William James Shepherd III Eulogy for Dad
Thank you for coming to the Celebration of Life for Bill Shepherd. Because this life is truly worth celebrating. He lived life fully and joyously in ten different decades. Frank Sinatra once said: “you only live once, but if you lived like me, once is enough.” And I think that is true about the life of Bill. So let’s start at the beginning, in a small, rural Ohio town called Carrollton in 1933, in the midst of the Great Depression.
Bill was born not in a hospital but in his grandmother’s house one day before Halloween. He was born to Helen Shepherd. Whenever you visited Helen, she would always ask in advance what you wanted to eat and sure enough it would be there. For example, later when Bill would visit her from Iowa, he knew that no matter how late he arrived in the evening, there would be his favorite cheese and crackers and trail bologna waiting for him. Bill took after his mom by turning into an excellent and adventurous cook who experimented with everything from oyster recipes to cabbage casseroles. His “go to” specialty was pasta which he paired with his incredible marinara and butter sauce.
Bill’s father was named…. Bill Shepherd. Yes, our Bill who we celebrate today is actually William James Shepherd the Second. And our Bill would tell everyone that his dad was the man he admired most. His dad was known as the “Voice of the Carroll Country Fair” and was seemingly known by every person in the county. It was similar for Bill here in Black Hawk County. Whether it was grocery shopping or walking at the mall or attending a concert, almost invariably someone who knew him would come up to greet Bill.
So he had two kind, loving parents. He also had two sisters. Dorothy and Betty. Betty is still with us. The sisters described him as an ornery but loving brother. They all lived on a small farm property with a horse barn, a sheep barn, a smokehouse, an outdoor stove, a water pump, and vegetable gardens. There was a creek running down one side of the property and a railroad in the back. Bill and Betty loved riding together with their horses Ginger and Neva. Days before Bill passed away, he and Betty were on the phone reminiscing about their horse rides together. Later Bill and his dad would use a team of horses to excavate under the house and build a basement. He was a naturally talented horse rider who could stand on top of a horse. Growing up, Bill almost failed the first grade, not because of his acumen, but because the students in the Carrollton High School marching band were somehow allowed to remove him daily from class and have him come out to the marching band field to be their mascot during practice. Early on it was clear that marching band was going to be part of his life.
Bill had a natural talent for the trombone and started getting “1s” at competition, but when it came time to graduate high school, he didn’t have a clear path forward. There was even talk of joining the traveling horse show. Bill had graduated high school in 1951 and was working his usual summer construction job. He would come home each evening after a hard day of work and eat almost an entire pint of ice cream. One evening while eating his ice cream, his mother Helen slid an application for Ohio University across the table and asked him if he might consider going to college. That suggestion made all the difference in his life path. That Fall, off he went to Ohio University. He had packed only two items: a small suitcase and his trombone.
At Ohio University he studied music and met lifelong friends like Bob Trochia. Bob and Bill were college roommates and played in dance bands together on the weekends. Bob always called Bill “Shep” and they always stayed in contact despite the miles between them. In fact, just two days before Bill passed away, Bob and Bill talked on the phone, and they shared a laugh about a story from 70 years ago like it was yesterday. Bill completed both his bachelor's and master’s degrees in music at Ohio University. He married Diane Cole and they ultimately had four children: Ann, Jeani, Nola, and William James Shepherd the Third, so named in keeping with tradition and honoring his dad.
Next, Bill began his high school teaching career. At both Wellington and Wooster high schools, he transformed the bands into top notch groups with a combination of a demanding but caring teaching style. And the kids responded. Decades later when he returned to those towns to visit, the students would still greet him with the warmth you reserve for those truly special teachers who impacted you the most. As an example and testament to that long lasting impact he had, just shortly before he passed 3 of his former band students from Wooster from the 1960s traveled as a group to see him one last time. They still remembered and cared about their high school band conductor even after 60 years. Bill is in the music hall of fame at both Wellington and Wooster high schools.
Bill took a sabbatical of sorts from his high school teaching career. One evening he and a friend went to hear the legendary Tommy Dorsey band play at a local ballroom. The band was being led at the time by the excellent trombonist Warren Covington. Bill’s friend knew Warren and told him that Bill played trombone. Warren asked Bill if he wanted to sit in. Conveniently, Bill had his trombone in the trunk of his car. Bill joined for a few numbers and while he was playing Warren walked over and stood right next to Bill and listened and evaluated. After the gig, Warren said that one of his trombonists had to leave the band for a few weeks. He asked if Bill wanted to fill in on the road for him. If so, meet at the band bus tomorrow morning. I don’t know how that conversation went at home with Diane, but off he went to live a bit of a dream. Bill eventually spent a year on the road with the band in a bus zig zagging across the country playing gigs and recording two albums with the band in New York City at the legendary Decca Records. He made great friends in the band. But he realized that this was not a very sustainable family lifestyle. He returned to high school teaching, but with an amazing set of experiences and memories.
Bill made one of the toughest calls of his career in 1969 when he left his beloved job at Wooster High school to make the leap to college teaching at Findlay College in Findlay, Ohio. In addition to leading the bands at Findlay College and playing on the weekends in various big bands, Bill decided he would like to fly and earned his pilot’s license and flew a 2-seater Cessna. He spent 7 years at Findlay before moving to the University of Northern Iowa in Cedar Falls, Iowa where he remained until the end of his days 47 years later or more than half his life. Bill arrived at the same time the construction on the UNI-Dome was ending. His first year the marching band sat on the concrete in the stands because the seats had not yet been installed. He married Mary in 1989 and they embarked on trips to Australia and Italy and Russia.
He kept busy. You can read all the details in his obituary but in addition to teaching and conducting he started a big band and a Dixieland band and served in a leadership role in the musicians’ union and played in the Waterloo-Cedar Falls symphony and conducted the Waterloo Municipal band for 37 years.
He was an INTERESTING guy because of his varied interests and activities. But someone commented this week that Bill was also INTERESTED. That is, interested in knowing about other people. He was interested in you and what you were doing and what you cared about. That’s an increasingly rare trait in today’s world where so often other people are just waiting for you to stop talking and talk more about themselves and the interesting things they are doing. I think this is one reason Bill made such an impact on others. He was interested in and cared about others. He belonged to his family and was a father and a husband and a brother and a son. But he also belonged to so many other groups including his students, friends, and professional colleagues. On many occasions I heard one of them describe the difference he made in their lives and in some cases even thought of him as a surrogate parent.
Toward the end of his UNI career, he was asked what he might do in retirement after spending a lifetime playing music, conducting, and teaching. He answered that he’d like to continue to play his horn a little bit, help out occasionally conducting a music group, and working with a few students. So his answer to the question: “What do you want to do after you don’t have to go to your job anymore” was essentially to do exactly the same thing. How many of us can say that? I wish all people would have such close alignment between their avocation and vocation.
And make no mistake. He didn’t just love the trombone, but he was a really, really good player. World class in his prime. Just a few days ago one of his friends shared with me the following story. Bill invited Urbie Green to play a trombone clinic at Findlay College. If you don’t know, Urbie Green is one of the most famous and best trombonists of all time. Other trombonists were typically shy to play around him. At the end of the clinic in Findlay, there was a jam session and Urbie and Bill stood toe to toe trading trombone solos in the middle of the song. The friend who was there said Urbie put down his horn in surprise and respect and just stared at Bill for a few bars before starting the chorus.
It was a bit of a running joke with his kids that Bill had a way of describing people on a two-dimensional scale of their personality and musical ability. If someone was mean or arrogant, he might call that person a “real SOB.” On the other hand, if someone was a nice person he call them a “heck of a guy.” As for musical ability, his description might range from “can’t play a lick” to “heck of a musician.” So in conclusion, I’d like to say that this small town boy from Carrollton did pretty good. And using Bill’s own descriptors he was both a “heck of a musician” and a “heck of a guy.” Thank you all for coming.
Dear friend, Randy Hogancamp's Eulogy for Bill
As I have been thinking over the past few days about what to say, I realized that while there are many individual stories to tell, the overwhelming message and sentiment I have about Bill Shepherd is to thank him for being my friend, colleague, mentor, and sounding board, as well as thanking Bill for showing me how to be consistent and true to my beliefs while still having humanity and concern for others. Those are Bill’s values and qualities, and I thank him for sharing them with me.
I met Bill in 1976 when he joined the UNI Dept. of Music as Marching and Symphonic Band director. It wasn’t long before I was playing in Symphony w/ Bill, in Bill’s combos, Bill’s big band, Bill’s dixieland band, for cattle congress acts w/ Bill, and w/ Bill’s band at the sports show in the dome. At those shows the combo played for a myriad of events from high wire circus acts to dog shows and everything in between. The most memorable was a snake charmer! The cobras were fairly tame, but when the rattlesnakes were loose on stage, we hopped off! As always the highlight of the show was when the Queen and her court from Pella brought the band a box of Dutch almond letters!
We both survived the ups and downs while teaching at UNI - changes of administrators, various classes of students coming and going (each class with it’s own personality), new faculty coming in and moving through to the next job, and the inevitable state funding crises one after another. All the while there was a core faculty in the School Music that kept the department going, and Bill was one of the most dedicated, consistent, and reliable. I remember one summer when we were playing a day gig, remarking that we were the only SoM faculty in town and working while most everyone else was gone for the summer. Eventually, I joined the others and would leave town for the summer, but Bill was always here - still playing.
Bill was a positive presence for both our students, whether in Marching or Symphonic Band, conducting class, band methods, or student teacher supervision, and also as a public face for the SoM. As the Director of the PMB Bill was seen in public during one halftime by more people than any of the rest of us probably were in all of our performances. When he led the BSBB Bill’s was the face people wanted to see and hear - they all wanted to know him! His leadership of the summer Municipal Band made their Thursday night concerts highly successful, including an appearance at the IBA Conference in Des Moines.
Although I always considered Bill a friend and respected his musicianship, knowledge, and teaching, it wasn’t until we were both retired that we really had a chance to develop our connection much deeper. Until the pandemic we walked at CS Mall nearly every day, along with a community of other “mall walkers” who all seemed to know Bill. During the pandemic Bill & I walked outside in his neighborhood, weather permitting. It was during these walks that we realized how similar our backgrounds were coming from small MidWestern towns. We had time to talk about so many interests, including books that he would recommend such as bios of Frank Sinatra, Sammie Davis, Jr., Dean Martin, and others as well as the books “Life After Life” and “Life Before Life.” Even when we weren’t able to walk, one or the other of us would call to check in weekly. When my son Nathan died it was Bill with whom I could shared my grief while we listened to Nathan’s music. Thank you, Bill.
I will finish with one story that I believe sums up Bill’s life. I was visiting with Bill at NewAldaya a couple of weeks ago, and pretty much all we talked about was the visit he had the day before from three students who played in one of his high school bands in Ohio. One came from CA, one from Chicago, and one from Ohio. They planned the trip to meet in CF and take Bill out to dinner! He was so happy, pleased, and almost in disbelief that they came to see him. Those students and hundreds or thousands of others are Bill’s legacy!
Thank you, Bill!
William's Personal Remembrance of Dad
I had a chance to share remarks about Bill Shepherd’s (Dad's Facebook link) early life and career at his funeral but also wanted to share a more personal remembrance about him as my dad.
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A “Parting Glass” to my Dad
"The Parting Glass" is a traditional Scottish farewell song often sung at the end of a gathering of friends to express the bittersweet emotions of departure. It has also long been sung in Ireland, where it remains popular and has strongly influenced how it is sung today. The "Parting Glass" is the final hospitality offered to a departing guest to fortify them for their travels. For some it’s thought of as a funeral song as well, singing the last farewell to one’s loved ones. The lyrics include:
Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
My dad was an excellent musician and was widely known for his musical prowess. I was not. I say this not with false humility, but as fact. I can’t match pitch and despite many violin, guitar, and piano lessons I remain musically semi-illiterate. In junior high I was cast as the lead in a musical without auditioning because the directors incorrectly assumed I had genetically inherited musical talent from my dad and would be a singing sensation like my older sister who had starred in their prior musicals. My tone deafness was quickly discovered by the directors who reached out to my dad as if disclosing some terrible medical diagnosis. My dad just said “I already knew that. Why didn’t you audition him?” I learned about all this years later in a matter-of-fact discussion with my dad after I brought it up.
The reason to share this self-deprecating story is that despite having an incredibly talented musical dad, who one might have assumed would have been disappointed to have such a musically talentless son, I never once felt my lack of musical ability was of any concern at all to my dad. I only felt his pride and encouragement. On many, many occasions someone would come up to the two of us and say some variation of: “Oh, I bet you take after your dad. What instrument do you play?” And my dad would always jump in and start talking with pride about some of the non-musical things I was involved in like sports or school. In fact, I think he enjoyed being a “football parent” to me after spending decades as someone who was more focused on the halftime show than the scoreboard.
Dad made me feel important and useful throughout my life, which is such a vital thing to feel especially as you figure out your way in the world as a young person. He would bring me along when he set up the equipment for his big band gigs. I felt useful setting up the music stands, microphones, and electrical cords. I especially liked it when we tested the microphones and he asked me to go out into the middle of the venue and tell him if the sound was sufficiently loud and balanced. He got me an “I’m with the Band” t-shirt.
I also felt useful when driving. I remember one summer my dad making the 700-mile drive from Iowa to Ohio in our 1974 Chevy Impala when I was 8 years old. I was sitting in the front bench seat between my dad and mom while my three sisters were in the back seat. I couldn’t see over the dashboard. My dad said he was getting a little tired and it would be helpful if I would look in the rearview mirror and inform him when any cars were approaching from the rear. I felt quite proud to fulfill this function and contribute to the safety of the family. I don’t think he really needed the help, but I’m glad he asked. About 8 years later, he asked me to do some of the driving on the Iowa-Ohio trip. When I was in high school, he drove my friends and me to faraway venues to see the rock and roll bands we liked. Years later when I lived in Ohio as an adult and he would come to visit, I would drive him around the state visiting some of his old haunts and seeing old friends. We had some great times driving together.
One of our most memorable car trips together was in Ireland. Dad had developed an interest in genealogy and on my 18th birthday he and I flew to Shannon, Ireland. Dad got a rental car and drove us around Ireland on the “wrong side” of the road for a week. We had a great time seeing the Ring of Kerry, meeting the Irish people, seeing the Chieftains perform, and visiting our home county of Cavan. It was on this trip that I had my first beer, a Guinness, with my dad. I had my last one with him the first Friday of August this year. He and I had many other “parting glasses” in the 36 years in-between. They were all spent in good company. I am sorry for your going away. Goodbye and joy be to you.
“The Parting Glass”
Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm I've ever done
Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be to you all
So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befall,
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
If I had money enough to spend
And leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this town
That sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips
I own she has my heart in thrall
Then fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all.
A man may drink and not be drunk
A man may fight and not be slain
A man may court a pretty girl
And perhaps be welcomed back again
But since it has so ought to be
By a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all
“Parting Glass” performed by Hozier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zufPTLuShCU