Program Notes for WEDNESDAY 5/14/25

Varsity Band

Illinois Loyalty - Thatcher Howland Guild came to the University of Illinois from Brown University in September 1904 as an instructor of rhetoric. He brought an unfinished song that he intended to be used at a college. Guild spent his next year at the university working on the first part of what would become "The Illinois Loyalty Song" and also joined the Marching Illini in the cornet section, where he met Albert Austin Harding, a student recently promoted to director of bands. In the early months of 1906, Guild added the cheering interlude and second part of the song. Harding arranged Guild's song for the Marching Illini just in time for its anniversary concert on March 3, 1906.  It was first published in 1907 by the U. of I. Supply Store under the name "The Illinois Loyalty Song."  Since then, the song has been used nearly universally as a song to evoke school spirit and represent the University of Illinois.

One of the driving forces of purchasing a chime for the university was the desire to hear "Illinois Loyalty" ring out on the instrument. After funding for a thirteen-bell chime had been secured in the middle of 1920, Dean Thomas Arkle Clark asked the purchasing committee if it could play the melody of "Illinois Loyalty". As it turned out, this would require an additional two bells, and he blocked the purchase until an additional $2,500 was raised. In short, the Altgeld Chimes were configured specifically to play the melody of "Illinois Loyalty".[4]

In the early 1930s, the status of "Illinois Loyalty" as a school song became a point of controversy. Students debated whether fans in the football stadium should stand up during "Hail to the Orange." Others argued that students should only stand when "Illinois Loyalty" is played, which they claimed is the official alma mater song.  These arguments continued with no conclusion until November 1958, when the Men's Independent Association and the Interfraternity Council urged university president David Dodds Henry to replace "Illinois Loyalty" with "Hail to the Orange" as the official alma mater song. It was discovered from this letter that "Illinois Loyalty" was never officially recognized by the university, but rather "For Good Old Illinois" by Vernon Thompson Stevens was recognized in 1916. President Henry believed that legislation of the issue could only occur when all interested groups have engaged in widespread discussion and come to an agreement. In February 1959, he asked the Alumni Board of the Alumni Association and the university's Student Senate to begin the discussion.  By March, President Henry announced that the university would not be making any decisions regarding official school songs. "Illinois Loyalty" and "Hail to the Orange" would remain in competition with "For Good Old Illinois" for the title of "official alma mater song".

Due to the song's length (over a minute long), it is normally played only at the beginning, halftime, and end of a football game. However, it is not considered rousing enough for a large crowd at a game. For that reason, "Oskee Wow-Wow," written in 1910, is used as the school's fight song.

Even a life-long UW Madison Enthusiast such as Mr. Flygt enjoys this melody and cannot help but tap his toe a little bit.  

Symphonic Band

Mark Camphouse was born in Oak Park, Illinois in 1954; a product of the rich cultural life of Chicago as composer-conductor. He received undergraduate and graduate degrees in music from Northwestern University where he studied composition with Alan Stout, conducting with John P. Paynter, and trumpet with Vincent Cichowicz. A scholarship from the Civic Orchestra of Chicago enabled Camphouse to study trumpet privately for two years with the late, legendary Chicago Symphony Principal Trumpet Emeritus, Adolph Herseth.

He went on to hold various collegiate positions and ultimately Professor Camphouse attained regional finalist status in the prestigious White House Fellowship Competition in 1992. In 2002, he received an Outstanding Faculty Award sponsored by the State Council of Higher Education for Virginia, the Commonwealth’s highest honor for faculty at Virginia’s college and universities for demonstrated excellence in teaching, research, and public service. In 2011, Camphouse received the Kappa Kappa Psi Distinguished Service to Music Award in recognition of, and appreciation for valuable contributions to the growth and development of the modern college/university band in the field of composition. Mark Camphouse has been married to Elizabeth Ann Curtis (Director of GMU’s Potomac Arts Academy) since 1982. They have twin daughters, Beth and Briton.

A Movement for Rosa was commissioned by the Florida Bandmasters Association honoring civil rights heroine Rosa Parks and was composed and orchestrated over a three-month period: August-November, 1992. With a duration of approximately 11 1/2 minutes, this 'movement' -- a quasi-tone poem -- contains three contrasting sections. Section I evokes Rosa's early years, from birth Feb. 1913 in Tuskegee, Alabama, through her marriage in 1932 to Raymond Parks in Pine Level, Alabama. Section II portrays years of racial strife in Montgomery and the quest for social equality. Section III is one of quiet strength and serenity. The work's final measures serve an ominous reminder of racism's lingering presence in modern American society. Camphouse provides the following notes about A Movement for Rosa:

America’s proud heritage and the accomplishments of its people have been and continue to be darkened by racial discrimination. This blight on our country takes many forms, whether subtle or more overt, as with cowardly acts of intimidation and violence by various extremist hate groups. Mrs. Parks addresses this continuing problem in her 1992 book entitled Rosa Parks: My Story. The final three paragraphs of that book: I look back now and realize that since that evening on the bus in Montgomery, Alabama, we have made a lot of progress in some ways. All those laws against segregation have been passed, and all that progress has been made. But a whole lot of white people’s hearts have not been changed. Dr. King used to talk about the fact that if a law was changed, it might not change hearts but it would offer some protection. He was right. We now have some protection, but there is still much racism and racial violence. In recent years there has been a resurgence of reactionary attitudes. I am troubled by the recent decisions of the Supreme Court that make it harder to prove a pattern of racial discrimination in employment and by the fact that the national government does not seem very interested in pursuing violations of civil rights. What troubles me is that so many young people, including college students, have come out for white supremacy and that there have been more and more incidents of racism and racial violence on college campuses. It has not been widespread, but still it is troublesome. It seems like we still have a long way to go. Clearly, Rosa Parks met those challenges and responsibilities with great dignity and courage. As Congressman John Conyers aptly said: “Rosa Parks moved civil rights issues from the back of the bus to the front of America’s conscience.

Dimitri Shostakovich

In the 1930s, the Soviet Union reeled under the purges of Joseph Stalin. Every person knew the terror of losing a family member to the gulag, or to a death sentence. Official government decrees defined truth and beauty. Traditional composers were declared decadent and their music forbidden. Only Beethoven survived the ban.  In this environment Dmitri Shostakovich, the greatest Soviet composer, found himself heavily scrutinized.  Shostakovich was only 26 when he completed Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District (1934). The opera featured a racy plot set to avant-garde music and premiered to critical and popular acclaim. Two years later, three different productions were running in Moscow.  Then Stalin himself went to a performance. The next morning the state newspaper Pravda condemned the work, saying it corrupted the Soviet spirit. The opera disappeared overnight and every publication and political organization in the country heaped personal attacks on its composer.  Shostakovich lived in fear, sleeping in the stairwell outside his apartment to spare his family the experience of his imminent arrest.  Unsure about its reception, Shostakovich rejected his own Fourth Symphony while in rehearsal. Instead he premiered Symphony No. 5, obsequiously subtitled "A Soviet Artist's Response to Just Criticism." As required, the work displayed lyricism, a heroic tone and inspiration from Russian literature. Still, many hear a subtext of critical despair beneath the crowd-pleasing melodies.

Finale from "Symphony No. 5" - Allegro non troppo

With his fate hanging in the balance, Shostakovich had to come up with an upbeat ending for his Fifth Symphony. Concluding with the melancholy of the third movement was not an option. However, the celebratory mood of the fourth movement sounds forced to some ears.  The movement begins with a string of march-like themes filled with swaggering attitude. The pace of the piece grows and the orchestra swirls with musical currents that burst with triumph – until all hope is dashed by another dead end.  The music that follows suggests quiet remembrance of those who are gone.

In a traditional symphony, we might expect a brisk march at this point, sweeping us on to victory. Instead, a dead slow march begins. Audiences recognized the musical reference to Boris Godunov – the opera in which crowds are forced to praise the Tsar.  Finally, with a great deal of effort, Shostakovich reveals his triumphant ending. As in the first movement, there is one expressively altered note, though. Not B natural, confirming the happy major version of the scale, but B flat, which delivers the sad minor version.  After so much time making his way to the major scale why does Shostakovich return to minor at the end? Perhaps it is his signal that the happy harmonies of the ending are as false as a Potemkin village.

Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 reflected his situation as an artist who would be judged by politics as much as by talent. Although some audiences heard condemnation of the government through inflections of despair, Stalin found the politics of the music acceptable and Shostakovich won a reprieve – at least for another decade.