Charm that soothes the savage beast

The author is a retired assistant director of DSWD Region I. She has an AB Social Work degree from UP and an MDM Degree from AIM. She and husband Nick Pacis, also retired from the Department of Agrarian Reform, hail from Vintar, Ilocos Norte. They have four children: Nick Jr., a pianist;  Maripaz, a nurse; Roland, an engineer; and Deanna Marie, an architecture graduate.

When we were in high school, the musical movies we watched were Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Carousel, Brigadoon, Showboat, The Music Man, and the like. My favorite was, and still is The Music Man.

It was first produced at the Majestic Theater in New York on Dec. 19, 1957, with Robert Preston as Harold Hill and Barbara Cook as Marion the librarian. Later it was made into a movie, which became famous as that which beat West Side Story at the Oscars. Oh dear, they don’t make musicals like these any more!

In the movie version, Preston, as Hill is a fly-by-night con-artist/salesman whose racket is to go from town to town, then abscond the money the townspeople give him for the purchase of   instruments to teach music to a boys’ band.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t know music. His nemesis is Shirley Jones (beautiful, beautiful Shirley Jones) as Marian the librarian, the only person in town who knows everything about music.

The movie is just a whole lot of fun. It has for its line-up of brilliant songs Lida Rose and Ice Cream by the Buffalo Bills, Goodnight, My Love, Till There Was You and a host of others. 

At the opening scene of the movie (set circa 1912), you are treated to a wonderful ride of rhythm and song (many years later, I realized it was a forerunner of the rap!).

Aboard the train are salesmen talking about Hill’s modus operandi, without realizing he is also one of the passengers.

Hill gets off at River City and at the town hall, arouses the enthusiasm of town officials led by the mayor for starting a boy band. He expounds on his proposal until the kids and their parents get infected with his enthusiasm.

He tries to impress Marian by telling her he is a music professor, a graduate of Gary Indiana University Class 1905. He tries to convince her that he is infatuated with her (so she won’t see through his façade). All the while, however, Hill keeps his enthusiasm for the band project and goes about town soliciting confirmation signatures.

Marian, however, discovers through the   library journals that Gary Indiana University was  not established in 1905. She is about to bring this information to the citizens’ attention when  Wells Fargo arrives with the musical instruments and uniforms. The excitement this creates prevents her from talking about Hill. She also realizes she is in love with him. Meanwhile, he makes the boy band a success.

Music Man is not only about being in love. In the moment of reckoning, when one by one the kids blow their trumpets to show that they could play, thereby redeeming Hill, I always have that lump in my throat. Never mind if it is my nth time to watch the movie. As the boys in the stirring finale come out in full regalia, replete with uniforms and musical instruments, I become the incurable parent that I am.

The movie is also about the charms of music. Marion the librarian reminds me of Miss Praxedes Estavillo, whom we fondly call Nana Edeng. She’s our childhood piano teacher in our dear old hometown Vintar.

To keep us from too much river and summer  sun, our parents enrolled us for a very nominal fee under Nana Edeng. It was  said that she just got what  she knew about music from the first wave of American teachers. She danced to our pieces, invited our parents to preview our recital performance, pitted us against our peers and taught us songs of her times for recital intermissions. She not only taught us how to play the piano, but, just like Hill and Marion, trained us to “think music.” 

As I write this, with some lilting melody in the background, I realize how indispensable music is to our family.

Music — from the largo to the legato moments; through the crescendo and decrescendo of the years — will keep us company for life.