THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, December 22, 1995 TAG: 9512210029
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A14 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: By CARL CAHILL
LENGTH: Medium: 77 lines
The horn, perhaps the oldest of musical instruments, has been in use since man worshiped the stars, traditionally announcing arrivals, departures and the start of celebrations.
So it was in keeping with traditions of the season that one bitterly cold night recently 22 horn-blowing members of a community service band wandered in to the warmth of a nursing home in Chesapeake, bringing to residents joyful sounds abundant this time of year.
Their organization, the Hampton Roads Metro Band, is remarkable in that it traces its roots directly back to the famous old Norfolk Firemen's Band, founded - nd this is only a slight exaggeration - about the time man sawed off epidermal tissue from a ram and blew a B-flat note on it.
Indeed, there are living links between the original and current musical groups in Eddie Casterton, 80, of Norfolk, and ``eight or nine'' others who tooted horn in the Old Firemen's Band and are still active in the Hampton Roads Metro Band. Casterton considers the Metro Band the oldest in the area.
He was only a teenager when he joined the Firemen's Band that was directed by a man with the mellifluous name of Pacific Romeo. With Romeo on the podium, the band won a national reputation, played at conventions, collected awards and appeared at two world fairs.
But sometime in the misty past the fire station where the band was based needed more space, and when band members and their instruments were evicted they moved en masse to Casterton's home for rehearsals.
The band's been there ever since, through good years and bad, while new members came and old ones went, until a decade or two ago when, as cohesive as molecules, the group took the name of Hampton Roads Metro Band.
Except for their music, band members (there were 35 on the roster in April 1995) would perhaps see little of one another. Some live in Norfolk, others in Virginia Beach, Portsmouth and Chesapeake. Among them are novices, professionals, young people and old. Casterton figures he's the oldest. Their callings, too, are far apart: a nun, a judge, former sailors, a door manufacturer, a warehouse man, a shoe-store owner and housewives, to name a few, all intent on blowing perfect notes on their flutes, clarinets, saxophones, trumpets, trombones, french horns, tubas and euphoniums.
When someone doesn't locate that satisfying sound, others rally round and help him find it. The spirit of the Hampton Roads Metro Band may be closer to the spirit of Christmas than even they realize.
After a warm-up at the nursing home, the Chesapeake Healthcare Center just off Battlefield Boulevard, the musicians gathered momentum like a snowball on a slant and rolled into a program of Yule songs. The opening selection was a particularly peppy arrangement of ``Jingle Bells'' that had some of the residents bouncing in their wheelchairs.
The band's sound is somewhat reminiscent of Claude Thornhill's . . . ``with a little bit of the Khedive Temple band,'' observed one visitor.
The musicians get no pay; the envelopes Director Larry Harrington handed out to band members contained Christmas cards thanking them for their efforts.
They play for their own peace of mind and for the enjoyment of their listeners at festivals, picnics, churches, foot races and retirement homes. ``You don't get mad when you're playing,'' says Casterton. Donations help them purchase sheet music which turns heavily to marches.
Near the end of the concert, members of Beta Sigma Phi, a community-service sorority almost as long-lived as the band - joint appearances with the Firemen's Band and the Metro Band reach back more than a half-century - sang carols and served coffee, punch and cookies.
The tuba player, Dutch Steigerwalt, a large man with a massive white beard, abruptly put down his horn and left the room, returning a few minutes later in a Santa suit with gifts for all. Outside in the frigid air, a star twinkled a little brighter.
And where will the Metro Band rehearse when Casterton passes on and his home is no longer available? ``I'm sure they'll find another place,'' he says, confident of the band's durability through 40 or 50 more Christmas seasons. MEMO: Mr. Cahill is a resident of Chesapeake. by CNB