Pg. 11: Piano Lessons
When I was in 2nd grade, Mom decided I should take piano lessons. She taught me herself for a while but decided (correctly I think) it would be better for both of us if I were to take from a third party. So one day we got in the 1914 Model T and drove the nine blocks over to Natalia Leggitt’s(sp?) house. She was a friend of Moms. After the first day of introductions I got there myself.
One day during my lesson I had a bad case of the hiccups. Mrs. Leggitt had me turn around on the bench, face her, stretch my arms sideways full length, stick out my little fingers, then bring my extended arms slowly, slowly together until the little finger on each hand barely touched an imaginary piece of paper she was holding edgewise in front of me. If the fingers touched, we started again. After about two tries of slowly, slowly, carefully, don’t touch, closer, closer — she said, “Where did your hiccups go?!!”. They were gone. I have used that method successfully on myself and others many times. I may never have become much of a piano player, but I am pretty good at getting rid of hiccups — even when you know what’s up.
I suppose by today’s sophisticated standards Mrs. Leggitt would fall short. There were a variety of “scales”, moderated with regular pieces. There were the yearly recitals of all her students. I suppose it was good for my character, but I could gladly have crossed recitals off the list of things to do. I took from her up through junior high.
I was definitely NOT a child prodigy, but turned out to be a reasonably proficient “sight reader”. I was one of the “piano players” who could do a decent job on hymns for Christian Endeavor and Sunday School (and several years later at YPD in Chicago).
During two summers of high school years I took a series of lessons from a music professor from Lindsborg college, Oscar Lofgren. He came to Hutch and gave the lessons at Elizabeth Chickering’s on the Chickering piano manufactured by her distant relatives in Boston. Oscar stretched me to the limit of my abilities — and I started to enjoy (almost) practicing. In the earlier years, about the only thing I hated worse than practicing was pulling crab grass.
The most satisfying action of piano days was playing piano-and-organ numbers with Mom in church. I never became a highly-proficient player, so Mom would choose pieces which were only moderately difficult. Even so, the effect was very gratifying. The High Point was playing Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus on that baby grand, Mom on Full Organ, and Aunt Mabel directing the completely-filled choir loft!!! Even now the memory brings tingles. (1999 — See Post Script *below)
(End of Chapter)
* A 1999 Post Script: Early this year Louie Patterson, Music Director at Westminster, asked me if I would “hold keys” for him while he did some tuning of the new organ at Plymouth Congregational Church. I said I’d be glad to help, PROVIDED, when the Westminster choir was rehearsing the Hallelujah Chorus for Easter time, he’d let me come over and try my hand at directing it. He said OK.
Soooo — I spent some time in the dining room at 2115 practicing with the Bose machine CD on a version of the Chorus. Got it pretty well digested as to who does what when.
Just before Easter Louie called and said to come over on Wednesday night. I asked if my son Keith could come and sing and that was OK too. So Keith and I went at the appointed hour, and the EVENT took place. Full choir loft of gifted singers, great organist, and little ol’ Roger got to direct Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. It was a dream come true! Afterwards one of the singers told me it was the high light of her choir singing experiences. It sure was a high light for me!!!!!!!!!
