1919 Yearbook
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Title
1919 Yearbook
Description
"The man that hath no music in himself.
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds.
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night.
And his affections dark as Krebus.
Let no such man be tBHsted."
Merchant of Venice, Act 5, Sc. 1.
UR neighbors who dwell within hearing distance of screeching
violins, jingling pianos, and strident horns will not accuse us
of falling under Shakespeare's terrible anathema. Sometimes, with a feeling of impatience, they may wish—we all do
—that there were more of the "concord of sweet sounds"; but
surely they dare not say we have no music in our souls.
When four pianos, a half-dozen violins or more, a jazzing saxophone, and a
soft complaining flute are being tortured by men, each of whom is aspiring
to a maximum of volume in order to drown the shrieks and blasts that burst
from the adjoining room, one can hardly expect harmony—heavenly harmony. Sometimes, too, when the day's work is done, and the ordeal of the
third daily visit to the refectory has been passed, and the admirers of the
Lady Nicotine gather at Collin's Smoke House to while away the care-free
hours, the aforesaid neighbors may catch the sad strains of "Sweet Adeline" or the more stirring melody of the "Blue and White" borne to them
upon the evening breeze.
Besides these disorganized dispensers of scales and wails and old sweet
songs, there are certain organizations whose official business it is to thrust
music upon the vulgar rabble less favored by the heavenly Muse. Due consideration, however, for the established order of things restrains them from
drawing, Orpheus-like, "trees, stones, and floods" and other senseless things
under the spell of their charm. The Orchestra, under the efficient and
inspiring direction of Mr. Wm. Paarmann, who has guided the destiny of
that body for some ten years, has given its services on numerous occasions
both within the College and in other histitutions of Davenport. The Choir,
though smaller than usual*and sadly wanting in voices that can rumble in
the bass clef, has not failed to add dignity and beauty to the divine services. The lack of basses that handicapped the Choir made a glee club impossible. But we were singularly favored with tenors, who graced many
a program. We beg you, young Ambrosians, to descend into the depths
of your vocal cellarage during the summer months and to bring back in
September a voice that can sound all the depths and shoals of the octaves
below middle C. If you find it impossible to do this, bring back a man
who can.
Now we may be overstepping the Editor's niggard allotment oc ppace,
but we refuse to close this paper without giving our readers the name of
the man who has done much to stir up love and enthusiasm for real music
at St. Ambrose. He is none other than Davenport's popular musician and
composer—the composer of "The Kaiser's Dead March" and "The Wild
Rose of Iowa"—Erwin F. Swindell.
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds.
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night.
And his affections dark as Krebus.
Let no such man be tBHsted."
Merchant of Venice, Act 5, Sc. 1.
UR neighbors who dwell within hearing distance of screeching
violins, jingling pianos, and strident horns will not accuse us
of falling under Shakespeare's terrible anathema. Sometimes, with a feeling of impatience, they may wish—we all do
—that there were more of the "concord of sweet sounds"; but
surely they dare not say we have no music in our souls.
When four pianos, a half-dozen violins or more, a jazzing saxophone, and a
soft complaining flute are being tortured by men, each of whom is aspiring
to a maximum of volume in order to drown the shrieks and blasts that burst
from the adjoining room, one can hardly expect harmony—heavenly harmony. Sometimes, too, when the day's work is done, and the ordeal of the
third daily visit to the refectory has been passed, and the admirers of the
Lady Nicotine gather at Collin's Smoke House to while away the care-free
hours, the aforesaid neighbors may catch the sad strains of "Sweet Adeline" or the more stirring melody of the "Blue and White" borne to them
upon the evening breeze.
Besides these disorganized dispensers of scales and wails and old sweet
songs, there are certain organizations whose official business it is to thrust
music upon the vulgar rabble less favored by the heavenly Muse. Due consideration, however, for the established order of things restrains them from
drawing, Orpheus-like, "trees, stones, and floods" and other senseless things
under the spell of their charm. The Orchestra, under the efficient and
inspiring direction of Mr. Wm. Paarmann, who has guided the destiny of
that body for some ten years, has given its services on numerous occasions
both within the College and in other histitutions of Davenport. The Choir,
though smaller than usual*and sadly wanting in voices that can rumble in
the bass clef, has not failed to add dignity and beauty to the divine services. The lack of basses that handicapped the Choir made a glee club impossible. But we were singularly favored with tenors, who graced many
a program. We beg you, young Ambrosians, to descend into the depths
of your vocal cellarage during the summer months and to bring back in
September a voice that can sound all the depths and shoals of the octaves
below middle C. If you find it impossible to do this, bring back a man
who can.
Now we may be overstepping the Editor's niggard allotment oc ppace,
but we refuse to close this paper without giving our readers the name of
the man who has done much to stir up love and enthusiasm for real music
at St. Ambrose. He is none other than Davenport's popular musician and
composer—the composer of "The Kaiser's Dead March" and "The Wild
Rose of Iowa"—Erwin F. Swindell.
Date
1919
Rights
St. Ambrose University, 518 W. Locust St., Davenport, IA 52803
Identifier
http://cdm16810.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/p16810coll2/id/4575