Chapter Eight:
The Great Highland Bagpipe
When I was just a little boy, every summer, my mom and dad used to take me to the fair, or, the “Exhibition", as granny Hryhor called it, when it came to town. Oh, How I loved the fair!.... It had everything I adored,... and was full of fun rides, and tasty food pavilions that sold freshly salted and buttered corn on the cob, spudnuts, which were a kind of deep fried donut that were made with potato flour and coated in granulated sugar, and perogies…!
The perogies were handmade by the local ladies and served with large amounts of warm, buttered and salted sauteed onions and a generous dollop of cool sour cream…! Besides these attractions that really appealed to me, there were all kinds of other displays, agricultural, mechanical, and commercial, along with nightly entertaining shows and the Prince Albert Exhibition drew in large crowds of people from both within Prince Albert, and from the surrounding farmland and Northern communities. There was a parade that was held to kick off the opening of the fair, and the parade wound its way down the streets of Prince Albert all the way to the exhibition grounds where the exhibition was being held. During the parade there were all kinds of “floats' ' or cars decorated all fancily, representing various local businesses and prominent offices, political and whatnot,..., as well as horses all ornately dressed and saddled and there were bands too…. There were brass marching bands but there were also Bagpipe bands! I don’t know how old I was when I first heard them, but when I heard the Bagpipes for the first time, I felt something very unique and special. I got tingles and chills up and down my spine and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood straight up! I knew these physical sensations were coming from that special sound, and I was drawn to that sound by some mysterious power!
Every year we would go to the parade and I would impatiently wait and listen for the pipes. My Grandpa Bobs’ family was of Scottish ancestry and I thought maybe that was why I liked the pipes so much! When the pipes came into earshot, I was in heaven,... I used to love all of the tunes,... especially Scotland the Brave, and I still love the sound of the pipes and all of the tunes that there are, and all of the great bands and solo pipers are something, indeed, worthy of celebration!
I was in about grade 6 or 7 when I started to inquire about learning to play the pipes. I found out that Bagpipe lessons were being offered in Prince Albert, for free, by Mr. Dave Monette, a school band teacher, multi-instrumentalist, and an all-around wonderful person and bagpiper, every Sunday night, at Vickers school, on the East Hill in Prince Albert. My dad bought me a practice chanter from Frank Almyer’s music store,.... The practice chanter is the instrument that is commonly used by bagpipers to learn the basic fingerings, before striking up a full set of pipes,.... I began to practice. The practice chanter is a reed instrument that is much easier to sound than a set of bagpipes, and when the practice chanter is played it is far quieter than the pipes.
We went up to Vickers school a few times and I took lessons. The whole lesson structure was as follows: First we’d all take out our chanters and try playing whatever tunes we were working on, and then, at a certain time, Mr. Monette would tell the senior students who had their own pipes, and could play them, to get them out and start warming up. I was so excited just to hear those pipes and see them up close! After they all warmed up, Mr. Monette would tune the chanter and then the drones on each piper’s bagpipe and then they would prepare to march. There were drummers too, who would come out and perform with the band. The drummers included snare drummers, bass drummers, and even tenor drummers (different sized drums with different sounds for Bagpipe music). They would form ranks (make lines) and then, Mr. Monette would be the leader, the one who gives commands to the band. In the Bagpipe world this is known as the role of Pipe Major. He would say stuff like “Band, … A-tten—tion! And all the band would put their feet together and stand up straight. Then he would call a tune like ``Barren Rocks of Aden” and then call out the time signature, “2/4” and then he’d say “By the right, quick… march!” And then the whole band would begin to march and at the same time the drums would begin to rattle out the introductory rolls, two rolls, three beats each, and the band would be stepping in time with one beat per step. On the first beat of the second drum roll the entire pipers’ section would strike up their drones and on the third beat they would all sound their E note in unison. You would know it to hear it. It was totally awesome!
I really liked those Sunday night lessons, but I didn’t really understand the concepts of the bagpipe grace notes and doublings (finger movements) very well. In the summer of about 1988, I had been studying the pipes for maybe a year, with little improvement. We went up to the school for our weekly Sunday night lesson. Now, that night, for some reason, Mr. Monette hadn’t arrived and we waited in our truck. There was another car parked on the street, a gray Chevrolet Caprice Classic, with a sticker on the back that mentioned bagpipes,..., inside the car, sat an older gentleman with a tweed cap and a kindly face.
We waited for a while and then my dad said he wanted to go and talk to the older man. I got out and went with him. We walked over and began to converse with the man, who had a noticeable Scottish accent....We all remarked that we didn’t know why no one had shown up,... that maybe there was no practice tonight,.... Then my dad, as often was his custom, offered the man his name,... “I’m Tom,... Hislop” he said. “Hislop?” Inquired the old man, his voice perking up on the second syllable….
“Any relation to Bob?” He inquired.
“Yeah,” dad smiled, “That's my dad!”
The old man’s face broke into a big and friendly grin, “Well! He exclaimed, as he thrust out his hand :
“Put aer ‘eer then!” (“put her here” with a thick Scottish brogue)
They shook hands and the man quickly introduced himself as Billy Gibb. Mr. Gibb lowered his gaze and then looked up at my dad and said with serious thoughtfulness…
“That Bob was a damn good mechanic!”
My dad and I laughed and smiled as we knew we’d made a new friend. We stood and chatted for a while and Mr. Gibb told us that he also taught the bagpipes, at his house, but only to a couple of young men. He told us of a practice session that was coming up and invited us to come over. We accepted his invitation and told
him we would be there.
Mr. Gibb’s house was a small house on 2nd street East, not far from River Street. Behind the house, there was a back alley and behind that there was a church. When you walked up on the porch, at the back door, you could see in the brown screen door, the silhouette of Mr. Gibb sitting in his recliner. We arrived at the house one beautiful evening in the end of June. Mr. Gibb invited us into his house with a friendly “Welcome to the Gibb Castle!” I met the boys. They had their practice chanters out, and they had a music book opened to a certain page, where they were learning a new tune called The Brown Haired Maiden.
They would play together on their chanters and Mr. Gibb would listen carefully. If there was anything at all that was off, in any way, the notes, gracenotes, fingering techniques, or the timing,..., Mr. Gibb would stop them right away. He was strict, and he had little patience for nonsense or disrespect. Over the summer he told me stories of his life…, so many stories,... He was a wonderful man and a wonderful storyteller. “ I was a piper and a sniper,...” he told me in all seriousness. He’d whisper almost, sometimes, when telling a story, like about the time he shot a turkey that escaped from a freight train, right in town, at the railyard, with a .22 rifle, or the time he punched a Tuba player in the mouth while on parade in the army,.... He was great, and I grew very fond of him.
Usually the boys played together in unison on their practice chanters, and then the tune was broken down into its first and second parts, and each player would play it individually. After the boys practiced the chanter, till maybe 7:00, they would put down their chanters and get out the pipes. They would get the pipes tuned up, and they always played them outside. The neighborhood was quiet and the pipes sounded wonderful in the summer air. They marched up and down the alley playing many different tunes, and my dad and I watched. I knew right then that I wanted to be like those boys, piping down the alley and the sooner the better. I didn’t know much about the pipes or the tunes,... but I had a desire that was so strong,.. It fuelled me with an energy and a hunger to play the pipes with a longing that cannot be explained, and from that night, I began to practice earnestly and voluminously.
It was right at that time that my Grandpa Bob’s mother, Janet Hislop, was soon to turn 100 years old. I told Mr. Gibb about this event, for which a big celebration was planned, and he had the idea that I pipe in Grandma Jenny. Piping someone in is when a piper would walk in front of the distinguished guest, playing the pipes, leading them to their designated seat. It was something that was done to pay special respect and tribute to the person.
I liked the idea, but I didn’t know a single tune.... To this, Mr. Gibb said with optimism and confidence, “You can learn one for that!” So, I chose a tune called Highland Laddie, because I loved it, and we started practicing it. I had it ready in a couple days. It wasn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was passable. The way Mr. Gibb set up the pipes was interesting too. He set them up as just “the goose.” so, the three drones were removed and plugged off and there was just a blowstick and chanter. It was much easier that way, to play, for a beginner, and that’s what I was. I had the tune memorized and all of the fingerings I understood. Now it was just a matter of tightening everything up, in terms of technique– of getting all the gracenotes and different finger movements as clean and precise as possible.
I went to the 100th birthday party and piped in my great grandma Jenny. Everything went well. I continued going to Mr. Gibb’s place and soon, I was going nearly every weeknight. Usually, I would go at around 6pm, and then the boys would show up around 7pm. I loved the pipes and practiced accordingly. I would wake up and then begin practicing. I would strike up my pipes by 10 a.m., and then I would play all day long, switching to the practice chanter from time to time. Naturally, I improved dramatically, in a very short time. I would play the music all day long, everyday, and the more I played, the more I wanted to play. I would go for my session with Mr. Gibb most evenings and then by 9:30pm, I’d be home. Lots of times, when I would arrive home, I would practice for another hour or two before stopping for the day. By the time the summer was over, I was a competent piper, at about the grade 3 level. Mr. Gibb had started talking to me about contests. He wanted me to learn the six-part march “Highland Wedding,'' specifically for piping contests. Piping contests were held in various locations throughout Canada, a couple times a year, and I was planning on entering them. I learned Highland Wedding right away, all six parts. I continued to practice. I wanted to become a world champion, there is such a thing!
Fall came, and I started into grade 8 and I went on my big hunting trip with dad down to Foam Lake. With the start of school I eased up on my piping practice and went back to my rigorous study schedule. Bear in mind that I was, all the while, taking violin lessons (Classical) and I was playing the Alto Saxophone in the school band. The violin I did practice, maybe thirty minutes a day, most days, but I wasn’t particularly fond of the music. The saxophone I never touched at home, and only practiced with the school band, at school. Music came very easily to me and I was an excellent reader of written music. Sight-reading is where you play an instrument and you read the music off of the sheet as you play. I was excellent at that. I could sight read, almost effortlessly, for saxophone, violin, and bagpipes.
In about 1990, Mr. Gibb fell ill and was forced to move out of his house and into a care home. I went to see him and played the pipes for him as he lay in his bed. By this time, I was a grade three- level piper, and I was capable of winning (In 1992 I won the Saskatoon contest- for grade three-level solo piping). Mr. Gibb’s condition declined over the weeks and months to follow and he was moved to the hospital. One day I was downstairs at home practicing my pipes,it was summertime, and Mr. Gibb’s condition was very poor, and my dad came downstairs with a serious look on his face. He told me that my dear old friend, Mr. Gibb had passed away.... It was a sad time. I would miss Mr. Gibb dearly, but I would never forget him.
I would continue to practice and play the bagpipes for a couple more years. I joined a pipe-band in Saskatoon called the 96th Highlanders, and it was alright. The technical ability of the players was higher, and I met some ok people. We went to a big contest in Vancouver, B.C., in spring of about 1991, and we got 2nd in Canada for our level. I had grown a little tired of the piping scene by then though, I was intimidated and made fun of by some of the band members, and I missed the kind heartedness of Mr. Gibb and when I got a chance at my part time job, I decided I didn’t want to go to Saskatoon anymore for the weekly practices. In the end, I went to three different bagpipe camps and I loved every minute of them. I also spent a couple of weeks one summer marching down the road at Hungry Hill playing nonstop for miles. I even played at Swearing lake.
The Bagpipes will always be a sound that I am particularly fond of. There’s something to be said for the sound of one, ten, or 100 pipers playing, in unison, with perfectly tuned pipes, a haunting highland melody…. The hum of the drones and the piercing sound of the chanter -to me they speak to something deep inside and invoke, as Gordon Lightfoot sings, “a kind of a Restless Feeling” not unlike the wild goose’s cry… “ And I will always love that sound until the day I die.”
To hear some of the sounds from my past, click on the links below, I am not playing in these recordings; they are just samples of the beauty of the Highland Bagpipes and drums.