The Piping FairyBack about 1987, the band had an agreement with British Caledonian to provide band assistance or pipers as needed for their publicity. In return members of the band could get two Round Trip tickets to England or Scotland each year. Margaret and I took advantage of the deal and toured Scotland and England for three weeks. While visiting Skye we stopped at a pipe museum in Borreraig. When we left we spotted a monument on a high grassy brae. Curious to what it was, we hiked the few hundred yards and found it was the MacCrimmon Cairn which looked out to the waters of Skye. Many have heard the legend of the three MacCrimmon brothers, two who were competitive pipers and kept their wee brother at home to do the chores. This wee lad desired greatly to be a piper and was wishing so when Behold! a fairy approached and told him to go in the house and he would find pipes. The lad said the house was locked but the fairy said to blow in the lock and then use his fingers as the key. He did, entered, found the pipes, and kilts. The fairy said blow the pipes and out came a tune "Finger lock". The lad then dressed out and headed to competition where he was declared the greatest of pipers. Well, if the fairy was this good, I figured a prayer at the cairn to the MacCrimmons and the good fairy would help my piping. After the prayer I got the strong urge to relieve my kidneys, so I did, on the sea side of the cairn. Haven't been able to pipe worth a damn ever since. Pipers, as a warning, never piss on the leg of the piping fairy. - Robert Duckworth "We Don't Need No Stinkin' Rain Capes"The band was playing at the Georgia Renaissance Festival one fine, overcast spring day. We were getting ready for our grand march through and there was some concern about rain and whether or not we should don our Inverness capes. I'm picturing us in the capes with the tartan all hidden. No flash of color only the skirl of the Pipes and beat of the Drums. I wanted the tartan, pipes and drums on display. It didn't seem or "feel" like rain so I decided to chance it and said "Rain Capes? Rain capes?? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Rain Capes." So, of course, 10 minutes before the end of the parade through the Village, it poured. Rain sluiced from the sky but the Band played gallantly, if wetly, on. I could feel a multitude of eyes boring into my back as we finished the march and dismissed. The soaked, white shirts were presenting some interesting views as the material became translucent. We're not an all-male band and the lasses remind me smartly later. And so, every now and again, someone will remind me of the event with a cry of "We Don't Need No Stinkin' Rain Capes!"
The Navy HymnBack towards Veteran's Day a few years ago, I joined two other pipers for a special Veteran's Salute in Rome, Georgia. As we were warming up, one fellow turned to me and asked me to play "The Navy Hymn." I started in playing "Eternal Father" and was soon stopped by cries of "No! No!! Play the Navy Hymn!!" I shrugged and started in on "Eternal Father" again and was once more interrupted by exasperated cries of "No! THE HYMN!!" I figured that my version of "Eternal Father" must not match what he'd heard so mentally went over the fingering and tune and launched into it again. "DAMN IT!! NO!!"The veins were pulsing on his forehead, his eyes were starting to bug-out and he was snarling "YOU KNOW- DAAHHH - DAh da DAAAhhh da Dahhhh.... You know, Like the Marines have "The Marine Corps Hymn"...." I cleared my throat and said, "OHHHhh, YOU want "Anchors Aweigh". The NAVY HYMN is "Eternal Father"....you lubber."
The Rum SongDuring one Renaissance Festival band gig, I was approached by a patron asking for a tune. He wanted "The Rum song." I started mentally going through any reels or strathspeys he could be talking about and drew a blank. "Is it "The Ale is Dear" or, perhaps, "Hot Punch?" I asked. "Nope" he said, "The Rum Song." I puzzled over this and asked if maybe it was "Whiskey In the Jar" or "Neil Gow's Farewell To Whiskey?" He insisted it was called "The Rum Song." "Please hum it or sing it if you will because I'm drawing a blank here." I replied. He cleared his throat and began: At this point I broke in and said, "Ahhhh, that Sir, would be called 'Scotland The Brave' I do believe."
Chevron AdvantageI had Just finished up playing at the delightful Columbus Steeplechase at Callaway Gardens. It had been a fun show and the Band did quite well. I was driving back to Stone Mountain and was on a country road heading towards the interstate. I was about 15 miles an hour over the speed limit when I suddenly wound up with some yahoo in a Ford truck riding my bumper. He failed to take advantage of a couple of passing areas and seemed intent on seeing what was in my glove compartment. I was still wearing my khaki band shirt with the Pipe Major chevrons on them and casually draped my arm on the back of the passenger seat. I'm obstinate and am going to be casual even with some joker tail-gating. He couldn't see my ponytail because of the headrest. There was an abrubt, sudden decrease in speed from my friendly "tag-along" as my arm came up and he dropped back 10 car lengths and stayed there. Apparently, he was thinking I was some law-officer from the chevrons. He stayed way back from there on till I reached the interstate. I wonder if I could wear that shirt for the drive to work?
Wee Little DrummieBob Harlan, Drummie, has a son Tommy that he brought along to the Highland Games. This was years ago and he was about 5 or 6 years old at the time. We were at Stone Mountain and of course he was kilted and had a band uniform shirt and Glengarry from Mom and Dad. I had made Tommy a child's mace with a nerf-ball top all painted silver and he was carrying that and marching along. (Come to think of it, maybe we should do that with adult Drummies.) Ducky, Ron Dachs and myself lined up behind him. I was at the front and we were in single file. That child was as ram-rod straight as he could get, with chest out and mace firmly in hand. He even had the swing correct. Looking at him, we couldn't help but chuckle and laugh. He immediately wheeled around, stomped his foot down and bellowed out "PIPERS!!" then wheeled back around. We refrained from laughter this time but were all smiles as we followed after our wee little Drummie.
Just What Band Are We?Bob Harlan, one of our ex-Drummies, wound up relocating to Minnesota. The missed him and his family tremendously and everyone was very happy when he came down to visit us a few years later and appeared as our Drummie again at the Stone Mountain Highland Games once more. Our Band always has done walk-throughs and serenades of various Clan tents at the Games since the 1980's. Some off the larger bands had shunned this type of activity but lately I've noticed an increase in this activity by more of the bands. Personally, I think it's a good touch. Anyway, as you serenade the different tents and groups, some will ask you fall out and have a "wee dram" or "nip o' the creature." Other people will offer it only to the Drummie who normally should pass it around for ALL to have a sip. Up we'd come to a tent and the Drummie would say "Clan Ogilvie (or whatever), the Atholl Highlanders Salute You." We'd play a tune and hopefully have a sip. I heard a side-drummer, Louize, refer to this process as "trick-or-treating for Scotch." Bob, unfortunately, didn't know to pass it around and was knocking it down like no one's business. We were all looking at him wondering when he was going to share. By the time we had serenaded about 6 different clans and had reached our last salute, Clan MacMedic, there was a wavering and fluidness in each step. He marched us up to the Clan MacMedic tent. He drew himself up and said "Clan MacMedic the.....ummmmm..the..." He seemed puzzled. "Uhhhmmmmmm.. The...?????" "The..uhhh..ermm.." He looked even more puzzled. Suddenly Jim, our bass drummer, softly called out "It's on the Drum, Bob!" Bob looked puzzled."Bob, our name is on the Drum." Jim called out again softly. He looked at a side-drum for a moment then focused, sort of, on the bass drum. "Clan MacMedic the Atholl Highlanders Salute you!" After playing we managed to get our Drummie back to some coffee and a good lie-down.
Just What's Under A Piper's Kilt?Every Spring the Band plays for the Atlanta Steeplechase near Rome, Georgia. This assembalge of fine folks, fast horses and cars is truly a sight to behold and quite a festive gathering. It also has a good bit of drinking involved. We had circled up and were playing some of our sets when I noticed a commotion outside the circle. We finished our music and marched off. My wife, Pamela, joined us a few minutes later and I asked her just what had been happening. "Two girls, rather the worse for drink, had decided to see just what's worn under the kilt. So, while you were playing, they threw themselves on the ground under one of the Pipers and were giggling and pointing and laughing themselves sick." Pam continued, "They stumbled to their feet and started running, or 'weaving' off I should say." "Looked under the Piper's Kilt?" Pam asked them. "We sure did!!" They giggled. "Did you get a real good look under the there?" Pam asked. "We did!" They giggled. "Funny, that was a female piper you were gawking at." "EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!" they wailed as they stumbled off.
Ceiling Fan of DoomSaint Patrick's Day used to involve playing at Kilpatrick's, a fine but now defunct, pub on Peachtree Street in Atlanta Drummie Bob Harlan had been leading us on the march and brought us in to play in this fine establishment. He led us into this nice open area near the bar. We circled up and played some fine Irish favourites for the crowd. Bob raised his mace to signal the end of the set, right into the ceiling fan! There was an explosion of dust bunnies and a fan blade whirled across the room. Bob was frozen in place as dust flew and the ceiling fan came to a wobbly, final stop. The band, being the concerned people we are, broke out in gales of laughter as Bob rolled his eyes upwards from under his feather bonnet to look up at the wreckage.
Droom (Drum) Major SpottingSome years ago, I was waiting for the "walk" signal at a pedestrian crossing in Edinburgh. A voice behind me said (in a very thick Scottish brogue), "Aye, yer a kiltie then." Without turning around, I replied in the affirmative. Then the voice said, "And a droom major, too, I?ll ween." I turned to see a gent with a magnificent handlebar moustache. "I was a droom major for thirty years, laddie", he said, twirling the tips of his moustach. "It's a look we have to have." -
Drum Major Spotting Edinburgh 2000The band was in Edinburgh for the Millenium March in 2000, an attempt to have the largest gathering of pipes and drums. My husband, the Pipey, and I were walking down the street with the Drum Major, Don Bogue, and his sister Cathy. A gentleman came up to Don, looked him and down and said "You're in a pipe band aren't you?" Don proudly said "Why, yes, I am." The stranger said "Aye, you'll be the Peacock then." in reference to his Drum Major position. -
To Dirk or Not to Dirk?This question happens sometimes when playing at a Cathedral or Church in military type uniform. Should you wear the dirk ( the long dagger worn on the side) or not? Some people see this as sacrilegious so , for a while, I didn't. Well, until I started playing at services that had Civil and Revolutionary War re-enactors with fixed bayonets, swords, and once in the case of a World War II re-enactor, a thompson sub-machine gun. I also went back to wearing it when approached by the Minister of a Church in Glasgow, who said "Where's yer Dirk, Laddie?" I answered that I didn't think it was very religous and war-like to which the Minister snorted and said "Aye, and people always enter with their minds and pocket knives.We have nae asked them to be left at the door! So wear the gear as it should be! Yer nae settin' a bad example." Something similar happened in Edinburgh as well. The Priest said "Wear it! People expect the pagentry and the history it represents." -
The Dillard House CaperWe were on our way to compete solo in Gatlinburg when we decided to stop in at the Dillard House and grab a bite to eat. The food was great but the service was less than adequate. We finished our meal and went to pay. In order to get to the cash register, patrons are 'encouraged' to go through the gift shop; so we did. Jerry saw a couple of items that he decided to get for his daughters and brought them to the register. When we arrived at the register the person taking our money asked us who our waitress was. We told her that we had no idea since she had only brought us our drinks and then the cooks and others brought out the food. We told her that our waitress more or less disappeared. She was very adamant about finding out who our waitress was and continued to interrogate us while picking her teeth, bagging Jerry?s gifts and running his credit card (thanks for lunch by the way Jerry). Anyway, Jerry signed his receipt and the lady handed him the gifts in two white gift bags and we left. We didn't think any more about it. We wound our way through the Smokey Mountains and marveled at the landscape while discussing the strategy we would employ in the next morning?s competition. When we arrived at the hotel in Gatlinburg, we began to unload the Jeep. I grabbed the two white gift bags off the top so that nothing would get broken when pulling out the luggage and drums and harness and pipes and, well you get the picture. It was then that I noticed that the date was written on the side of the bag as well as the words, Gift Shop. Thinking that was strange I looked inside the bag. I looked back up and started laughing hysterically. Jerry came over to see what was happening and I gave him the bag and had him look inside. The blood drained from his face and he had an ashen look. The lady in the gift store had given us the entire day's credit card receipts and sales-slips in one bag while she put the gifts in the other bag. We had essentially robbed the Dillard House! I couldn't stop laughing. Of course, I had to rib Jerry about how the police were probably right now sitting in his drive-way with a warrant waiting for him to come home. Jerry immediately called the Dillard House and made arrangements to drop the receipts back to them on our return home. He felt awful and even thought about driving all the way back to return the receipts. The next day, after the competition, we returned the receipts. No harm, no foul. Still, we learned a valuable lesson: If you're going to run a cash register, stop picking your teeth and pay attention or some Joey may come in a take your receipts. -
The Beaton PathAn action took place Sunday afternoon that deserves to be noted. After the "Parade of Tartans" on Sunday the full band played its' way back to the tent stopping at several clan tents along the way for serenades as we normally do. After the Brigade was refreshed a small "salute" squad was dispatched was dispatched to the clan MacTavish/Thom(p)son tent to render a non-playing salute (due to the proximity to Alex Beaton) to the clan. Upon completion of the salute, while on the march back, the following occurred: As the unit marched (at the Tap) past the Alex Beaton performance, Alex began a blistering verbal tease (naming the band by name) in a very mocking tone. The unit, being the Brave Lads and lass that they are, continued to march past and not respond. At this time ol Alex made what will go down in Stone Mountain Highland Games lore as one of the biggest strategic BLUNDERS in the History of the games. He asked the unit to render a Toon!! At first, the unit pressed on, once again not responding to his MOCKERY. Alex then asked for a SECOND time. "Common Lads Gie us a Wee Toon!!" At that time ,Drum Major Bogue, halted the unit and called for Scotland The Brave!! As Alex Beaton sat there Dumfounded at being "Hoisted on his own petard", the salute unit played a well received Toon once thru (Alex finally broke down and sang along). At the end of the tune, Drum Major Bogue rendered a salute and the unit pressed on to rousing applause!! At this time I would request a "Valor Under Fire" commendation to the members of the "Salute" squad. Alan,Lisa,Geno,and Dennis were the pipers, Don Hunt and Jim Thompson were the drummers, Led by Drum Major Don Bogue.
Evan's Note: I've tried for year's to get Alex to let us play in that area with him to no avail. I've cajoled him at the Whiskey Tasting and all he did was put up a no piping sign. However,this caused another group to put a "No Alex Zone" sign.   I just wished I'd been there when he opened his mouth and said "Come on Lads Gie us a Wee Toon!!" Scottish CowboyYears ago I was training engineers over in Scotland and England for Honeywell Bull computer division. One Scot from Aberdeen kept putting down the 'pseudo-Scots' in the States and going about our kilting up and Highland games. He kept on about we were not real Scots, just wannabees. Never mind the clearances and transport of some of us immigrants years ago. At the end of a training session, he said "Do ya wan'to join me? There's this great cowboy bar I go to....I even have the hat, shirts, jeans and chaps I dress up in!"
Drunken Drummies Wobble but They Dinna Fall Down!At one of the Stone Mountain Highland Games massed bands, I had the pleasure of being behind a very drunken drum major. I was supposed to follow directly behind him in a straight line but this proved quite impossible. He lurched to the left, then to the right, back to the left. For added effect he almost took out the drum majors to either side as he attempted to flourish his mace not once but three times! I also dodged some dodgy mace movements since, as pipe major, I was directly behind him. I gave up following him but marched straight on as he bobbed to the left, then to the right with high exaggerated steps. When we came to a stop, I watched him actually make small circles with his upper body while mace and feet were firmly planted in place. Very much like some spring operated toy that flexed this way and that. To his credit, he never wound up kissing the ground though I did expect to hear a 'sproing' sound every time he weaved about.
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