by Steven B. Orkin
I wanted to take a moment to mark the passing of Tony Eastwood, colloquially known as “Mr. E”, one of my high school music teachers. There are a lot of parallels in my thoughts and feelings about him in comparison to John Pitts, who I wrote about in my previous post. I knew both of them best during the same foundational period of my life and though very different in outward personality, they nevertheless shared a unique, charismatic magic.
As with John, I can’t say I knew Tony (even now, at 55, I find it difficult to not refer to him as “Mr. Eastwood.”) nearly as well as I would have liked. Many of my classmates worked with him throughout junior high school as well as during his two-year stint as Choral Director at North Babylon Senior High School when I knew him best. Like the hundreds, maybe even thousands of students and Boy Scouts he interacted with throughout his quietly illustrious life, he had a singular impact on me.
On a musical level, he empowered and validated my talent and skill as a vocalist. If I have any ability in that area, it certainly owes a great debt to his support. He encouraged me to find my voice, and that’s a gift that goes a lot deeper than just singing well. I have described him as “the finest musical educator I ever worked with” and I stand by that assessment.
Perhaps my fondest memory of him is from an All-County Chorus music rehearsal. It was a formidable experience with only a couple of rehearsals lasting several hours leading up to a performance featuring about a hundred kids from several different schools in the region. As I remember it, he was one of a few teachers given the opportunity to run a 30-minute rehearsal of part of the work we were to perform. We were all wired up with nervous energy, feeling disoriented in a school we’d never been in, anxious about the intensity of the rehearsals that day. 90%+ of those kids had never seen Mr. Eastwood before, let alone worked with him but within five minutes of beginning the rehearsal, he had absolute command of that room. He was prepared, focused, smart, funny, and capable. By the end of that half hour, he had so thoroughly enchanted every member of that choir that he got a standing ovation. In fact, he got more than one. When the actual conductor for the forthcoming performance came into the room to ‘see how everything was going’ and begin the next phase of that day’s rehearsal, the kids burst into renewed applause and cheers for Mr. Eastwood whenever he started to speak, completely drowning him out. It put us behind about 20 minutes on the day but it was toooootally worth it, especially in light of the fact that, unbeknownst to most of them, that ‘real’ conductor, a guy named Sandy Valero, had been a little unnecessarily brusque with Mr. Eastwood on other occasions during other rehearsals. I don’t know if the two had history or Valero was just generally arrogant but it didn’t matter. The message was clear: “We’d rather work with the other guy. You know, the nice one.” I can still see that very subtle (though not mean-spirited) half-smirk of satisfaction on his face as Valero vainly tried to assume a fraction of Tony’s command of the room.
Mr. Eastwood had a unique capacity to engage a choir. He never came across as a Svengali whipping his minions into submission. He was more like the captain of a ship, directing the crew to do what they were supposed to do to make the vessel run efficiently and get where it needed to go. He had a great sense of humor and a great appreciation of the humor of others, but he knew when to get serious. He had sharp ears and great instincts as a musician, as an educator, and as an individual. Looking back, it was spellbinding to watch him do his thing.
I always loved hearing him play the piano. He was a very good player, and I remember him having a kind of ‘walking bass’ left hand that seemed to have a life of its own. This sometimes resulted in phenomena like making Mozart sound like a Jazz artist. I don’t think he realized it most of the time, which made it all the more entertaining.
Mr. Eastwood’s effect on me personally goes even deeper. Most of it is apparent only in hindsight but it’s no less valuable and enduring despite that. He was an excellent role model, an impeccable snapshot of what it meant to be a decent, loving, capable person. He was forthright but not blunt. Confident but not arrogant. He was funny but not disrespectful. He was smart but not an ‘intellectual’. He was masculine but not pretentiously so, compassionate but discreet. He treated others with dignity, respect, warmth, and affection, but he wasn’t a pushover. The way he interacted with female students in particular laid the foundation for the way I would treat my daughter and her friends decades later.
Perhaps I’m being unnecessarily cynical but I can’t help but feel his passing marks the continued decline of a very rare breed. Tony Eastwood was someone you could invest a great deal of faith in and reap excellent returns on that investment. He cared about the world and particularly the people in it. He was kind, creative, and inquisitive. He didn’t cure cancer or solve the world’s problems, but he nevertheless made a very big difference to quite a lot of people, and that’s a legacy to be proud of. I am deeply grateful for his presence in my life. I am a better man for having known him.
So, whether you knew him or not, I empower you to take a moment, raise a glass, and give a nod of thanks and appreciation for Tony Eastwood, last of the American Good Guys: Tough but tender, trustworthy, reliable, honest, hardworking, disciplined, resilient, creative, kind; in short, an inspiration to us all. We will not see his like again.
Thank you for reading.
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I retrieved this photo from a collection posted
by my high school classmate and friend, Ben Sandoval.
I think it captures Tony's warmth and charm quite nicely…
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