Finding My Grandfather in the Stacks

My grandfather Ronald died before my first birthday, so I never got to know him. But for a brief time yesterday, while sitting quietly at a wooden table in a special archives reading room at the University of Minnesota's Elmer Andersen Library, I could almost hear his voice.

It’s funny how a person’s personality can shine through a piece of writing, 69 years later. Funny cool.

I had made an appointment to visit the library and dig through the files of the Minnesota Music Educators Association, in hopes of finding materials from the organization that preceded it, the Minnesota Bandmasters Association. My great-grandfather, G. Oliver Riggs, was an early member of the MBA, served as its president in 1929, and was on its board of directors in the early 1930s, and I was looking for anything that would help me better understand (for my book) why and how the group transformed from the MBA to the MMEA in the early 1940s.

The MBA logo with its slogan, “Better Bands for Minnesota”

My journey was rewarded with the discovery of nine programs from MBA clinics and conferences held between 1934 and 1941, in conjunction with the University of Minnesota. Almost all of them mention the involvement of either my great-grandfather or grandfather, and one clinic also featured the band directing talents of my grandfather’s younger brother, Percy Riggs. But the most unexpected pleasure of the afternoon was the feeling I got when I pried the lid off an overstuffed cardboard box, pulled out the first few issues of Gopher Music Notes, the MMEA newsletter, and read my grandfather’s typed words on the worn, musty pages.

I was immediately drawn in by his self-deprecating humor, his goofy puns and his entertaining snippets of music educator gossip.

As the publication’s editor, he explains upfront in the second paragraph of the first issue, dated November 1944, that he is not a journalist and therefore needs members to send in their news. But his ability to make the newsletter a fun, breezy read, filled with asides and jokes, made me wonder whether he ever considered a career in writing. At that time, he was the band director at the St. Cloud Teachers College; he later became a political science professor at the school, now known as St. Cloud State University.

This is not an original typed newsletter from 1944, but a word-processed (easier to read) version also in the files.

The first paragraph above about visiting clinician Robert Shaw – the Robert Shaw of choral music fame, I am guessing – made me laugh (well, quietly to myself because I was in the library) because it was so unexpected. What was the story behind “the strip act” reference, I wonder?

My grandfather served as Gopher Music Notes editor until October 1946, and as MMEA secretary-treasurer from 1944-1947. In 1949, he wrote a piece for the newsletter that helpfully explains the history of the organization. The piece concludes with this paragraph:

We find the MMEA at a high point of enthusiasm as it concludes 25 years of service for Minnesota music. From the inspiration of a small number of municipal bandmasters we have seen the organization grow to a statewide organization embracing equal numbers of men and women who are interested in all phases of music education. Minnesota is known to have at least one thousand part time or full time music educators, and thus we present the challenge to the Minnesota Music Educators Association as it enters the second quarter-century of existence. May MMEA continue to increase – in number of members and in its service to the State of Minnesota!

He would be happy, I’m sure, to know that the MMEA continues to promote high-quality music education for young people throughout the state; according to its website, it serves 1,750 music educators through programs, clinics, advocacy and leadership. And he would have been humbled to learn that the organization paid tribute to his service in 1986 by posthumously inducting him into the MMEA Hall of Fame.

Ronald Graham Riggs, 1901-1968

But he must have been at least a little disappointed to know that his entertaining model of communicating news to members did not endure. I read through several of the newsletters produced in the late 40s and early 50s, and they just weren’t that compelling. No jokes, no fun expressions. Even the quirky name is gone; members now receive their news through a publication called Interval – the Journal of the Minnesota Music Educators Association.

Professionalism is fine; but if the grandchildren of those editors make a trip to the archives someday, hoping to hear the engaging voice of a loved ones, they may be sorely disappointed.