#27) My Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Hello, and welcome back to "Always Be Better" with Mel Windham. Today I'm going to tell you a true story from my own life -- a success story -- my own fifteen minutes of fame -- one of my fondest memories that I've told very few people.

This happened back in the summer of 1986 when I was a teenager attending the Governor's Honors Program in Valdosta, Georgia. That was six weeks of intense instruction, projects, and lots of fun. Only the best of the best were chosen from all over the state, and I was one of them.

I wrote about it in my daily journal, capturing much of what occurred. And reading it, I've noticed two things. #1) This experience changed my life. My attitude as a whole after the experience was entirely different and full of much more direction. And #2) 90% of what I wrote during the Program concerned my interactions with the people -- the friends I met -- the girls I chased. So yes. While I learned things, I also lived it up.

People who know me in person know how friendly I can be. I can make friends with almost anyone, including people who believe entirely differently than I do. Not only that -- I'm really good at bringing friends together. I don't know how many times I had introduced a girl to a boy, only for them to end up being a thing -- often to my chagrin. And man -- was I a big flirt! People thought I was quirky, but they all mostly liked me.

But enough stage setting -- now I can tell the drama. Are you ready?

I was the only kid in the entire state of Georgia chosen in my subject -- music composition. Yep -- you heard that right. Writing music. When I went for my first day of instruction, I was told the bad news. Mr. H, the guy in charge of the whole music program, told me that since I was the only composer, I was not going to have a regular teacher. I would get a couple of hours a day of music theory instruction along with the other musicians, but other than that, I was expected to sit in a practice room a few hours a day composing while everyone else sat in their classrooms. And then Mr. H left me alone and went to teach his own class.

I was a little miffed, but I stayed busy the whole time. I went to the library to study scores, and I listened to music. I brought a lot of sheet music into the practice room to sightread and learn. Every now and then, the theory teacher would stop in and check up on me -- but no one taught me the important parts I would learn later in college -- counterpoint, voice leading, forms, how to vary thematic material, and so on. I was basically on my own.

First I wrote a ballet for strings and piano -- it took a couple of weeks, and when Mr. H heard about it, he stopped in to take a look. He then told me it was crap and to throw it away. Write something else.

I also wrote a piano piece for a girl named Pepper. It was a quick, pretty piece with some potential, but again -- Mr. H wanted nothing to do with it. Pepper liked it, though. Her boyfriend didn't.

As you may guess, by the time the first three weeks were up, I didn't much like Mr. H that, and he clearly did not like me. On the other hand, the theory teacher was nicer and gave me encouragement.

So, I decided to write something for my violin player friend. His name was Jon, spelled without an H. I wish I could remember his last name -- started with a C -- similar to Corigliano, but not the famous composer. He was the best violin player I knew up to that point. And so I put together a violin fantasy for him. I wanted this to be a multi-movement piece that would make Mr. H proud. It would emulate all the music I had been studying. Beethoven, Schumann, Chopin, Mozart, Bach.

As you might guess, this is the music playing in the background.

It took me about three weeks to put it together. I wrote out the violin part for Jon, but the piano part was all up here in my head. We were ready to play for the last weekly recital, but a few days before that, Mr. H asked to see the music. When I told him it was all in my head, he went ballistic. He went on about how I had been there almost six weeks and had yet to show him anything -- about how I was the worst composer to ever grace the Governor's Honors Program. He said that if I didn't write down the piece on paper before the recital, he wasn't going to let us play it.

I wanted to remind him that I did show the pieces to him that he ignored. I also wanted to remind him that he failed to get me a proper composition teacher to -- you know -- actually teach me what I was doing wrong? But I wasn't much for conflict.

I agreed and I wrote down the music. I showed it to Mr. H the day before the recital, and then he allowed us to play. When word got out that my composition was going to be played, people packed the auditorium. Jon played well and six minutes later, we received a standing ovation. Out of six recitals that summer, we were the only performance to get one. Yay!

We knew our piece was going to be selected for the Honors recital, which was going to happen two days later. The music leaders would choose the best performances from the six weekly recitals, and combine them into one Best of the Best of the Best recital -- when the parents could come one night early and watch us perform.

But our piece was not selected. Mr. H saw to it. Jon was angry, and he almost hit him. 

Jon said to me, "We were the only ones to get a standing ovation. Why are they doing this?"

When I talked with the theory teacher, he told me what the other leaders had said. Just more than half voted not to include our Fantasy. Lois said we used elementary school technique -- she didn't like that we had counted 1, 2, 3, 4 on stage to start the performance. Bond said it didn't have the same caliber as the other pieces on the program. (No duh.) Hoyt said he liked it, but heard the first part somewhere before.

And sure -- they were right. This piece that you're hearing is nothing compared to the likes of Beethoven, Chopin, Ives, and other composers featured in the recital. It was indeed a piece written by an inexperienced composer with very little exposure to contemporary classical music. I wasn't going to fight these teachers who knew what they were talking about. 

But even with my trained ears today, I can still hear plenty of potential in what I wrote. I'm still proud of it and the standing ovation that we received. It was all worth it. I would indeed become a better composer later on in life.

But wait -- Jon wasn't done. I can't remember what happened next, because it happened while I was in Science Minor class, and I missed it all. Jon had held a protest -- he got a lot of kids to skip their Minor classes, and they all went over to convince the music leaders to let Jon and me play the piece.

So, Friday came. My mother was out in the audience. When Jon and I first walked out on stage, everyone clapped loudly -- for a long time. I wasn't sure if it was so much praise for our piece we were about to play, or whether they thought I was such a great guy, or whether they were enjoying this moment of vindication. It didn't matter -- I enjoyed every second of it. Jon and I had to bow before the performance just to get them to stop clapping.

And while we played, the audience was completely silent - a very rare occurrence. As soon as we played our last note, there was an immediate standing ovation -- again we were the only performance to get one. The clapping went on and on, and wouldn't stop. A teacher told us that we needed to go back out. And when the clapping still didn't stop, we had to go out a second time. It was crazy how much the people were getting sucked into the moment!

As Jon and I left backstage, we tried to celebrate, but then I was immediately swarmed by other musicians telling me how great we were. Poor Jon -- they weren't surrounding him so much, even though I believe his great playing helped us to get the standing ovation.

And when we went outside, there were a lot of people waiting for us. We were surrounded by all my new-found friends and other people I didn't even know, and their parents stared at us in amazement. I saw my mother off in the distance -- too far away for me to get to her.

As I went to the dorms, they all followed me. Someone gave me a pen and I started signing autographs while I walked. They just knew that I would be this great composer one day. It was crazy -- like nothing I had ever experienced before or after in my life.

That swarm of people lasted about 15 minutes and then it died down. I was finally able to catch up with my mother, and she was proud.

The next morning, we had a closing meeting with our majors, and Mr. H caught me on the way out. He said, "Listen -- here's some advice. Don't go into music. You better get a day job, because you don't have what it takes."

I think I laughed. Well -- what would you do? Listen to Mr. H? Or would you listen to all the people who clapped and cheered and swarmed around you for autographs? I believe that was the very moment I decided I was never to go without music in my life -- the first time I knew I was going to pursue a major in music composition.

This is just one success story I thought I'd share, and I do have more tales to tell you later, but we'll see. I still have a lot of tools, techniques, and suggestions to share. As you progress through life, you will undoubtedly have your own success stories, and I hope you will cherish them as much as I do mine. And I also hope that we will have many more success stories in our future.

Thank you for watching, and remember -- we can "Always Be Better."