The greatest influences on me as a percussionist are well known and previously written about in various essays and publications of mine over the years. Mark Johnson (as pictured with me and Ken Bloomquist) my teacher at Michigan State, Salvatore Rabbio, with whom (when I was an undergraduate) I studied timpani in the summers, and Thomas Siwe, my teacher at the University of Illinois. And, of course, I have fond memories of my career as a professional percussionist.
But some might regard my work as a conductor, specifically of the University of New Mexico Percussion Ensemble, as my greater legacy. And certainly there are many former students of mine out there in the world doing amazing things who were part of the deeply collaborative efforts behind the many great performances and recordings we made between 1980 and 1996, the year I stepped down as director of the ensemble. The collaboration however was of a very specific type and that had to do with my idea of what it means to be an ensemble director. And that was influenced not by my percussion teachers, nor by the many orchestral conductors I worked with between 1980 and 1994, but by two college band directors: Dr. Harry Begian, Director of Bands at the University of Illinois, and Professor Kenneth Bloomquist, Director of Bands at Michigan State University. I wrote a blog entry about Dr. Begian in 2014 after he passed away and now that Mr. Bloomquist has also passed, I want to add a complementary appreciation of him.
Everything I cherish most about directing an ensemble I learned from these two legends of band history. My time with Dr. Begian was intense and focused, lasting for one academic year 1979-1980. Everyone has a “Begian story” as it were, and none of them are usually regarded as bright and cheery. He was taciturn and moody, an introverted perfectionist for whom nothing was really good enough, and if you ever got on his wrong side, well heaven help you. And yet I, like some others (but not everyone), loved him. For his musicianship first of all--he should have been conducting professional orchestras, not bands, for one thing. I studied conducting with him (my only formal training) and he was a demanding and exacting coach. I had only once lifted a baton in my life (a performance of Coat of Arms, my favorite march, at my graduation ceremony at MSU) and yet by the end of that year I was a reasonably accomplished conductor, certainly well enough trained to begin my duties as Director of Percussion Studies at UNM the following year.
Ken Bloomquist also studied at the University of Illinois and came to MSU from the University of Kansas, where he was first Professor of Trumpet. The best trumpet students at MSU often secretly studied with Bloomquist, in addition to their lessons with the trumpet professor there. And I hesitate here, part of the reason it has taken me awhile to write this remembrance. My experiences with Mr. Bloomquist (I never could really get used to addressing him as “Ken” even though he insisted once I started my teaching career) had a much deeper resonance with me and over a longer period of time. And after he passed away, a flood of memories came back to me from that time, some good and some bad. So I've taken some time to sort through those, to decide what to include and not include, and I’ve made the decision, at least in part because we live in an age of social media where many of the students I went to school with are active participants (including many Facebook friends), to limit those memories to positive things directly related to the enormous influence Mr. Bloomquist had on my early musical life.
My father, who would have been eighty-six on the day I’ve begun writing this (August 25, 2021), was an MSU graduate and also a very fine percussionist, who played in both concert and marching bands under the direction of another band legend Leonard Falcone. Dr. Begian was his brief successor before leaving to take on the legendary band program at the University of Illinois and Mr. Bloomquist was his replacement. Dr. Begian was only the third director hired to head the Illinois band program and, if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Bloomquist would have been the third director hired to run the band program at MSU. For me, growing up in rural mid-Michigan, it was being in band that mattered, whether that be Summer Youth Music at Michigan State, a very important early influence on me as a young high school musician, or getting first chair in All State Band at Interlochen. I remember being disappointed when in my junior year I was the highest ranked percussionist for the Michigan Solo and Ensemble State competition (a score of 93 for Proficiency II, the solo I played was the four mallet movement “Sarabande” from William Kraft’s French Suite, my judge was Ken Snoeck, who was then teaching at Central Michigan University) and given the honor of being timpanist in the Honors Orchestra under the direction of another legend in that field, Dr. Marilyn Kesler, long-time orchestra conductor for Okemos High School (and who I just read got her start teaching music in Alton, Illinois where my mother and two brothers presently live). As a footnote it was a fantastic experience, Dr. Kesler was an amazing and inspiring conductor, and I can still remember playing timpani for Tchaikowsky’s Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. What a great experience for a sixteen year old who had never played in an orchestra before. But still, my first reaction when I received word of my being selected was--I wanted to play in the band!
And band for me, thanks to my father, meant the MSU Bands, then under the direction of Ken Bloomquist. My band directors in Leslie, Michigan, the small town I grew up in were all great and with different backgrounds: Steven Baxter, a Western Michigan graduate; Steven Leeser a Michigan graduate (and from the famed Pennfield High School band program with whom I was lucky enough to work with as an MSU undergraduate during their summer marching band camps); and William Berz, an MSU graduate and friends with many MSU musicians who would still be in school when I arrived as a freshman in 1975. And there was never any doubt that was where I would go to school. I had received a scholarship at Interlochen to attend the University of Michigan (they ran the All-State program) and although my father was proud of that, after I auditioned for and received a scholarship to attend MSU, his response was: “you can go where you want but if you want any assistance from me, you’ll go to Michigan State.” In the end, I’m glad he insisted because Michigan State University had an amazing music program in the 1970s (still does) but back then, I don’t think anyone would disagree, for an instrumentalist MSU was a “band school.” And although I loved playing in orchestra with Dennis Burkh (I had heard the “h” was added by him for international effect), and even began playing timpani there before I did the same in bands, for me at least I didn’t arrive until I was first chair in the Symphonic Band which took a while but, as promised, no sad stories here. Except for one, and this is where my personal experience with, and appreciation for, Mr. Bloomquist is best expressed.
Growing up, the best concert band sound was, for me, the Michigan State University Symphonic Band. Wind Ensembles were becoming increasingly the norm (first at Eastman, the University of Michigan under H. Robert Reynolds of course, although that came later) but in my formative years, let’s say 1971-1975, I loved the large ensemble sound. Dr. Begian was a famous proponent of that and there are many great recordings that preserve that legend. But I’m disappointed that there seems to be no equivalent commercially available to demonstrate how good Mr. Bloomquist’s symphonic band sounded. I remember a joint concert at Fairchild Theatre, when I was in high school, which was shared between Mr. Bloomquist conducting the MSU Symphonic Band and then Director of Bands George Cavender who, in a ridiculously flamboyant way, conducted the University of Michigan Band. By the time I received my scholarship to Michigan, Cavender was out as Director of Bands (he stayed on for a while as marching band director) and H. Robert Reynolds was just beginning his time at Michigan (in 1975--I didn’t realize it was so early in his tenure there when I worked with Reynolds at Interlochen in the summer of 1976.) The rest is history, as they say, but to an impressionable teenager there was no question who had the better band program at the time.
So I arrived at Michigan State in the fall of 1975 with, of course, the expectation that I would be playing in the famed MSU drum line. Which is exactly what did not happen. There were six snare drum openings and I remember the name of every player who got a spot, even after all these years, forty-six to be exact. I won’t name names here with the exception of one because I don’t think he’ll mind—the only freshman (the rest were all returning upperclassmen) and a really great rudimental snare drummer: Paul Koning who came from a very fine band program in nearby Charlotte. I was not a great rudimental snare drummer, (my father on the other hand was, having studied with former Sousa band percussionist Frank Perné). My skills were more suited to concert playing, but I was still humiliated, especially when I became one of several alternates who ended up carrying flags during pre-game shows. Which I hated. And I told my parents, especially my father, on every occasion possible, usually when I would come home on weekends, Leslie is a just a short drive from East Lansing, to have my mother do my laundry (embarrassing but true.) I remember an especially humiliating game against Michigan, must have been a home game in 1975 because the snare line was expanded to eight in 1976 and I made the section that year and played to over 100,000 people at Michigan stadium, something you never forget. And by then I had also kickstepped into Spartan stadium, 70,000 plus roaring fans, and that’s an adrenaline rush never duplicated in my lifetime. Still gives me goosebumps. But in 1975 I was a snare drum alternate and all of my fellow percussionists from Interlochen who went to Michigan were carrying snare drums as freshmen. I was carrying a flag.
The Spartan Marching Band came to Eaton Rapids that fall to perform and my parents were there watching in the stands. And, because I was an alternate, I was sitting there with them, sulking and watching too. After the performance, I could see Mr. Bloomquist walking up the stands and heading right toward us. He looked at my parents with that inimitable and charming smile (his scowl was pretty much inimitable too by the way) and then said and I’m pretty sure I’m quoting this exactly: “Mr. and Mrs. Shultis, I just want you to know how pleased we are to have your son be a part of MSU bands, he’s doing great and you should be very proud.” After which he returned to sit with the band and my father glowered at me, saying: “Don’t you ever speak negatively about MSU again.” I didn’t, at least not to him.
When I was at Illinois I never met Dr. Begian’s wife. I met her for the first time after he had retired when my father and I drove up to their home in a remote part of northern lower Michigan. In contrast, and I don’t think I’m alone in this, I often saw Mr. Bloomquist’s wife Ann. And I want to include her in this remembrance because of something that happened when we traveled to perform at Notre Dame, also during my freshman year so another time I got to carry that flag. (By the way I should mention that these were ceremonial flags, nothing like what the actual flag section was like back then and whose athleticism was incredible to watch). We were eating at some fast food restaurant before the game, already dressed, and I had accidentally spilled mustard on the white front of my uniform. Almost in tears, and completely embarrassed, Mrs. Bloomquist came up to me saying “let me help” and then proceeded to clean the mustard off my jacket until it was far less noticeable. I look back on this now and reflect--in such a large group, and with so much to attend to, who would think to come up into the stands at a high school performance and say words of encouragement to parents (and indirectly to their freshman son)? And who would even notice a young boy in distress (and I was a very young and naïve eighteen-year-old back then) and take the time to help clean a mustard stain from his band uniform? I remember Dr. Begian for his great musicianship, and I do with Mr. Bloomquist as well. More on that later. Importantly I also remember him, and his wife Ann, for their seemingly innate goodness. I was having a tough time, in different situations they could see that, and they stepped in to help.
But first and foremost, Mr. Bloomquist was a great band director, in the most traditional and original of senses. Born in Iowa, he was part of a long and storied Midwestern band tradition, including his years as a student at the University of Illinois, teaching trumpet at the University of Kansas where he later became Director of Bands, and of course his time at Michigan State University, first as Director of Bands (1970-78), then as Department Chair and later, the first Director of the School of Music (1978-1987), returning to his position as Director of Bands in 1987 until he retired in 1993.
There are two more stories I want to share. The first having to do with his influence on me as an educator. I won’t go into many details, too many of my friends and colleagues at MSU may end up reading this, but when the Spartan Marching Band traveled to the University of Illinois in the fall of 1976, the night before the game was pretty much a disaster. Mr. Bloomquist, as mentioned, was a proud Illinois alumnus and I believe this may have been the first time since he became Director of Bands that the band had come to perform in Champaign-Urbana. The halftime performance featured music by the band Chicago, including a great finale with the band finishing in formation of the famous Chicago script. In the end we performed very well but let’s just say it didn’t look like it would turn out that way during the morning rehearsal. After the game we were given a tour of the University of Illinois band building of which, the Illinois band program was rightly proud. It includes the John Philip Sousa Library and Archives which was given to the university because of then-Director of Bands Austin Harding, after whom the building was named. During that tour, the Illinois Marching band’s orange colored cloth sousaphone covers were stolen and defaced. I was on the bus returning home and personally witnessed this. At the next band rehearsal, Mr. Bloomquist came into the rehearsal hall fuming. He often would get angry in rehearsals, most band directors back then did, and by the way it is one influence I brought with me to UNM as my students will readily (and not likely with fondness) attest. But usually he wasn’t really mad, it was just for effect, and I was that way too. I always said to myself and I think I got this from Bloomquist and Begian both, although Bloomquist was far better at practicing what was preached, act angry to get results but never allow yourself to get really angry because then it won’t be effective and be, instead, harmful to both you and your students. I say this because unlike Dr. Begian, whose anger was infamous and which he was often unable to control despite spoken intentions to his conducting students, I don’t think I ever saw Mr. Bloomquist get really angry in rehearsal. Except for this one time. He was very angry. As he grew older, after he became chair of the music department at MSU, he lost weight and seemed both healthier and happier every time I’d stop in to visit. But back then he was heavier, which made his presence especially foreboding in this instance, and his face was beet red. You could hear a pin drop in the room. And it was packed with every member of the Spartan Marching Band. He proceeded to tell us that he had been on the phone with Dr. Begian who had informed him that Illinois-owned equipment had been stolen from the Harding Band Building and that student representatives from the Illinois marching band were driving up from Champaign to East Lansing in order to collect those stolen materials and bring them back to the University of Illinois. And this was the moment when his anger will especially visible, so much so that I can clearly remember what he said next. “I want those materials gathered up and brought to my office, and I want the people responsible, from this day forward, to never be part of the Spartan Marching Band again.” After which, he walked out, slamming the very heavy rehearsal room door. Through all of this, he did not raise his voice and kept his anger in check. He stayed in control. But it was clear that he felt this was not only something that damaged the reputation of MSU Bands. It was also a violation of that larger band tradition of which Mr. Bloomquist was very much a part. You just didn’t do that sort of thing. I was never part of the leadership of the Spartan Marching Band, and at the end of that fall season in 1976, Lindsey Smith and I nervously informed Thad Hegerberg in his office (we went in together for moral support) that we had decided not to be in marching band anymore. So I don’t know exactly how things transpired after that. I do know that those responsible did not leave, but I believe those tuba covers were returned and, if memory serves, some very intense cleaning went on overnight to remove those incriminating defacements on them. So the influence of tradition, of history, and the pride that goes from being a part of that. I got that first from Ken Bloomquist and the MSU band program and carried it into my work at UNM, where I wanted students to feel part of a tradition and a history that got passed on to each incoming class.
(Concert Program. Autographed by me.
I know. Weird.)
The second story I want to tell concerns one of the very best performances I’ve ever been a part of, the MSU Symphonic Band, under the direction of Kenneth Bloomquist of course, at Hill Auditorium at the University of Michigan, on January 20, 1977 as part of the Midwestern Conference. You can see me standing, far stage right (left in photo). I’m listening to a recording of the concert as I write. And at first what I heard was disappointing, listening to what was my favorite piece from the concert, Vincent Persichetti’s Parable for Band (Parable IX). It wasn’t performed as well as I remembered, although the performance comes off much better in the CD transfer. And it is, in my opinion, a terrific piece that still holds up well today. More on that later. But there’s a lot of great percussion writing, which is in part why it was my favorite. And for the record, I am the one playing a pretty wicked chime part. It was also the most memorable moment of the concert for me because of the ending: a long sustained tutti crescendo, with a large Tam-Tam rolling all the way to the end. Moving quickly after my last chime note to the Tam-Tam, it was my job to stand behind the instrument and muffle it at the moment of Mr. Bloomquist’s cut-off. At the moment of that cut-off, and you just can’t make this stuff up, the rope that held the Tam-Tam broke and I not only muffled the Tam-Tam (thank goodness) but also caught it in my arms and kept it from crashing to the floor. You can imagine how happy Bloomquist would have been had that happened!
There were other performances during my time at MSU that were also memorable. Performing Gunther Schuller’s Symphony for Brass and Percussion under his direction, from memory because the band staff had taken my music off the stand when picking up band folders between ensembles. And Stanley DeRusha conducting Percy Grainger’s Colonial Song was a revelation to me, a composer who has been an enormous influence on me as a composer, including my homage to Grainger and that piece in the last movement of my composition for winds and percussion Openings.
But this recording of that concert, definitely the best Symphonic Band concert performance in which I took part while at Michigan State, has to be heard as a whole. And thanks to a gift from Dr. Kevin Sedatole, Director of Bands at Michigan State University, I am able to include the recording which came out on CD in honor of Professor Bloomquist on the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Michigan State University Bands in 2019. Rick Price and David Bird were the original location recording engineers in 1977; Stan Ricker, original mastering engineer; and for the CD in 2019, record transfer and mastering engineers were Mark J. Morette and David Bishop.
It is a great traditional band concert, beginning of course with a transcription, and a very good one, by Mark Hindsley (former Director of Bands at Illinois) of Glinka’s Overture to Russlan and Ludmilla. Michigan State had incredible clarinet players, thanks to MSU's legendary clarinet professor Elsa Ludwig-Verdehr. It’s still amazing to hear a full concert band section of clarinets handle those rapid violin runs. Second on the program was a performance by then new faculty member Curtis Olson on bass trombone, a band transcription of the Vaughan Williams Concerto for Bass Tuba (Mvt II, Mvt III) Mr. Olson had arrived direct from Eastman with much fanfare so while it was not a surprise how amazing this performance was, hearing it again for the first time in decades—what a phenomenal player! Persichetti's Parable then ended the concert’s first half.
(Concert program notes and bio, inside album jacket)
The second half began with Pat Williams’s Rhapsody for Concert Band and Jazz Ensemble, arranged by Sammy Nestico and dedicated to the U.S. Air Force band who under the direction of Colonel Arnald Gabriel, gave the premiere performance. Not a very distinguished piece to my ears, but the point is this is a band concert that represents and demonstrates its own history: Orchestral transcriptions, check. A famous contemporary composer who writes for band, check. Featuring a faculty member as a soloist, check. And then closing with a band classic, check. And what a classic ended this concert: Alfred Reed’s Armenian Dances (Pt. II) Not just the first part, already a standard by the time of this concert, but the recently completed second part as well, which had just been premiered the year before by the University of Illinois Symphonic Band, directed by Dr. Harry Begian, who commissioned the first part as well (premiered in 1973) and who even supplied the composer with the Armenian folk materials sung to him by his father as a child. Dr. Begian lent Mr. Bloomquist the manuscript score and parts for the performance. Which brings this whole appreciation full circle.
Armenian Dances (complete) was the highlight of the concert and demonstrated all the great gifts Mr. Bloomquist had as a conductor. This is truly a symphonic band piece, by a composer who really knew how to write for band, and Bloomquist knew that sound world inside and out. You can hear the mastery of every phrase. But mostly you hear something I’ve mentioned elsewhere but fully on display in this great performance of Armenian Dances. Mr. Bloomquist was a master of blend, an essential quality needed make a large symphonic band sound like nothing else. I hear it rarely but Bloomquist, as did Begian, had the ability to create the magic of that sound. Dr. Begian told me once that he didn’t think the second part was as good as the first. But having just finished listening to it now, I’m not sure I agree. Or let’s just say in the hands of Ken Bloomquist at the end of one of the best concerts I ever performed in my life, he really made the piece sound as a whole, start to finish, and made the MSU Symphonic Band sound better than it ever had before. I hear the standing ovation on the recording fade away, but my memory of it remains long and sustained. And I still remember the pleased look on Mr. Bloomquist’s face. Anyone who knew him, and played under his direction, will know that expression well. It’s what we all worked so hard to achieve, for us as players of course, but I think I’m not just speaking for myself when I say this to conclude and in gratitude for the influence Ken Bloomquist has had in my musical life. We wanted, more than anything, to please him. And on that magical night, the last sounds of Armenian Dances ringing into those amazing acoustics of Hill Auditorium, we did.
(Note: the percussion section listed in the program does not match the photo inside the album jacket from the concert. From left to right: Chris Shultis, Laura E. Yenner, William Wiedrich, James McCaffrey, Jeff Shuster, Paul Lott, Jim Brandt).
