Editor's Note: On July 18th, 2026, Bill McGlaughlin wrote a draft of this story for Classical KC. He died on July 21st, 2026. With the permission of McGlaughlin’s family and management, we are publishing the story posthumously.
Unorthodox beginnings
I thought it might be useful for young folks looking to get a start in studying music to have an idea of my early steps in learning about music. Unorthodox for sure — I didn’t have a proper music lesson until I was thirteen years old, well behind the usual starting point for young musicians nowadays.
My early influences came from beloved family members — my grandmother, whom I adored, was a wonderful pianist who played Beethoven, Victor Herbert and other favorites of her youth. My favorite was Chopin’s A Major Prelude Op. 28, No. 7. I was never happy until my grandmother had played it at least twice. With the Chopin Prelude I’d found musical heaven.
My father never mastered the art of reading music, but could coax wonderful sounds out of a variety of instruments — keyboards, squeezebox accordions and even the lowly sweet potato (ocarina). One day he handed me a Hohner harmonica and showed me how to play a scale. He pointed out a middle C and said, “Blow, draw, blow, draw, blow, draw, draw, blow. — And now you’ve got a scale.”
Delighted, I went away to practice for a minute or so, then came back, and said, “That’s great. I think I’ve got it. What’s the next lesson?”
“Oh, that’s it,” my pop said, “You know lots of songs. Let’s start playing them.” And so we did.
"Music was so much fun. You played with someone you loved and you used your ear."Bill McGlaughlin
We started with Steven Foster songs, which were still very popular, added the Marine Corps Hymn tune and pop tunes of the time. My father was a great fan of the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts and never missed a Saturday afternoon show. “How about a little Verdi?,” he suggested. And so we tried the drinking song from “La Traviata” on the harmonica. I was learning wonderful lessons: music was so much fun. You played with someone you loved and you used your ear.
Eventually, my mom suggested piano lessons, so I went off for a lesson with a very kind and clever nun who taught in our neighborhood. It took!
Waiting for a bus to take me home from my second lesson, I thought to myself, “Well, that’s it. I’ll be a musician.”
"I went nuts"
Now that I was in the hands of a private teacher, I went nuts. That first summer, I was practicing eight hours a day on a beat-up old upright where only half the keys worked. After playing for ten minutes, I’d stop, open up the cabinet and push the keys back in place so I could play another ten minutes.
At the time, Elvis Presley ruled the airwaves, but I was more impressed with a brilliant young Texan who beat the Russians at their own game in the International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition. (Years later, I was thrilled to find myself, playing in the trombone section of the Philadelphia Orchestra, accompanying the great Van Cliburn.)
But that experience lay years in the future. I dug in, practicing long hours, finding my way through the piano repertoire. Until, at the age of sixteen, I met another key figure in my journey: Donald S. Reinhardt.
"Chops Doctor"
Thinking that I wanted to study music in college, I met with my high school band director Donald S. Reinhardt. He was a fatherly figure in his fifties, a graduate of the Curtis Institute of Music, and famous among brass players for the teaching studios he ran in New York and Philadelphia. His many pupils included the trumpet section of the Duke Ellington Band.
I explained to Dr. Reinhardt that I was hoping to join his school band, perhaps playing cymbals. “Wait a minute, you’re a pianist?” he said. “You can read music? You’re not a cymbal player, you’re a baritone horn player. And that’s what I need at the moment.” Ten minutes later, I departed, carrying what looked to me like a small tuba. “Take it home and figure it out,” he added, "I'll see you next week.”
When I returned that next week Doc (as I was learning to call him) asked how it was going. I replied that I loved the sound, but I couldn’t play any high notes above a middle Eb. “Show me” he commanded. After ten seconds of struggling, he said, ”move the mouthpiece higher.” I did, and suddenly I had the high notes.
I had just learned why he had a reputation as a “chops doctor." Over the years to come, I had many occasions to be deeply thankful for Doc’s wisdom and experience.
Mutual admiration
I was the beneficiary of another important line in music education while growing up in Philadelphia.
It wasn’t unusual to find string players from the Philadelphia Orchestra teaching school children, or retired NFL players coaching high school football players.
In the middle of my freshman year as a music student enrolled in Temple University, I received invitations to teach in the Philadelphia area’s Catholic school system, which paid significantly more than my union member rate of pay at a supermarket. At 18 I took over as band and orchestra director at Bishop Shanahan High School Westchester, Pennsylvania. It was Dr. Reinhardt who recommended me for that position.
“It’s true that Bill is only a year older than the kids he’s conducting, but he’s learning very fast and the kids will love him,” recommended Doc. The admiration was mutual, and the six years I spent teaching at these schools were a joy, and underwrote my undergraduate tuition at Temple University.
Inside the sacred circle
So, now I was working as a teacher and free-lancing as a trombonist. The next step was an important one.
Famed Philadelphia Orchestra conductor Eugene Ormandy had scheduled performances of the Requiem Mass of Hector Berlioz, a huge work for massed choruses, and required four antiphonal brass bands.
I was delighted to be chosen as a member of one of those bands, and thus at the age of twenty, with a total of four years experience as a trombonist, I was performing with my idols, the great Philadelphia Orchestra.
It was life-changing to be brought inside the sacred circle. I was very proud to continue to work with the Philadelphia Orchestra over the next six years, including the full 1967-68 season.
And with that I’ll put on the brakes.
It’s been a pleasure to share my story with Kansas City, a city that is very dear to me. Thanks for taking the time to read. Go Chiefs!
Bill McGlaughlin’s unorthodox musical path turned into an eclectic and varied career. His musical journey also included six seasons as a trombonist with the Pittsburgh Symphony, seven seasons as conductor with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra—a significant shift in career—followed by stints as Music Director of orchestras in Oregon, Arizona, and San Francisco. He was Music Director of the Kansas City Symphony for twelve seasons. Then, with another shift in direction, he began hosting programs on Public Radio: St. Paul Sunday and Exploring Music, as well as a contributor to Classical KC.
Special thanks to Karrin Allyson and Cynthia Herbst for their help with the publication of this story.
