Paul Kimpton is a former band director with more than 30 years of experience. Ann Kaczkowski Kimpton is a former musician, a teacher, and a high school administrator. They live in Downers Grove, Illinois.

Starting Early

A Story About A Boy and His Bugle in America During WWII

By Paul Kimpton, Ann Kaczkowski Kimpton

GIA Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 GIA Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-57999-805-9

Contents

Starting Early,
Chapter 1 Take Off,
Chapter 2 School and the New Band Meeting,
Chapter 3 Duty Calls,
Chapter 4 The Trunk,
Chapter 5 First Sounds,
Chapter 6 The Right Way,
Chapter 7 Practice the Basics,
Chapter 8 Getting into the Practice Mode,
Chapter 9 The Word Spreads,
Chapter 10 The Big Race,
Chapter 11 Dogs for Defense,
Chapter 12 Saturday,
Chapter 13 A Day of Fun,
Chapter 14 Putting it All Together,
Chapter 15 Dad Goes Back to War,
Chapter 16 The Hard Work Pays Off,
Chapter 17 First Performance,
Chapter 18 The Calm Before the Storm,
Chapter 19 The Storm,
Chapter 20 A Call to Arms,
Chapter 21 The Next Day,
Chapter 22 Celebration in the Square,

CHAPTER 1

Take Off

Dale could feel the cool morning air on his face as he pedaled his Schwinn Super Flyer down tree-lined Vermont Street. His dog, Scout, a black and white Border collie, galloped beside him as they flew by the large brick houses with their wraparound porches. Dale paused at the top of Simpson Hill, surveying the town of Libertyville that spread out across the valley. The dome of the courthouse, the town square with the bandstand, and all of the businesses downtown were visible from the top of this hill, which was the highest point in town.

Dale could also see the Conn musical instrument factory that was on the far side of the valley with its large smokestacks reaching to the sky. Seeing the factory reminded him that today was the day he and his friends would attend a meeting about the new school band program. Dale was excited about meeting the new band director and hearing about joining the band to learn how to play a musical instrument.

At the bottom of Simpson Hill, Dale turned right onto Main Street and looked up at the canopy of trees that lined the street leading to the firehouse. This is where he planned to meet Charlie Walsh and his dad, Joe.

Mr. Walsh was a volunteer fireman and could be found every morning at the firehouse. He always made sure that all the equipment was ready for the day and that Smokey the Dalmatian had been fed. Scout spied Charlie and Smokey first and raced ahead to meet them. Dale pedaled faster but could not keep up with Scout. The two dogs were play wrestling when Dale pulled up, slamming on the brakes and skidding to a stop.

“Nice skid,” said Charlie, admiring the black tire mark on the sidewalk.

Charlie’s dad yelled, “You’d better not let your mom catch you skidding your tires like that with the shortage of rubber and all.”

“OK, Mr. Walsh,” Dale mumbled.

Charlie moved toward Dale. “Yeah, but what a great skid mark! We’ll have to show the gang after school. That reminds me — today Mr. Jeffrey, the new music teacher, is going to tell us about the new band program. I’m really excited about learning to play an instrument. But now we’d better get moving if we’re going to see your mom take off before we go to school. Did you say runway 27R at 7:30?”

“Yes! Mom even wrote it down for me,” Dale answered, taking out the diagram of the field and runway. “See — 7:30 a.m.”

Dale’s mom was a pilot for the Women’s Air Force Service Pilots (WASPs), which was established in August of 1943 during World War II. Charlie thought she was really neat, because she flew the newly completed B-17s and other military aircraft to Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio, where they would be tested and readied for the war in Europe and Japan. Charlie’s own mom was part of the war effort too, but her work didn’t seem as exciting to him. She worked at the Conn instrument plant near the airport — only now it wasn’t making musical instruments. The plant had been converted to make compasses, altimeters, and gyro-horizon indicators for planes like the ones Dale’s mom flew.

“Dad,” Charlie asked, “can Smokey and Scout come with us to the airport before school?”

“Yes, but make sure they are tied up back at the house before you go to school.”

The ride to the airport, about a mile out of town, took about 15 minutes. Scout and Smokey ran close to the boys’ bikes and sniffed the cool morning air. The Air Force had built a large dirt hill around the airport to make it harder to see the planes or the guards on the tarmac where the new planes were parked. There was a huge oak tree near runway 27R, just outside the fence. The boys could climb the tree to see over the dirt hill and watch the planes land and take off. Some days the boys would sit for hours, dangling their feet from the branches, and talk about the B-17s, B-25s, and DC-3s. Today was special, however, because Dale’s mom would be flying a B-17 right over their tree. Both of the dogs were lying down between the big tree roots, tired from the early morning run to the airfield. When Dale saw his mom walking to the B-17, he pointed.

“How can you tell that’s your mom?” asked Charlie.

“Because she told me to look for a white scarf like Errol Flynn wears around his neck in the movies.”

The boys watched her climb into the nose of the plane followed by the co-pilot, navigator, and radioman. Only four were needed to fly the plane, which usually held 10 to 13 crew members. After the crew disappeared into the plane, the boys settled back on their favorite tree limb and waited. Charlie shaded his eyes from the early morning sun as a puff of smoke came from the first of the four engines. The boys knew the order the engines would start because Dale’s mom had described the pre-flight checks a crew had to perform. The first engine sputtered, and then suddenly roared to life, followed by the other three. The boys could feel the engines rumble as the B-17 taxied down the runway. When the plane reached the end of the runway, it slowly turned and faced the boys, who watched in awe from a half mile away.

“It won’t be long now.” Dale’s voice sounded tighter than usual.

Scout was all ears as the engines began to whine and rev up. When it seemed like the sound could not get any louder, the B-17 began to move toward them down the runway. Faster and faster the plane came until suddenly it lifted into the air, rising just above the tree where the boys were perched. They could see the navigator in the glass nose of the plane. He leaned forward and gave the boys a salute. They answered by waving their arms in the air. The wind from the engines shook the tree limbs as the plane flew past them and climbed into the early morning sun.

As the sound faded, they sat in appreciation for a minute until Dale looked down and noticed that the dogs were up and waiting.

“We’d better get moving if we’re going to get home to tie the dogs up and get to school on time.”

Down the tree they scurried and jumped onto their bikes.

“Come on, Charlie,” Dale shouted. “I’ll race you to your house.”

CHAPTER 2

School and the New Bandmeeting

The boys pulled up to the bike rack just in time to hear the bell signaling everyone to come in from the playground. The gang — Tommy, Dave, Bobby, Victor, and Karl — all came running over to meet Dale and Charlie before going into school. They attended the Emerson School and were all in Mrs. Cooper’s sixth-grade classroom. Each boy had a story about what had happened since yesterday, but none of them could beat Charlie’s description of Dale’s early morning skid at the fire station. They all agreed to go and have a look after the meeting with the new band director.

Dave said, “I am picking drums so I can be like Gene Krupa.” Tommy wanted to play alto saxophone like Charlie Parker. Victor wanted to play French horn like Phil Farkus. Playing the clarinet like Benny Goodman was Bobby’s choice. Finally, Charlie mopped his brow and shouted, “I want to play trombone like Tommy Dorsey.”

All the boys looked at Dale. He held them in suspense for a minute. Then he leaned back, put his hands in the air like he was playing a trumpet and sang out, “I want to play trumpet like the great Louis Armstrong.”

Everyone laughed and headed into school pretending to play the instrument they had chosen.

Mrs. Cooper greeted the boys at the door with a smile, and with a pat on the head said to Dale: “Sounds like you had some morning, watching your mom take off in a B-17. And what is this I hear about a skid mark?” Mrs. Cooper had a way of keeping up with things! Once they were all inside, she called, “Let’s settle down!” And after a few remaining wiggles, they did.

School started at 8:30 a.m. with the Pledge of Allegiance, followed by math from 8:35 to 9:30. All Dale could think about was a new, shiny trumpet and all of the exciting music they would get to play. As he imagined it all, Mrs. Cooper’s stern voice broke in. “Dale, can you tell us the answer to the next question in your math book?”

The words didn’t register until Bridget Neilson, who had a blonde ponytail and bright blue eyes and could out-run all of the boys in the sixth grade, poked him in the back and whispered, “Dale, Mrs. Cooper is talking to you.”

Dale answered, “I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper. I was thinking about the band meeting with Mr. Jeffrey today. I didn’t hear your question.”

Mrs. Cooper reprimanded, “Well, if I see any more daydreaming from you, you will have to stay in class to finish your work instead of going to the meeting with the rest of the students!”

“I’m sorry,” Dale promised. “It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not! Class, let’s continue. Can anyone answer the question that I asked Dale?”

Hands went up as Dale slid down in his chair, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. At the end of math class Mrs. Cooper asked the students to open their history books to page 89 and read silently. History was Dale’s favorite subject. Today, though, Dale looked at the clock expecting the end of class. Five minutes had gone by. He acted like he was reading, but his mind kept jumping to the meeting at 2:00, imagining what it would be like to play in a band. Finally, at 11:30 the bell rang for lunch, and all the students headed to the cafeteria. Tommy, Dave, Bobby, Victor, Charlie, and Karl all sat with Dale at the same lunch table.

Victor began, “Wow, Dale, did you get in trouble or what. I’m glad she didn’t call on me. I was thinking about playing the French horn and not math.”

Dale lamented, “I always get caught daydreaming.”

“Well, better you than me!” Victor retorted. Everyone laughed.

Bobby had an idea. “After lunch, let’s play some baseball. That will take our minds off of band.”

“How come lunch and recess go so fast and class goes so slow?” asked Charlie as he stuffed half of a peanut butter sandwich in his mouth.

Tommy cocked his head, “Come on, Charlie. Don’t talk with your mouth full. We can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

All the boys started talking with food in their mouths like Charlie, until the principal, Mr. Prenty, marched over and urged them to mind their manners while eating. Mouths full, the boys could only nod their heads.

After lunch and a rousing game of baseball, the boys filed back into the classroom. Mrs. Cooper started with the vocabulary words for the week. She recited the words and the students wrote them down and then used them in sentences. Dale had worked hard practicing spelling and making sentences with his grandfather. He was ready to spell each word perfectly. Mrs. Cooper recited the word “elephant.” As he wrote, Dale heard Mrs. Cooper’s voice. “Dale, spell the word and use it in a sentence.” Dale pronounced each letter precisely: “E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T,” and then thought about how to use the word in a sentence.

“I’ve got it! The elephant leaned back and trumpeted loudly.”

Karl laughed out loud, leaning back and wiggling his fingers like Dale did earlier when he was pretending to be Louis Armstrong. Mrs. Cooper quickly brought the class back under control.

“There is no question, Dale, where your mind is today.”

As the afternoon wore on, Dale could swear the clock was moving backwards instead of moving closer to 2:00. Finally at 1:55 Mrs. Cooper announced, “Anyone interested in learning a musical instrument should leave class now to go to the auditorium for a meeting with Mr. Jeffrey.”

Dale had waited all day for this meeting. He jumped up from his desk, knocking over his chair. Everyone turned and laughed at Dale before Mrs. Cooper could say anything.

Mrs. Cooper said knowingly, “Dale, please keep your excitement under control. I would also like to remind everyone how to act in the auditorium.” Everyone knew what that meant — sit quietly and behave with respect.

After picking up his chair Dale got in line with the other students for the walk to the auditorium. Once everyone was seated, Mr. Jeffrey, a tall man with brown hair and black shiny eyes, climbed the stairs to the stage.

Bridget Nielson whispered to Dale: “My dad says that Mr. Jeffrey played in John Phillip Sousa’s band and Edwin Franko Goldman’s band before coming to Emerson School.” Bridget added, “He was a great cornet soloist.”

“Really? I want to play the trumpet.”

Bridget whispered back, “I bet you’ll be good at the cornet because that’s just like a trumpet. Cornets are usually played in bands.”

Dale thought for a moment. “I didn’t know that. I guess I’ll change from trumpet to cornet.”

“I want to play the French horn.”

“Hey, so does Victor,” Dale replied.

When Mr. Jeffrey got to the podium a hush fell over the room, as everyone was anxious to hear the details of the new band program. Mr. Jeffrey welcomed the students and said, “I had not expected such a large turnout of interested students. With so many interested students from grades 6, 7 and 8, and a limited number of instruments, I’ll have to limit the number of students who can start this first year.” Suddenly the students began talking to each other about who would get to start and who would not. The talking got louder and more agitated until Mr. Jeffrey clapped his hands together. “Please, please settle down and let me explain.” All the students got quiet so they could hear how they would be selected. Mr. Jeffrey said, “To be fair to everyone, I can only start 7th and 8th graders this first year.”

Dale jumped up from his seat and shouted, “That’s not fair!” before realizing he was the only one standing.

“I understand your disappointment but we have a limited number of instruments and money this first year,” Mr. Jeffrey answered.

Bridget reached over and touched Dale’s hand. “That’s OK. I know it will work out for you to play the cornet.” Dale sat down dejected. He didn’t hear the rest of the meeting. His thoughts were only about playing a cornet.

After the meeting as the students filed out of the auditorium, Dale felt a hand on his shoulder. He thought it was Bridget, but when he looked up, he saw Mr. Jeffrey.

“Dale,” Mr. Jeffrey said. “Don’t be disappointed. You’ll be able to start in the summer, which is only nine months away.”

Tears filled Dale’s eyes. “I understand, but I really wanted to play the cornet,” Dale said with a slight quiver in his voice. He quickly wiped the tears away so Mr. Jeffrey wouldn’t see them. Dale headed outside where his friends were waiting by the bike rack. He felt the warm afternoon sun on his face and took a deep breath to clear his mind of his disappointment. He put his lips together and gave a huge whistle through his teeth. All the boys’ heads turned. “Hey, let’s go see the awesome skid mark I made this morning.”

“We can swing by my house and have a peanut butter sandwich and pick up the dogs,” Charlie invited. A loud “yeah” came from all the boys followed by Charlie shouting, “I’ll race yah!”

The boys jumped on their bikes and tore down the street chasing Charlie, who already had a head start. Dale was in last place at the halfway point to Charlie’s house but had an idea of how to win. Once everyone was far ahead, he turned and cut through the alley behind the Sinclair Gas station and then rode into the “Jungle.” The Jungle was an old wooded lot with dirt hills and great places to play army and tag. It also was a shortcut to Charlie’s house that no one had thought of. Dale flew down the dirt trail that ran through the center of the big wooded lot, making sure not to hit any of the logs, rocks, and limbs that were scattered all over the place.

When Dale reached the edge of the Jungle, he could hear Charlie yelling on the next street over, “I’m gonna win!”

Hearing Charlie bragging made Dale even more determined to beat him. He rode even faster now and cut through two more backyards and was in sight of Charlie’s backyard and the dogs. He whistled and the dogs jumped up, pulling on their chains with excitement. He skidded to a stop, jumped off his bike, and sat down next to the dogs, pretending he had been petting the dogs for a long time.

“Hey, what took you guys so long?” Dale shouted as Charlie rode into the yard being chased by the rest of the gang.

“That’s not fair to take a shortcut,” Charlie yelled back.

“Yea, because you didn’t think of it!” Victor retorted.

“What’s all the laughter about?” Charlie’s mom asked as she swung open the kitchen door.

“Hi, Mrs. Walsh. Charlie is whining again about not winning the bike race,” Dave answered.

“I knew something was going on. Come in, boys. Wash up and have a snack before you go to the firehouse.” Everyone ran inside, washed their hands, and dug into the hastily piled sandwiches and tall glasses of milk. When they were done, they thanked Mrs. Walsh and headed outside.

“Let’s not race to the firehouse. My legs are tired,” Charlie pleaded.

“Sure,” Victor shouted, as everyone jumped on their bikes and took off racing to the firehouse.

(Continues…)Excerpted from Starting Early by Paul Kimpton, Ann Kaczkowski Kimpton. Copyright © 2011 GIA Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of GIA Publications, Inc..
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