The Musical Hayes Family of West Virginia

   Homer Hayes (my great-grandfather) first learned to play the violin at home in Pricetown. For his 21^st birthday, he received a Guarnerius violin from his dad. Many people would agree that a Guarnerius is second only to a Stradivarius as far as violins go. (Today, the location of Homer’s violin has always been much talked about. Several relatives have been contacted, but none has an answer to that mystery.) When Homer left home, possibly sometime around 1906, he went to study at a school called Dana’s Musical Institute in Warren, Ohio. (An interesting side note is that if you combine this bit of information with Homer’s birthplace — Smithfield — you get the name Dana Warren Smith, which is my father’s name as well as my own. This, however, is purely coincidental as it had nothing to do with the naming of my father.) The school was founded in 1869 by William Henry Dana, a former student of Italian opera composer Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901). Homer received more than 500 hours of private instruction and graduated while studying harmony under Dana himself. (The school would later merge with Youngstown College in 1941 and is now Youngstown State University. The music college is still named The Dana School of Music.)
   Homer also studied under Augustus Gilliland, a trumpeter with “The March King,” John Philip Sousa. A common story passed around in the family is that Homer himself would soon be seated as a first-chair cornet player for Sousa (1854-1932). However, I have yet to find any concrete proof. But this is also mentioned in Homer’s obituary, which was presumably approved by Bessie. Sousa composed such familiar marches as “Semper Fidelis” (1888), “Washington Post” (1889), and the most popular, “The Stars & Stripes Forever” (1896). According to MawMaw, Sousa’s Band once performed for the Queen of England while Homer was with them. She was not sure if the Queen came to America, or if the band traveled overseas. As found in the history of The Dana School, eight members of Sousa’s Band were former Dana students at one point. Homer had also played with trombonist Arthur Pryor (1870-1942), a former pupil of Sousa, and played his violin under the direction of Victor Herbert (1859-1924). It was about this time that he would meet Bessie Bullock.
   The year must have been 1908. Variety magazine (which is still printed today) was a primary resource for musicians to look for employment back in Homer’s day. According to Aunt Ceil, he was browsing through a copy of Variety and saw an advertisement needing a pit orchestra conductor for a vaudeville act. It was Gus Bullock’s family show. Homer answered the ad, and he was hired. Along the way, he even joined one of the other acts, and played first violin ahead of the Bullock show. As soon as his group closed their concert, he rushed off stage to conduct the pit for the Bullocks. Bessie was one of the performers on stage, most often a singer/dancer. Because the pit orchestra usually sat low in reference to the stage, Bessie used to tell people that Homer fell in love with her legs before he was able to get a clear shot of her face. From there, they quickly established a close relationship.
   Homer’s grandson, Nick Hayes, son of Nip, relayed this tale to me:

       “The Bullock show got out to Nebraska, Colorado, or some other of those ‘God’s Country’ states, and Gus decides he wants to go west, when Homer had decided to stay south (apparently in West Virginia). Here’s where it gets interesting. It’s said that Bessie threw a fit. Not just a fit, but a behemoth, monster, throwing-things, breaking-things, kicking, screaming, yelling, long-term, very unladylike fit. She was not going to leave Homer. According to legend, it was quite a show! Gus is beside himself — he tells her to straighten up or he would lock her in a hotel room. He locked the door, and wouldn’t give her food or water until she decided to simmer down. Bessie had a very warm relationship with her sisters, who snuck her food and drink behind Gus’ back. So…you guessed it, she was able to keep the steam going, and the tirade continued in excess of three days. Finally, a bewildered Gus sent Bessie on to Homer with a note stating, ‘I can’t do a thing with her. She’s yours!’”