It was but a short time until Patrick Gilmore was the leader of the Charleston Band. His second venture in leadership was as the successor of Ned Kendall, the well-known bandmaster of the Suffolk Band. Gilmore’s experience in the army had taught him the value of discipline and practice and with his genial, friendly disposition, he had no trouble in training his bandsmen. His reputation grew as he took over the leadership of the Boston Brigade Band.
About this time a noted French bandleader, Louis Antoine Jullien, arrived in Boston. He had a fine orchestra and used many spectacular effects in his programs. One number which must have made a deep impression on Pat Gilmore was called The Firemen’s Quadrille. In this, fireworks were displayed and a company of firemen appeared drenching the aisles with water from the hose.
Gilmore gave up the Boston Brigade to accept an offer from the Salem Band at “$1,000 a year and all he could make.” After two successful years he returned to Boston where he organized his first band. Gilmore was then twenty-nine years old. Handsome, high-spirited and even-tempered, he made many friends. He was popular in various circles, especially among newspaper publishers, merchants and politicians. Pat never believed in hiding his accomplishments; he used every possible means of advertising himself and his band. He took his organization to the Charleston Convention, in 1860, and to the Lincoln Convention in Chicago’s Wigwam.
When the Civil War came on, Gilmore and his band enlisted in a body in the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers. Governor Andrews named Gilmore Bandmaster-General and Chief Musician of the State of Massachusetts. The regiment was sent to North Carolina, and later to New Orleans where Gilmore was put in charge of all the military bands in the Department of the Gulf.
In 1864, at a huge celebration in honor of the inauguration of the Honorable Michael Hahn as Governor of the Union State of Louisiana, Gilmore staged a spectacular concert. He assembled a chorus of 5,000 school children, a band of 500 pieces, a huge fife and drum corps, with cannon and bells coming in to accent the climaxes. Hail Columbia, Star-Spangled Banner, America and other patriotic choruses were sung. Bandmaster Gilmore scored a great success. He returned home filled with ambition and eager for new worlds to conquer.
Back in Boston he organized a new band, and made a tour of the country, reaping more honors for himself and his new organization. Then Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore conceived the great idea which carried him to the peak of his career. In June, 1867, he told his wife after asking her to keep the matter secret, “I’m going to get up the greatest musical festival and the grandest celebration in the world. It is to be a National Jubilee to celebrate the Coming of Peace throughout the land. It will be held in a great coliseum that will be built to hold 50,000 people.... The excitement over all the country will be tremendous and everybody will rejoice at the idea.”
Gilmore went to work at once on his great project. Boston people thought he was crazy. Neither New York nor Washington would have anything to do with such a wild scheme. Failing to get any city to undertake the plan, he determined to do it himself. With his winning Irish ways Gilmore talked to millionaire bankers, conservative music leaders, doctors, lawyers and merchants, everyone of influence whose interest he desired. And he won their cooperation in almost every case. Julius Eichberg, the director of the staid Boston Conservatory of Music, agreed to conduct the chorus of 20,000 school children. Carl Zerrahn, Boston’s top orchestra leader, promised to direct the mammoth orchestra in several great works. Singing societies from far and near accepted invitations to join the grand chorus of 10,000 voices. They wrote for programs and soon the choral numbers were being practiced in countless towns and cities, all getting ready for the great event.
Gilmore, producer or projector, as many spoke of him, personally carried out his gigantic plans, and neither his powerful energy nor his smiling good humor ever failed him. He wrote hundreds of letters and signed each one. “Praying that the grace of God be with the undertaking and direct it to a successful end.” Although there were great numbers of objectors and opponents to the stupendous scheme, Gilmore, undaunted, worked cheerfully on. Many hundreds of people gave money and help to the happy, confident originator of the plan.
The date was set, June 15, 16, 17, 1869. The immense auditorium, 500 feet long, 300 feet wide and 100 feet high, was erected in St. James Park,—now the site of the Copley-Plaza Hotel. Thousands objected to the huge coliseum, saying that it would be unsafe for a great crowd. Parents protested against the 20,000 children’s chorus singing in the new untried structure. The school board reported this to Gilmore who cleverly suggested that the children sing on the final instead of the first day, after the building had been tested by the crowds at the earlier programs. The school board consented to this.
The coming great Peace Jubilee was the talk of the whole country. Crowds were coming from great distances as well as nearby. Gilmore had won the consent of the railroad companies to sell half-fare train tickets to all visitors. The newspapers advertised low-priced rooms and lodgings. All Boston was hysterically excited over the gigantic celebration. When the huge bass drum arrived on a flat car—it was the largest drum ever made in America up to that time—the crowd of curious people completely jammed the railroad station so that no one could get in or out.