The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1905-05-25
\ FTEN and often my memory
carries me back to the good
7 old times we used to have

~ FTEN and often my memory
carries me back to the good
old times we used to have
"playin' BAN" "back of Hogan's
on Jubilee street, and in fancy l once
more
March to the hum of the rattling drum
And the tune of the tooters ia rum ia dunn.
We were only lot of barefoOted
boys, the sons of men of hard toll, and
but the music we produced could not
be beat. AS 1 review the members"
of that band now, there stands out
first, foremost and most strongly in
my memory, Turtle McCIusky, our
leader and instructor. We called him
"Turt," for short. Red-haired and
freckled he was, but we loved him
none the less for that. Turt wore
store suit-a real boughten suit-while
the rest of us we're arrayed mostly in
made overs. But that is not the reason
we loved him and looked to him as our
ideal. Nay, it was his genius, his
man that appealed to our hearts. Be-
sides Turf, there was Bert Ward, the
three Dample brothers, Perry Heinze,
Clifford Masters and myself.
In those days my hair had the vicious
habit of standing straight up like a
porcupine's, and absolutely refused to
be controlled by brush or comb. So
they dubbed me "Bristles," which was
soon Abbreviated to "Briss,' = and thus it
remained until the "band" of Jubilee
street ceased to exist. There were
varied instruments" of more or less
noise in the band; an old tin boiler SER
we'd as bass drum; couple of New
York State apple cans took the places
of snare drums; one or two brass trum-
pets; a tin flute; a jew's-harp; and a
mouth-organ with only one whole side
and five good reeds left.
Turt had played all these instruments
successfully. The musical notes he
could coax out of that fve-reeded har-
monica was most wonderful. No one
like him could produce such a feast of
sounds from brass trumpet or tin
flute. And to see him standing before
his little band, guiding each and all
with nod OF the head or wave of
the hand, was sight to be remem-
bered forever.
One day he astonished US all by pro-
ducing little homemade fiddle and
bow. Every part of that fiddle, except
the strings, was his own handiwork. 1t
was white and unvarnished, had only
three strings, and was no doubt full of
faults; but we saw them not.
"Play us tune, TurtW we cried, as
with one voice. He strutted over to
an upturned dry goods box, mounted
it and struck an attitude. Just pride
was in his every movement, and his
pride was ours. We followed him
with fascinated eyes. He elevated the
fiddle slowly, and majestically, and
passed the little unshapely bow over the
strings. The sound thrilled us through
and through. Then we all joined in
and the noise could be heard many
blocks away.
Then came that eventful evening ot
an election day when Alderman Priel
personally invited us to march in tht
torchlight procession and play oul
liveliest airs. How proudly W.
marched behind our adored Turf! Oul
cheeks were rosy with pride and pleas
ure, and our eyes shone with happiness
But the climax came later when Tur
showed us five dollar bill which wa
to be divided between the member
who participated in the parade.
Those we're great days on Jubile,
street. But all days come to an end
and so did those. The elder McCluske,
was killed in an accident, and an un
Gle OF Turf carried our dear bandmas
ter away. We followed him to tn
station and bid him goodbye witt
moist eyes. He wept little himsel
at parting but, manlike, he tried t.
hide his tears.
The years rolled on, and the ban,