April 6, 1935 - December 6, 2009
Marvin was travelling to Colorado, and it was reported that he passed out and could not be revived.
The program to his memorial service can be downloaded from this site here.
Also, the eulogy given by former band member Dennis Richards can be viewed here .
 Add as favorites (26) |  Quote this article on your site | Views: 507
1. Written by Dennis Richards, on 01-05-2010 19:28
I was a proud member of the drum section in the late sixties.
I was a trouble maker..always was ..always will be.
Marvin got me on the right path.
Marvin was always fair with me and the drum section when we got in trouble.
We were pranksters who pulled a lot of tricks and gags on all the band memebers and Marvin took it all in stride.Once before a Vegas parade I filled Marvins hat with shaving cream..
and as he was cleaning it out.. he was mumbling under his breath..."I bet Richards is involved in this!"
My partner in crime in most of these hijinks was Sam Stith.
Some of Marvins principals of hard work, dedication and never giving up have stayed with me my whole life.
This was not just a marching band but a brotherhood/ sisterhood that I will never forget!
The sacrafices that Marvin ,the parents and all the band staff made were incredibile!
Now here we are 40 years later!
I was trained by the likes of Bob Webster,Harold Wright,Steve Prescott,Larry johnson to name a few.
Walt White was a legend back then as was the infamous Vegas trips.
I remember the last parade in Vegas I marched with bloody hands in 112 degree heat and no one ever gave up ...ever! That was Marvins motto.
As a a parent I hope my son can one day do what Marvin did ...treat each person you meet as an individual with respect.
Rest in peace.. you have earned it my friend.
The world has lost a legend that changed the lives of so many young people it can never be truly measured!
In closing... Marvin we loved you like a father because you were our father when we went on trips ...as our parents knew you would watch over us and guide us when we were with you.
I will be up there in heaven one day to say hello you ..Mom ...Uncle Buck
and will be sure to bring some shaving cream!!
Where ever your last resting place is..
Warm summer sun,
shine brightly here,
Warm Southern wind,
blow softly here,
Green sod above,
lie light, lie light,
Good night, dear heart;
good night, good night.
Sincerly,
Dennis Richards
|
2. Marvin Marker sadly passed away December
Written by Jerry Bransford, on 12-14-2009 07:51
Those of us many thousands who spent our youth with Marv leading us in so many things even beyond our music already miss him terribly. He was a man that only comes along once in a very great while and it was my privilege and honor to have spent my youth with Marvin and the Long Beach Junior Concert Band. The Concert Band, as we often called it, was not just a band, Marv created something so much more than that. We responded to Marv and he responded to us in ways that mere words can never explain but mutual love is a very good start.
What a positive influence he had on so many youths throughout Long Beach and the surrounding area. Marv, you will be missed by a great many people who loved you as you loved us all.
Marvin Marker 4/06/35 to 12/06/09. Rest in peace Marv, rest in peace.
Jerry Bransford
OBST
LBJCB 1959-1966
Clarinet and tenor sax
|
3. Farewell, Marvin
Written by Jon Matte, on 12-08-2009 10:43
Farewell, Marvin
Marvin Marker died yesterday.
We never met, and until a few years ago I’d never even heard of him. There’s no Wikipedia entry for him (though I think maybe there should be), and no national tv channel carried news of his death. You’ll find him mentioned here and there in a Google search, but you have to look carefully.
But his legacy isn’t one of obscurity. Though the world doesn’t know his name, he had an impact on the lives of a lot of people, including mine.
Marvin started, led, championed for decades, and fought for the survival of an organization called the Long Beach Junior Concert Band (yes, that’s the Long Beach in California). If you look at old photos and newer video footage, the first thing you might think of is the movie “The Music Man.” Funny, plumed hats, red coats, striped pants, and semi-geeky kids chewing on clarinets. Girls in short skirts and long boots carrying flags. An odd sign on wheels that they pushed down streets lined with people that now look like they came from another century.
What doesn’t fit with this vision is the heart inside it. Unlike most teen and high school band experiences, the kids that joined the LBJCB so long ago don’t talk about their old band years with sheepish eyes and voices. Ask me about my high school band, and I’ll admit to having lumped along with a trombone, but it’s not something that makes me feel like more of a man.
What I hear and read instead are stories of courage and intensity, of comings-of-age through the heated fire of asphalt pavement in summertime, of being pushed past comfort zones to the discovery of a better person.
Marvin’s LBJCB quickly established itself as a genuine first-draw, award-winning, kick-ass parade band. Kids and teens who saw them felt the call and power and ran to join them. Not everybody heard the call, but those who did were willing to do whatever it took to be a part of that energy and thunder.
Thunder…
That’s what I heard in 2003 on TV, as I watched Portland’s nighttime Starlight Parade wind through the downtown streets. Floats and novelty groups and high school bands trooped past the cameras. I paid special attention to the high school bands because all my life I felt a pull toward them that I didn’t quite understand. Like I said, I marched in one back in high school and it was ALMOST satisfying. I never really figured out what was missing, though. Turns out, it was the thunder.
All of a sudden, a group of drummers appeared on screen. Out of nowhere, they swaggered into the camera, scowling with pride, black jackets and black glasses and one person in pink hair, slamming the heads of the drums so that they roared defiantly at the ten-deep crowd.
This was no high school drum section sprinting down the street with their muted kevlar ticky-ticky drums playing sprightly staccato notes underneath classic Broadway show tunes. These were big people (no matter how short) playing old-school leg drums and oversized bass drums, pouring strength through shoulders and arms. “It’s all in the wrist?” Bull. The slow tempo and massive sound sent shock waves through the crowd.
My heart didn’t jump. It screamed. I’d found something that I needed to be a part of, just as much as I needed to breathe.
I wasn’t a drummer, I was a nerd, a financial-and-software geek, and it took me a month to set aside my awkward self-doubt and get in touch with the group. I was told, just come down and start to play with us, and I did, and it was the closest thing to surfing on sound that I could imagine. It was also the first thing in many years that gave wings to something inside me.
Two months later, I tried out for full membership in the group. I couldn’t play enough, no matter how many practices I went to, so I needed to get in the group as quickly as possible so I could play as many gigs as they could get.
I made people laugh when I played. Sometimes, people explained that it was a good thing, because they liked how intense I was. I figure, it was probably more because I looked like a deranged, hunched-over grizzly geek. But either way, I played like hell because… well, how could I NOT play like hell? How could you jump on a bull for your eight-second ride and think, “Oh dear, I wonder if I’ll smudge these pants?”
The physical style and syncopated sound were unique to my eyes and ears, and they were a magical combination. The raw power of those undampened drums was awesome… and I mean, “AWEsome”, not, “omigod dude that is totally awesome.” People would watch us with big eyes and slack jaws and sometimes with covered ears.
It was two years with the group before I made the connection to Marvin Marker. Maybe I just hadn’t paid attention. Marvin borrowed that syncopated drumming style from the military and made it part of the core sound of the Long Beach Junior Concert Band. The guy who ran the drumming group I joined was from Long Beach and had started his own group to continue the sound and style up here in Portland.
A few other people carried that style into new drumming groups here and there over the years. Some have persisted longer than others. Everybody had a different angle on how to set things up. But the slower tempo, syncopated style, and uncompromising intensity of the sound were constant across the different groups.
After six years, the physical toll finally beat me. Shoulder tears from long ago ached more than I wanted, for longer than I wanted after a long weekend of gigs. My newly-acquired tendinitis wasn’t getting better. My ears, even with the careful use of high-quality plugs, had a constant hiss that was getting worse with each year, and it got uncomfortable to play even with the plugs in.
I thought about playing fewer gigs, or maybe not hitting my drum as hard as humanly possible, but the sound wouldn’t allow that. Again and again, I’d tell myself to go to practice and take it easy, but that promise would last for almost a whole minute before the drums and the beat would demand my full participation.
So I gave it up, with my last gig being typically “me.” I forgot to bring gloves, and figured ah well, I’ll just add some tape to my hands and take it easy on my last parade. That lasted for a minute. The tape lasted for ten. My drum heads looked like I’d been cleaning fish on them by the end of the parade, but it was worth every second to have that one last time to ride the thunder.
To Marvin, wherever you are now, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for touching the lives of those kids in Southern California, year after year, generation after generation. One of your kids grew up and taught me your style of play and the intensity you demanded.
Your home-town marching band inspired people to share your sound with others. Your sound made me, for a few wonderful years, a most unlikely rock star, shaking the ground and setting off car alarms. Your gift to me was carried through the feeling in my heart, sent out to crowds and received back through their shining eyes and laughing faces. Without your inspiration, I would never have had that explosive ride, never have had the feeling of squeezing more out of exhausted muscles than I thought possible, and never have watched people dance to a sound I helped create.
Even though we never met, I am your legacy, and I am proud of that.
|
|
- Please keep the topic of messages relevant to the subject of the article.
- Personal verbal attacks will be deleted.
- Please don't use comments to plug your web site. Such material will be removed.
- Just ensure to *Refresh* your browser for a new security code to be displayed prior to clicking on the 'Send' button.
- Keep in mind that the above process only applies if you simply entered the wrong security code.
|
Powered by AkoComment Tweaked Special Edition v.1.4.6
AkoComment © Copyright 2004 by Arthur Konze - www.mamboportal.com
All right reserved |
Comments (3)