Trombone Sailing

TROMBONE SAILING (Autumn 1975)
“That fat f*cker Mr. Purdy!”
Johnny Trashcan was stage-whispering.
“Should we really be saying stuff like that here outside the door, J.T?” asked Paul Dieter querulously.
“Oh, that S.O.B, that lunatic…” continued Johnny.
He and his closest grade school chum were standing in the hall, outside the music room.
“You’re only in Sixth Grade, Paul; you don’t know what he’s LIKE. Ever seen a trombone go sailing?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Paul was dumbfounded.
“You shoulda been there. One day he tells the class: “I’m going to the office for five minutes, and I expect you all to remain quiet while I’m gone.”
“’Yes Mr. Purdy,’ we chanted in unison. Well, I admit I started it by squawking on my alto sax. Soon everybody joined in. Total chaos, and obviously Mr. Purdy could hear us just fine; the office is about 50 feet away,” Johnny snickered.
“Uh huh?” Paul was clearly interested and amused.
“OK, so all of a sudden Purdy rips open the door and rushes in. His face is PURPLE, and he’s heading right AT me with fists clenched; I was sure it was all OVER. But at the last moment, he rips Steve Leslie’s trombone right out of his hands. Know what he did next?”
“What?” Paul Dieter was riveted.
“The fat bastard THREW that horn across the room. It crashed against the cinderblock wall, above the windows, lucky for him! It sorta crumpled to the floor, the slide badly bent. Steve was probably more shocked than me, especially after ‘Purdo’ told him he still had to play that instrument, damaged as it was. I only realized later why he didn’t grab and toss my saxophone; it was connected to me with a strap, and he might have broke my neck if he tried that. F*cker ain’t totally crazy, at least. “
“Jesus Christ!” Paul sputtered.
“Anyway,” J.T. continued, “Mr. Purdy gave me a totally insane look; the veins on his head were bulging. ‘Little kids who are told to keep quiet need to obey their teachers,’ he hissed. Almost pissed my pants. But at least he didn’t KILL me…”
Johnny recalls thirty-five years later: “Man, do I ever regret insulting him. Because shortly after I slandered him and incited Paul Dieter, Purdy approached us in Study Hall. I could see the hurt in his eyes. I could hear the pain in his voice when he said, 'I never talked that way about YOU, Johnny.' Poor Sylvester Purdy. A dimly-understood, hugely talented virtuoso. Far as I know, he was proficient on ALL the brass, all the woodwinds, all the percussion, and strings as well. He once played us a recording of Stevie Wonder’s ‘You Are the Sunshine of My Life.’ At first, none of us believed him when he identified himself as the vocalist. Absolutely professional; his rendition was PERFECT.
True, Purdy chucked the trombone. Rumor also had it he got upset one day and smashed Doug Ruud’s cornet on the floor. But he TRUSTED me. Used to let me stay after school with a key to the classroom, alone. He must have known I didn’t just practice the sax; I went into the cabinets and fiddled with the Sousaphone, Bassoon, Bass Clarinet and Baritone Horn. Had some amazing musical experiences, never to be repeated. In a way, I LOVED that man.”

We dedicate this story to “Sylvester Purdy,” Pearson Middle School Teacher extraordinaire. He remains a living testament to the close proximity in which genius and madness reside.