nightmare, mind you. A bunch of college boys leaving on an 8 hour trip in the middle of the night. Off we went. I immediately fell asleep in the back of the minivan. Those of you that know me well (which, I guess, if you're reading this, you do) know that I can fall asleep under any conditions. I woke up to snow in Louisville, Kentucky. Awesome! I knew it wouldn't be long. We called the corps hall to tell them we would be in Saturday morning.

A view from the back of Star Hall.

We finally arrived! There is a certain nostalgia I have associated with that first voyage as we pierced our way through the haunting grey of the thick fog that owned the sky of this dreary Indiana winter morning. Ironically, the corps hall seemed so still and peaceful in its solitude of this countryside set off from the highway. I could hear the muffled sounds of drums and brass escaping through the alabaster brick walls. This vacated elementary school seemed so purposefully planted in a snowy nest of brown grass. The only thing that shared this open space was a tiny little chapel coupled with a ancient cemetery. This is how I romantically remember this scene. But, the fact of the matter was: We were late! Not only late, but we didn't come to the first camp in November. We had some making up to do upon entering the building. I came prepared to make this corps. I originally wanted to play timpani. I had some inside information that there was a girl from Boston Crusaders that was coming to Star to play timpani. She had just placed 2nd overall in the DCI solo competition that past summerl. I didn't think I stood a chance against someone that already had experience. I knew that the corps lost several veteran snare drummers from the past season, so I figured I had a better chance at making snare. I was a pretty good snare drummer, as well. I also came prepared with several mallet pieces and multi-percussion. I was not leaving Indiana without a spot in this corps.

The hallowed halls of Star Hall.

After we registered and got our stuff settled in, it was time to play. Off to the snare room. I open the door to wall-to-wall snare drummers! Apparently, everyone else had the same idea I had after seeing Star this past Summer. Sheesh. Ok, I just have to be better than everyone in here. I can do this. There must have been 60+ people trying our for 5 spots. Only 8 at time were on actual snare drums. The rest were on these saw horse type boards that had been surfaced with a thick layer of rubber. I handed my audition info card to the snare tech, Pat Scolin. He glances over the card. "Hmmph, Southern Miss, huh?" he belted. "Brett Favre is a helluva quarterback!" Pat squealed. "Umm, yep! I guess he is..." I agreed, never really paying attention to many of the Southern Miss football games while in the Pride at that point. Then Pat gives me a chance. "Hey, why don't you hop on a drum and let's see what you can do, Mississippi!" he said. Oh, crap. Now I'm representing an entire State of people. Luckily, it was a simple 8s exercise. In walks Bob Dubinski, the percussion caption head. I was easy to spot as being new because, well... I was the only black guy in the room. I was used to that, though. "Who's the new guy?" Bob asked before we played a note. "Southern Miss!" Pat quickly replies. Ok, now I'm representing the university, which I guess is easier than one of the most historic States in the union.

"Tony!" Bob says in an overdone Italian accent. "Where's you're-a name-a tag, Tony?" he continues -still with the Italian schtick. "I-a don't got one," I answered in a thicker, even more profound Italian accent. "Wise guy, eh?! Let's play." Bob continues. Bob Dubinski was just known as "Dubie." Things went pretty well. I stayed on the drum, even as others were being switched in and out. It was me and the few returning vets that stayed on the drums for that block.

Ottorino Resphigi - Not me!

It was time for the lunch break.  I knew the first thing I needed to do was to get a name badge!! For sure! I went to the registration desk and got a name badge and being the "wise guy" I was, I put "Ottorino Resphigi"on the tag. That year Star of Indiana played "Pines of Rome" and "Roman Festival" -you know the music of the dead Italian composer, Ottorino Resphigi. Lunch wasn't quite ready, but one thing sure was: a brand new set of timpani in the lunch room. They were still packed in crates. I noticed a guy, obviously someone's dad, unpacking the cellophane wrapping off of them. "You need some help with that?" I asked, just trying to get a peak at the new kettles. "Sure! You can do the whole thing if you'd like!" this "dad" says. "Cool!" I jumped in and unwrapped. I couldn't wait to see what a brand new set of timpani looked like! "So, do you have a kid in the corps? Are you a volunteer?" I asked, trying to be cordial. "Well, no, I'm Jim Mason. I'm the director of Star of Indiana." he informed. GASP!!!! STRIKE ONE!!!! One thing you should probably know is WHO THE DIRECTOR IS. Embarrased, I apologized profusely. I don't think he thought anything of it. He chuckled and hurried off to other imminent tasks.

I stayed and continued unwrapping these percussive presents that weren't even marked for me. As I continue, I hear this hi-pitched male voice say, "Southern Miss? You from USM? Hattiesburg?" in an unmistakable Southern turned Northern turned back Southern again voice. I turned around to what seemed at the time to be the only other black man in Southern Indiana. "Yep! How do you know about Southern Miss?" i asked incredulously. "I graduated from Hattiesburg High School!" he quickly replied. As soon as I could be shocked by this, Mr. Mason hurried back into the room. "John, we need to have a quick staff meeting." Mason said. "Hang on, Mr. Hattiesburg. I'll be right back... I want to talk to you." Who was this guy? How could there possibly be someone from my area up here that I didn't know. Certainly, he didn't still live in Hattiesburg or I would know him. Who was this unknown black male drummer from Hattiesburg that wasn't me?????

(Part 3 coming soon...)