Dr

I’m the middle child with a brother above me, and one below, and about five years between each. My older brother was a Nazarene minister who later became a Methodist minister--retired now. My younger brother was in the navy, back when he was young. He’s on disability [now] ‘cause his leg. *[He was in] an accident and his leg swells up all the time; and I guess I call him on retirement, too. And there is me.

My childhood, probably pretty normal for all of the more unusual things I’ve done later. Oh, this is interesting. My mother was having my younger brother out in Northwest Oklahoma, in the area of Woodward. My aunt in Oklahoma City--I stayed with her for about a year while my mother was having the baby and everything. And I already had kinda learned to read when I was three and four. So my aunt--we had a second grade teacher living next door to my aunt--she thought that since I already could read, that I [should] go into the second grade right off.

Yeah, so I did that, and I was the star of the reading class; but I didn’t know anything else. I don’t even know if I could write my name. Um, I probably could spell it; and I couldn’t do any kind of math. I hadn’t had any math other than basic counting, and little easy things. So, when I got back home to Britten, Oklahoma, which is a suburb on the north of Oklahoma City, I went into the second grade, in the middle of the school year. The teacher, interestingly or not, was Mrs. Post. I don’t remember her first name, but she was the sister of Wiley Post+, who was killed in an airplane accident. He’s famous you know, for… um, for um... I can’t even remember what he’s famous for now; but he is famous. Memory is going bad on me. But she had pictures, and all sorts of things to show of his. Your teacher may know who he was.

After that year ended, that lady--Mrs. Post--recommended that I should take the second grade again to catch up on all the other things, and so I did. Then our family moved to, ‘bout when I was in sixth grade, moved to Meeker, Oklahoma, which is just a little north of Shawnee, Oklahoma. Its main claim to fame was relationships with two major league baseball pitchers, famous. Bob Feller came from there; and some of his relatives I met. And then this house, just on the outsets of this little town, kind of farm house with nineteen acres or something, used to belong to Pepper Martin -- who is also a baseball pitcher in major leagues way back. So, that was interesting. We stayed there only about a year, year and a half or so.

Then we moved to Bethany, Oklahoma, which is about seven miles west of Oklahoma City. The next town beyond us about seven more miles, was Yukon, Oklahoma where Garth Brooks *(chuckles) grew up. Anyway, Bethany, Oklahoma was just a suburb then; and I went to high school [and] graduated there.

Well, I had--since way back--been interested in music, you know. I had a few piano lessons, and I learned to play the accordion, somewhere in there. Then in high school I started on violin in string class; but I hated the sound next to my ear while I was practicing. And so the girl that was playing the only cello they had, she quit; and I asked if I could try that, and I did. Our band director that started this little string group was the band director for the 45th Infantry Division, the big reserve unit in Oklahoma City. They were called up to Korea; and the instruments apparently went with him, and so that was that.

We managed to borrow a cello from a little Nazarene college there [in] Bethany; it’s now Southern Nazarene, I think. So I kept playing, virtually without a teacher, learning on my own ‘cause I already played piano. I finally got a teacher when I was about a junior in high school, and got in the Junior Symphony in Oklahoma City, which was a big deal. Then I went on to Oklahoma City University. Got scholarships there, and I was [a piano] accompanist for a lot of people. I played cello in the orchestra and so on. My sophomore year I got into the Oklahoma Symphony which was a big deal, and I have a lot of stories about that, but I won’t bore you with them.

So I played there; and when I graduated from college in ‘57, I was offered a teaching job in a K through eight, small suburban school outside of Oklahoma County. It wasn’t part of their school system; it was in a rich area where a country club was, and all that. I was the general music teacher. I had to teach music classes. Each grade would come to me twice a week; we had a music room. And then I had to teach beginning and advanced band, beginning and advanced strings. The advanced groups were advanced because they’d already had one year. They weren’t very advanced. Anyway, I did that. I also had to coach women’s sports, mostly seventh and eighth graders--basketball, and softball, and track--in the seasons, you know.

I was so overwhelmed with all of this, I was sick at my stomach every morning thinking about having to go over there. I mean, I enjoyed all of the kids and all of that, but I didn’t feel prepared for that. It was just too much for me. I decided I didn’t want to go into music.

A friend of mine went into officer training with the Marine Corps and suggested I should try that; so I did. Some people thought that I was crazy, and some other people said, “Gee, I wish I could do that.” But you know, there was a lot of stigma in those days ‘cause women in the Marines. They had nicknames. I don’t know whether you should put this in your article, [so] I’d better not say. Anyway, they had nicknames for all of the women’s services. Marines didn’t have one. It was just “lady Marines.” I mean a lot of ‘em called us “Bams,” but you’ll have to figure out what that is.

The pay was very low. In those days all wages were a lot lower than what they are now. But we got this extra money for apartment rent [and] food, you know. Anyway, um, all I know is that the officers made more than the enlisted. It wasn’t great pay for the enlisted, but you had so much furnished. The pay looked horrible, it was like maybe two hundred and fifty a month, or something like that; but they had their food and their shelter. If they went into combat, they were given extra combat pay and all of that.

I am proud that [men did not get paid anymore than women did] in the Marine Corps. Even back then a second lieutenant that’s new, gets the same whether their men or women. It was the law, even then, that we get the same pay.

I joined up and went a whole summer--that’s where they get the phrase “Ninety day wonder”--‘cause I went for twelve weeks in the summer, and then we were commissioned and moved to second lieutenants. Then we went for six weeks more to learn how to be an officer. So that’s why they say, “Ninety day wonders.” It was Quantico, Virginia, where all Marine officers are trained; and the FBI academy is there. So, it’s real interesting place.

Anyway, after I finished that, they sent me to Norfolk, Virginia, the big Navy base there. [After those twelve weeks], I took my cello back. I was starting to miss music so much. So I played in the little chapel on Sundays with the organ back behind the audience -- up in the balcony, like they are in a lot of churches.

But there was a small former prisoner of war camp outside of that base, Camp Elmore, I think it was, where the Marines were housed. The Admiral in charge of the Atlantic fleet was there, and the Marines were like support people for [him]. I was executive officer, which is second in command, not first. I had a woman captain in charge. Most of the women--there were about fifty of them, I think--they all lived in the barracks right there in the camp, and worked over a little ways from there, not very far at all. In those days, we’re talking ‘58, ‘59, somewhere in there. They were all secretaries, and coffee pourers, and stuff like that. Not like today; but they enlisted people. And the officers were either working with women’s troops, you know, as a commander or executive officer, or they were in communications, with code and all that kind of stuff.

We never had to carry a gun at all. I remember one occasion during the training when we had to wear fatigues, and a canteen, and a helmet. They took us by bus out to this remote area on the base, where they trained with weapons and stuff. We sat on the bleachers on the top of the hill while we watched them zap tanks and stuff in the valley below. That’s as close as I got to anything like that. [Those] first twelve weeks, before we were officers, that was kind of rough; but not like what the enlisted people have to go through today.

We drilled every morning for two hours, but it was like being in a marching band, you know. It was a huge parking lot, and we had male DI’s, drill instructors. They were sergeant majors, and they picked them very carefully for us. They picked married men, and they were not allowed to cuss or use any bad words. You could just see some of ‘em when they were frustrated [when] we did something all wrong. They would just turn purple, trying not to say anything.

They’d ring a bell and wake us up at something like five in the morning. I can’t remember when, ungodly hour. We were in barracks, ’cause we were still not lieutenants yet. So, we had this big room with a bunch of barracks, uppers and lowers, you know. We had to all wake up, do our teeth, and all that stuff, and then get dressed and make our beds. And the beds had to be made just so. You learned how to fold the corners just so, and pull ‘em tight so that [the officers would] come along and bounce a quarter on the bed; and if it didn’t bounce, they’d tear it off, and you had to do it all over again.

Then we’d stand at the end of the beds for inspection, and they’d come through and criticize our uniform if there was anything wrong with it--a wrinkle, or the emblems turned the wrong way, or something. We’d get written up for that.

We had [to wear] summer uniforms and winter uniforms, and we had dress whites and dress blues. Then for ordinary days, we had kinda khaki colored uniforms, and you had your emblems and stuff. I don’t care for ‘em much. Then you had your little cap. But after you’re commissioned and all of that, you had dress blues, which I wore all of the time on the recruiting business. And then dress whites [were] really spiffy. The guys in the Army and the Marines [looked] fancy with all their medals and everything. And you’d never see them in that [other than] at a huge, important party.

[I didn’t have any medals] because we didn’t have combat. I’m sure there might have been a good conduct medal or something like that, but since we weren’t in combat there’s no Purple Hearts, you know, none of that. But a lot of the women did have medals. As you go up in rank, you get medals.

[Anyway], in those days, our fatigues, which were kind of olive green color, were slacks and a shirt. When we did recreation like sports and stuff, we had to have a uniform for that. They gave us these, I don’t know what you would call them, they weren’t culottes. They were a drab tan color, crinkly material, and all in one piece. And I don’t know what you call that, elastic legs. They were short, but they were gosh awful looking.

There used to be a television show in Chicago, before Oprah Winfrey started up, that was Don McNeal and his Breakfast Club, or something like that. It was a radio show. My mother came to visit me; I was in the military at that time. She came to visit me and wanted to go see that ‘cause she listened to that all the time. When you go in [to the radio show], they ask you to fill out this little card. They ask for the most embarrassing thing or something like that, and then they pick out two or three people to bring up and interview. So I told ‘em about the time during basic officer training, [when] I was the squad leader for the day. That meant I had to give the commands for marching. I had to march them down the street, and turn a corner; and it was only about half a block to the mess hall. Our barracks was right on the Potomac River. So I gave the command to, “Call ‘em right,” and it should have been “Call ‘em left.” I gave ‘em the wrong one, and they were marching toward the Potomac [which is] only a few feet away. [And it turned out that] that was what they picked me to come up for [and be on the show].

[I’d have to say the best part of being in the military was] the life in general at Norfolk. I lived on the Navy base [in] my own apartment in the special BOQ, that’s Bachelor’s Officer’s Quarters, with the high ranking officers. And then, that street had all these southern mansions where the admirals lived. Then there was a country club at the end of the road. I loved to go down to Admirals Road, to the country club and have lobster tail that was flown in by Marine plane directly from Maine. [Food] for the officers was great. Now, as the enlisted, [you would eat in] the mess halls. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite the same.

I’d drive to camp Elmore, and had office hours, [from] eight to five or something. I had to teach classes with the ladies--things like protocol, or the history of the Marine Band. We were supposed to always keep educating them. While I was there, I took some courses myself; correspondence courses that qualified me to be a prosecutor, or defender, you know, for court marshals, the lower level of court marshals. [The punishments were different for women than for men, though.] For the men, they had to carry two buckets full of water [with arms] extended for maybe an hour or something; and they’d have to do push-ups, [but just] for minor stuff. They never made us women [do] something like that. They were extra careful with the women in those days. So, I think now the women have to do pretty much everything the men do, just about. But, [I didn’t do the] big ones. They used real lawyers for the serious ones.

[Anyways, after classes], then I’d go back home and back to the officer’s quarters [for] dinner. I did a lot of things [in my free time]. We’d go to movies, and I was playing in the symphony, and they had rehearsals often in the evenings. We’d go to parties -- different people would have parties. And I remember at Christmas time in our officer’s quarters at Norfolk, there was a Puerto Rican girl there. She was [a] communication officer. When a troop carrier went to Puerto Rico, she’d ride along and she’d bring back Puerto Rican rum. She [would be] making eggnog [and she’d say], “Oh this needs a little more,” you know, and then she’d taste [it]. She was drunk by the time she (laugh) finished making the eggnog. But anyways, [I would go to] movies, and parties, and just hang out, you know.

[I also would] go out, you know, to dates and whatever. I remember one time, this small Marine airbase was not too far from the Navy base, and some of the people said, “Why don’t you go to choir practice with us?” Being interested with music I thought, “Well, that sounds like a fun thing.” It was an evening thing and I was off work, so I went with them and we walked into this typical tavern bar; and there was a guy at the piano passing around little song books. He’d sing, “Roll me over,” you know, (chuckle) and we were singing songs like that. It wasn’t what I thought it was at all. They called it “choir practice.”

[While] in Norfolk, I was put in charge of the women’s sports team. We had a basketball team, and a softball team, and so on. Since I had done some of that, they made me officer in charge. I actually got a WAVE officer to coach the basketball team; she was more experienced than me. But I was in charge of making all the arrangements for tours, you know. We’d go to an Army base and play them, or another Marine base, and we traveled a lot.

I dated some. One Navy dentist took me for a dinner on a ship with the officers, and then he took me on this huge carrier; I think it was called Enterprise, and it was like a city in its own. So, I got to do some interesting things that way. [But they did have some restrictions on dating]. Officers were not supposed to fraternize with non-officers. And so, the non-officers had their own clubs. [I] dated a sergeant, [and] I felt I was going to be caught the whole time. He took me to the enlisted people’s club; of course, I didn’t wear my uniform so nobody probably knew. But I felt so guilty about that; I stopped doing that.

Generally, [men treated me] good; particularly since I was an officer. They couldn’t do anything, you know, without getting reported and court marshaled and all that. Some of [the male officers] resented me being there. But they were generally gentlemen and polite. Some of ‘em were kind of abrupt, and you knew that was one that wished you weren’t there.

[Women] were not allowed to be near a combat situation. We were supposed to be the backup. We were supposed to take a secretary job, or pour coffee, you know, so that the men could go to battle. Some of the men resented that, too.

[There were some blacks in the military], but not near like it is today. I’m trying to remember if they were integrated or not. Honestly, I can’t remember that. There was a sprinkle of ‘em, and I think a lot of ‘em were kept in their own companies or whatever. I’m not really sure about that. This was from ‘58 to ‘61 or so, there must have been.

[Anyway], after Norfolk, they called me--I didn’t even serve my two years, which is an unusual thing--they called me after ‘bout a year and they ordered me to New Orleans for officer recruiting. I [took] my cello with me and found an amateur orchestra [and some string quartets] I could play with. I had decided by that time that music was my thing, and I would be sorry forever if I didn’t do it. But I’m glad that happened because I really appreciated it, and I knew that that’s what I wanted to do.

I didn’t recruit people to boot camp or enlisted, you know, privates and that. I only recruited officer material to sign up for that training program I had gone through. They had to at least be a college graduate, or within a year of it. I had five states to cover: Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, Texas, and Kansas; I had a secretary traveling with me, and she did everything else -- took fingerprints of the people who applied, and photographs, and filled out the papers and all of that stuff. I was only visiting college campuses. I understand that today that would be very hard ‘cause [of the] anti-military stuff on the college. Anyway, that’s what I did for another two years. I signed on for an extra year to continue doing that.

We worked in a tall kind of a high-rise building. We had a whole floor, and the Navy had a couple of floors above us. We didn’t live on a base, we got subsistence pay, you know, for compensations, so we could rent an apartment or whatever. I really enjoyed that. I lived in an apartment in what they called the Garden District, it was near Tulane University; but most of the time [I lived in] the French Quarter, and that was fun. The first place [I lived] was right on the parade route for all of Mardi Gras. It was the second floor. We had a balcony, and we’d lower baskets down and they would put these trinkets and stuff [in the baskets]. Or if we ordered something from the bakery, they’d [put it in the basket]. That was a fun [time], it really was.

Then I got out of the Marine Corps, and I had tried out [on] cello to study with a teacher at LSU in Baton Rouge. I got a grad assistantship to play piano for the opera, you know, help with accompanying and stuff like that. So, I was all set up in June of ‘61. In July, my cello teacher called me up and said, “I’m leaving LSU. I’m going to Ohio State in Columbus, Ohio.” [I wanted to go up there with him], but it was too late for me to get an assistantship up there. So, I [and] a couple of the guys with me, that were also his students, transferred up there.

The first year I couldn’t go to school because I didn’t have the scholarships. So, I got an apartment and I just worked as a secretary in the office of the state board of embalmers and funeral directors. That was another interesting experience, but I won’t go into that. I got the assistantship in for the next two years working on my Master’s Degree [in] cello, and Master of Arts. [While attending Ohio State, the Marines] sent me papers and asked [me] to go get a physical [so that I could be] promoted to captain. That’s not what I wanted to do anymore, and so I declined.

After that, I got a job offer in Chicago to teach music. In Chicago [there were] about nine junior colleges spread all over the city, and they’re under the offices of the Chicago Board of Education instead of under the Regents like here in Kansas, so we’re part of the same system over at the high school and grade school. It was [the] Woodrow Wilson Art Institute, and I taught general music classes with the majors there. I [taught there for] two or three years.

I was playing in several orchestras around Chicago at the time. I was playing in the Chicago Civic Orchestra, and studying with the beautiful cellist of the Chicago Symphony. I [also] played with the Chicago Chamber Orchestra which was a smaller group that played all over the city, but professionally, so we got paid.

After I left Chicago, I went back to Oklahoma City to play in the symphony again. But this time in the core group, you know, that you rehearse like five, six days a week and play a lot of gigs and everything. [I] did that for a couple of years, and now we’re up to about ’69. During the summers, the off-season for the orchestra, I was working as a secretary in the Oklahoma City Treasurer’s Office writing big checks for millions of dollars and stuff like that. That was fun.

I taught at Morning Side College in Sioux City, Iowa, and played principle cello in the symphony there for about seven years. I started going down for the summers to work on my doctorate [in Iowa], and then in ‘77 I took a sabbatical to go down there and do my year of residency. I started with a double major because I was interested in conducting by that time. So I conducted a lot of things, and I did four cello recitals of various types. That was all in that one year.

I got a call from the chairman of the music department here at Pitt State. I had applied at KU for a cello job, and the head of the department here, Millender Lang, at the time, had called up to KU. The head of the department up there was a good friend of his; and [he] asked if [any of] the cello applicants [were conductors]. And so they called me, and I came down here in July of ‘78 and auditioned. They got together a little orchestra for me to conduct; and I had to play cello, and I had to teach a lesson in front of people, and interview with various groups, and all of that. Before I left, at the end of that day, they offered me the position. I taught [for] twenty-three years. [I] taught cello at the university and lots of other classes. I’ve been retired four years now.

[Looking back], I’m not sure [if I would want to go into the military again]. You know, I certainly would want to be an officer. With all the battle stuff, now I’m not capable. Anyway, “No,” I don’t know if I would have done it if today’s conditions were back then. I don’t know. On the other hand, something terrible like 9-11, I might have wanted to. I don’t know.

There were several [benefits I received from my experience in the military]; most of all, confidence and leadership, which stood me in good stead being a conductor. Some of our training was speech classes, and some of it was leadership courses. I was a real shy, quiet person all the way through school; and that just really brought me out of it. I’m grateful for that, and I did enjoy my time there. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. It was a great experience.

[Currently], I’m teaching private cello and bass students here, and that’s about it. I part-time teach a little bit to keep my hand in there, and I play a little bit. And, so that’s what I do now.

I learned twelve, fifteen years ago about this all woman American Legion post; the only one in Kansas I think, and only a few in the country. Anyway, so I joined that a long time ago. I’ve just enjoyed it. It’s a nice change of pace for me; getting to know different people. [The Betty Lou Vilmer Post is] an American Legion Post, and like I said, it’s the only all woman post. The men’s post is the Benjamin Fuller number sixty-something. We’re three ninety-four. We meet and have our activities in the same building that the men do, but at different times. They invite us to some of their dinners, and we invite ‘em to some of ours. It’s an all woman post, and there’s supposed to be close to thirty, dues-paying members; but there’s only a hand full--like eight or so--that come to every monthly meeting. Then there’s a few more that show up like for the Christmas party that we had, and some of the ones we haven’t seen in a long time will come. It’s a small group. But, some of these women--Nadine Johnson, she’s been an American Legion member for, like, sixty-one years. She was in the American Legion before she moved down here, and before this Betty Lou Vilmer Post was started. She was one of the charter members, probably one that got it started. She’s eighty-something and she’s just a ball of fire.

[If you want to enter the post you must be] a woman veteran, and the American Legion has this odd thing about you have to have served at the time that war was going on. I only made it by a few days into the beginning of the Vietnam War; but it really had hardly got started. And there’s wars going on all the time, so that’s really not hard to [do]. We just have a good time, you know. We do things for charities, and we ride in some parades around here--the homecoming parades and things like that. We have a good time.

This oral history was researched and prepared by Josh Johnson, spring 2006

*[ ] Indicates words not said by Dr. Carolann Martin

*( ) Indicates actions not said

+ Wiley Post was the first pilot to fly solo around the world. Known for his work in high altitude flying, Post helped develop one of the first pressure suits. He died in a plane crash with the famous American humorist Will Rogers near Point Barrow, Alaska.