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ID: 4484263
Publication Date: November 29, 2009
Day: Sunday
Page: A7
Edition: FIRST
Section: News
Type: Local
Dateline:
Column:
Length: long
Without a word and with hardly an expression, M. Craig Paine raises his
baton before the Bangor Area High School band, a simple gesture for a
complex man who for the past 28 years has brought music to life.
He stands 6 feet tall from his black leather shoes to his wiry gray mullet.
He watches over his students like a shepherd over sheep, but more closely
he listens -- for a rogue flute, an errant chime.
The concert band on this recent day practiced "Eiger: Journey to the
Summit," a piece commemorating one man's epic climb to the top of a
Swiss mountain, fitting for another man's ascent to local music lore.
"He's got a great rapport with the kids," said Marc Blau, a retired Bangor
Area history teacher and Paine's close friend. "If you would stand and
watch him and his technique, you might not think that would be a good
way to teach. But his personality allowed him to succeed with his own
style."
The district will honor Paine's service by emblazing his name on the high
school's new performing arts theater, but his mark has already been made
on the hundreds of students, current and those of yesteryear, whose photos
line his small music room. With their faces go their trophies -- dozens of
them -- mementos of each musical exploration they undertook with their
director in the lead.
"The band itself is more than just a group of people playing music," said
Hannah Orban, a senior French horn player. "He counts on us, puts us in
charge and doesn't hide anything. He wants people to get it right, and
people look up to him for it."
Paine began making music when he was 10 years old, wrapping his arms
around his first trombone. He graduated from Slatington High School in
1972 and studied in colleges and universities throughout the Northeast, as
well as the University of Miami, before brief stints as band director in
Deposit, N.Y., and at Parkland High School.
Each day, the 55-year-old director wakes about 5 a.m. in his Bethlehem
home, where he lives with his wife, Mary. By 7 a.m., he's into his
cluttered office, which doubles as a fix-it shop, and probably his second
cup of coffee with cream.
"What I do here is just a fraction of their life," he said, "and I'm not going
to treat it as any more than that."
"He never seems tired. He never seems distressed," said high school
Principal Robert Vlasaty. "I can go to him with any problem, music or
otherwise."
By 2:30 p.m., after three or four classes, Paine lets slip a yawn, fills his
coffee cup with Mountain Dew and prepares for after-school practice or
one of the 40 to 50 public performances he leads each year. If he's not in
the classroom, he's probably playing his trombone with the Allentown
Band, one of the premier concert bands in the country.
"We both have the same philosophy: If it's worth doing, it's worth doing
right," said Debra Heiney, band director at the Bangor Area Middle
School, who joined Paine in 1988 and plays with him in the Allentown
Band. "We both agreed when I started that we'd do whatever it takes;
whatever it takes to make the program work."
Only 32 students played in the band when Paine began teaching in the
district in 1982. Only 15 students sang in the chorus. Today, the district's
band program boasts more than 150 musicians, the chorus more than 200
singers, and their melodies have garnered international attention.
The band has traveled around the world, touching down in Wales, Ireland,
England and cities across the United States. The Slaters played in the
2004 Gator Bowl in Gainesville, Fla., and in Disney World's
Spectromagic Parade in 1991.
The Slaters take pride in their Welsh heritage, donning their maroon and
yellow uniforms tailored after Her Majesty's Royal Welsh Guard. But
instilling that pride, especially in students from economically troubled
areas, can be a challenge, Paine said.
"We're the Slate Belt. We're not the Lehigh Valley and we're not the
Poconos," he said. "We're hidden in this little area, but I want them to
have pride in themselves. I push that. Take pride in what you do."
Paine himself exudes a certain satisfaction in his work, but ask him about
his accomplishments and he turns the conversation back to his students.
He enjoys making music, he says with a smile, and he enjoys making
music with them.
He still sports a gray mullet, a holdover from his younger years (he used
to have a ponytail) and a trademark among his students. He says he plans
to get it cut, but then continues in its defense, saying better more hair than
none at all.
Kidding aside, Paine struggles with the prospect of the future, the prospect
of ending his career. He sits at the front of the band room, his legs crossed
as the last of his students filter out the back door. He looks down, with
long pauses between his words.
"I can't do it forever. It'll be tough. It's tough just to talk about it," he says.
"I think I'll try to find something else, something simple. This is complex.
It's taken a lot of me to do this. I'd be great at mowing lawns. Grass grows
and you mow it."
When he does move on, he says, he will just walk away, leaving behind
his students, his coffee cup and his skinny baton. The music will continue,
but the march will fade to the background, and he will descend the
summit as softly as he arrived.