No Regrets: The Autobiography of László Veres
Veres, László, 2003, Tucson, The Patrice Press, photos, map, 231 pp, paperback only, $16.95 + $4.95 s/h

Almost seventy years ago this Old Man started playing in a concert band in his hometown of Glidden, Iowa. That kind of music went by my wayside when I became a dance band trumpet player at the age of 14, but I never lost my love for that sound.

When I moved to Tucson late in 1991 I regretted having to leave the music of a fine concert band in St. Louis. The following spring, much to my delight, I discovered an even better group, the Arizona Symphonic Winds, under the direction of László Veres (pro.VER-ish). László talks funny. What the hell, he was born and raised in Budapest, and his English is lots better than my Hungarian.

His music is varied—I think he emulates the programs of John Philip Sousa, who programmed only one or two of his marches in a concert. László mixes in selections from Broadway shows, works by John Williams, extremely difficult classical works, and even operatic selections.

His introductions to operatic works frequently leave his audiences in stitches. We all know the plots of the most famous operas are pretty sappy, and László makes the most of them. He has often suffered some embarrassing gaffes in his dealings with the English language. Several thousand concertgoers ended up rolling in the grass one night as he innocently described the orchestra’s warm-up as "foreplay."

He ends up every concert of the Winds with Carman Dragon’s magnificent chart of "America the Beautiful." Well, that’s fine, but every concert? And one night he told us why.

As a six-year-old kid in Budapest, László, his brother Zoltán, and his father were confronted by a Nazi storm trooper. Somehow they were able to talk their way out of a trip to a concentration camp. He watched, terrified, as Jewish neighbors were rooted from their homes by the Nazis, never to be seen again, as Hitler’s "Final Solution" rolled through Hungary. After the war, an Iron Curtain fell over Hungary, as brutal Soviets ruled the stricken country. László escaped in the middle of the night, following whispered directions to the Austrian border. He came to America unable to speak one word of English.

After telling his audience this story, László turned to his timpanist, who began a thundering roll, and the seventy members of his orchestra played the introduction to "America the Beautiful." He turned to his audience to join them in singing the anthem, and was surprised to see they were all on their feet, many with tears in their eyes.

Down through the years I became personal friends with László, and urged him to commit his story to paper. "Okay," he said, "but just for my family."

Somehow, we managed to get him to agree to Patrice Press as his publisher, because all Americans need to know of how he overcame all odds. Coming from a land of brutal oppression, he was first-chair clarinetist with the Tucson Symphony Orchestra for fifteen years. He directed one of the most successful high school band programs in the American Southwest. And in addition to founding and directing the Arizona Symphonic Winds for the past dozen years, he now conducts the concerts of the Tucson Pops Orchestra.

Yes, he still talks funny. But he inspires, my friends. I encourage you to buy this book. Just working with this man has been an inspiration to me, and it will be to you as well. —gmf