_The Father of the Concert Band_
Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, America’s first great bandmaster, was born
on Christmas Day, 1829, in the village of Ballygar, County Galway,
Ireland. His parents hoped that he would go into the priesthood, but
that idea did not appeal to Patrick. He loved music more than anything
else in the world. Even when a very small boy he had a knack of making
his own toys from wood, wire or whatever he could find. Always they
were crude musical instruments, fifes, drums or fiddles from which he
was able to blow, beat or scrape a bit of a tune.
At fifteen, Patrick having finished the village school, went to work
in a mercantile house in the nearby town of Athlone. Several regiments
of the British army were stationed in the town, and Patrick could not
keep away from their bands. One of the bandmasters, a Mr. Keating,
noticed the boy and taught him to play the cornet.
Before long Patrick’s employer discovered that his young clerk was
giving more time to music than business. He kindly suggested that the
boy teach his own sons what he knew about music. But Pat did not care
to teach, he preferred playing. He learned so rapidly that soon Keating
gave him a place in a regimental band. Later, when the regiments were
sent over to Canada, along went Patrick Gilmore.
When Pat was nineteen, he became tired of the military service. He
obtained his release from the British army, and drifted down to Boston
which was then the musical center of the United States. Young Gilmore
at once found a job in Ordway’s Music Store. This concern which had
a band and a minstrel show held his interest for a short time. But
Patrick, true to his first love, soon got a place in a band and became
known as a skillful cornetist.
It was but a short time until Patrick Gilmore was the leader of the
Charleston Band. His second venture in leadership was as the successor
of Ned Kendall, the well-known bandmaster of the Suffolk Band.
Gilmore’s experience in the army had taught him the value of discipline
and practice and with his genial, friendly disposition, he had no
trouble in training his bandsmen. His reputation grew as he took over
the leadership of the Boston Brigade Band.
About this time a noted French bandleader, Louis Antoine Jullien,
arrived in Boston. He had a fine orchestra and used many spectacular
effects in his programs. One number which must have made a deep
impression on Pat Gilmore was called _The Firemen’s Quadrille_. In
this, fireworks were displayed and a company of firemen appeared
drenching the aisles with water from the hose.
Gilmore gave up the Boston Brigade to accept an offer from the Salem
Band at “$1,000 a year and all he could make.” After two successful
years he returned to Boston where he organized his first band.
Gilmore was then twenty-nine years old. Handsome, high-spirited and
even-tempered, he made many friends. He was popular in various circles,
especially among newspaper publishers, merchants and politicians. Pat
never believed in hiding his accomplishments; he used every possible
means of advertising himself and his band. He took his organization to
the Charleston Convention, in 1860, and to the Lincoln Convention in
Chicago’s Wigwam.
When the Civil War came on, Gilmore and his band enlisted in a body
in the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers. Governor Andrews named Gilmore
Bandmaster-General and Chief Musician of the State of Massachusetts.
The regiment was sent to North Carolina, and later to New Orleans where
Gilmore was put in charge of all the military bands in the Department
of the Gulf.
In 1864, at a huge celebration in honor of the inauguration of the
Honorable Michael Hahn as Governor of the Union State of Louisiana,
Gilmore staged a spectacular concert. He assembled a chorus of 5,000
school children, a band of 500 pieces, a huge fife and drum corps, with
cannon and bells coming in to accent the climaxes. _Hail Columbia_,
_Star-Spangled Banner_, _America_ and other patriotic choruses were
sung. Bandmaster Gilmore scored a great success. He returned home
filled with ambition and eager for new worlds to conquer.
Back in Boston he organized a new band, and made a tour of the country,
reaping more honors for himself and his new organization. Then Patrick
Sarsfield Gilmore conceived the great idea which carried him to the
peak of his career. In June, 1867, he told his wife after asking her
to keep the matter secret, “I’m going to get up the greatest musical
festival and the grandest celebration in the world. It is to be a
National Jubilee to celebrate the Coming of Peace throughout the land.
It will be held in a great coliseum that will be built to hold 50,000
people.... The excitement over all the country will be tremendous and
everybody will rejoice at the idea.”
Gilmore went to work at once on his great project. Boston people
thought he was crazy. Neither New York nor Washington would have
anything to do with such a wild scheme. Failing to get any city to
undertake the plan, he determined to do it himself. With his winning
Irish ways Gilmore talked to millionaire bankers, conservative music
leaders, doctors, lawyers and merchants, everyone of influence whose
interest he desired. And he won their cooperation in almost every
case. Julius Eichberg, the director of the staid Boston Conservatory
of Music, agreed to conduct the chorus of 20,000 school children. Carl
Zerrahn, Boston’s top orchestra leader, promised to direct the mammoth
orchestra in several great works. Singing societies from far and near
accepted invitations to join the grand chorus of 10,000 voices. They
wrote for programs and soon the choral numbers were being practiced in
countless towns and cities, all getting ready for the great event.
Gilmore, producer or projector, as many spoke of him, personally
carried out his gigantic plans, and neither his powerful energy nor his
smiling good humor ever failed him. He wrote hundreds of letters and
signed each one. “Praying that the grace of God be with the undertaking
and direct it to a successful end.” Although there were great numbers
of objectors and opponents to the stupendous scheme, Gilmore,
undaunted, worked cheerfully on. Many hundreds of people gave money and
help to the happy, confident originator of the plan.
The date was set, June 15, 16, 17, 1869. The immense auditorium, 500
feet long, 300 feet wide and 100 feet high, was erected in St. James
Park,--now the site of the Copley-Plaza Hotel. Thousands objected to
the huge coliseum, saying that it would be unsafe for a great crowd.
Parents protested against the 20,000 children’s chorus singing in the
new untried structure. The school board reported this to Gilmore who
cleverly suggested that the children sing on the _final_ instead of the
_first_ day, after the building had been tested by the crowds at the
earlier programs. The school board consented to this.
The coming great Peace Jubilee was the talk of the whole country.
Crowds were coming from great distances as well as nearby. Gilmore
had won the consent of the railroad companies to sell half-fare train
tickets to all visitors. The newspapers advertised low-priced rooms
and lodgings. All Boston was hysterically excited over the gigantic
celebration. When the huge bass drum arrived on a flat car--it was the
largest drum ever made in America up to that time--the crowd of curious
people completely jammed the railroad station so that no one could get
in or out.
In order to keep the thousands of musicians together in the
performance, Gilmore had speaking tubes attached to his music stand
through which he gave orders to his various assistant leaders
throughout the band and chorus. Beside these tubes were telegraph keys
to control the electrified cannon out in the park.
Finally all the arrangements were completed. Gilmore, returning home
at midnight June 14, told his wife, “When I even think of tomorrow I
can find no words to express my feelings.” Mrs. Gilmore gave him this
cheery reply. “... Only two things will afterwards be spoken of as
wonderful and miraculous--one is the Creation, the other, your Peace
Jubilee.”
At three o’clock on the afternoon of June 15, the doors of the great
auditorium were closed. The vast audience, thousands upon thousands,
filled the great building from the floor to the roof. The singers, ten
thousand of them, were seated on the stage. The one thousand men in the
orchestra sat in their places with every instrument tuned in readiness.
The aged Edward Everett Hale offered the opening prayer. After the
mayor’s too lengthy address which very few could hear, the concert
master, Carl Rosa came on the stage to join the orchestra. Following
him, amid great applause came the world’s most noted violinist, Ole
Bull, to be the first violin in the orchestra.
Gilmore entered last, wildly cheered. He mounted the high stand.
Bowing to the audience his voice trembled with emotion as he uttered
a few words of welcome, ending with, “To One alone, the Omnipotent
God, all honor, all glory and all praise are due.” He was a striking
figure, tall and slender. His face, framed in his black sideburns and
distinctive goatee, was pale from excitement. Large, star-shaped, gold
studs glittered in the snowy shirtfront of his immaculate costume.
Every eye was fixed upon the graceful erect leader. With his hands held
straight before him his baton in his right, suddenly the baton was
lifted high, then in a forceful swoop, signalled the opening down beat.
Band, organ, chorus, all burst forth together in an ecstasy of harmony
in the grand old hymn, _A Mighty Fortress Is Our God_.
The entire audience went wild and their applause lasted for an
unbelievable time. Gilmore, trembling and shaken, although filled with
triumph, bowed and hurried from the stage.
The program proceeded in its regular order. Julius Eichberg took his
place on the stand to conduct Wagner’s _Tannhäuser_ by the band.
The most spectacular number, _The Anvil Chorus_ from Verdi’s _Il
Trovatore_, had to be repeated at every day’s program by the request of
the audience. No one present could ever forget the parade of the Boston
Firemen down the aisle to the stage.
When the time came for _The Anvil Chorus_ which Gilmore always
directed, he whistled through the tubes, snapped down his upraised
hands, and every instrument instantly woke into sound. The clanging
anvils shot flaming sparks as the firemen struck their rhythmic blows.
At the grand climax the telegraph keys let loose the ear-shattering
blasts of the cannon in a magnificent fortissimo. (Gilmore was the
first bandleader to fire a cannon by electricity.)
The vast audience was completely carried away by the marvelous voice
of the singer, Parepa-Rosa. She created a tremendous sensation by her
singing of the _Star-Spangled Banner_. Dressed in glistening white
silk with large buttons of red, white and blue, and diamonds sparkling
in her dark hair, she was magnificent. The newspapers gave her great
praise. “... Her voice ringing like a trumpet-call above the noise of a
thousand instruments, ten thousand voices, the roaring organ, the big
drum and the artillery.”
The whole program was a superb success, but the great soprano,
Parepa-Rosa, the spectacular arrangement of _The Anvil Chorus_, and
Patrick Gilmore himself, were the outstanding features of the festival.
To everyone’s surprise this huge music festival made a profit, a
comparatively small sum, but when added to the proceeds of a benefit
concert given for Gilmore, almost $40,000 was presented to him. That he
had fairly earned this reward everybody agreed. He immediately went to
Europe for a rest, he said, but later it was learned that he had spent
much time making contacts with great bands for a bigger and a better
Jubilee.
Gilmore who was now acknowledged the country’s greatest bandleader,
returned from Europe all agog over another great musical Festival. The
siege of Paris and the Franco-Prussian War had ended, so he decided to
produce an International Peace Jubilee in Boston. He planned to double
the chorus--20,000 instead of 10,000 singers, a band of 2,000 instead
of 1,000; and a festival lasting three weeks instead of three days.
His preparations were soon under way. Another enormous auditorium--the
first one had burned--and a larger organ were constructed. A bigger
drum than at the previous festival was built in Portland, Maine. The
heads were 12 feet across and the sides 4 feet high. It was so big that
a wall had to be knocked out of the house where it was made in order
to get it outside. It was shipped to Boston on an ocean steamer, but
only a giant could have struck both sides at once and its thunderous
sound was so slow in coming after the beat that it was useless. The
World’s Peace Jubilee and International Music Festival was announced
for June 17 to July 4, 1872. A whole regiment of soloists was engaged,
and Johann Strauss came from Germany to personally conduct the huge
orchestra in playing his beautiful _Blue Danube Waltz_. As the high
point in the international Music Festival, Gilmore brought the greatest
of Europe’s noted bands. The Grenadier Guards from London, from Paris
the Garde Republicaine, The Kaiser Franz Grenadier Regiment Band from
Berlin and also from that city, The German Emperor’s Imperial Household
Cornet Quartette. The Irish National Band came from Dublin and the
United States Marine Band from Washington, D. C.
However, in spite of the world’s most glamorous talent, the second
great festival was a flat failure. The crowds would not come. One day
there were 22,000 performers on the stage and only 7,000 people in
the audience. Although _The Anvil Chorus_ was again on the program
and also the _Soldiers’ Chorus_ given with red fire and many other
embellishments, yet the people stayed away. No one blamed Gilmore, _the
unsurpassable_, as he was called. He had done his part and produced
every attraction which he had advertised.
Gilmore left Boston almost immediately for New York City. He was then
forty-four years old, still fired with ambition and a desire to produce
huge, perfect, spectacular performances. His band of one hundred
players, always the most talented to be found, was in great demand.
In that year, 1873, Gilmore gave his last “big show,” this year in
Chicago. It was a series of grand concerts celebrating the restoration
of the city after the great fire. The programs were held in the huge
concourse of the new passenger station of the Lake Shore Railroad, a
room two blocks long, holding 40,000 people--_and Gilmore filled it_.
He added two-hundred musicians to his band, had a chorus of 1,000
singers and to the delight of the audience he again played _The Anvil
Chorus_ with firemen, anvils, cannon and bells.
The Gilmore Band in 1875 played at Gilmore’s Gardens in New York
City making the unusual record of one-hundred-fifty consecutive
concerts to crowded houses. A highlight on the last concert of the
season was a cornet quartette by the four greatest cornetists of that
time--Arbuckle, Bent, Levy and Gilmore. In 1876 Gilmore and his band
starred at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.
For thirteen successive summer seasons the Gilmore Band played at
New York’s popular Manhattan Beach resort. Gilmore and his noted
organization toured the entire United States repeatedly. He was a
marvelous organizer, a superfine showman and a good financier and
business manager.
As a composer he did not rate high. He is generally given credit for
having written the well-known song _When Johnny Comes Marching Home_,
although many believed that he was not the author of the composition.
That Gilmore was versatile and resourceful everyone admits. In 1890
when his band was asked to play at General Sherman’s funeral, Gilmore
revised _Marching Through Georgia_, a rather inside-out-version,
making an unusual, unknown funeral dirge, yet which many people felt
was vaguely familiar.
While playing at the St. Louis Exposition, September 24, 1892, Gilmore
died suddenly. His wife and only daughter were with him at the time.
John Philip Sousa, Gilmore’s good friend, two days later at the opening
concert of his great band at Plainfield, New Jersey, played _The Voice
of a Departed Soul_, one of Gilmore’s own compositions. This seemed to
be an appropriate musical finale to the life of a man who had gloried
in producing dramatic and spectacular effects.