The nostalgia overwhelms me.

It’s been 40 years since I joined the band.

Mel Hill is playing the saxophone; his posture matches my memory precisely.

I remember fearing Mel Hill. Not because he was a robust veteran of the last Great War but because he ran a tight ship. His experiences were long, and he did what he did and he did it well. It wasn’t long for my fear to evolve into a deep respect.

It was called the “Lehighton Boys Band” in my time. The name and rules changed in 1981.

The framed charcoal-sketch of the band’s chief benefactor, James I. Blakslee, the Fourth Assistant Postmaster General of the United States, appointed by President Wilson, still calls my attention.

The hall is empty. It is more or less exactly the same. They’ve modernized the windows from the metal-frame, single-paned and glazed, drafty windows from 1957. These are mere cosmetic changes. The mission remains unchanged and steadfast.

The echoes still bounce off the hardwoods, reminding me of my weekly lessons here. This place has two modes: A quiet and serene one versus one punctuated by echoes upon echoes of notes. It is what fills me with timeless sentiment now.

The peace of the place is always waiting for more notes.

A beginner member of the “Prep Band” struggles through unintended side-toned squeaks from her clarinet. The hesitant, clumsy beats of the drummer, unaware of his acceleration, is reined in by the director’s baton taps on the metal chair.

The same scents are in the air, though less prominent. The years of dances, spittle from the horn section and floor wax all mingle to form the hall’s unique scent.

The Lehighton Boys and Girls Band’s existence is a saga of independent notes from the efforts of many. The blended talents merge into a sometimes cacophonous harmony.

Membership used to be 75 cents per week, buying a weekly half-hour lesson and one-hour session with the whole band. In my day, it was $2. Today it is $10.

No girls allowed

Current director Alyssa Schoch was a former member of the hall. She began directing it in January 2016.

But before 1981, no girls were allowed.

It was the late 1970s when Debbie (Arner) Scheckler wanted to play. Her brother Darrell played clarinet. Denied entrance, Debbie learned to play by practicing with him from his weekly work.

Though he was Asa Packer’s nephew, James Blakslee was a self-made man.

He had the energy and foresight to start projects worth working on. He completed many projects for the town. He was fond of the phrase, “Everyone has their own row to hoe.”

He became secretary of the state democrats During a factious time of restructuring, endearing him to then New Jersey Gov. Woodrow Wilson.

But as legend has it, before leaving town for his new duties in the Wilson administration, he asked the band hall to return $500 to him. But not because he needed it.

The money was only a fraction of what he gave to start the band. It was his way of saying, “I gave you a hand up, not a hand out.”

It was always a hardworking band. Besides the many festivals, cakewalks and parades, they also camped at Saylor’s Lake for 10-day stints as the house band for the summer guests. It was a time of growth.

The march

The hall’s directors were composers, too. Director Charles Kuebler wrote the “Lehighton Boys Band March” in the 1930s. A tune many of us remember playing as we marched in parades.

In 1948, my dad and his cousin Raymond “Nuny” Rabenold were appointed to two of the 15 seats reserved for the Marine Corps in the Navy School of Music in Washington, D.C. The director accepted them based on the reputation of the Lehighton Band Hall.

Many former Lehighton Boys Band members went on to careers in music, and particularly in the service bands. They played for big-named bands such as the Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey bands.

One of those young first-generation players was Ervin “Irving” Young. Young’s brothers ran Lehighton’s Young’s Bakery. His first band in the Lehighton area was known as the “Peerless Sextet.”

From 1925 through 1926, Young’s band toured the East Coast and the central plains with vaudeville and film star Frank Farnum. Farnum was often billed as an “eccentric” dancer of the Charleston.

These big bands were just the beginning of the band hall’s influence both locally and nationwide. Those stories will continue next week.