Jon Mark Beilue: 'The epitome of a teacher'

Gary Garner, WT music legend, celebrates his 90th

“As I see it, humans have only one thing that separate us from everything else – music. Every major civilization has recognized the importance of music, and we are in the business of making it a significant part of students’ lives now and throughout their lives. I see it as a constant, immune to the passing of time and fancy.”

Dr. Gary Garner

The Instrumentalist

November 2006

Dr. Gary Garner, a freshly minted 90 years old, stood like a slightly self-conscious and humbled king where the street met his front yard Aug. 14 in the Citadel on Amarillo’s northwestern edge.

His subjects rolled by – and roll they did – in trucks, SUVs, even a convertible. Maybe 20 vehicles in all. In this age of the pandemic, it was the safest and best way to bring birthday cards and birthday wishes to a man who by striving to be a servant-leader carved a 40-year legacy into the music department at West Texas A&M.

“I had no idea my 90th birthday could be so fun,” he quipped. “We should have done this years ago, but I don’t know if my heart can take all of this.”

It did.

Some who stopped in their cars to chat had followed their mentor in the field of music as band directors. Others in line were former students who remember getting the best pulled out of them through Garner’s wealth of knowledge and force of personality. But all – from the late 1960s through the 1990s – were influenced by a man whose slight stature cast a large and enduring shadow at WT through the better parts of five decades.

“Like any great person, the thing that separates him first and foremost is who he is. He’s just an amazing person. But after that, he’s an incredibly talented musician,” said Dr. Russ Teweleit, coordinator of music education and associate director of bands whose doctoral dissertation was “Gary Garner: His Career and Teachings.”

“Combine who he is with what he knows, and it’s a pretty magical combination. And his memory is second to none. He’ll meet you and not see you until a couple of years later, and it’s like he just met you.”

Indeed, for every car window that rolled down, Garner quickly identified who was in the front seat and proceeded to tell a story about each one that they probably forgot. Rarely was he told something he didn’t know.

“Oh, you babysat our boys too?” he said to Donna Carroll. “Well, we probably had about 30 of them.”

One drove from Lubbock. Kevin Kuehler, band director at Borger High School, pulled out his trumpet and belted out “Happy Birthday.” Rick and Terry Wester were the first in line with a “Happy Birthday, Dr. Garner” banner on the side of their convertible.

All of this followed six Zoom calls at various times during the day with former students. That was reward enough, but then Garner was coerced to come out of his home about 6 p.m., a home with a “Happy 90th Birthday” yard sign in front. He had a surprise, courtesy of the undercover work of neighbors Shyla and Steve Buckner.

“I would be glad to tell you what this meant except I don’t have the words to express it,” Garner said. “It was most unexpected. The Zoom conferences were wonderful, to see so many students I had not heard from back into the ‘70s.

“Those people are like family. That was beyond special. But this whole parade was a total, complete and utter surprise. There was just so much sneaky stuff going on behind my back.”

The accidental musician

Garner’s musical life doesn’t span 90 years – more like closer to 75. It was at Sam Houston Junior High when Garner’s two closest friends, Ben Bruckner and Dick Brooks, were in the band. Garner decided to join, not for any music aspirations, but just to hang out with his buddies.

The band director, a Mr. Eades, had a baritone sax he could try since Garner had not the foggiest of what he could play. The baritone sax was bigger than he was, and it caused a few bicycle wrecks on the way home to 10^th and Mississippi.

Practice was sporadic, and the sound was worse. Garner was about to be invited to leave the band. In one last ploy, he asked his father to buy him an instrument. A flute was about the cheapest there was. With an unknown but natural aptitude for the instrument, thus began a passion he’d follow the rest of his life.

One ill-fated attempt as a geologist at Texas Tech led to a desperate attempt at music simply to stay in school. Geology? It was like someone coming up to Meryl Streep and asking, “Have you ever thought of acting?”

A short stint as band director at new Monterey High School in Lubbock in the 1950s gave way to the unheard-of leap to director of bands at the University of Southern California. A film of the Monterey band marching performance persuaded USC officials to offer this young unknown Texan a job.

After a few years with USC, including directing the Trojan Marching Band in the 1963 Rose Bowl, Garner got an offer to come home. The request was to rescue the WT music program that was teetering on irrelevancy. In a bit of a gamble, he accepted.

Along with a group of like-minded teachers and professors, they changed the course of the WT music department. The emphasis was on music education. But as director of bands and orchestra for 39 years, Garner’s focus was on something else – the students. He never took his eyes off the bouncing ball.

“In those early years, the faculty would have conversations at the old Fine Arts building and it would center around the best way to teach and motivate students,” Garner said. “I asked one time, ‘Why is this institution even here?’ It doesn’t exist for our employment and to get a paycheck. It exists for one reason and one only – students. That ought to motivate everything we do.

“My role was helping my students develop their musical skills and their ability to communicate with their future students in an effective way. This was not about glorifying themselves when they got out. Self-aggrandizement is not even in the picture. Some see students as pawns to elevate themselves in the eyes of their colleagues. Winning is fine, but that’s not the fundamental goal of what we’re doing.”

Still, the national and statewide honors came his way in stacks. He twice took the WT symphony to play at Carnegie Hall. Ten times – more than university band program in the state – WT played at the Texas Musical Educators Association’s annual convention.

If there were a Mount Rushmore for WT professors and teachers, Garner’s trademark crewcut would be chiseled on there. He’s still a welcomed and frequent presence in the WT music department — at least, in pre-pandemic times.

Now, he plays his flute a couple of hours a day at home, works on a few music projects, and has even pulled out his clarinet from hiding and brushed up on that skill. He’s not bored.

“He’s a role model in all of life in addition to music,” said David Hinds, a retired band director in the Amarillo ISD and current orchestra director at Amarillo College. “He is what a teacher is meant to be to a student. He’s the epitome of a teacher, no matter what the subject may be.”

Hinds was one of about 20 former band members who returned at the end of the impromptu parade. Social distancing, they played “Happy Birthday” for their old teacher. When Garner asked for an encore, they played an enthusiastic WT fight song.

And there was Garner smiling and conducting, this Lion in Winter in his element, looking and acting like he’d never left.

Do you know of a student, faculty member, project, an alumnus or any other story idea for “WT: The Heart and Soul of the Texas Panhandle?” If so, email Jon Mark Beilue at jbeilue@wtamu.edu.