A command to “strike up the band” had a particularly competitive ring to it in the mid-1800s. Brass bands flourished in every town, and the local rivalries were pretty fierce.

Stories about some of Androscoggin County’s early musical aggregations were handed down by Horace True of Turner. A couple of weeks ago, this column covered True’s lengthy career as a singing master, but that gentleman’s recollections also included some vivid accounts of the area’s brass bands before the Civil War and for several decades after.

True was a colorful raconteur, and L. C. Bateman, noted Lewiston Evening Journal reporter, conducted a fascinating interview with him in 1912.

“The first brass band that was ever organized in Androscoggin County was the old North Auburn Band,” he told Bateman, “Danville Snell, known as ‘Dandy,’ the famous bugler, was leader. He always led with an E flat bugle. You don’t see or hear them very often nowadays, but perhaps he couldn’t make it sing when they marched up the old North Auburn road!”

True named the band members one after another as he recalled those days as if they were yesterday.

“Seth Johnson, a brother-in-law of Dandy, looked after one of the B flat cornets. On the drums there were Horace Johnson and Amasa Johnson, two of the best drummers that ever tapped the sheepskin,” he said. “Horace Bearce had the bass trombone and Cornelius Richardson warmed up the old solo bass ophicleide (a member of the tuba family). You don’t see such ophicleides these days and you don’t see such players as Cornelius.”

True named several other band members, and exclaimed, “When they piped up, the Lake Auburn trout put away their playthings and listened. Larnard, I think it was, played a trumpet part that made the folks up around the lake examine the legs of their airtights the next morning.” It was True’s whimsical way of saying the local woodstoves known as airtights might have been dancing to the music.

A firemen’s muster was a highlight of summer community celebrations some 150 years ago, and re-enactments are still held. True told of the time the Lewiston and Auburn fire companies went to a Portland muster.

“We were engaged, of course, to furnish the music, for a fire muster in those days without a band was worse off than a hose without a nozzle,” he said.

“I remember we drove down in Oscar Bailey’s two-horse team,” he continued, hinting that Dandy had brought along some form of alcoholic refreshment. Dandy and another band member arrived in no shape to perform. But, True said, “Uncle Zenas Whitman was there. ‘Boys, says he, this isn’t one of Dandy’s days, but it’s one of mine,’ and he struck up one of the favorite tunes. We thought we were lost, but pretty soon Uncle Zenas and his fife got it going. Whew, how he strung it out.”

Among the bands at that Portland muster was Chandler’s Band, founded in 1833 and still performing in 2014.

“I remember in particular the tussle we had to get a hearing over at the old Buckfield muster,” True continued. True and his bandmates were playing for the Turner artillery. Chandler’s band was playing for the Portland Light Infantry, and Twitchell’s band of Bath for the light infantry of that city.

“It was a trick of Twitchell’s to play right into a band when it was passing his way, so when he saw us making ready to play up, he gave his men the signal. I happened to see him.”

As they came up over the hill, True stepped back to Dandy’s platoon.

“Dandy was plodding along in his usual indifferent fashion, but when I told him what was up, he changed his tune about as quick as I ever saw him. Throwing back his head with that independent air of his, he sang out to our boys, ‘IRON BOOTS.’ None of us needed any music for old ‘Iron Boots,’ for it was one of our familiar old crackers.”

True described Dandy defiantly swinging his instrument from left to right as he led the marching band.

“Nearer and nearer we got to Twitchell’s men who, flushed with the victory of having already broken up the East Auburn and Buckfield bands, were preparing to celebrate our funerals.”

Dandy “blew out the melody like one possessed,” True said. The drummer, Russell Staples, “knew how and when to hit, and he never did better in his life.”

Twitchell and his men? They never offered a note in protest.

“After we had gone by, they came in on the cheering and Dandy Snell’s name was on everybody’s lips.”

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by sending email to dasargent@maine.com.

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