Appreciation: Louise Thorson (1952-2018)

Band instructors Ed Ward and Louise Thorson in 1984.

Midway through the movie, "Whiplash" (2014), Terrence Fletcher, the sadistic, verbally abusive jazz band director played by J.K. Simmons, tells his protégé, Andrew Nieman, (Miles Teller) the story about American jazz saxophonist great, Charlie “Bird” Parker, and how bandleader “Papa” Jo Jones threw a cymbal at the then 16-year-old Parker’s head during a session, “nearly decapitating him.”

“Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax,” Fletcher tells Andrew. “Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fucks it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind, never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he (Parker) goes back to Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best motherfucking solo the world has ever heard.”

Fletcher’s story was only half true thanks to director/screenwriter Damien Chazelle. One would have to see "Whiplash" to understand Chazelle’s reason for having the Parker story slightly exaggerated. The truth is Jones didn’t throw a cymbal at Parker’s head, according to an article on zimbio.com, but threw it at the saxophonist’s feet. The embarrassing incident, however, did influence Parker to practice making certain it never happened again.

I mention the story because I had a “Charlie Parker” moment when I was with the band at St. Louise de Marillac school in La Grange Park, Ill. from fourth to eighth grade (1979-1984). It happened on a Thursday afternoon during a private band practice in seventh grade. There were three of us who were part of the trumpet section. I played the cornet – a smaller slightly obese version of the trumpet, which was thinner and a little longer.

I was second chair. First chair was Roger Veome and third chair was Michael Alberico. For those not familiar with how music sections are set up, the “chairs” so to speak, are not only based on who is the best at playing but to have each chair responsible for playing a different version of music with everyone in the band still in sync.

That school year from 1982-1983 I could honestly say was the year I developed the “I don’t give a shit attitude.” I didn’t care to hang out with the asskissing, goodie-goodie students in my class who never caused trouble.

That “I don’t give a shit” attitude showed when it came to band practice. I rarely opened up my cornet case at home to practice. Thursday mornings and afternoon band practices were the only times I took the instrument out. As a result of my rarely touching the thing on my off time, the three cornet valves sometimes got stuck while playing.

That afternoon, Louise Thorson, the music instructor who taught band along with the head director, Ed Ward, was furious with me. No, Ms. Thorson, as we called her, didn’t throw anything at me the way Jo Jones did during that session with Parker. Given how many times she had to stop the three of us from playing in sync on a piece so she could have me play the same music alone, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she looked for something, anything to throw at me. I do vaguely remember her poking me in the back while she scolded me. Ms. Thorson had me play alone so many times during that hour that Mike wanted to challenge me for my second chair. Ms. Thorson accepted Mike’s request. I don’t remember what exactly she told me standing behind me but it had something to do with my not practicing.

This wasn’t the first time Ms. Thorson got upset with me. Every spring from fourth to eighth grade our band department held an annual solo contest at St. Louise for several grade schools throughout the Chicago area. Up until seventh grade, I always won first place. Such was not the case in seventh grade when I embarrassingly won third place. I remember how during a private session with Ms. Thorson she complained to Mr. Ward how I was not keeping my ring, middle and index fingers on the cornet valves. Mr. Ward sarcastically told her “Well maybe we need to either glue or nail his fingers to the valves so he’ll stop.” Today, such a comment would have drawn laughs but for a 12-year-old like me at that time, coming from Mr. Ward, who during summer band camp one year introduced himself saying, “My name is Ed Ward, also known as the mean guy”, I took the threat seriously.

I didn’t cry myself to sleep that ill-fated Thursday afternoon like Parker supposedly did after that session as Fletcher explained to Andrew in Whiplash. I did have butterflies in my stomach though and not the kind where one is excited but more like the kind one gets bringing home a report card with low grades dreading their parents’ reaction.

I told dad I wanted to quit the band but didn’t cite the reason. Like a typical parent who wants to see their kid participate in either sports or other school activities in order to be more sociable, whether the kid wants to participate or not, dad put the guilt trip on me saying how if I quit the band what else was I going to participate in? The band was practically the only thing I was involved with after school and on weekends during various concerts.

Since quitting wasn’t an option, I did what Parker reportedly did. I practiced at home on various days after school. The idea of my parents suddenly hearing me practice was the equivalent of what they’d do today if they suddenly saw me attend church services on Saturdays or Sundays for no reason. They’d never heard me practice before. So why did I start now?

A few weeks went by before Mike brought up “the challenge” to fight me for second chair. When the subject finally came up, however, I was ready. I had been ready for a few weeks and was actually expecting Ms. Thorson to hold the challenge the following week. This time, things were different. When Ms. Thorson had us play a piece of music I aced the solo without being stopped for not playing out of tune. It was Mike, who was not playing up-to-par.

At the end of the challenge, I got to keep my second chair. It was clear that Mike assumed I wouldn’t take the challenge seriously and not practice so in turn, he most likely didn’t bother practicing. There was no way, if I was going to stay with the band that I was going to lose my position and explain to my parents why I was sitting third in the trumpet section during concerts. Nor was I going to tolerate Mike’s mockery at his winning either.

Not only did I keep my second chair until graduating from St. Louise in May 1984, I again won first place during the 1983-1984 school year in eighth grade in the solo contest.

I suspect Ms. Thorson and Mr. Ward were a little disappointed I won third place the year before. It’s like they put me on some sort of high pedestal. To them, it was ok for others like Mike, for example, to not get first place in the solo contests every year but for someone like me who always won first place in years previous, they always expected to see me come out on top.

I also suspect they were even more disappointed when mom told them upon graduation that I would not continue with the band at my new high school that August in Dallas that year. To be truthful, I probably would have joined the band at Bishop Lynch if I didn’t have to get up at 5 am Monday through Friday to do marching band and play at the football games during halftime on Friday nights.

Ms. Thorson and Mr. Ward left St. Louise about a year after I graduated. Ms. Thorson went on to become head bandleader at St. Cletus School in La Grange Park for thirty years. I learned earlier this month on St. Louise’s Facebook page that she passed away from cancer at the still too young age of only 66. Reading her online obituary I learned one tidbit about her I never knew. She was a lifelong Cubs fan and lived long enough to see the Cubs win the World Series in 2015.

I’ve had a lot of teachers, a few in grade school and high school, who exhibited some trait that made them stand out from all the others. The difference though between them and Ms. Thorson is she, along with Mr. Ward, wanted to see us play to the best of our ability during concerts and the yearly solo contests. Hence the reason she got upset with me that day.

Her scolding me for not playing up to her perfectionist standards and agreeing to Mike’s request to challenge me for second chair was her way of saying, in the words of Terrence Fletcher from "Whiplash," “If you want the fucking part, earn it!”; accept without the F-word since St. Louise was a Catholic grade school.

If Ms. Thorson is reading this now from somewhere in the Heavens she will probably tell me she was not as mean as Terrence Fletcher though I think she will agree with him.

She’d probably tell me exactly what Fletcher told Andrew in the film.

“I wasn't there to conduct. Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is an absolute necessity.”

She’d probably follow that up with another comment Fletcher said where she’d tell me, “There are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job"."

©5/23/18