--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Evans, John Henry collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 18 number: 8 published: 1915-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'John Henry Evans, "To Soothe the Savage Breast: A Story," *Improvement Era* 18, no. 8 (June 1915): 698–705.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1808unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1808unse start_page: 698 end_page: 705 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1915-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1808unse publication_year: 1915 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1915, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # To Soothe the Savage Breast: A Story To Soothe the Savage Breast How a Musician Conquered the Boys BY JOHN HENRY EVANS The young hoodlums of Red Horse Bend were out for a lark. A lark is not what it is generally supposed to be. Thus much it is necessary to say for the benefit of those who do not live in Red Horse Bend. But in this respect a lark is not peculiar. Nothing in Boyville is what it is supposed to be. A lark resem- bles little that is in the heavens above, on the earth beneath, nor yet, as we might be led to believe from the nature of the phrase, in the waters underneath the earth. Only a boy can have a lark. Whoever heard of a grown man or of a girl having a lark ? Not even Jules Verne imagined such a thing. But how could a single boy have a lark? Clearly the thing is impossible, like an intelli- gent American jury. It takes more than one boy to have a lark, and the more the better. And then, too, larks vary in size. The hoodlums of Red Horse Bend were out for a big lark. There were twenty of them. Now, twenty toughs can make things a good deal livelier than, say, nineteen. Especially if they live in Red Horse Bend and are out after larks. There was young Sykes, for instance. He was eighteen. He had experi- — enced all the emotions of Larkdom from merely riding inno- cently through the streets raising dust and cane and yelling like a Comanche, to picking the heads off the farmers' laying hens — Sykes could always tell a laying hen with a Colt's six-shooter, and riding his horse into the saloon at Mudville when the con- stable was looking for him in his native haunts. That was one extreme. At the other end of the line-up was he whom the fellows called Snooks. He was called Snooks because the name he went by in the family circle was Frank. Snooks was only fourteen. He contented himself with gathering courage and en- ergy from a crowd. Likewise he admired the spectacular per- formances of his more daring chief and looked forward hopefully to the time when he might imitate them in a small way. For — Sykes was unique like the man who could hit a bull's eye. And then there were all the degrees between. Oly, who had been — — named Moroni, after a long time after the Book of Mormon general, because his father had been called out by Brigham — Young to guard the mail route Oly could pass along the dusty thoroughfares of Red Horse Bend with the celerity of greased lightning, but he balked at exchanging carriage wheels and re- moving wagon burs. In the case of Spickety, whose natural appellation was an unromantic John, the line was carefully drawn at riding into the Mudville saloon. The other sixteen had equally — discriminating taste except when alone. The toughs of Red Horse Bend always wound up their night's escapades with an unannounced visit to Theodore Thun- derbust. That was not his real name, either. But whoever went by his true name in Boyville, whether he belonged to the elect or not ? One reason they called him Thunderbust was that that was ' not his name. And another reason lay in the fact that he was the — opposite of a thunderbust whatever that may be. Aurelius Edersheim, for that was what he went by when his name was presented before the ward as leader of the choir, was a German, as one might easily, guess from his name. A thin, wiry little man, his one distinguishing characteristic was a fringe of reddish hair just below a huge bald spot. This border ornament he always kept long. The truth is that at one time he wore a Pader- ewski topnot, but the upper part had prematurely disappeared burnt off, the boys declared. And if the whole truth must be known, it was that fringe, joined with the color, that was poor Edersheim's undoing. Moreover, he had a fiery temper, which, in the presence of the toughs of the Bend, had exploded more than ,once. The boys were always provoking another explosion for that reason. On their periodical visits to him he would come — out, after a time, it always took time to lead up to the explosion — and with flourishings and gesticulations and more noise than you would expect from so small a body, he danced about angrily on the rickety old platform that served as a front porch to his lumber shack. All of which was immensely amusing. If they had finished their business early in the night, the Red Horse Benders made their appearance at Thunderbust's about eleven o'clock. But late or early, they were sure to appear. Tonight they came early. Their other affairs hadn't turned out as they had planned. — Old Skeezics he had another name, — too had come out of the house with an army of dogs before the fellows could so much as get a hand on a ripe watermelon. Then, besides, old Spoopindyke — everybody was "old" in the Bend had literally camped in his new buggy with a shotgun, loaded, the boys knew, with the genuine article, for he had a reputation which he tried to live up to. So they had to shy his premises. And it was too late by this time to string wires across the board sidewalk in the quarter of the town known as the Street. They therefore turned to the old pasture. Theodore Thunderbust's temperament and nerves could always be depended upon. Not once in all the years had they been disappointed. Their usual mode of announcing their approach was by the ingenious device known as the tick-tack. — One lad usually it was Sykes, for the thing required art as well as courage — walked 700 IMPROVKMKNT KRA gingerly up to the front window, held to the glass a well-milled spool, and pulled a yard or so of twine in jerks of various lengths. The result was a sound which would have astonished the inventors of the approved instruments for rending the air. This delicate task performed, the perpetrator would retire to a safe distance. Whereupon the band would strike up. It is extremely doubtful whether there was ever^such a band. The music began with the tender and soothing strains of the jews-harp, accompanied by a subdued thrumming on a small tin lard-can. Three mouth-organs in as many different keys came in the proper moment. at The lard-cans accompanying these instruments were of the same make as the others, but larger. A third variety of instrument consisted of seven trumpets, such as Santa Claus throws down the chimney on Christmas night, and four tin whistles. Here the accompaniment was three five-gallon oil cans. The rest of the crowd of musicians employed them- selves with a chorus in a species of language, composed, perhaps I should say invented, for the occasion, and heard only in sere- nades on the volcanic Theodore. Clearly this aggregation of young men possessed a delicately trained ear and had withal a sense of propriety that was truly touching! They blew, they beat, they twanged, they sang till they were out of wind. Then, in sheer exhaustion, they paused. There was absolute silence for the space that it takes a Salt Lake City street worker to move a shovelful of earth. The following whis- pered colloquy occurred "Aw, the guy ain't to home!" "Course 'e is! Can't ye see the light?" !" "Shut up— he'll hear you "Let's give 'im another He's applaudin' silent for an apple- ! core!" And thereupon the selection was repeated with additional flourishes — all except the prelude on the window pane. That was _ too risky, for there was no telling what might come of it. No Theodore Thunderbust! What could be the matter? They felt something akin to insult. They had never been cheated here before! That he was at home there could be no lingering doubt. May be he was meditating! He had been known to meditate. They would better look sharp. Meantime, they kept up their concert till they were almost' out of breath again. At last the obstinate Aurelius came out! The appearance of Edersheim was the signal for what is — known to musicians as a crescendo run only, the run was a gallop on the level instead of uphill. Whether through lack of breath or because thev had all got the same idea at the same time, will never be known." At any rate, they presently stopped short. staring at the slender figure before them as they had previously stared at the door. The amusing Thunderbust was not amusing any more. He was not trying to be amusing. On the contrary, he wore what — was intended for a smile something wholly unprecedented in him. He did not raise a hand, he did not raise a voice, in protest. It was unbelievable. "I blay you a tune !" he said, going into the house. He came out again with a chair in one hand and a violin in the other. And there, the moonlight shining full on his face, he played in such a way as put the twenty hoodlums into a trance. He had been first violinist, and then leader, in a famous Berlin orchestra. He therefore knew how to play as the Western val- leys had never heard. The notes rose and fell in the moonlit night in a confusion of melody which the same tones could never have produced in another setting. The very contrast from what the boys expected would of itself have produced a silence, which the strains of the sweetest of all instruments took advantage of to steal upon their surprised spirits. The single tune finished, the enchanted crowd clapped their approval and demanded more. But the musician invited them into the shanty. The night was full of surprises. They looked questioningly at one another. This was going some. Was the old blatherskite going to lure them into his trap of a house and then set fire to it ? "Come an !" he ordered brokenly. But nobody would venture forth. They continued to stare at one another. They challenged one another. They bawled one another out. One would have thought who did not know the innocence of Edersheim, that he was placing before them the alternative of certain death. At last the heroic figure of Sykes broke away from the gang. Dropping his five-gallon oil can, he dashed ahead with mock indif- ference, crying back to the others, "Come on, fellows!" And they all filed into the small house with an air of defying the Fates, as who should say, "If the house is to be blowed up, !" he'llbe blowed up, too "How you vould like to play in de band?" Edersheim asked, looking around on the crowd of apprehensive boys. "I teach you." There was a spontaneous show of twenty sets of white teeth. "I mean it!" the little man went on. "You could learn. You like music —no?" With evident thoughts of the instruments still outside, the boys chorused a loud horse laugh. But the choir leader persisted. "You could take the cornet and you de trombone," he said, going through the list of band in- struments, pointing out flourishingly a boy each time, and making with his hands the motions of playing each instrument as he named it. The only result of this piece of musical dramatics was a series of remarks from the boys, .the upshot of which was to show how this, that or the other fellow would look blowing this, that or the other instrument, accompanied each time by vociferous jibes and laughter. "Ned would rather play the jewsharp," said one. "Do they have jewsharps in a band?" And another, "Sykes would blow himself through the hole in one of them brass effects, wouldn't he?" He appealed to the rest for confirmation. Shot after shot after this fashion was fired, Aurelius laugh- ing with the boys. He did not lose patience. He waited till all the shots were sent to lodge where they might, and the ammunition bag was empty. Then he ventured "Sure ! I teach you anything Vat you say ?" ! He looked appealingly at Sykes. Sykes, in fact, looked the leader. Besides, the musician may have observed that he had led the boys into the house. There is really no essential difference between humans and sheep on the inside. Aurelius Edersheim — knew this none better. So he addressed the gang leader. Sykes thereupon made an elaborate show of reflection, was accordingly laughted at, and therefore rebuked the offenders for doing so. Presently he said "All right, we join the band!" This decision was noisily applauded. — "Good !" cried the little man, "dat's right you vill like it very much, I am sure." "When shall we start the band?" one of the boys wanted to know. "Right avay — soon you get the instruments." "Couldn't we use our old ones?" some one broke out afresh. With the least encouragement another bombardment of bucolic wit and humor would have occurred, but it was imme- diately quelled by a stern, "You guys, shut up !" from the leader. The question of the instruments brought up the first real difficulty of the evening, and with this first difficulty the boys set- tled down to business at once as they had never done before. Where was the money to come from ? That was a grave question. Several plans were proposed. One of the boys suggested that they pass round a subscription paper, as was done when the Thompson house burned down. The musician proposed that a series of ward entertainments be gotten up for the purpose for which a small admission be charged. Skyes settled the matter, how- ever, when he said that every guy was to buy his own instrument and that this band was not to be beholden to anybody outside. "I ain't got nothin' to raise money on !" three objected. "Get somethin' !" was the answer. It remained only for Edersheim now to ascertain how many and what instruments were needed and how much they would cost. Then the fellows went home, each one as he passed out solemnly shaking hands over the matter with both Sykes and the — — musician in token that "you haf vat you say ratify?" The boys found the matter of raising the money even easier than they had expected. Every one was eager to help them. But all aid the boys steadfastly refused to accept. They had given their word to their chief. However, they found readier buyers for their wares and more money than they could have obtained otherwise. Sykes sold his horse. It was, he said, like getting rid of his eye teeth. But he delivered the animal to its new owner and received seventy-five dollars in his hand. Others also dis- posed of their horses. Still others sold crops which they had done extra work for and which they were expecting to sell for quite different purposes. Three of the boys, as they themselves had already confessed, had nothing of their own which they could turn into money. But they worked at odd hours for their neigh- bors in order to raise their share. Even then they had to be helped by some of the other fellows who had been able to raise more than their allotment. It was a joyous day when the instru- ments were sent for with money that had been so hardly earned. Never before had there been such a winter spent in Red Horse Bend ! — Skeezics had no more to tie his hounds purchased for the occasion — round his haystack, lest at any moment in the night the earnings of a whole summer might go up to the sky in smoke. Spoopindyke no more campecl in his buggy of an evening or took it piecemeal into the kitchen in order to be sure he could set his eyes on it in the morning. Aurelius Edersheim, when he was not at choir practice or training the boys in the mysteries of the wind instrument, could lie down to quiet slumbers with absolute assurance that no disturbance would be likely to occur more violent than his own snoring. Even the Mudville saloon, which had no license either from the town council or the invisible powers of the air to exist utterly free from molestation, went on as quietly as if it had been an undertaking establishment in name as well as in reality. Instead, twenty young, wild men were wrestling with brass things that would not accommodate themselves to their hands with anything like the ease which bridle reins had been wont to do. The long winter nights sped by for them in sweat and bulging cheeks and tousled hair. It was incredibly hard, but the boys stuck to their task with a perseverance worthy of young men who had done what they had. They made headway, of course, but slowly. They had to. For every practice night— and that was every night when the meetinghouse was not otherwise occupied —the place was filled with interested spectators. There was so little in Red Horse Bend to amuse the young folks that this was a scene of perpetual wonder and delight both to them and to the older ones. And the boys felt that under the eyes of so interested and sympathetic a crowd they could not but do their best. It was not till the next summer, however, that Red Horse Bend fully sensed the change that had come over the community by reason of the work the choir leader had done for the boys, and their full pride in the town. And the event that brought it to this realizing sense was the Fourth of July celebration. The celebration was held at Red Horse Bend. It would have been held at any one of five other places but for the fact that Red Horse Bend had a band. For the six communities joined in the festivities. The band at once raised Red Horse Bend to the greatest importance among the villages of Moon Valley. At the celebration everything done paled into insignificance compared with the Brass Band. What was the Declaration of Independ- ence by comparison, to the reading of which no one paid the slightest attention amid the crying of babies, the vociferous de- mands of the lemonade man outside who wanted to be patronized. Declaration or no Declaration, and the incessant chatter of Red Horse Benders telling their neighbors of the virtues of a Brass Band ? What was even the Fourth of July oration, that followed and that would be printed in the Moon Valley Standard next Sat- urday, delivered in shirtsleeves and all the furniture removed for a distance of eight feet from the speaker so that his oratorical powers might have free play? The address of the school master in Red Horse Bend was different. It was about the band. For that the crying babies were given their dinner whether they needed it or not, the lemonade man was squelched by a special messenger sent out there with that end in view, and the speech took the place of the most extravagant eulogy any other Red Horse Bender would be able to give the most eager listener. The orator told of the boys' escapades before that fateful night, of the inspiration that came so suddenly to the little choir leader, of the way in which the young men had bought their own instruments, and of how they had persevered in the task of mas- tering their instruments. Aurelius wept like a child at the re- citalof his own virtues — virtues which even he, let alone the vil- lage, little dreamed that he possessed but which, now they were pointed out so eloquently, both he and they were sure he possessed in abundance. Never had the little man been appreciated like that before. As for the boys, the school master was equally fer- vent and eloquent in praising them Music had transformed their lives. They had, by way of music, become interested in many other things that never would have reached them othewise. He ended with "I propose three cheers for the Band, — hip-hip !" In which he was followed lustily by eight hundred voices, — including the babies who had momentarily abandoned their din- ner for the purpose.