A Beacon in the Storm
On a bitterly cold November night, members of the Austin Peay State College Governors Own Marching Band sat shivering during a Springfield High School football game. They鈥檇 travelled to Robertson County on a recruiting mission, and when the whistle blew ending the second quarter, the students marched onto the frozen football field for one of their famous halftime performances. That鈥檚 when the snow started falling.
鈥淏y mid-way through the show, our feet and legs were numb, and the snow was coming down so thick and fast, we could not see the stripes on the field, or see more than one or two band mates in our formation,鈥 Dr. Ron Miller (鈥65), a former GOMB member, recalled.
Most of the people in the stands couldn鈥檛 make out what was happening on the field, but Miller and the others knew that hardly mattered. It was the early 1960s, which meant Dr. Aaron Schmidt was standing on the sidelines, watching the band as it trudged through the snow.
Schmidt, the band鈥檚 famed director, was known around campus as a perfectionist. He held long, grueling practices before the start of each fall semester to make sure his students knew the entire season鈥檚 halftime music by heart. When he told the band members assembled on those August afternoons that they would have a cleaner, more precise look by not carrying sheet music, they stared back at him, dumbfounded.
鈥淚n order to maintain that kind of discipline over 50鈥60 band members,鈥 Miller said, 鈥渕any of whom were music majors with sizeable egos, Dr. Schmidt always started the first rehearsal with these sentences: 鈥楽ome of you are under the impression you live in a democracy. You are wrong. This is a dictatorship, and I am the dictator. If you can鈥檛 live with that, you can leave now.鈥欌
His discipline is what led the Governors Own Marching Band to be considered one of the premier marching bands in the region. But this reputation was in jeopardy on that cold night in Springfield. The musicians on the field, blinded by the snow, were in danger of colliding with each other.
鈥淭his situation quickly led the otherwise precise and disciplined APSU band into complete chaos,鈥 Miller said. 鈥淏ut a hero emerged. Eddie Cary, a trumpet player from Erin, had a Conn trumpet with a bright red Coprion bell.鈥
In the midst of the performance, Cary made his way to the middle of the football field and began swinging his trumpet in the air.
鈥淓ddie stood in the center of the field holding up his trumpet and yelling 鈥榬ed light鈥 whenever two squads of marchers were about to collide,鈥 Miller said. 鈥淭hat saved the potential destruction of many instruments, and injury to band members.鈥
The performance wasn鈥檛 a disaster, but it didn鈥檛 live up to the standards set by Schmidt. That鈥檚 why few people ever mentioned it again.
鈥淪ince that was the most disastrous show the Governors Own ever marched, it was soon forgotten,鈥 Miller said.
If you know of any APSU legends, either true or unconfirmed, please contact Charles Booth at boothcw@apsu.edu.