I Remember (by Pam Witschey) I remember the first day I ever saw R. E. Hood. The summer before my fifth grade year, I walked into the Paden City High School band room dreading the drudgery of another sectional practice with ‘the former band director’ who, after two practices, told me I should just quit. To my delight that day ‘the former band director’ was not there…a young fella who introduced himself as Mr. Hood was now our new band director. What a relief!!! There was no doubt in my mind that he was going to be there forever. New, young, and inexperienced, he presented himself with confidence. I believe that when R. E. Hood stepped into the halls of Paden City High School and through the doors of the third-floor band room with its tall windows, oiled floors and very little equipment that he set goals that he far exceeded in his years at Paden City. Mr. Hood was stern but kind, he was disciplined but tolerant, he expected success but was willingly patient in attaining that success. We guessed at his name R. E. Hood, but he wouldn’t give any more information than he was Mr. Hood. Some of us figured that since he was there to rescue and help the peasants (the PC band members) that his name must be Robin E. Hood. Of course, we found out later that he rescued us without having the name of Robin Hood. Other teachers seemed to understand how driven he was. He pulled kids from class for sectional practices with very few complaints. He practiced us on the wet, dewy football field an hour before school started. We came in with wet shoes which we threw into “the shoe box” to dry so they would be ready to wear again the next morning. He urged us not to be late for first period class, but if we were a little late, it was accepted. His colleagues seemed to understand his strive for success and the influence he had on his students and that he was going to remain at Paden City High School for the long haul. I have many memories associated with Mr. Hood and band at Paden City High School. I remember the old third floor band room from which there were three steps up and onto the stage area. Believe me, some know that those steps were not just used for walking to the stage … they were a place to hold on to when his tolerance level was broken. I remember wearing chewing gum on my nose because I forgot to drop it in the trash can as I came into the band room. I remember moving into the new band room. We thought we were in heaven, and I think he did too. The new band room became the ‘band kids’ haven. We went to the band room before school, at lunch and after school into the evening. During the summer, when we got bored or needed something to do, we went to the band room; it was our safety net, our refuge, ‘our place to be,’ and we were always welcomed there by Mr. Hood. He knew the camaraderie we built by being there together would make us a closer knit group. When he wrote a show (and oh how I loved those military drill shows; and so did the crowds), he would draw a placement chart identifying our positions with our initials. While putting us in place one day, he discovered that my class (the class of 1964) had two BMs and a PU. He got a kick out of that!! I remember the year that he ‘got us invited’ to the National Lions Club Convention in Miami, Florida. How we did work to present our band as one of excellence. He had the foresight to realize that kids from Paden City were not accustomed to the temperatures of Miami, FL … especially when they had to march two to three miles. In his wisdom, we began practicing for the Convention parade; we didn’t wear shorts and tank tops … NO … he had us come fully clothed. I mean … sweat shirts and sweat pants over our regular clothes, socks, shoes … the whole deal. If someone had gone through town on those hot days who didn’t know what we were practicing for, they would have sworn that the whole menagerie needed to go to an asylum. But it paid off as did most of his plans. While marching about two miles in Miami in our wool uniforms with temperatures varying between 95 and 103, we had (to my recollection) only one person overcome by heat. However, one of my best remembrances is from a cold autumn football game … Paden City vs Magnolia. There was a small skiff of snow on the ground, we were getting ready for half time—holding mouthpieces inside our jackets and blowing into our instruments to get them warm with Mr. Hood walking among us to see that everything was as it should be. Then it was time for us to take the field for our half-time performance. We were a proud group of kids, but this night was special. One of Magnolia’s own was the announcer for the football game. When we got into formation to take the field, he introduced us as “Paden City High School Band … The Biggest Little Band in the Land” under the direction of Mr. Ed Hood. Talk about buttons popping … we were amazed at that introduction; our pride soared. That night marked a milestone for the PCHS Band and for Mr. Hood. His band had been recognized as ‘great’ due to the endless efforts that he had taken to instill a desire for success in his students. As one of my friends and I went off to college, we went to tell Mr. Hood that we were going to be in the Fairmont State College band. He was pleased … FSC was where he had gotten his bachelor’s in music education. During the year, the Fairmont State Band toured West Virginia high schools. The FSC band director was going over our itinerary one day and told us that we would be performing at Paden City and then move on to St. Marys High School. He added that St. Marys probably had to finest band of any high school we were to visit. My friend and I looked at each other then to the band director and, in unison, said, “Not any more.” He looked rather stern at us over his glasses as we explained that St. Marys wasn’t nearly as good a band as Paden City High School’s band. It probably wasn’t the best idea to contradict a college professor … but if you know the truth, it has to be told. When I think of Mr. Hood and memories, I think of music sacks hanging off our shoulders, I think of military routines (a different one for every week), I think of Sleigh Ride (and the trumpet’s whinny), I think of Troika, of Them Basses, of Stars and Stripes Forever (with its bold tuba and fragile piccolo), I think of Clarksburg and Miami and Winchester and Kennywood Park and Mannington Fair and Paden City’s Labor Day Parade. I think of stage band, concert band, marching band, German band, and pep band. I think of white bucks that had to be polished to perfection, of gloves with finger holes cut out of them, of plumes, of wearing uniforms fully buttoned until you were on the bus and out of sight of the public. I think of good times … no … I think of the best of times. My time with Mr. Hood was five decades ago (hard to believe). I’m sure that many of you have memories that are far different from mine, but no matter what era you came in contact with R. E. “Ed” (not Robin) Hood, your life was made much richer by being in his band and in his presence. He taught us far more than music, although for most of us that skill and pleasure remains. He taught us how to set goals, how to be successful, how to work hard, and how to take pride in doing our best. When it comes to ratings (regionals -- (1) Superior, (2) Excellent, (3) Satisfactory and (4) Poor), you can be sure which one of these R. E. Hood would prepare you for … One definition of ‘opus’ is any artistic work, especially one on a large scale. Ed Hood was in and of himself an artistic work on a large scale. We are the offspring of that opus. Thank you, Mr. Hood
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 11:18:18 +0000
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