I am told that the building that houses WBSM was originally built to be a rooming house, and that was largely how it still functioned when I began taking piano lessons there in 1971. Many of the rooms upstairs had residents. The downstairs was mostly the domain of the fledgling music school, but since the kitchen was also on that floor, hints that you were in someone's home spilled over into the music school's atmosphere. I mean that almost literally. It wasn't the tidiest kitchen. But the fact that you could smell supper cooking and play with Moonglow (John Beach's sweet black lab) while you waited for your lesson to start gave the place a homey feeling. Add the various strains of great music mixing in the air and the effect could be downright magical at times. I was a sophomore in college and quite susceptible to the unique blend of chaos, creativity, friendliness and unconventionality. I responded by falling in love with my piano teacher. It was one of my better ideas. Warren and I have been happily married since 1974.

My involvement in the school grew as well. I taught piano lessons and served as office manager for a number of years. I, in essence, watched the school grow up. Those of us who valued the music school and wanted to see it succeed came to realize that the lack of structure of the early years had more drawbacks than charms. Besides, times had changed. Like many institutions that were born during the early seventies, we found ourselves struggling to incorporate some of the business-mindedness that had been cast away in the initial creative impulse. And struggle we did: offering top-notch musical instruction at affordable rates has its inherent financial challenges.

Yet, the school has thrived, thanks the devoted efforts of countless teachers, administrative staff, board members, students, and volunteers. Hats off to all of you who have kept the music flowing from the old house on sixth street.