The Municipal Band of Charlottesville

The Municipal Band of Charlottesville is a volunteer organization with over 90 members that performs concerts in the area. They were renamed the Charlottesville Band in 2021.

Founding and Early History

The Municipal Band of Charlottesville, Inc., was organized in 1922. Prior to that time there had been several other community bands and musical organizations in Charlottesville, dating back at least to the time of the American Civil War. By the end of the 19th century the Charlottesville Daily Progress newspaper includes articles mentioning at least the following musical groups:

• The Charlottesville Banjo, Guitar and Mandolin Club (1895)
• The Charlottesville Quartette and Orchestra (1893)
• The Citizen’s Band of Charlottesville (1898-1902)
• The Crescent Cornet Band (1909)
• The Jefferson Brass Band (1895)
• The Jefferson Concert Company (1898)
• The Leterneau Orchestra (1895)
• The Levy Opera House Orchestra (1893)
• The Monticello Brass Band (1893-1897)
• The Monticello Orchestra (1907)
• The Rose Hill Band (1897)
• Rubin’s Orchestra (1909-??).

The Charlottesville Fire Department also had a band and drum corps that was in existence at least as late as 1921. All of these organizations testify to the healthy state of musical interest in the community during the “Golden Age of the Community Band”, which lasted from roughly 1880 until about 1920, during which time there were literally tens of thousands of bands of all types and sizes throughout the United States. Of the bands mentioned above, the Citizen’s Band was perhaps the most active prior to the founding of the Municipal Band.

The First World War and the years immediately following wrought enormous and significant changes to Society at large and to Charlottesville specifically. Large numbers of troops returned home with broadened horizons, having “seen the world” and been exposed to foreign cultures and countries. Automobiles became increasingly prevalent and with them came a boom in highway construction. Passage of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution afforded women the right to vote. Prohibition limited the sale and use of alcoholic beverages, while at the same time young people across the country, especially the young women known as flappers, reveled in new-found personal freedoms. Motion pictures, phonograph records and that newfangled gadget called radio brought music of all sorts into the lives and homes of Americans—especially that wild and exciting music known as jazz. All of these thngs and more began to erode many of the traditional rhythms of community life in favor of more exciting and far-flung entertainments. The Golden Age of the Community Band reached its closing years and all over the country community bands were putting away their instruments and music and fading into history. So how was it that the Municipal Band of Charlottesville succeeded in bucking this trend?

The founding of the Municipal Band actually has relatively little to do with music and a lot to do with politics and medicine. The Commonwealth of Virginia had been trying for many years to move the University of Virginia Medical School to Richmond, where it would be combined with The Medical College of Virginia. Why did the State want to move it? It was partly a matter of economic efficiency and partly a feeling that a big city environment offered advantages in medical education that a small town couldn’t. Also, by the 1920s the Medical College of Virginia was all but bankrupt and a merger with UVA’s School and relocating it to Richmond was seen as beneficial to both. However, University and Medical School administrators, as well as influential community leaders, vigorously opposed this proposed consolidation. But by late 1921 and early 1922 it looked like the merger might finally succeed.

University of Virginia President Edwin A. Alderman and Medical School Dean Theodore Hough were determined to prevent this from happening. The two men assembled a crackerjack team of lobbyists, jumped on a C&O train headed for Richmond, and spent nearly three weeks during the middle of February 1922 bending the ears of every state legislator they could find, making their case that moving the Medical School to Richmond would mean the ruin of the University as a potent force for exceptional education in the Commonwealth and the South. They needed to convince 21 state senators of the righteousness of their cause, and by Wednesday, February 22nd – an unusually warm day with temperatures in the mid-seventies – they had succeeded in securing the necessary votes to block passage of the bill. The threat was over, and the idea of moving the Medical School would not recur.

Back in Charlottesville, UVA students and townspeople alike were jubilant. A grassroots move quickly sprang up to have as many students and townspeople as possible meet President Alderman and Dr. Hough at the train station when they arrived home on Thursday the 23rd at 4:30 in the afternoon. Almost every business in town closed for a half hour at 4:15 PM so as many people as possible could join in the celebrations. By the time the westbound C&O train pulled into the station, a huge crowd of UVA students and townspeople was on hand to welcome the victorious lobbyists home.

Unfortunately, no photograph of Alderman and Hough’s actual arrival at the C&O Station seems to exist. According to the news reports, “The entire medical class, several hundred students from other departments, and many townspeople were at Main Street station when the Richmond train pulled in. Dean Hough was carried on the shoulders of medical students to a waiting tallyho and, after President Alderman and Mayor Wheeler had been assisted to seats in the vehicle, the coach was drawn by medical students along Main Street to the University.”

An important conversation

Among the throng watching the event were two local businessmen and friends, Sol Kaufman and Edward A. Joachim, who were standing on the Belmont Bridge in order to have a better view of the festivities. Kaufman was a life-long resident of Charlottesville, having been born here on February 15, 1874. His father was Moses Kaufman, a prominent Jewish businessman and clothier. Sol would take over his father’s clothing business and manage it for over fifty years. At the time of the founding of the Band, Sol had just celebrated his 48th birthday. Edward A. Joachim was born in Ohio on March 3, 1872. He came to Charlottesville as a young man by way of West Virginia, arriving here in 1898 to establish himself in the steam laundry business. Later he became a director of the Farmers and Merchants National Bank, an active member of the Rotary Club and in 1921 was elected President of the Chamber of Commerce. He was also a distinguished member of the local Masonic Lodge. At the time of the founding of the Band he was not quite 50 years old.

Sol Kaufman Photo: Municipal Band Archives

Edward A. Joachim Photo:History of Virginia, Vol.4

Unfortunately, history doesn’t record exactly what Sol and Ed said to each other as they stood there on the Belmont Bridge that afternoon, but as Municipal Band folklore and tradition has it, perhaps their conversation went something like this:

Ed: Isn’t this a grand celebration, Sol? Look at that crowd! Everybody in town must’ve dropped what they were doing to come down here.

Sol: Sure looks that way, doesn’t it? It’s a grand spectacle all right and a great day for Charlottesville and the University. But you know, there’s one thing that bothers me about all this hoopla.

Ed: Oh? What’s that?

Sol: It’s that sorry excuse for a band down there. Just look at ‘em! A piano, a saxophone, a fiddle and a drummer! Half the time they aren’t even in tune – and riding on a broken-down wagon pulled by some flea-bitten nag that should’ve been put out to pasture years ago! It’s a disgrace! A town like Charlottesville ought to have a real band to help celebrate events like this! Not some rag-tag gang of amateurs who can barely carry a tune in a bucket! And look, they don’t even have uniforms!

Ed: Now, now, Sol – calm down! I hear what you’re saying. It would be nice to have a real town band for sure. But we haven’t had one since back before the war. Maybe the time for city bands is over. What with moving pictures and that newfangled radio gadget, people don’t care so much about brass bands these days.

Sol: Well, I care! I still remember those old bands, and I’ll bet lots of other folks do, too. Charlottesville deserves to have a band – a real band with uniforms – and I’m going to see that she gets one!

Ed: Whatever you say, Sol. But right now we better get down from here and join the parade up Main Street or it’s going to leave us behind, band or no band! Come on!

For the next five months or so the historical record, unfortunately, fails us. While the idea of forming a town band doubtless consumed much of Sol Kaufman’s time and energy, we have no clues as to the exact contents of his mind or to his actions during the spring and early summer of 1922. There were any number of events that took place during those months that would’ve reminded him of the desirability of a community band: the strawberry festival, visits to the city by celebrities Lady Nancy Astor and WWI hero Sergeant Alvin York, various events at the University, public dances, and 4th of July celebrations just to name a few. It’s doubtful that Sol consciously knew, as his friend Ed hinted above, that the so-called Golden Age of the Community Band had just ended. He did know, of course, that during his own lifetime in Charlottesville, the city had had at least a dozen previous bands and orchestras – almost all of them now nothing but memories. Sol doubtless remembered many performances by these groups. He also might well have attended concerts by John Philip Sousa’s world-famous band when that group performed on tour in Charlottesville back in 1897 at the Levy Opera House and several other times over the years. Even though Sol was a young man of 23 at the time of Sousa’s first visit to Charlottesville, he doubtless would have heartily agreed with Mr. Sousa, who later wrote in his autobiography “Strange is the boy who doesn’t love a band!” Twenty-five years later it would become abundantly clear that Sol Kaufman loved bands!

Civic pride surely was also a strong motivation for Sol, who knew that other nearby cities and towns had fine bands, notably the Stonewall Brigade Band in neighboring Staunton, which group occasionally visited Charlottesville and had been in town just the previous year for the dedication of the new statue of Stonewall Jackson in Jackson Park next to the courthouse. There were also bands in Culpepper, Orange, Scottsville and even in nearby Crozet, where the local camp of the Modern Woodmen of America had a fine twelve-piece fully uniformed band. If places like Crozet could support a band, surely Charlottesville ought to be able to!

And it’s clear in retrospect that during the spring and summer of 1922 Mr. Kaufman was doing a lot of what today would be called “networking” – talking to his friends and business associates wherever and whenever he could about forming a town band. Evidently, he made a persuasive case for a band, too, since by late summer the reality of a Charlottesville town band was looking more and more certain.

Let’s listen in on another imaginary conversation between Sol Kaufman and his good friend Ed Yoachim. It’s now early August 1922 on a sultry afternoon that finds our two friends seated in the shade of one of the big trees in Jackson Park near the Courthouse. Here’s what they’re saying, as they sip refreshing iced lemonades:

Ed: Well, Sol, I’ve got hand it to you. That band idea of yours has taken off like a house on fire. The boys down at the Rotary Club have all jumped on the idea like a hen on a June bug.

Sol: That’s great news, Ed! And the fellows over at the Kiwanis Club feel the same way, not to mention all the gents in the Young Men’s Business Club, too. I think we’ve just about got enough folks on board now to make a public announcement.

Ed: I can hardly wait! But you know, Sol, there’s still one thing about this band business that worries me.

Sol: Oh? What’s that?

Ed: Well, you and I – and pretty much all the fellows interested in the band – we’re all businessmen. We know all about buying and selling, checking inventory, keeping books and doing payrolls and all that. But none of us knows beans about how to run a band! Somebody’s got to stand up there and lead the thing – somebody who knows something about music!

Sol: I hear what you’re saying, Ed – and I’m way ahead of you! I think I’ve found just the man for the job. You know that English fellow, Harry Lowe, don’t you? Manages that new drive in filling station up on the corner of Main and South Street? Well, he also leads that Woodman’s band out in Crozet, and from all I hear, he’s a crackerjack musician.

Ed: Hmm, I have heard a bit about him. Do you think he’d be willing to lead our band, too?

Sol: I’ve mentioned our band to him a time or two and he seems interested. In fact, I’m supposed to talk to him again later this afternoon. Want to come along?

Ed: You bet! Let’s go!

A meeting with Harry Lowe

So our two friends finished up their lemonades, put on their straw boaters and sauntered off to meet with the genial, pipe-smoking Harry Lowe. What can history tell us about Mr. Lowe? Unfortunately, the details of his early life remain sketchy. He was born in London, England, in 1887 or 1888. One source says that he immigrated to the United States “at an early age” and spent “much of his life” in Virginia but gives no clue as to why or where or what he and his parents did once they arrived. Nor do we know when and where Harry learned his musical trade. Supposedly, he played cornet and trumpet in various theater orchestras on Broadway in New York City as a young man. In addition to leading the Municipal Band, he participated in many musical activities in Charlottesville, including directing the choir at Christ Episcopal Church and helping to reorganize the University of Virginia band.

Harry Lowe Photo: Municipal Band Archives

Harry was a veteran of World War I and he would be active in the VFW and American Legion later in life. Exactly when he came to Charlottesville and why is also unclear, but early city directories show him living here by 1919 and list his occupation as “musician” at the Jefferson Theater. In 1920 he married a local girl, Mattie Eleanor Smith, so perhaps it was the pursuit of romance that lured him here initially. As Sol mentioned in the imaginary conversation above, Harry was leading the Woodsman band in Crozet by the early 1920s and apparently fielding a fine group of musicians there. He also worked at other jobs, and at the time of the founding of the Municipal Band, he was indeed managing The Standard Gas & Oil Supply Company garage, a new automotive parts and service business located near the intersection of present day Water and South Streets.

Lowe would continue working there until the end of February 1923, at which time Sol Kaufman hired him as a sales person in his clothing business. Later still, Harry would find work in the City of Charlottesville’s gas appliances division, eventually rising to the position of manager.

Although we don’t know the exact particulars, Sol and Ed were indeed successful in luring Harry Lowe away from the Woodsman’s band to become the first Conductor and Music Director of the nascent Municipal Band. He supposedly brought several of his best Crozet players with him, after which the Woodsman Band soon declined and ceased its existence.

Harry’s contract with the Municipal Band officially began on September 1, 1922 at a salary of $50 per month. This was a handsome figure at a time when the average worker’s annual salary was between $1,200 and $1,500 a year. It’s clear that Sol was willing to pay for quality – and that he was convinced that Harry Lowe was well-qualified for the job that lay ahead. Mr. Henry Rubin, leader of a local dance band, was also tapped to be the Municipal Band’s first assistant conductor.

The band comes together

The Daily Progress broke the news on Saturday August 19, 1922 that a new town band had organized itself on August 17th. The group of about two dozen volunteers – all men – held their first rehearsal the following Monday August 21st in the Charlottesville and Albemarle Railway office building located on the southwest corner of Main and Ridge Streets. Some other accounts, including the first letter from the Band to the City requesting funding, for some reason list August 29th as the date of the founding. News reports, however, clearly state that the organizing group met on the 17th. Whichever date you choose, the Municipal Band came to life as a formal body during the final two weeks of August in 1922. In less than three weeks the membership would grow to 38 or 39 players.

The name of the band, by the way, was not completely settled for several months. Initially, it was referred to simply as the “city band”. An early piece of stationery in the Band’s files lists the name as the “Charlottesville Band Association”. And as late as December 1, 1922 a list of active members of the organization shows the name as – what else? – the Jefferson Band. (Not to be confused with the earlier Jefferson Brass Band from 1895.) However, when the Board of Directors of the band met on January 3, 1923 they “…unanimously decided to incorporate the Band under the name of ‘The Municipal Band of Charlottesville.’” The Board further stated in its minutes that “The purpose of the members [is] declared to be: ‘To develope [sic] and maintain in Charlottesville an amateur band which shall be available at all times for Municipal and Charity service.’” Notice of incorporation was received from the State Corporation Commission in early April 1923 and the Municipal Band of Charlottesville, Inc., became forever after the official name of the Band.

The new band, of course, needed a place to meet and rehearse. One of its members, John L. Livers, the President and CEO of The Charlottesville and Albemarle Railway Company, which operated the City’s streetcar line, offered the use of the recreation room in the C&A office building. For the next five months or so the Band would gratefully accept Mr. Livers’ offer. The C&A Railway building still stands on the southwest corner of West Main Street and Ridge Street next to the present day Greyhound bus terminal. Early in 1923 the Band moved its rehearsals to the Albemarle Rifles Armory, which was located on Market Street about where the parking garage now stands.

Harry Lowe had his work cut out for him. Initially, the band had plenty of enthusiasm but no music, few instruments, no music stands or chairs, no uniforms, and little if any equipment, office space, or in fact anywhere to really call home. Many of the thirty-eight charter members of the Band had little or no knowledge of how to read music or play an instrument, even if there had been any available. Amazing as this sounds in retrospect, the boys – as they were then often referred to – knuckled down to classes each Wednesday evening at which Harry Lowe and his assistants, trumpet player Sam Arundale and assistant conductor Henry Rubin, drilled the men on the fundamentals of musical notation. In the meantime Harry chose and ordered music for the group, decided upon the Band’s instrumentation and placed an order on or about October 6, 1922 through Payne’s Music Store to the Conn Music Company in Elkhart, Indiana for the necessary instruments. At about this same time he also made a public statement that the new band would perform in public within six months of the men receiving their instruments. The pressure was on!

First fund-drive

Band instruments, equipment and music all cost money, and while the new band was well supplied with energy and enthusiasm, it lacked much in the way of ready cash. So the group did what all volunteer groups do: it held a fund drive. On September 7, 1922 the Daily Progress noted that a fund-raising committee consisting of some nineteen prominent Charlottesville men and women would “canvass the city” the following Tuesday and Wednesday in hopes of raising $3,000 for music, instruments, incidental expenses and the Director’s salary. The committee’s expectation was to announce the successful completion of the canvass at the Band’s rehearsal Wednesday evening. On September 12th the Progress reported that “None but enthusiastic reports are coming in. The members of the team of canvassers are everywhere meeting with a cordial reception, and everybody approached has contributed a generous sum.” Unfortunately, however, this early report of enthusiastic support proved premature – the canvass raised only $462 dollars and further publicity regarding band fund-raising quietly dropped out of public view. Later, it would come to light that “…through the generosity and public spirit of a group of men deeply interested in the enterprise…” sufficient funds were gathered to allow the Band to purchase the necessary music and equipment. In other words, those men made personal loans to the Band. Eventually, the Band took out commercial loans at the two major banks in town in the amount of $1,000 each and paid back the men who had stepped in with their own personal funds. These bank loans would be paid off the following year.

Notice appeared in the Daily Progress for October 23, 1922 that the eagerly awaited instruments had arrived via train and would be handed out to members of the Band at rehearsal that evening. A few members, Band founder and President Sol Kaufman among them, were disappointed to learn that their instruments had been back-ordered and wouldn’t appear for another week or so. The Progress humorously reported on October 24th that “…the public is advised that the unusual noises that may be heard in various quarters of the city during the weeks to come will be traceable to enthusiastic embryonic band musicians trying out their instruments.” This blurb may account for the later stories in Municipal Band folklore about irate calls to the police from local residents about “strange noises” coming from the C&A Railway building! On October 31st the Progress reported that “Sol Kaufman’s big bass drum has arrived, and that gentleman, whose voice has meant so much in the organization of the band, will be heard in louder noise from this time forward.”

The Band rehearsed regularly during the fall of 1922 and the winter of 1923. By early in February the Progress was reporting that the group was making great strides in proficiency and would soon be a first-class asset to the community. On the evening of February 6th the Band held an “open rehearsal” which was attended by “quite a number of visitors”, all of whom were duly impressed at the Band’s progress, both in concert and marching order. Following rehearsal on February 28th Sol Kaufman informally “entertained” the members of the Band at his home “…in the nature of a celebration of his birthday…” (which had actually occurred on February 15th). “Many good things to eat were served, and delightful music, both instrumental and vocal, featured the entertainment,” reported the Daily Progress. Other open rehearsals and impromptu “concerts” followed during March and early April and then on April 9, 1923 the following brief announcement appeared in the Progress: “On account of an unusual feature in which the band will participate tomorrow night, every member is urged to be at the armory at 7:15 prompt.”

The “unusual feature” was to be the Municipal Band’s first official public appearance.

Showtime!

At about 7:00 in the evening on April 10, 1923 Harry Lowe formed up his band in marching order outside the armory. Having no formal uniforms at the time, the men wore black shoes and sox, white trousers, dark blue jackets, bow ties and white shirts, and military-style hats. Drum Major Edmund C. Pendleton blew his whistle, the percussion section sounded a roll-off and the band began marching west along Main Street to the strains of a stirring march.

There is no record of exactly what they played, but given their repertoire at the time, it probably was Josef Franz Wagner’s Under the Double Eagle march. Gathering a crowd of surprised and excited listeners, the Band marched up Main Street to about where the Omni Hotel now stands, then executed a countermarch and came back down to Pence and Sterling’s Corner, that being the intersection of Main and Second Streets where the mall’s Central Place is located today. They halted in front of Pence and Sterling’s Drug Store and presented “A short program of popular music, including several difficult numbers, [that] was rendered to the evident satisfaction of the crowd which demonstrated its appreciation by vigorous applause and numerous complimentary comments.” The crowd was, in fact, so large that for a time Main Street was completely blocked to all traffic and even the streetcar had to wait until the concert was over! A new era in Charlottesville musical history had just dawned.

It was as if a door opened and someone turned on one of those new-fangled electric lights. Suddenly, the Municipal Band was all the rage and invitations to perform started flooding in. The new band would perform six concerts and march in one parade during the next six weeks. By the end of 1923 the Band would perform 31 times. Two of its early appearances were significant. The first, which took place only three days after their first public appearance, was in connection with the festivities related to the inauguration of the Monticello Foundation, which the following year would purchase Monticello as a national shrine. Dignitaries from all over America were in attendance, and the event would’ve marked the Band’s first appearance at Monticello itself had not heavy rains moved the ceremonies to Cabell Hall at the University.

The Daily Progress reported that “Selections were rendered at intervals by the city’s recently equipped Municipal Band, who measured up fully to the occasion, and were received with unbounded applause.” The second major event was an appearance by the Band at the annual American Legion Military Ball. This formal event always featured an outstanding dance band or orchestra brought in from out of town, and 1923’s version would provide music by the Original Pennsylvania Serenaders, who were en route to New York City from New Orleans to cut records for the Victor Company. The Municipal Band was asked to give a brief concert before the start of the dance to “warm up” the crowd, which they did on the evening of April 26th. The Progress reported that the Band “…dispensed a number of enjoyable selections and received many complimentary comments.”

Sol Kaufman and the Band’s Board of Directors decided that the Band’s formal presentation concert would take place on Monday May 28, 1923 at 7:30 PM in Lee Park, which at this point in time still lacked the equestrian stature of Gen. Lee that would not be installed in the park until the following year. Long before the start of the concert people began arriving to claim the best vantage points. Eventually, an overflow crowd spilled out onto the steps and yards of nearby buildings. A spotlight was installed on the roof of the nearby McIntire Public Library and the Daily Progress reported that “It is not saying too much to state that the band made a pleasing picture when the spot light was thrown on them…”

Following an invocation and the playing and singing of America, Sol Kaufman presented the Band to the City, represented by its mayor, John R. Morris. Mr. Kaufman said: “Mr. Mayor, here is your band. We have tried to build well. We now turn over to the City of Charlottesville the responsibility to support it and see that it survives.” Mayor Morris accepted the Band on behalf of the city, which has gone on to uphold its responsibility for support of the Band ever since.

The Band played its entire repertoire of eight or nine numbers that evening, as well as singing several numbers with the audience. One of the highlights of the evening was a speech entitled “Our Band” delivered by L. D. Case, the Secretary of the local Chamber of Commerce. In his remarks Case effusively praised both Harry Lowe and Sol Kaufman for their parts in creating the Band and likewise congratulated the citizens of Charlottesville for their support of the organization. It is evident the pride that he and everyone connected with the Band felt for it and for the city it represented. Case concluded his remarks as follows:

The spirit that you, the members of the Band, have so abundantly manifested... is a certain guarantee that the Municipal Band of Charlottesville is already a loved institution, and also a trustworthy pledge that its future will be safeguarded throughout the years to come. We are proud of you, and are honored in honoring an organization of your type and history. And though members of our band may come and go as time passes, it’s our fervent hope and prayer that our Band may be endowed with a deathless principle of life, an earthly immortality, and that its influence may spread in ever widening circles so long as Charlottesville and dear old Albemarle endure.

The Municipal Band in 1924 - Photo taken in Harrisonburg, VA Photo: Municipal Band Archives

The Municipal Band would indeed go on in future years to represent the City and County well in parades, concerts and at numerous civic events and ceremonial occasions. The Band would win prizes and play for many dignitaries from local leaders to state Governors to United States Presidents and even the Queen of England. Perhaps best of all, the Band would provide countless hours of listening enjoyment for local citizens at hundreds of free concerts and civic events.

If Sol Kaufman, Harry Lowe, L. D. Case and everyone else who was there on that May evening in 1923 were here today, they would indeed be proud of all the things the Municipal Band has done and accomplished over the years. All citizens of Charlottesville should be thankful for those first thirty-nine men who generously gave of their time, talent and treasure so that Charlottesville could have a band “second to none” in the State of Virginia. Everyone who has been a member of the Band since its inception is part of a long and illustrious history, one that began in the heart and mind of a dedicated businessman who loved his home town and believed Charlottesville deserved a first-class band and who was willing to work hard to make that dream come true. That band, of which all of us are heirs – as Mr. Case said – will continue “so long as Charlottesville and dear old Albemarle endure.”

Financial support from the city would continue for many years. For instance, in March 1948, City Council appropriated $1,722 for uniforms.

External Links

Official site