TWO
Strictly From Memories
Depression Years – The 1930's
Both the Los Angeles Citadel, now on East Fourth Street and the Pasadena Citadel, now at Fair Oaks and Walnut, opened the depression years of the 1930s with new facilities, new motivation, and many established traditions. Open-air evangelism was certainly very much part of both corps.
The Los Angeles Citadel, located in the lower part of downtown, had little opportunity to serve youth except the children of existing soldiers who commuted to the corps often from quite distant locations. In those years, however, Los Angeles had one of the finest mass-transit systems in the nation with Pacific Electric’s “big red cars” spanning most of the 1,000 square miles of the basin and linking distant locations to downtown Los Angeles quickly and easily.
It was during the 30s that much of the eastern edge of downtown began to take on some of the characteristics of a skidrow. There was considerable alcoholism, homelessness and despair on neighboring streets. The corps provided invitations to those listening to attend worship service, but the only social service activity was a referral to the Divisional social service center two or three miles away or to the nearby Los Angeles Industrial – affectionately called “the dusty.”
Income was difficult for all soldiers. The most heavily attended meeting at this corps was Sunday evening, and on Sunday morning Harold Gooding, along with several Citadel bandsmen, collected additional income by providing music for services at Angeles Temple led by well known evangelist, Aimee Semple McPherson.
The Parkhouse family, Major and Mrs. Tom Parkhouse and five young men – Red (Bernard James), Ted, Tom, Pete, and Herb, and two young women – Victoria and Mildred, contributed much to the cohesiveness of the corps. They had moved to southern California from the midwest and came with strong commitments to the Army, to family, and to the corps. All were musicians, but only men played in the band at this time. The five men lived together, and soon took on the sobriquet of the “hungry five.” They had an entrepreneurial spirit, and the oldest two – Red and Ted bought a Shell service station at the intersection of Slausen and Santa Fe in an industrial section of Huntington Park. They provided jobs for several bandsmen during these very difficult years, and none of them missed a band practice.
The corps had a small but wonderful songster brigade in which the women provided service. They practiced about one hour before band practice to meet the problems of commuter transportation. During band practice itself, the women met for Home League. One picture, taken sometime in 1930, shows 24 women in high collar Army uniforms sitting primly with their corps officer, Captain Frank Mann. No men, except Mann, appear in the photograph, so the group might simply have been a women’s chorus – or, more probably, the men were all engaged in a band activity.
The corps’ had always possessed a strong desire to present a unique image and establish its own identity. One example of this was in the design of the insignia on the collar. Normally, soldiers wore a simple “S”, but the Citadel redesigned this with an interlocking “C” and an “S”.
A very well known, highly published, and memorable photograph of the band was taken as they formed at the beginning of the 1932 Tournament of Roses Rose Parade. Bandsman Pete Parkhouse related the following story to his nephew, Tom Nottle, a few years later:
The Citadel Band was in the formation area on one of the streets leading up to Orange Grove – lined up with all the other bands waiting to move up to the corner and begin the parade. I excused myself and walked up to a nearby house to ask if I could use the bathroom. Upon exiting the house I noticed that Albert Einstein was sitting on the porch. I asked if I could get a picture taken with him and he agreed. I ran back to the band to find a photographer to take the picture, and the rest of the band saw the opportunity and followed me back. We all lined up in the driveway of the house and got one of the best band pictures ever taken.
There were many indications of some rebellious individuality during this period of time among some of the bandsmen.
In 1937, an officer named Major George Mundy was assigned to the Citadel. He followed a succession of very popular officers who had had fairly long stays. Unfortunately, his approach to soldier discipline failed to match the expectations of several bandsmen. I hypothesize he sought to bring some discipline into the freedom loving, highly independent, non-legalistic Citadel Band. Some of the most vocal members of the organization rebelled and stopped coming to the corps entirely. They did not, however, stop having band practice. That took place at the intersection of Slauson and Santa Fe and even, possibly, helped “drum up” some depression era business for a Shell station on the corner.
Mundy’s successor, appointed a few months later, was Major Guy Case – one of the most unique characters in the Army. A rough and tough farm-boy rancher, he was soundly converted and a spell-binder as a preacher. He found a way to maintain contact and communication with the dissident dozen. Gradually – they returned. Fortunately for the band, their lips were still in very good shape in that they had probably practiced far more at Slauson and Santa Fe than they ever did at home. When asked by someone how he ever “got them back,” Case simply replied: “I just loved ‘em.”
During those years, and for a decade or so after, the Citadel band was sponsored by the Palm Springs Desert Inn to march in the annual Palm Springs Desert Circus Parade. This parade was made up of high school bands, cheer-leaders, and baton twirlers, along with some make-shift, hastily thrown together floats. Mostly, however, it was made up of horses – a bandsman’s worst enemy in a parade. Horses have different personalities, just like humans, and some of them don’t care for brass bands. Waiting for the parade to begin, the Citadel Bandmaster decided a warm-up march was in order. In typical fashion it was loud. Behind the band was a team of horses pulling a wagon on which sat several young damsels along with the parade queen. The team of horses was among those that didn’t appreciate loud, brass band music. It panicked and started racing up the street directly at the band playing too loud to hear anything, their backs turned toward the on-coming team. Case ran through the band, pushing the middle rows apart. Other bandsman interpreted his action and spread out enough to allow the team to move up the cleared pathway.
When the team got close to Case, he moved quickly to one side and then, somehow, leaped between the lead pair, grabbed the dangling reins, calmed the horses, and brought them to a stop before damaging anyone – especially that loud band.
It all happened so fast, it never made the paper the next day.
Case stayed in the corps for six years – 1938-1944 – the longest appointment any officer had ever had in the corps to that date. Many speak fondly of those years because of him even though it was a very difficult times financially. During that period Fred Rowley, an Australian Salvationist, was able to bring the band to excellent musicianship and positive Salvationism. Rowley left with the approach of the forties, and Horace Watson, a solo cornet player in the band, took his place.
In 1937, for economic reasons, both the Orange Belt and the South Coast Divisions were folded back into one division, resuming the name of Southern California Division.
Bob Field had been principal solo cornet player for many years. He enjoyed musical leadership and had helped the Pasadena band for a brief period while still playing in the Citadel band. During the mid to late thirties, the neighboring corps, Congress Hall, had enjoyed some important growth – especially that provided by the Stillwell family – primarily the oldest son, Harry. This band invited Bob to be the bandmaster. When Stan Singer, the Congress Hall band’s principal cornet player, went to training in 1936, Harry moved into that chair. Eddie Taylor, now having returned to Los Angeles in another appointment, succeeded Field as the Congress Hall bandmaster, and the band grew significantly under his leadership.
These facts are mentioned, because this period initiated the tremendous rivalry between the two bands – and between the two corps. While, on occasion, the rivalry became somewhat ferocious in relation to athletic competition, joint corps picnics, and divisional musical events, it was, also, very motivational as both the Congress Hall and Citadel corps moved into the forties.
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The name Gladwyn P. Nichols is forever enshrined in the memories of soldiers and musicians of the Pasadena Citadel corps. He was present at every event with a sweet sounding cornet and served as bandmaster for a significant portion of the decade – from 1933 to approximately 1939 when he was succeeded by Lawrence Gilmore. Gradually, Nichols began to build a fine aggregation – always supported by his fine solo cornet player, Mr. Johnny Norton.
During the decade of the thirties, the Pasadena Citadel Corps had nine different commanding officers for an average length of appointment of 1.33 years. Two of the officers had appointments of two years, and one had an appointment of 4 years. At the same time, there were 13 different assistant officers. Nevertheless, the corps began to grow – probably due to the outstanding community program offered and its commitment to people facing difficult situations in the midst of a depression.
On April 25, 1934 the Pasadena Star News reported that the corps celebrated its 50th anniversary. The article stated:
Research into the records of pioneer days discloses that The Salvation Army was one of the early religious organizations of the city – the first meeting being held April 25, 1884 which makes 1934 the golden jubilee of the Army in Pasadena.
This must have been an “advanced guard” of the Army, because Army records indicate that the first officer was assigned in 1888.
From 1937 to January of 1941, Adjutants Hartland D. and Mabel Goldthwaite were the corps officers, and these four years turned out to be a heyday time for the corps. The Guards and Sunbeams were the perennial divisional champions – with 30 in Guards and 60 in Sunbeams – attendance at Sunday School always exceeded 125 youth – Corps Cadets achieved at exceptional levels and Divisional Youth Councils always had high registration from Pasadena. They had a large band of approximately 35 pieces, had five meetings a week, and capped it all off with two street meetings every week. Additionally, they provided exemplary assistance to those in the community needing assistance.
A sense of the warmth and caring of the fellowship within the Pasadena corps in the 30s can be captured with the words of Mr. Jerry Holan.
MY TRIBUTE
By Jerry HolanThe year was 1936 – approximately December 22 – when my mother and father, Mary and Joseph Holan, along with my grandmother, Anna Malish, and I arrived in Pasadena. I was 12.
About a year later – just after New Years, 1938 – I met a young man who had come down from the second floor of a building at 12 West Walnut – at the corner of Walnut and Fair Oaks. I believe now he was a messenger from God. As I remember him, he was a tall, nice looking young fellow. He told me he was Lieutenant Francis Moss (later Lt. Colonel Frank Moss). He said to me, “May I tell you about our Salvation Army and what we do?”
He then proceeded to tell me: “We teach wood craft, copper craft and how to play musical instruments. We also take hikes in the mountains above” – as he pointed to them. “We have a summer camp at Mt. Crags.”
He then showed me a large gym where I later played a lot of basketball. As soon as I got home I told my mother what had happened, and that I was interested in joining. She encouraged me to go back and see him. I found him and told him that I wanted to join the Salvation Army, and that I wanted to wear a uniform just like his.
He put his arm around my waist and asked me what I would like to do. I told him I would like to learn to play a cornet. I made this decision the first week of January, 1938.
There was a Mr. Nichols, a cornet player who played really high notes. He made the first good impression on me. Johnny Norton was a senior cornet player with many years of experience. He took the opportunity to help me in every way he could. He treated me as if I were his son. He was like a father figure to me. (One time he gave our youngest daughter 500 pennies. She remembers it to this day.) Everyone at the corps was so friendly, and Mr. Norton was special.
On December 17, 1940, I became assistant director of the Junior Salvation Army Band. I was 16 and very pleased with this achievement. I enjoyed playing the cornet and was grateful to all who helped me along the way.
In January of 1942 I became a bandsman of the Salvation Army Senior Band where I played until I left for service in the United States Army in 1943.
In November of 1949, I was highly honored when I was commissioned as bandmaster of the Pasadena Citadel Band. My wife, Lola Jane, and I have had three children – Bryan LaDel Holan, Jaydee Lynn Holan, and Bronwen Lou Holan. My wife of over 55 years was promoted to Glory on June 9, 2002.
I will be forever grateful to God for His many blessings. Because I had such good Christian training in the Salvation Army before the war, while in the military I felt His strength and protection. While serving in two Armies, The Salvation Army uniform was invisible, but it is the greatest Army in the world. It’s the building block of the human body and spirit; with love, caring and understanding for all God’s people.
