The Journey Home
Nearly 30 years have passed. I continued at West Point as the Instructor of Cadet Music for 17 years. For the 5 years following that, I became the Manager for all the Cadet Extracurricular activities, while continuing to play piano and organ at local clubs and restaurants. I also helped acts prepare for demo recordings for Warner, Atlantic and Bearsville. I left West Point to return to California for 5 years, working for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. When motorcycle sales hit a bottom in 1991 and most of the staff was dismissed, I returned to government service, working for the Naval Safety Center in Norfolk, VA for 7 years, and then Headquarters, US Marine Corps in Washington, DC for another 3 years. I ultimately arrived at the US Department of Transportation in Washington, DC, in 2006 – hired based on recognition as one of the country’s top subject matter experts on motorcycle safety. Probably as far from accordion as I could possibly get.
With the move to California and the subsequent high level of travel associated with the Navy and Marine Corps, I even found myself playing very little piano, however I continued to compose while the accordion continued to become an even more distant memory.
On the flight back to California to be at my father’s side as he was dying of brain cancer, I found myself on my laptop writing a very troubled and angry article about my feelings about the accordion. Even though I had positioned myself so far away for so long and built a nearly impenetrable wall around anything that was related in any way to the accordion, that gesture indicated how deep the instrument was ingrained in every part of me. I had been unsuccessful in shaking it from me. Much of my anger was directed toward what I considered failure. I had not been successful at making it a legitimate instrument. The all-bassetti instruments were difficult to play. Repertoire was severely curtailed. I had placed ridiculously high standards on what I would consider acceptable technical capability and I felt I would never be able to have enough practice time to achieve it – especially with my travel schedule which had me on-the-road more than I was home.
The culmination was a decision to sell one of the accordions in an effort to help some difficult financial times, or at least that was the excuse. I listed the older instrument on Ebay, and though there were inquiries, ultimately there were no bids. Though unquestionably two of the finest instruments Julio had ever built, there was no demand. But you need to be careful what you ask for. Through the Ebay add, John Torcello contacted me, interested in obtaining an instrument that matched his. I agreed to sell it to him. In the shipping process, UPS lost that instrument in shipment, so I sent the second instrument to him.
For the first time since 1952, I did not own an accordion. I had said that were I to ever play again, I wanted to play a stradella – to have fun. A year or so later I bought an old Excelsior off Ebay – but not having thoroughly read the listing accurately, it was a mid size instrument and did nothing to spark my interest.
However, a series of events that started in 2007 led to a rebirth. First was a West Point Glee Club Reunion that brought back over 150 graduates from classes spanning over 50 years, over half of them having been members while I was the music director and conductor. I was invited to participate as one of the guest conductors and was delighted to reconnect with so many old friends.
All this sparked renewed relationships with West Point graduates in the greater DC area and a year later we formed the West Point Alumni Glee Club of the Greater Washington DC area. I was again conducting weekly rehearsals and directing programs. Something I never thought I would do again.
Around this time I was contacted by Sanders Niejen regarding a book he was writing on the Giulietti Accordion Corporation. For months we exchanged Emails about the accordion and people who played them. I thoroughly enjoyed these dialogues. They brought back memories of Julio and the joy I had found playing his accordions. When he was approaching the end of his project, I met Sanders at DC’s Union Station one afternoon on a trip he had made to the United States. The pictures he shared reminded my of my visit to Castlefidardo and the good times I had shared with Julio and his family.
The Coupe Mondiale came to DC. It was in the news, something that you could hardly miss. I followed some of it and even talked to Joan Cochran Sommers about some of the details. But ultimately, the Coupe came and went. I wasn’t ready. However one thing I did was call General Knowlton who now lived with his wife in Northern Virginia and tell him of the events. With his love for accordion, I thought he might enjoy attending.
General Knowlton passed in late 2008. I often talked to my partner Jim about the future of the General’s prized Excelsior, and even asked several senior members from the WPAGC if they might consider contacting his wife for me. Something inside me was very curious about the instrument’s future. Above all, it was a full-size stradella and I felt some connection to the instrument.
Jim brought an end to one of these conversations when he challenged me to “just quit talking about it and call her. What would be the worst she could say? No?”
I picked up the phone and dialed. She remembered me and said that she had been concerned about what to do with the instrument. It had been such a part of his life that she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of giving it to a school. I explained that I wanted to play it as part of some of our glee club performances and she said that she was sure her husband would have wanted a continued connection with West Point.
I was on my way out the door for a trip, but said I would call her as soon as I returned.
When I came back, I called and we set the date. We planned the meeting prior to one of the WPAGC rehearsals and I went to her apartment with two of my dearest friends, John Solomon and his wife, Mary Jane. A West Point graduate and retired Colonel, John had been one of my first bosses when I was conducting the West Point Glee Club. We had known each other for nearly 40 years.
It was a moment I will never forget. We rode the elevator up to her floor and found her apartment. When we entered, it was one of those moments when you know you are surrounded by greatness. The apartment was filled with mementos from a lifetime of service to the Army and to the Country. It is still hard for me to comprehend the responsibility and power of a 4-star general. I am sometimes frustrated dealing with a complex business contact or personnel problem. Here is someone who might not only have responsibility for an entire military post larger than many cities, but also someone whose decisions could affect the welfare and even the lives of the soldiers he commanded. I am sometimes criticized for placing too much homage to the United States Military Academy and her graduates, but when I am in the presence of greatness, I am immediately humbled.
The accordion had been placed close to the front door. There was a small piece of paper on the top that had the combinations for the two case latches. After a tour of the apartment, we were directed to the accordion. It was difficult getting the latches open, but after a few moments, I held the Excelsior in my hands.
Maybe it was a moment of clarity, but I somehow intuitively knew what it was all about. I had been going over what it would be like to hold the instrument in my hands for the past several days – what it would feel like, smell like, the mechanical sounds from the keys and bass machine.
But what I felt went beyond that. As I started to play some simple songs I watched the expression in Mrs. Knowlton’s face. Here was an instrument that was an integral part of someone’s life for nearly 70 years. A treasured possession that had accompanied one of this country’s trusted servants through cadet years at West Point, World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, service to Presidents, American embassy’s. It was a companion that never failed him. Never had to live up to any expectations. Never had to prove to anyone that it was a legitimate instrument, worthy of a position among the other great solo instruments.
The accordion only had one mission – to bring joy to its player and to the people gathered to listen – whatever and wherever the occasion. And the accordion had accomplished that mission perfectly.
I began to realize that this was the vision I had lost. Accomplishment and other self-imposed needs had ultimately undermined the joy. It had become no longer fun. It had become no longer spontaneous. For me, all these had been replaced with personal expectations that could never be met. And I had become angry with the accordion, blaming the thing I ultimately loved, for my failure.
I also now realize that when I discarded the accordion I also invalidated a large part of my life – going to music lessons, playing in the accordion band, going to the festivals, collecting pictures, the thrill of a new accordion or amplifier, winning a trophy. I am sure this conflict created much of the anger I felt.
From the time I got the Excelsior home I couldn’t put it down. The next morning it was out of the case and in my arms. It started to come back to life. The General had been sick for several years which had limited his playing. The last time I spoke with him, he said he paid a high price in pain each time he would play.
The General wanted to play, but couldn’t. I still had the ability to play, but wouldn’t.
I started with some basic exercises in an attempt to regain some of my technique. I was excited about the chance of playing with the WPAGC, and it meant I would need to practice. I found myself enjoying every second of it. I decided I would start with accordion music that would have been played around the age of the Excelsior. Unfortunately I had discarded all my stradella music many years before when I had made my life-long commitment to bassetti. And though Julio had rebuilt the Excelsior, that was nearly 40 years previous and I was sure the accordion was eventually going to need some work.
A few years before, I had copied the master tapes from my albums into a high definition digital format. Through a co-worker from Department of Transportation I knew there was a local aficionado and technician near my home in Fredericksburg, Virginia. I don’t even remember the reason why, but I had contacted him about something. On one of his return calls to the house he had enthusiastically asked Jim, “Do you know who you live with? He’s the great William Cosby.” Jim had replied that he knew I had played accordion at one time, but never would talk about it. He also told him that I had sold my accordions several years ago, and didn’t even own one. The gentleman offered a Dallape Super Maestro that I could play if I wanted too – but I declined. At the time I was recovering from a broken ankle and didn’t see how I could play when I was sporting a non-weight-supporting cast. I still wasn’t ready.
But playing the Excelsior had sparked something. I wanted to play. I was playing from a 40+ memory; I hadn’t played a stradella accordion since the early 1960s. I thought that he might have some accordion music I could borrow. I was finally ready and I called him.
With the Excelsior in hand, I visited Dale for the first time on a Friday morning. I ended up staying most of the day. He not only opened his home to me, he offered up his passion for the instrument. A gentleman came mid day to pick up an Excelsior Symphony Grand that Dale had restored for him. The man had not played for years, and I watched his expression as he took the accordion into his lap and started to play.
Dale had a very large collection of accordion music. He had taken all of his teachers music after his death and several other large collections and catalogued them. I couldn’t stump him – he had almost every piece of music I asked for.
Looking through the file cabinets, the distinctive covers that marked various eras and arrangers brought back memories. I would remember playing them as a youth.
He carefully machined some dowels to help compensate for the Excelsior’s non-adjustable left hand strap. He gave me a set of modern straps and lubricated the latches on the accordion case so they would open freely.
He asked if I would like to attend an accordion picnic he was hosting a couple weeks later – and if I might even consider playing a couple songs. I accepted.
Armed with Nunzio’s Hannon and some of the old Pietro numbers and Galla-Rini’s arrangement of Konzertstuck I headed home to practice.
I played at the picnic – overwhelmed with emotion as I started my first piece. A young boy remarked when I had finished that I “was good enough to play at a restaurant, or even an amusement park.” I told him I would rather play at the amusement park – but only if I could ride the rides for free. I felt like I had come home.
The Excelsior soon started to show the effects of being played a lot after a long period since being serviced. Julio had once told me about what would happen with an older accordion when it was played again, it would be fine for a while, but the wax would start to crack. A couple weeks after the picnic, Dale confirmed this was starting to happen as I was noticing some new, strange sounds coming from the instrument. He loaned me a Sonola he had recently restored so he could work on the Excelsior.
I knew I was going to need to find an accordion that would withstand my renewed enthusiasm for playing. Many years previous I had said that if were ever to play again, it would be a stradella. I knew I did not want an all free-bassetti instrument. But I knew I would eventually want to play bassetti again. So my ideal instrument would be one of the dual system accordions.
I quickly discovered that accordions with both a stradella and bassetti system had fallen from favor and were considered by many to be old fashioned. Even Hohner had stopped making them in their custom Gola factory. These had been replaced by chromatic free bass systems where the chord rows ‘convert’ to a chromatic system. Though the keyboard layout is the same, the physical location on the instrument and relationship to the left hand strap was very different. My ideal dream accordion would be to find one of the Giulietti Continentals.
A little over a month later I was again at Dales, doing a short performance for attendees of a repair seminar. Jim mentioned to Joan Grauman, Historian for the AAA, about my search for one of the Giuliettis. Joan said she thought she knew someone who might have one, who might be willing to sell it. I thought, I have heard this type story before.
But within 24 hours, I opened an Email to be staring in total disbelief at a 45-key Giulietti Super Continental – my ultimate dream accordion. Within 24 hours she had introduced me to the owner and within another 24 hours the deal had been made and the accordion had been shipped.
In an Email thanking Joan, Jim made a comment that “it were as if Julio reached out from the grave and gave Bill another accordion to play.” I don’t know when I have ever felt such great excitement or gratitude; not only for the instrument, but for the opportunity to play again.
The Continental’s owner told me that he had also stayed away for a long time – but when he came back, he knew he would never want to leave again.
I brought my accordion to the party, but no one asked me to play
