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Epilogue Marching Along On May 14, 1897, John Philip Sousa and his band of fifty musicians arrived in Philadelphia, where they were scheduled to begin a series of three concerts at the Academy of Music. The arrival of the celebrated ensemble coincided with that of William McKinley, and both the president and the March King were in town to celebrate the dedication of Rudolf Siemering’s statue of George Washington in Fairmount Park. Sousa was well known to Philadelphia audiences by this time. As a young man he had played a small part in the centennial celebrations, performed in the city’s theaters, and written for local publishers. He had returned in the late 1880s as leader of the United States Marine Band for concerts at the Academy of Music. Most recently, he had conducted his own ensemble in Philadelphia, and, indeed, the concert series marked his third visit of the season. This time, however, Sousa had something special in mind; he had promised the city a new piece, one whose title would be kept a secret. The Inquirer wrote: “Mr. Sousa’s latest march will be given, the name of which, by arrangement with his publisher, cannot be announced until the 14th inst. Of this, Mr. Sousa writes that it is the greatest of his career.”1 The five years since Sousa had formed his commercial ensemble had brought him some remarkable—and quite surprising—rewards. Following its inaugural season, the band had given concerts every month in 1894, closing the year with more than 650 performances under its belt. Blakely had found the venture so satisfying that in May 1895 he had written to his bandmaster and informally amended their contract. No longer would Sousa be entitled to just 20 percent of the profits; now the two men would “share alike in all the revenues which are derived from the enterprise which we undertook together,” an enterprise that Blakely had found a most “unexpected and gratifying success.”2 Just as it had each summer, the band had spent July 1896 at Manhattan Beach, and Sousa and his wife had then returned to Europe for a much-needed vacation. The couple’s excursion had been cut tragically short, however. On the afternoon of November 7, David Blakely’s secretary had returned to the office 264 epilogue. marching along and found the manager dead at sixty-two years of age. A cable had been sent to Sousa, who immediately began the long journey home. He later recalled his thoughts aboard the Teutonic: As the vessel steamed out of the harbor I was pacing the deck, absorbed in thoughts of my manager’s death and the many duties and decisions which awaited me in New York. Suddenly, I began to sense the rhythmic beat of a band playing within my brain. It kept on ceaselessly, playing, playing, playing . Throughout the whole tense voyage, that imaginary band continued to unfold the same themes, echoing and re-echoing the most distinct melody. I did not transfer a note of that music to paper while I was on the steamer, but when we reached shore, I set down the measures that my brain-band had been playing for me.3 The bandleader had begun his normal process of composition on returning home. A pencil draft had been completed shortly after his arrival, and an ink version was dated Christmas Day, 1896. Sousa normally would have moved quickly to orchestration, but without his manager his time was stretched thin. The band began concerts on December 27, and it was not until April 26, 1897, that Sousa had a chance to complete a full score. There were now just three weeks remaining until the promised Philadelphia premiere. Over the course of these nineteen days the Sousa Band would play thirty concerts in nearly as many different cities; not a single evening was left dark, and only a handful of afternoons lacked matinees. As they traveled, Sousa must have worried: his band was certainly impressive, but he had just composed a remarkable extended-trio march, complete with layering effects. This piece would require at least some rehearsal. It seems clear that when Sousa presented “The Stars and Stripes Forever” in Philadelphia on May 14, 1897, the piece had already been heard in public at least once. James Smart’s careful reading of the press reports reveals that when the band played in Augusta, Maine, on May 1, the first programmed work was encored with “a march that...

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