Robert Burkett

 STETSON UNIVERSITY

As I said before, I was offered and accepted a scholarship to Stetson. It was close however. Steson requires a grade point average of 3.8 and I was just below that. I was accepted  so started in September of 1954. To say I made a bad decision would be an understatement!. It turns out that I was the ONLY oboist at Stetson. Stetson is a fine school bur it is safe to say, at least at that time, not a "music" school. The scholarship covered tuition but nothing else (like room and board, books and other supplies. The instrument provided was no where close to what I had in high school plus I was expected to provide my own reeds. It was suggested I make my own but that was a skill I never acquired. (I can't make flies for fishing either!). A requirement of the scholarship was that I play in the orchestra, band and pit orchestra. Thank goodness there was no football team then. I could have used a lot of advice I did not receive. I was taking 18 semester hours and piano at NO credit. I worked in the library and kitchen to pay for books and room and board. I was, however, able to find used books. I don't remember a lot of the classes I had to take except Humanities and music theory. I hated Humanities but loved music theory. My instructor for music was a graduate of Eastman School of music, a fine school. She suggested I apply there but that was way above my pay grade, as was Julliard. (Both schools are in New York). I did not play oboe in band. I played soprano saxophone which was nice as the fingering is the same as oboe. Piano was not my strongest area as I had played treble clef all my school days. I knew how to find bass clef but it was cumbersome for me. I did have a very fortunate encounter with another student while waiting my turn to practice. He was playing and it sounded very good. I asked him if he was a music major and he said no, he just enjoyed playing. It turns out what he was doing was making up his own left hand (bass clef) using chord structure. Anyway a lot of my practice revolved around that technique (not what teachers wanted). Music theory taught me a LOT about how chords are used and was my absolute favorite class. 

Unfortunately for my studies the orchestra went on a tour of the southeast about 6 weeks after school began. It was confined to the southeast and went as far as Virginia. We stayed at host families in whatever city we performed. That was 2 weeks out of class for a struggling student. When we returned I was home and became very sick with strep throat and missed another 10 days from class. By then my parents had moved to Winter Garden (close to work for my dad). They were renting a place across from the Methodist church where my brother Larry was singing in the choir. He introduced me to a young lady a year younger than I was. That doomed my school studies. I don't want to go into details but I then came home to see my "parents" every weekend. In addition I started skipping my Monday 8am class (which happened to be Humanities). Every thing that happened after that time is a blur. I finished the year and had to drop a couple of classes. I don't feel that my time was wasted as I learned a great deal that I carried through life but my music aspirations failed me. I had dreamed of being a performing oboist, which was reaching anyway, but certainly wasn't happening now. I spent the summer "on the bench" at the union hall and tried to go back to school in the Fall but found out my grades were not good enough to maintain the scholarship so dropped out, FAILURE!! I went to work as a 3rd year apprentice electrician. It didn't take me long to decide I did not want to do this for all my life so I made a decision to join the Air Force. By then my girl friend had graduated from high school and had enrolled at Florida State University to study nursing. Because I no longer had school expenses I was able to buy a car. I purchased a cute 1941 Mercury coupe so I decided I would make a run to Tallahassee to see my girlfriend. I bought an engagement ring as I planned to marry her at some point after returning home from the service. Again my life wound up in another direction but that's another section. The bad news is that I was ready to go back to Winter Garden when my generator quit in the car. I didn't have enough money to buy a new one and have it installed so I talked a merchant into holding my title until I was able to obtain funds. Well, installation was not included (no money) so I decided I would install it myself (STUPID!). All I had was a pair of pliers and I proceeded to loose a screw. In my wisdom I decided maybe it would work and I could make it home. I'm not sure how far I made it it but the car quit in an isolated spot. A highway patrolman happened to go by and offered to give me a push. The car started and he pulled away. With no generator it went about 100 yards and died; no lights, no engine. In another brilliant idea I decided to push the car from the road. It rolled down into a ditch and that was it. I was stuck! About that time a "good old boy" and his son came by. After seeing my predicament he said he would help for X number of dollars. Of course I had no money so that deal was off the table. He then offered to but the car for $50 and give me a ride and a bus ticket from the next town. I told him I had left the title with the generator sales man and he said, "no problem, I can get another title". So, we made a deal. There went my $300 car for $50 and a $10 bus ticket. I figured I had better get in the Air Force and soon! I couldn't afford myself at this rate. In another little bit of irony I was hired off the bench at the union hall by an electrical contractor called Haines City Electric and the job I was hired to work on was rewiring Wholesun Foods electrical system. So I wound up working, at least indirectly, for my dad again! I worked there until I was inducted into the Air Force, February 12, 1956. There I started another chapter of my life ( but I'm not finished with bad luck or planning on automobiles). It was my last time to see my fiancé but onward!!

Stetson