Post by billsiegfried on May 7, 2006 11:14:30 GMT -5
This story was sent to the Washington Post by Falls Church student Pat Brescia.
November 14, 2005
I am sure that when Jim Lunsford went to that great gig in the sky, there was more than celestial music playing. They must have broken out the fireworks because a musician with ideas had arrived.
My favorite performance of the Overture To 1812 remains the one that took place in 1966 at Falls Church High School. Admittedly, I am prejudiced because I was in the band. But it was a different performance than was normally seen in Fairfax County schools. Our director, James Lunsford, was somewhat eccentric. Okay, possibly somewhat crazy. He decided that for our concert, we would not only play the band transcription, a daunting enough challenge in itself, but we would also have cannons. Indoors!
Mr. Lunsford was a hunter and he figured that there would be something we could rig up with guns. My father, the resident “I can build anything” band parent, was recruited into the scheme. Basically he constructed a stand that would hold two 55 gallon oil drums mounted like really bid cannon. The audience sides were completely open and covered with black cloth. A two inch hole was drilled into the other end of each barrel. The idea was that if the gunner fired a deer rifle into the small hole, it would make a big boom for the audience.
On each side of the stage, there was a small open passage that led to the backstage and the emergency exits. The ”cannons” were set up in the stage left passage behind curtains. At the proper moment, the curtains would be pulled open and the drummers would open fire. Toward the audience. Hopefully with blanks.
Two of our drummers were also hunters and were deemed responsible enough to be our gunners. Besides, they could read the music and would be able to fire exactly on cue. So they were just drummers who got to use really big, noisy and dangerous instruments. A high schooler’s dream.
At the first rehearsal, they discovered that with bolt action rifles, they could not reload quite quickly enough to keep up with the music. Since automatic weapons were pretty much confined to Vietnam in those days, it was a problem. Dad was prepared to build a third cannon when Zimba’s father stepped in. He offered the use of his 12 gauge double barreled shotgun. The plan was for Zimba was to be stationed in the stage right passage with the emergency exit propped open. Even with blanks, he had to fire out the door because a lot of stuff came out of the shotgun.
We had our first full rehearsal a week before the concert. It all went well and our three gunners were able to keep up with the cannon fire. As had been hoped, the shotgun in the passage made a most satisfying boom. In hindsight, Mr. Lunsford probably should have notified the police before the practice. It seemed that the good neighbors on Cherry Avenue were understandably concerned about the explosions coming from the auditorium. Especially the shotgun pointing out the side door. As everyone who knew Mr. Lunsford could confirm, he would have been a fine snake oil salesman. He convinced the authorities that what we were doing was educational and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with high school boys walking around with large weapons.
At the concert, the effect was sensational. Blinding flashes accompanied thunderous discharges as the “cannons” blazed away across the darkened auditorium. Now, we were a pretty fair musical organization and we won our fair share of competitions. But that night, we effectively blew away the audience with the best ever performance of 1812. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.
P.S. By the way, if memory serves me correctly, on the infamous day we marched onto Route 7, our music was “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home?”
Pat Brescia (Lovettsville, VA )
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November 14, 2005
I am sure that when Jim Lunsford went to that great gig in the sky, there was more than celestial music playing. They must have broken out the fireworks because a musician with ideas had arrived.
My favorite performance of the Overture To 1812 remains the one that took place in 1966 at Falls Church High School. Admittedly, I am prejudiced because I was in the band. But it was a different performance than was normally seen in Fairfax County schools. Our director, James Lunsford, was somewhat eccentric. Okay, possibly somewhat crazy. He decided that for our concert, we would not only play the band transcription, a daunting enough challenge in itself, but we would also have cannons. Indoors!
Mr. Lunsford was a hunter and he figured that there would be something we could rig up with guns. My father, the resident “I can build anything” band parent, was recruited into the scheme. Basically he constructed a stand that would hold two 55 gallon oil drums mounted like really bid cannon. The audience sides were completely open and covered with black cloth. A two inch hole was drilled into the other end of each barrel. The idea was that if the gunner fired a deer rifle into the small hole, it would make a big boom for the audience.
On each side of the stage, there was a small open passage that led to the backstage and the emergency exits. The ”cannons” were set up in the stage left passage behind curtains. At the proper moment, the curtains would be pulled open and the drummers would open fire. Toward the audience. Hopefully with blanks.
Two of our drummers were also hunters and were deemed responsible enough to be our gunners. Besides, they could read the music and would be able to fire exactly on cue. So they were just drummers who got to use really big, noisy and dangerous instruments. A high schooler’s dream.
At the first rehearsal, they discovered that with bolt action rifles, they could not reload quite quickly enough to keep up with the music. Since automatic weapons were pretty much confined to Vietnam in those days, it was a problem. Dad was prepared to build a third cannon when Zimba’s father stepped in. He offered the use of his 12 gauge double barreled shotgun. The plan was for Zimba was to be stationed in the stage right passage with the emergency exit propped open. Even with blanks, he had to fire out the door because a lot of stuff came out of the shotgun.
We had our first full rehearsal a week before the concert. It all went well and our three gunners were able to keep up with the cannon fire. As had been hoped, the shotgun in the passage made a most satisfying boom. In hindsight, Mr. Lunsford probably should have notified the police before the practice. It seemed that the good neighbors on Cherry Avenue were understandably concerned about the explosions coming from the auditorium. Especially the shotgun pointing out the side door. As everyone who knew Mr. Lunsford could confirm, he would have been a fine snake oil salesman. He convinced the authorities that what we were doing was educational and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with high school boys walking around with large weapons.
At the concert, the effect was sensational. Blinding flashes accompanied thunderous discharges as the “cannons” blazed away across the darkened auditorium. Now, we were a pretty fair musical organization and we won our fair share of competitions. But that night, we effectively blew away the audience with the best ever performance of 1812. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.
P.S. By the way, if memory serves me correctly, on the infamous day we marched onto Route 7, our music was “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home?”
Pat Brescia (Lovettsville, VA )
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