The Wikiness

At the risk of sounding racist, maybe it’s the German roots– the reason for the strong musical culture of Elmhurst, Illinois. The Germans who settled there in the 1860s,–Messers Wolf, Glos, Schumacher and Heidemann–loved their Bach, Brahams, and Beethoven. They along with the kapellmeisters at the German language seminary (the future Elmhurst University) may have laid the foundation for the astonishingly assured and accomplished music program I found at York Community High School, which serves Elmhurst youth.

Arriving in 1994 from my southside Catholic all-boys high school, where a small set of geeks constituted the entire music department and anyone worth knowing was an athlete, York seemed a paradise of refined taste and cultural values. Almost a quarter of the students were musicians. From the marching band that greeted freshmen on day one to the frequent orchestra programs and award-winning spring musicals, York showed its best self in its musical guise.

The rest of the state and nation agreed with my assessment. York regularly qualified busloads of young musicians to All-state ensembles, and its music instruction even won a Grammy award in 2013. Significantly, when the original York was razed to the ground for a new building, fieldhouse, and academic building around 2000, they preserved but one: the central building housing Baker Auditorium, whose marble lobby has hosted so many visitors to its music performances. 

Although I was not a trained musician, I felt welcomed in the grand York musical family. The band director supported the amateur musicians club I started with surplus percussion instruments, including jingle bells. These got used every year as I took part in my colleague Nan’s Holiday Chorale, a half-hour performance that took place in the school’s main entrance hall the week before Winter–don’t say “Christmas”– break. As administrators handed out hot chocolate to students entering, an all-volunteer group played sacred and secular holiday tunes ranging from “Up on the Housetop” to “Silent Night.”

A couple of weeks before our performance, Nan handed out photocopied sheet music to staff members who joined our practice sessions. The varied strangers melded in that instantaneous, constructive way that ensemble music allows. I formed lasting attachments with people I hadn’t even seen in the building before.There were the Biology teacher who played jazz mandolin, the Special Ed Aide who played trumpet, the librarian who played a fine fiddle, the math teacher who, like Nan, played the flute very well, and I with my acoustic guitar. On the day of the performance we’d be joined by the school’s orchestra director on piano and several unrehearsed singers who along with their voices provided percussion with the sleigh bells I’d brought. 

I miss the instant knitting together with fellow humans for benign, non-commercial purpose, but the outward connections that music makes, with its listeners, is also something my current holiday sadly lacks. To see delighted surprise and gratitude on the faces of students as they entered and saw–wonder of wonders–their teachers and staff embodying good will to all men: well, it got the day off to a joyful start, and eased apprehensions as the school moved toward final exams.