HOME | FUNNY ARTICLES | TOP NEWS REPORTS | SUBMIT
|
Feb. 28, 2011 (Kenn Harlan Aug 31, 1913 - June 21, 2002) First of all, my father, Kenn Harlan, was not a traveling salesman. He was a mailman in Minnesota for over thirty years. Even longer, he was a musician; a percussionist to be exact. But the drums were just one of his chosen instruments. He was self-taught in clarinet, saxophone, and bass fiddle. For as long as I can remember Dad headed a three-man band that practiced on Wednesday nights in our basement. Clyde, one of the guys in the band, played accordion, among other instruments, if I recall. Dad played whatever he had in his hands and sang in his fine Irish tenor. A third guy changed all the time. I can’t recollect a name for even one of them, or what instruments they played. It may have been piano, which is difficult to haul around to basement practices. What I do have buried in my brain is the sound that floated up the steps from the basement when the guys struck up the band. My memory isn’t keen enough to produce any of the song titles the trio practiced. They were probably old favorites and some popular numbers of the day. Dad didn’t care for rock ‘n’ roll. Nothing but noise, he claimed. Elvis left him cold. Still, he thought the new musical genre held sanguine expectations. The beat had been “lifted” from those “talented black fellas down South.” Whatever might come of rock ‘n’ roll, Dad was fond of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Perry Como and the rest of the big band gang and stayed that way. As I continue writing here, I intend to keep in mind the thought below. Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. - Elvis Costello (real name: Declan Patrick MacManus) If anyone knows how true this quote is, I do. As does Elvis Costello. Thank you for the reminder, Declan. If I had one wish that would indubitably come true, I would resurrect my father and introduce him to today’s music scene, especially the talented drummers we have entertaining us at the moment. His favorite drummers were Buddy Rich, Gene Krupa, Ray McKinley, and Moe (Maurice) Purtill. Moe worked with the celebrated Glenn Miller band. He performed the drum work on the 1942 recording of Miller’s American Patrol, which brought him numerous accolades as a fine “jazz drummer.” My Dad was nowhere near these guys’ league. He never pretended to be. A dedicated, self-made musician, he knew his limits and didn’t bother to push them. On my side, I was infinitely proud of my dad’s musical talents. I’d nearly burst when his tenor voice came through the furnace register near my bed. Danny Boy, Forty Shades of Green, Molly Malone, and Wild Colonial Boy. Dad loved the Irish folk songs and they all floated to my ears when Dad was in a really deep, rich Irish mood. At the band’s gigs, however, he did not do his “Irish act,” as much as he enjoyed it. He also cherished the Andrews Sisters, LaVerne, Maxine and Pattie. The three sisters were actually sisters. They were born in Minnesota to a Greek immigrant father and a Norwegian-American mother, Olga Andrews and Peter Andreas, who took the name of Andrews. “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” was one of Dad’s favorites and one of the sisters’ biggest hits. “Boogie-woogie Bugle Boy” also enchanted my father as well as a nation at war. Personally, my favorite Andrews Sisters’ number was “Bei Mir Bistu Shein", a Yiddish song that I never understood a word of. But, back to drumming and drummers. My strongest wish, my deepest desire for my father is that he had gotten a chance to know Phil Collins, the British drummer/singer/song-writer. With the name Collins, Phil must have a good amount of Irish plasma circulating around inside of him along with any Anglo-Saxon blood. That alone would have delighted my Dad. It would also please him to know that Phil was a child actor, one who got the major role as The Artful Dodger on stage in a London production of Oliver. Good actors always brought sparkles to Dad’s eyes. Dad would also appreciate and sympathize with Phil’s health problems. As of 2000, Phil lost hearing in his right ear due to a viral disease. By 2009, he could no longer play drums. He had had a recent operation to fix dislocated vertebrae in his neck. The dislocation had affected Phil’s hands. Even after the operation on his neck, he couldn’t use his hands. He told his fans on the Genesis website that he wasn’t distressed that he could no longer play drums. “. . . stuff happens in life.” He has now retired from the music scene and has taken up a far different passion. For several years, Phil has harbored a great interest in The Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. He claims that from the time a psychic told him he was the reincarnation of Alamo messenger John W. Smith he’s had The Alamo on his brain. He is in the process of writing a book about his fascination. The book’s deadline is mid-2011, and he plans for it to be out in 2012. It will feature his collection of weapons, clothing, armaments and documents, including one signed by Alamo survivor and former San Antonio mayor John W. Smith. Yes, that same John W. Smith Phil’s psychic spoke of. John William Smith (4 Mar 1792-12 Jan 1845), engineer, carpenter and merchant, was the storekeeper, scout, courier and guide for the Alamo garrison, was born in Virginia, parents John and Isabel Smith. Named William John Smith at birth, he is said to have come with Green DeWitt to the colony in its early days before settling in San Antonio de Bexar where he was the first Anglo mayor. He moved to Texas from Hannibal, Ralls County, Missouri where he was sheriff and tax collector at one time, where he likely met DeWitt, Austin or both. He left a wife, Harriet Stone, and several children in Missouri. He was known locally as "El Colorado" or "Redhead". On 23 Feb, scouts Smith and Sutherland were sent from the garrison by Travis to track the position and strength of Santa Anna's forces and determined their location just two miles from the Alamo. Knowing the area well as a former resident, he accompanied the Gonzales relief force to the Alamo from Gonzales and guided them into the Alamo through Mexican lines after having been sent with Sutherland to Gonzales to appeal for aid. He was taken prisoner during the Siege of Bexar in Nov 1835, escaped and helped plan the assault by the Texans on Bexar. Family histories say he learned much of the status of the Mexican Army while imprisoned because of his fluency in Spanish which was unknown to his captors. (I found this information online at “Alamo Couriers and Foragers.” Much more interesting information is available on this site.) The battle of the Alamo in 1836 saw 1,500 Mexican troops lay siege to 200 Texans — including Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie — (both of whom died) at the Alamo mission. All but a handful of the Texans were killed. Since I have visited the Alamo many times and have been vigorously affected by the aura there, I totally understand Phil’s captivation. In addition, I believe my Dad would have understood and approved.
Missing you, Daddy.
Writing was always my first choice in life. I began writing at the age of 8, small books about pioneers heading west. Little did I know then that I would be living in the most "western" of all the states, Texas. No one told the Texans that they are simply Southerners who, like Bugs Bunny, took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and wound up here.
I am sneaking up on 70 years of age and now own a vast store of useless knowledge. Happy to share any or all of it with you all.
Comment on this article here!
|
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
