much interested in the advent of the "President's
Band," and the prevailing opinion was that "Dixie" would be tabooed
music with us. Before the exercises a local committee waited upon me and
intimated that "Dixie" was a popular melody in that vicinity.
"Of course," said the spokesman, "we don't want you to play anything
you don't want to, but please remember, sir, that we are very fond of
'Dixie' here."
Bowing gravely, I thanked the committee for their interest in my
programme, but left them completely in the dark as to whether I intended
to play the loved song of the South or not.
"Dixie," by the President's Band.
The ceremonies opened with a patriotic address by Governor Fowle,
lauding the glories of the American flag and naturally the only
appropriate music to such a sentiment was "The Star-Spangled Banner,"
which the crowd patriotically cheered.
The tone of the succeeding oration was equally fervid, but the speaker
enlarged upon the glories of the Commonwealth whose one hundredth
anniversary was being celebrated. The orator sat down, there was a
momentary pause, and then as I raised my baton the strains of "Dixie"
fell upon the delighted ears of the thousands round the platform.
The unexpected had happened, and such a shout as went up from that
throng I have never heard equaled. Hats were tossed in the air,
gray-bearded men embraced, and for a few minutes a jubilant pandemonium
reigned supreme. During the rest of our stay in Fayetteville
the repertoire of the Marine Band was on this order: "Yankee
Doodle,"--"Dixie;" "Star-Spangled Banner,"--"Dixie;" "Red, White and
Blue,"--"Dixie."
In all my experience the acme of patriotic fervor was reached during
a reunion of the Loyal Legion at Philadelphia some years ago. The
exercises were held in the Academy of Music, and the band occupied
the orchestra pit in front of the stage, which was crowded with
distinguished veterans.
I had strung together for the occasion a number of war-songs,
bugle-calls and patriotic airs, and when the band played them the
martial spirit began to stir the people. As we broke into "Marching
Through Georgia," a distinguished-looking old soldier stepped to the
foot-lights and began to sing the familiar words of the famous song in
a loud, clear voice. The entire audience joined in, and as the swelling
volume of melody rolled through the house, the enthusiasm waxed more
intense.
Verse after verse was sung, interrupted with frantic
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