A MAN WHO NEVER RESTS.
Sousa has practically no vacations. Throughout the greater part of the autumn, winter and spring, his band is en tour through this country and Canada, giving, as a rule, two concerts each day, usually in different towns. During the summer, his time is occupied with daily concerts at Manhattan Beach, near New York. Despite all this, he finds time to write several marches or other musical selections each year, and for several years past has averaged each year an operatic production. Any person who is at all conversant with the subject knows that the composition of the opera itself is only the beginning of the composer’s labor, and Sousa has invariably directed the rehearsals with all the thoroughness and attention to detail that might be expected from a less busy man.
The bandmaster is a late riser, and in that, as in other details, the routine of his daily life is the embodiment of regularity and punctuality. In reply to my question as to what produces his never-failing good health, he said: “Absolute regularity of life, plenty of sleep, and good, plain, substantial food.”
His idea of the most valuable aids, if not essentials to success, may be imagined. They are “persistence and hard work.” The “March King” believes that it is only worry, and not hard work, that kills people, and he also has confidence that if there be no literal truth in the assertion that genius is simply another name for hard work, there is at least much of wisdom in the saying.
Many persons who have seen Sousa direct his organization make the assertion that the orders conveyed by his baton are non-essential,—that the band would be equally well-off without Sousa. This never received a fuller refutation than during a recent concert in an eastern city. Two small boys in seats near the front of the hall were tittering, but so quietly that it would hardly seem possible that it could be noticed on the stage, especially by the bandmaster, whose back was, of course, toward the audience. Suddenly, in the middle of a bar, his baton fell. Instantly, every sound ceased, not a note having been sounded after the signal, which could not have been anticipated, was given. Wheeling quickly, the leader ordered the troublesome youngsters to leave the hall, and almost before the audience had realized what had happened, the great organization had resumed the rendition of the selection, without the loss of a chord.