__
_Francis CHESSMAN ___________|
| |__
_Francis Freeman CHESSMAN _|
| | __
| |_Eunice Demis Aldena BRIGGS _|
| |__
|
|--Pearl Irene CHESSMAN
|
| __
| _____________________________|
| | |__
|_Sarah Emma LOVEJOY _______|
| __
|_____________________________|
|__
[625]
[SOURCE]
World Connect Site; UserID=opie_jeanne; opie_jeanne@yahoo.com;
"Opie_Jeanne"; 9 Sep 2003
__
__|
| |__
_Samuel P. GOOD _|
| | __
| |__|
| |__
|
|--Merle Kenneth GOOD
|
| __
| __|
| | |__
|_Myrtle FISHER __|
| __
|__|
|__
[117]
Merle Kenneth GOOD
--
Musician Recalls His Marching Orders
--
By Carl Heintze
--
This essay is a memorial to two men who tried--and failed--to make me into a musician. The first was Luigi Catalano, who taught music in middle school. Mr. Catalano had been born in Italy, spoke broken English and had somehow
ended up, as a lot of Italian immigrants, in California.
He taught music as a way of making a living, but it must have been a trial. It was during the lean '30s in the United States and music was not high on the list of most Americans, especially most American parents. I am not sure
where I got the idea that I should be a violin player, but it probably was from some romantic misunderstanding. Whatever it was and because public school music lessons were free I persuaded my mother to get me a violin.
As a lot of things in my life in those days, it came from Montgomery Wards--a whole kit, a violin, a plastic case, a bow, a mute and a metal music stand--all for the sum of $11.50, postpaid. Not exactly a Strad, but still a
violin.
I cannot think what Mr. Catalano must have thought of this so-called instrument when he first saw it. Whatever he thought, it must have been nothing to what he thought after I scraped the bow across the strings a few times.
He insisted I sand off the wooden bridge for reasons I never discovered, that my mother make a little pillow to put under it so it would fit my flat chest and that I practice weekly. It didn't matter. Even though I practiced a
lot--to my parents' and grandparents' sorrow--I never progressed much. I never learned how to finger, I never learned to read music, I never pleased Mr. Catalano, who appeared to grit his teeth whenever I came through the classroom door.
Finally, to his good fortune, I passed out of the eighth grade and his ken into high school.
I arrived in high school at about the time when jazz had turned into swing. Indeed, swing music, in the person of Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman, had come to occupy much the same position in American culture as does rock in all
its various manifestations today.
Somewhere in my sophomore year in high school I became enamored of the idea that I would be another Benny Goodman. I decided to take up the clarinet.
As it happened, this coincided with the arrival at our school of Mr. Merle K. Good. Mr. Good was a little like the hero of The Music Man. He had been hired by our high school for the express purpose of heading up a new music
program--and for forming a marching band.
Until that time the high school had had a band of sorts, but it couldn't, or didn't, march. It was small, it wore blue and gold capes and it played, raggedly, in the stands. It was a kind of school disgrace. The schools we
played in football--under the lights on Friday nights--all had marching bands. Our band, however, toodled off-key from the stands, looking a little like the rejects from John Phillip Souza.
So, my mother got me a clarinet. This time, however, she prudently rented it, rather than buying it. It was an aluminum beauty. The only problem was I had no lip for a clarinet. I still couldn't read music. I squeaked and
squawked and occasionally hit a true note, but I was hardly Benny Goodman.
Mr. Good, however, saw something in me I did not see myself. He knew I was alive and able to move about. He also knew that it didn't really matter much if I played the clarinet or not. What did matter was that I could march.
He enlisted me in the band. He did make some vague and futile efforts to teach me how to play what we called the licorice stick (even though my clarinet was not wood, but shiny metal). But he made sure I turned out for marching
rehearsals and that when Friday night game time came, I marched in the band. He cautioned me, however, not to play.
So I didn't. I pretended. I marched, mostly in step, wiggled my fingers over the clarinet keys, did not dare blow any wind through it and had a brief career as a band member, albeit a ringer. I filled a space and never made a
sound.
Beyond that, my music career never advanced. Eventually, I returned the rented clarinet, adopted a pen name which I thought made me a writer and never played anything again--or even tried to.
And to this day I cannot read music.
But the world undoubtedly is a better place because of it.
--
Carl Heintze is a frequent contributor to the Campbell Reporter.
[Source #1]
..........................................................
Obituary
--
Sunday 4 March 1990 Santa Cruz Sentinel, p. A-21
--
Memorial services will be Monday for Merle Kenneth Good of Santa Cruz, who died at a local convalescent hospital Wednesday at age 81.
Born in Clovis, Mr. Good was a former music teacher, having taught at both Santa Cruz and Soquel high schools.
He graduated from Fresno State University in 1933, and earned a masters degree from University of Southern California in 1945. He taught music for 34 years, including stints at Napa High School and Napa Junior College. He moved
to Santa Cruz in 1949 and retired in 1967 after 13 years at Santa Cruz High and five years at Soquel High School.
Mr. Good was a member of [the] First Baptist Church of Santa Cruz, Musicians Union A F of M 346, the California Teachers Association, California Retired Teachers Association and SIRS. He also enjoyed golf.
He is survived by his wife of 56 years, Helen J. Good of Santa Cruz; a daughter, Joan Leigh Head of Glendale, Ore.; three grandchildren and seven great grandchildren.
Memorial services will be at 2 p.m. Mon at First Baptist Church, 411 Roxas St., with the Rev. William C. Nolte presiding. Private cremation will be at Soquel Crematory, followed by private interment in Mountain View Cemetery in
Fresno.
[Source #2]
..........................................................
In 1963 Merle and Helen were homeowners at 4145 Opal Cliff Dr.
[Source #3]
..........................................................
Sources:
1. Wednesday May 23, 2001 "Campbell Reporter", Campbell, California
2. Thursday 8 December 1988 Santa Cruz Sentinel, p. A-18
2. 1963 Santa Cruz City Directory
..........................................................
[115] [SOURCE] CADI; SSDI, SS# 565-34-8464, issued in CA
[116] [SOURCE] Death Cert # 3-90-44-000296
__
_Edward Albert MARKSHEFFEL _|
| |__
_Edward Gottlieb MARKSHEFFEL _|
| | __
| |_Fredericka SCHAUBLE _______|
| |__
|
|--Marilyn MARKSHEFFEL
|
| __
| ____________________________|
| | |__
|_Rhea Helen MCDONALD _________|
| __
|____________________________|
|__
__
_Lee THOMPSON _|
| |__
_John "Jack" THOMPSON _|
| | __
| |_Edna _______ _|
| |__
|
|--Lynn THOMPSON
|
| __
| _______________|
| | |__
|_Barbara _______ ______|
| __
|_______________|
|__
__
__|
| |__
__|
| | __
| |__|
| |__
|
|--_______ WALSH
|
| __
| __|
| | |__
|__|
| __
|__|
|__