A curious resource of bagpipe history, music and personal musings.
Author: Funeral & Memorial Bagpiper
A friend of mine in Scotland sent me a cassette tape of bagpipe music as a Christmas gift in 1992.
The sound of a piper playing really spoke to my soul.
I began taking lessons from The John F. Nicoll Pipe and Drum Band located in Towson MD.
The training is very regimented.
Before one can actually “play” the bagipe, a recorder type of instrument is used to learn the intricacies of music and tunes.
The bagpipe is not an instrument that one can “play by ear or “just pickup”.
I have played with Pipe and Drum bands that you see in parades, such as on Saint Patrick’s Day and the fourth of July.
Additionally, I have played numerous weddings, parties and funerals through the years.
I have been a Gold and Silver medal winner in *EUSPBA events.
*Eastern United States Pipe Band Association
I recently played at The World War ll Memorial in Washington DC, to honor the Code Talkers who served on Iwo Jima during the conflict with Japan. Marine Cpl. Peter MacDonald is one of four remaining Navajo Code Talkers. Cpl. MacDonald enlisted when he was 15 and he and 120 other Navajo Indians provided secure combat communications during the battle. The Japanese were completely baffled by this strange language. The movie “Wind Talkers”, featuring Nicolas Cage tells the historic story.
On a pleasant sunny day he spoke of us all being Americans regardless of our ethnic backgrounds.
If by chance you know of someone who love the bagpipe and wants to purchase a set, save them money and frustration by forwarding this article to them.
Several years back, I got a call from a young relative of mine, a teenager at the time, who had found a “bargain” set of pretty bagpipes on eBay. He and his Dad hurriedly bought them before the end of the auction. After they arrived he called me all excited and enthused about learning to play. My worst fears were realized when I discovered, as I had suspected, that he did not find a bargain set of bagpipes at all, he got exactly what he paid for…CRAP.
Rule #1: Never, ever, I repeat, never, ever buy a set of pipes on a whim. You would be surprised how many people start off by basically telling themselves, “Wow, I want to learn the pipes so I’d better buy a set and start learning”. I cannot express strongly enough what a mistake this is. A purchase at this early stage will almost inevitably end with a bad or shoddy investment and few are able to then recoup their loss.
Rule #2: Do not buy your pipes on eBay or the like unless you REALLY know what you’re doing. Probably if you’re new to piping and reading this, you don’t. Unlike most other instruments, you don’t learn the pipes on the pipes themselves anyway. Beginners learn the pipes on what is called a practice chanter. Forget buying pipes until you are competent on the practice chanter.
Rule #3: Start off with a nice, high quality practice chanter (See my “New Student Chanter Information” page). The practice chanter is relatively inexpensive and will be a valuable tool to you, not only as a beginner, but throughout your piping career. For my students and band members, I recommend one style chanter and reeds. This maintains uniformity for the group and subsequently tuning is quicker, leaving more time for actual practicing. If you plan to join a pipe band in your area, I would suggest you buy a chanter based on the recommendation of their Pipe Major.
Rule #4: Honestly evaluate your ability and desire to practice. Don’t even waste your money on a practice chanter if you can’t commit time to practice. This just isn’t the type instrument you can play once a week and really get anywhere. If you’re already stretched thin, this might not be the right time in your life to make this commitment. If you get bored or frustrated easily…proceed cautiously. The bagpipes have been said to be one of the hardest instruments to learn. By starting off learning with a practice chanter, you’ll get a feel for the time and effort that is needed and if you find you don’t like it or the timing in your life is wrong, your investment has been minimal.
Rule #5: Take lessons if you can. This is the best way to make progress. Your instructor will also be able to tell you when the time is right for you to move up to the actual pipes. Don’t be discouraged if it takes awhile. Going from the practice chanter to the pipes may take anywhere from 3 months to a year. Hopefully, by working through an instructor, you’ll have an opportunity to try out a variety of pipes before you buy.
Rule #6: Network. On average, 1 out of 10 pipe students stick with it, but, the ones who do love it and are usually happy to give good, sound advice, share tunes, etc. These pipers can be an invaluable resource to you. Many pipers can be found online. It’s best if they are in your area and you can actually visit with them. Everyone has their own opinions about pipes, music, just about anything, so talk to as many pipers as you can.
Rule #7: Buy Quality. There are many brands of pipes out there and some are better than others. Buy the best you can afford. Educate yourself on brands then weigh the cost against what you can spend, and choose the best set of pipes for you. If you decide to buy a used set of used pipes, always find out the manufacturer. If the seller does not know…don’t buy ‘em. If they describe the “wood” as being, anything but African Black Wood then look elsewhere. There are some pipes made of “Polypenco”, (instrument grade plastic), which is used for woodwind instruments today. These are a good idea for a beginner that may reach that point of buying a set of pipes but isn’t that dedicated. In most all cases they are less expensive than the African Blackwood sets. For a good set of bagpipes, even those that are used, expect to spend at least $500-$1,000.
My experiences and every encounter I have had with other pipers on this subject have led me to believe that you should never ever, I repeat, never ever buy a set of bagpipes made in Pakistan unless you just want something to hang on a wall. Pipes made in Pakistan are vastly substandard in quality compared to reputable pipes manufactured in Scotland, England, Ireland, Canada and the US. Many pipes from Pakistan aren’t even playable as was the case with my teenage relative.
When I opened the box and saw the Pakistan pipes he so proudly bought through eBay, the leather bag was rock-hard, completely non-pliable and the wood had no weight or density whatsoever. I set them up, seasoned the bag and tuned them as best I could. They made a noise, but that’s about as kind a description as I can make. My gut reaction was to tell him he needed to start a fire and put those pipes out of their misery. Bottom line: he tried a few times to make music from the Pakistan pipes and simply gave up. He had lost his money, but what is more important is that he had lost his enthusiasm to learn the bagpipes without even giving himself a proper chance at success.
From Riverdance to Titanic via Braveheart, the keening upper reaches of the Irish, Uilleann Pipes (pronounced ill-en) have so seduced the modern world that the sound is a universal shorthand for all things ‘Celtic.’
The most sophisticated pipe there is, expect to dedicate your life to mastering it: it is said to take twenty one years, of which the first seven are required to save up the money to buy a set!
As you can imagine a little known instrument has a small group of makers for a small amount of devotees, hence the price!
Bellows blown and with a uniquely fingered scale and a two octave range, the chanter can be played open or closed by stopping the end on your knee, which allows staccato playing. In addition to the drones, which lie across the chest and legs, UPs have a set of regulators. These are keyed drones that remain silent until played with the wrist, allowing rhythmic and harmonic accompaniment.
The repertoire is large, mostly Irish and Scottish, and there are distinct regional styles in Ireland (and amongst the Irish diaspora), not to mention those that have emerged from the travelling community.
It has become a great legend of World War I. But what really happened when British and German troops emerged from their trenches that Christmas Day?
Riflemen Andrew and Grigg (center)—British troops from London—during the Christmas Truce with Saxons of the 104th and 106th Regiments of the Imperial German Army. (Feedloader (Clickability))
Even at the distance of a century, no war seems more terrible than World War I. In the four years between 1914 and 1918, it killed or wounded more than 25 million people–peculiarly horribly, and (in popular opinion, at least) for less apparent purpose than did any other war before or since. Yet there were still odd moments of joy and hope in the trenches of Flanders and France, and one of the most remarkable came during the first Christmas of the war, a few brief hours during which men from both sides on the Western Front laid down their arms, emerged from their trenches, and shared food, carols, games and comradeship.
FROM THIS STORY
Their truce–the famous Christmas Truce–was unofficial and illicit. Many officers disapproved, and headquarters on both sides took strong steps to ensure that it could never happen again. While it lasted, though, the truce was magical, leading even the sober Wall Street Journal to observe: “What appears from the winter fog and misery is a Christmas story, a fine Christmas story that is, in truth, the most faded and tattered of adjectives: inspiring.”
The first signs that something strange was happening occurred on Christmas Eve. At 8:30 p.m. an officer of the Royal Irish Rifles reported to headquarters: “Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing songs and wishing us a Happy Xmas. Compliments are being exchanged but am nevertheless taking all military precautions.” Further along the line, the two sides serenaded each other with carols—the German “Silent Night” being met with a British chorus of “The First Noel“—and scouts met, cautiously, in no man’s land, the shell-blasted waste between the trenches. The war diary of the Scots Guards records that a certain Private Murker “met a German Patrol and was given a glass of whisky and some cigars, and a message was sent back saying that if we didn’t fire at them, they would not fire at us.”
The same basic understanding seems to have sprung up spontaneously at other spots. For another British soldier, Private Frederick Heath, the truce began late that same night when “all down our line of trenches there came to our ears a greeting unique in war: ‘English soldier, English soldier, a merry Christmas, a merry Christmas!’” Then–as Heath wrote in a letter home–the voices added:
‘Come out, English soldier; come out here to us.’ For some little time we were cautious, and did not even answer. Officers, fearing treachery, ordered the men to be silent. But up and down our line one heard the men answering that Christmas greeting from the enemy. How could we resist wishing each other a Merry Christmas, even though we might be at each other’s throats immediately afterwards? So we kept up a running conversation with the Germans, all the while our hands ready on our rifles. Blood and peace, enmity and fraternity—war’s most amazing paradox. The night wore on to dawn—a night made easier by songs from the German trenches, the pipings of piccolos and from our broad lines laughter and Christmas carols. Not a shot was fired.
A German trench in December 1914. Workmanship was far less sophisticated than it became later in the war, and the muddy conditions were terrible.
Several factors combined to produce the conditions for this Christmas Truce. By December 1914, the men in the trenches were veterans, familiar enough with the realities of combat to have lost much of the idealism that they had carried into war in August, and most longed for an end to bloodshed. The war, they had believed, would be over by Christmas, yet there they were in Christmas week still muddied, cold and in battle. Then, on Christmas Eve itself, several weeks of mild but miserably soaking weather gave way to a sudden, hard frost, creating a dusting of ice and snow along the front that made the men on both sides feel that something spiritual was taking place.
Just how widespread the truce was is hard to say. It was certainly not general—there are plenty of accounts of fighting continuing through the Christmas season in some sectors, and others of men fraternizing to the sound of guns firing nearby. One common factor seems to have been that Saxon troops—universally regarded as easygoing—were the most likely to be involved, and to have made the first approaches to their British counterparts. “We are Saxons, you are Anglo-Saxons,” one shouted across no man’s land. “What is there for us to fight about?” The most detailed estimate, made by Malcolm Brown of Britain’s Imperial War Museums, is that the truce extended along at least two-thirds of British-held trench line that scarred southern Belgium.
Men from the Royal Dublin Fusiliers meet their German counterparts in no man’s land somewhere in the deadly Ypres Salient, December 26, 1914.
Even so, accounts of a Christmas Truce refer to a suspension of hostilities only between the British and the Germans. The Russians, on the Eastern Front, still adhered to the old Julian calendar in 1914, and hence did not celebrate Christmas until January 7, while the French were far more sensitive than their allies to the fact that the Germans were occupying about a third of France—and ruling French civilians with some harshness.
It was only in the British sector, then, that troops noticed at dawn the Germans had placed small Christmas trees along parapets of their trenches. Slowly, parties of men from both sides began to venture toward the barbed wire that separated them, until—Rifleman Oswald Tilley told his parents in a letter home—”literally hundreds of each side were out in no man’s land shaking hands.”
Communication could be difficult. German-speaking British troops were scarce, but many Germans had been employed in Britain before the war, frequently in restaurants. Captain Clifton Stockwell, an officer with the Royal Welch Fusiliers who found himself occupying a trench opposite the ruins of a heavily shelled brewery, wrote in his diary of “one Saxon, who spoke excellent English” and who “used to climb in some eyrie in the brewery and spend his time asking ‘How is London getting on?’, ‘How was Gertie Millar and the Gaiety?’, and so on. Lots of our men had blind shots at him in the dark, at which he laughed, one night I came out and called, ‘Who the hell are you?’ At once came back the answer, ‘Ah—the officer—I expect I know you—I used to be head waiter at the Great Central Hotel.”
Of course, only a few men involved in the truce could share reminiscences of London. Far more common was an interest in “football”—soccer—which by then had been played professionally in Britain for a quarter-century and in Germany since the 1890s. Perhaps it was inevitable that some men on both sides would produce a ball and—freed briefly from the confines of the trenches—take pleasure in kicking it about. What followed, though, was something more than that, for if the story of the Christmas Truce has its jewel, it is the legend of the match played between the British and the Germans—which the Germans claimed to have won, 3-2.
The first reports of such a contest surfaced a few days afterward; on January 1, 1915, The Times published a letter written from a doctor attached to the Rifle Brigade, who reported “a football match… played between them and us in front of the trench.” The brigade’s official history insisted that no match took place because “it would have been most unwise to allow the Germans to know how weakly the British trenches were held.” But there is plenty of evidence that soccer was played that Christmas Day—mostly by men of the same nationality, but in at least three or four places between troops from the opposing armies.
A faded photo of the 133rd Royal Saxon Regiment’s pre-war football team was one of the souvenirs presented to Lieutenant Ian Stewart of the Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders. Stewart remembered that the Saxons were “very proud” of their team’s quality.
The most detailed of these stories comes from the German side, and reports that the 133rd Royal Saxon Regiment played a game against Scottish troops. According to the 133rd’s War History, this match emerged from the “droll scene of Tommy und Fritz” chasing hares that emerged from under cabbages between the lines, and then producing a ball to kick about. Eventually, this “developed into a regulation football match with caps casually laid out as goals. The frozen ground was no great matter. Then we organized each side into teams, lining up in motley rows, the football in the center. The game ended 3-2 for Fritz.”
Exactly what happened between the Saxons and the Scots is difficult to say. Some accounts of the game bring in elements that were actually dreamed up by Robert Graves, a renowned British poet, writer and war veteran, who reconstructed the encounter in a story published in 1962. In Graves’s version, the score remains 3-2 to the Germans, but the writer adds a sardonic fictional flourish: “The Reverend Jolly, our padre, acted as ref too much Christian charity—their outside left shot the deciding goal, but he was miles offside and admitted it as soon as the whistle went.”
The real game was far from a regulated fixture with 11 players a side and 90 minutes of play. In the one detailed eyewitness account that survives—albeit in an interview not given until the 1960s—Lieutenant Johannes Niemann, a Saxon who served with the 133rd, recalled that on Christmas morning:
the mist was slow to clear and suddenly my orderly threw himself into my dugout to say that both the German and Scottish soldiers had come out of their trenches and were fraternizing along the front. I grabbed my binoculars and looking cautiously over the parapet saw the incredible sight of our soldiers exchanging cigarettes, schnapps and chocolate with the enemy. Later a Scottish soldier appeared with a football which seemed to come from nowhere and a few minutes later a real football match got underway. The Scots marked their goal mouth with their strange caps and we did the same with ours. It was far from easy to play on the frozen ground, but we continued, keeping rigorously to the rules, despite the fact that it only lasted an hour and that we had no referee. A great many of the passes went wide, but all the amateur footballers, although they must have been very tired, played with huge enthusiasm.
For Niemann, the novelty of getting to know their kilted opposition matched the novelty of playing soccer in no man’s land:
Us Germans really roared when a gust of wind revealed that the Scots wore no drawers under their kilts—and hooted and whistled every time they caught an impudent glimpse of one posterior belonging to one of “yesterday’s enemies.” But after an hour’s play, when our Commanding Officer heard about it, he sent an order that we must put a stop to it. A little later we drifted back to our trenches and the fraternization ended.
The game that Niemann recalled was only one of many that took place up and down the Front. Attempts were made in several spots to involve the Germans—the Queen’s Westminsters, one private soldier wrote home, “had a football out in front of the trenches and asked the Germans to send a team to play us, but either they considered the ground too hard, as it had been freezing all night and was a ploughed field, or their officers put the bar up.” But at least three, and perhaps four, other matches apparently took place between the armies. A sergeant in the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders recorded that a game was played in his sector “between the lines and the trenches,” and according to a letter home published by the Glasgow News on January 2, the Scots “won easily by 4-1.” Meanwhile Lieutenant Albert Wynn of the Royal Field Artillery wrote of a match against a German team of “Prussians and Hanovers” that was played near Ypres. That game “ended in a draw,” but the Lancashire Fusiliers, occupying trenches close to the coast near Le Touquet and using a ration-tin “ball,” played their own game against the Germans, and–according to their regimental history–lost by the same score as the Scots who encountered the 133rd, 3-2.
It is left to a fourth recollection, given in 1983 by Ernie Williams of the Cheshire Regiment, to supply a real idea of what soccer played between the trenches really meant. Although Williams was recalling a game played on New Year’s Eve, after there had been a thaw and plenty of rain, his description chimes with the little that is known for sure about the games played on Christmas Day:
ball appeared from somewhere, I don’t know where, but it came from their side… They made up some goals and one fellow went in goal and then it was just a general kickabout. I should think there were a couple of hundred taking part. I had a go at the ball. I was pretty good then, at 19. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was no sort of ill-will between us…. There was no referee and no score, no tally at all. It was simply a mêlee—nothing like the soccer that you see on television. The boots we wore were a menace—those great big boots we had on—and in those days the balls were made of leather and they soon got very soggy.
Of course, not every man on either side was thrilled by the Christmas Truce, and official opposition squelched at least one proposed Anglo-German soccer match. Lieutenant C.E.M. Richards, a young officer serving with the East Lancashire Regiment, had been greatly disturbed by reports of fraternization between the men of his regiment and the enemy and had actually welcomed the “return of good old sniping” late on Christmas Day—”just to make sure that the war was still on.” That evening, however, Richards “received a signal from Battalion Headquarters telling him to make a football pitch in no man’s land, by filling up shell holes etc., and to challenge the enemy to a football match on 1st January.” Richards recalled that “I was furious and took no action at all,” but over time his view did mellow. “I wish I had kept that signal,” he wrote years later. “Stupidly I destroyed it—I was so angry. It would now have been a good souvenir.”
In most places, up and down the line, it was accepted that the truce would be purely temporary. Men returned to their trenches at dusk, in some cases summoned back by flares, but for the most part determined to preserve the peace at least until midnight. There was more singing, and in at least one spot presents were exchanged. George Eade, of the Rifles, had become friends with a German artilleryman who spoke good English, and as he left, this new acquaintance said to him: “Today we have peace. Tomorrow, you fight for your country, I fight for mine. Good luck.”
Fighting erupted again the next day, though there were reports from some sectors of hostilities remaining suspended into the New Year. And it does not seem to have been uncommon for the resumption of the war to be marked with further displays of mutual respect between enemies. In the trenches occupied by the Royal Welch Fusiliers, Captain Stockwell “climbed up on the parapet, fired three shots in the air and put up a flag with ‘Merry Christmas’ on it.” At this, his opposite number, Hauptmann von Sinner, “appeared on the German parapet and both officers bowed and saluted. Von Sinner then also fired two shots in the air and went back into his trench.”
The war was on again, and there would be no further truce until the general armistice of November 1918. Many, perhaps close to the majority, of the thousands of men who celebrated Christmas 1914 together would not live to see the return of peace. But for those who did survive, the truce was something that would never be forgotten.
This month I feature the musings of an associate piper from Michigan.
I walk into a room filled with complete strangers. This is either one of the happiest days of their lives, or one of the saddest.
Sometimes I’ll hear a family shout out to me; “YAY!! The piper’s here!!”.
I am in a very unique situation, I’ve been hired to add something very special, and to help create a wonderful memory for their event.
Interestingly enough- whether it’s a happy occasions like a wedding or party, or a sad event like a funeral or burial…. the family is always glad to see me!
Sometimes a family member will greet me and hug me with joy; and with a catch in their voice they’ll share with me how important and meaningful it is that I’m there to play. I’ve heard some wonderful stories!
Most of the time I’ve already spoken with the family about which tunes they’d like, and when.
Funerals are usually the same format- 1 tune in and 1 tune out. Usually “Amazing Grace” at the end. But there’s still a personal touch I can add somewhere.
I’ve become a very good listener and observer.
Did I hear one of the grooms men or the Father of the bride mention U of M? I’ll throw in “Hail To The Victors” as all the guests are leaving! FUN! Or “Star Wars”! They love it! It’s someone’s birthday? I’ll throw in “Happy Birthday”! Did someone say they love Outlander? I’ll play the theme song!
Did the family mention that their loved one was Irish? Did I see Irish items around the church? I’ll play “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” as I walk behind the coach as it leaves the parking lot.
Families love it. Is the family very much into their Scottish heritage? “Scotland the Brave” would be perfect, somewhere. Or maybe I’ll add in a special tune as I’m playing outside as everyone goes to their cars.
Looking around a room, a folded flag will alert me that the deceased was in the military.
I check and see which branch- there’s always a military tune I can play outside after “Amazing Grace”. At the conclusion of the service I’ll walk off, piping, so the sound carries through the cemetery. And I fade away, leaving the family to their own private moments.
There’s also a sensitivity to knowing when, and when not to play. Silence during a special moment can have quite an emotional impact. It’s the little personal things that add so much to an occasion. It’s more than just playing good music on well tuned pipes.
It’s these personal touches and playing LOTS of tunes at an event, that have separated me from the the male pipers in the area, and one of the many reasons why funeral directors call me first.
As a boy growing up in the late 60’s, every American kid wanted to play the guitar. Just like our heroes the Beatles. We would hold our badminton racquets like John, Paul and George and mouth out the words to “I want to hold your hand”.I have purchased and owned many guitars through the years, and yes I could pick some sweet licks and play chords. However, it was not fluid or natural for me. Something is wrong with this whole guitar and Wayne scene. I remember walking by a couple of my guitars on their stands- and I think they were mocking me. Just like twelve year olds playing little league baseball, “he cant play, he cant play”.Once, I expressed my frustration to a work associate who was himself a very good guitarist. His response put things into some perspective that I could grasp. He said “you play a guitar with your mind, and a wind instrument is one that you play with your soul”.I remember hearing a Benedictine monk talk about meditation this way, “meditate as you can- not as you cant”. For whatever reason playing the Scottish bagpipe, the Irish Uilleann bagpipe and the Irish whistle- clicked.Finally I accepted the fact that in this realm of human experience, there are some things that for me are more natural than others.Wayne Francishttps://bagpiperofbaltimore.com
The crappy photo below is of Fran Wallace and myself before the 4th of July parade along time ago.
Learning the bagpipe and playing with the pipe band in parades was going to be fun, right?
Well yes and not so yes, you see the high season for parades and piping is on The 4th of July.
In Maryland the day is ALWAYS hot, always. Add to that heat is the humidity that we are famous (infamous) for. This turns a scorching day into an oppressive day quickly.
Even in the morning the heat is building, almost tolerable so far, so good. I arrive at the spot where the band forms up and my fellow band mates straggle in and everyone is in a holding pattern- of sorts.
There is a saying in the Army, “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em” we are just killing time waiting for the line up queue to begin and the heat I mentioned earlier is building.
Oh I almost forgot, everyone is wearing 8 yards of heavy wool. The kilts look great hanging about our hips for sure, but they really keep things hot south of the border.
Finally the parade begins and I experience a few moments of elation, hey this wont be too bad…we are moving!
There always seems there is a hill to walk on the route and here comes one now !So now I am marching in time with the band, playing the bagpipe- which is a very physical instrument to play. Remember the 8 yards of wool…I never forget it, the more we walk the more it seems to weigh me down.
Everyone (most everyone) loves to see the pipe band march along, you can hear the pipes before you can see them and it is quite a sight indeed.
The band makes a coordinated turn to the left and the reviewing stand is in view.
We pass the reviewing stand and stop and are dismissed by the pipe major.
I remember the Towson parade once gave out ice cold of cans of what I do not remember as a reward for our effort. That sticks in my mind as being really welcomed by everyone!
Enjoy your summer, be safe and thanks for walking along with me….oh by the way the pipe band is paid for their performance. Now we are off to the Catonsville parade, already did the great Dundalk parade earlier and we finish up in Bel Air. This is the biggest payday of the year for all bands.
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