"What the teacher
is, is more important than what he teaches" Karl Menninger
My friend and teacher died last week. Jerry
Reinhart was the embodiment of this quote…What he was will always be a part
of me, and the thousands of students who were a part of his chorus program. He
taught for 40 years, and continued to be involved in musical theater even after
his retirement, at the age of 75! 75! And after that, he continued to direct and produce summer musicals for the community. Does that tell you something about his
energy and commitment to bring music to his community? I love this picture...I saw this expression often, from the alto section
I met Jerry and his wife Margilee because they were ‘younger
sibling’ friends of my parents. Jerry and my dad were at different schools in
the same small school district, Ross Township, or as we all called it,
Merrillville. I adopted them as the ‘older siblings’ I never had, and grew up
around their large family, often sharing holidays together.
I took voice lessons from Jerry, and wanted to be a part of
his choir, even though I couldn’t open my mouth wide enough to make a sound
worth listening to. Not until my junior year did my dad relent (“You can’t get
to college on choir credits!”), and let me try out. My natural shyness nearly
ended my short career in music before it began, but Jerry (Mr. Reinhart at
school!) was there to cheer me on. Those two years in choir were filled with
laughter, friendships, performance, beautiful music. We were a part of
something so much bigger than ourselves…we created music!
Classes and rehearsals weren’t boring affairs because we
could count on Jerry zinging us for our laziness…”Mr. Reinhart, I’m trying,”
was a typical whining response to a demand for more. Jerry had two answers, and
we waited, giggling behind our hands to hear them: “Yes, you are -- very,” and “I
know, I know.” Both were accompanied by his head hanging down, shaking sadly,
shoulders hunched. He was a performer! We got it. No excuses. Stand up, sing
the notes, stay in tune, listen to each other, balance the harmony. Remember an
ensemble performance depends on each voice, each section.
Jerry was more than he taught…he was fierce about his art.
He was fierce about sharing it with bored teenagers who’d never heard of
Mozart. He was supportive of every effort we made. He was elated when we rose
to the occasion. He was proud and demanding. He was exacting. He was harder on
himself as our leader than he ever was on us.
He was a musician, a husband, a friend, a father. He was an
educator. He was a leader and a visionary. He is the reason my old home town
presents amazing musical programs. The first, the year I graduated from high
school, was Music Man. That music was
what our small show choir sang, and he is forever connected to Harold Hill.
Recently, the Ross Township Musical Theater mounted productions of Phantom and Les Mis.
He was a teacher who demanded the best of his students and for
his students…he started his summer stock in the high school gym, and was the
inspiration for a state-of-the-art auditorium which was aptly named for him.
Jerry was my friend, my cheerleader, my supporter. He helped
me prepare to audition for that Music Man show choir, knowing my stage fright
could be crippling. He sat in that darkened auditorium while I auditioned for
the senior members of the group, probably the most surprised that my voice made
it to the back wall, the most proud, the most elated. He knew how hard it was
for me, he had watched me grow and to take a challenge that was more than
either of us thought I could achieve, and he was the first to congratulate me,
telling me he always knew I could do it.
Jerry sang at my wedding…his clear tenor voice reminded us
all, first and foremost, he was a talented performer who knew the joys and burdens
of performance. He told us later it was the only time he felt stage fright
himself…he said he stood up, looked out, and saw the church filled with friends…and
for just a second he froze.
When my son visited Indiana University in anticipation of
entering the IU School of Music as a masters’ student in trumpet performance,
my dad insisted that he meet Jerry, and that Jerry take him on a tour of the
music program at Merrillville High School. I love the thought of the two of
them, talking and laughing, one about to embark on a career in music, one
winding up his own career.
Jerry was so much more than what he taught us in class, in
rehearsals, at performances.
He is survived by his wife of 62 years, eight children, many
grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He is survived by thousands of students
are better people because he was their teacher.
I know my parents have found him in heaven and have ushered
him into that special corner reserved for teachers.
Claudia, I just read your blog entry on my father. How very kind of you. We do miss him, as I know you miss your dad and mom, or as I knew them, "Uncle John and Aunt Mary". It is nice to hear the impact my dad had on so many people. His funeral was a Reinhart production...no surprise there. He had a big impact on so many people. Everyone wanted to be a part of the "last show", so to speak. Made for an interesting send off. Again, thanks for the very nice words and sentiment. I will make sure my mom gets to see it. Best regards, Jerry's #1 son, Steve
ReplyDeleteOh, Steve! I love your dad so much...and your mom and you and all your sibs. You are a part of my childhood. So sad to know you lost him. Thank you for sharing him with us all, and for letting others particiapte in that celebration of his life and his influence.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you found this...I meant every word.