Forfar - Piano Pupils of Miss Emily L. Burns c 1951
In the 1950s there was a definite perception of hierarchy in the standard of piano teaching in the town. At the top were Mr W. D. Bernard and Miss K. McLoughlin, and then came a long tail down to those who "only took the beginners". Emily L. Burns was part of the tail, but she also had a reputation as having been a great 'vamper' for the silent films at the Gaffy, which made Emily special. Anyone who could rattle the ivories like Emily was bound to be a good teacher. Wrong....
Her pupils went for their lessons in one of those large, difficult to heat, upper-storey flats on Castle Street, which Emily shared with her sister Marge, also a single lady. Large brown furniture, a sweetish, 'foosty' smell, a gothik gloominess overall. Emily coped with the cold by wearing a knitted wooly hat and gloves with the fingers cut off, though she also had a secret weapon (see below). The lessons always followed the same pattern. You played your exercises for the week, and your practice piece(s). Then Emily would rattle your piece off on a piano which managed to sound both dull and tinny. There would be flourishes too, which you vaguely knew weren't on 'the music'. Then her pedagogic tour de force. You would pay the piece while Emily placed her wooly mitts over your hands, pressing your fingers down on the correct keys. This could go on for some time. The signal that the lesson was coming to an end was Madge bringing in the tea. Emily would then add a 'wee drop' of something (sherry, in fact) to her cup, but not, of course to yours. (Although she did offer the additive to me once, as it was, as she said, "a right soor (sour) day outside". I refused. Wimp.)
Looking at these neatly turned out, very 1950s pupils now, things don't look quite right. There should be cobwebs connecting us and somewhere the hovering spectre of Emily in her fright wig. I 'left' Emily after this photo was taken at Ross the Photographers. I had no idea that I was to be the only boy in the group. (An earlier photo included David Brown, whom I didn't know at the time, but was to become a close friend at Forfar Academy.) My smile here is totally false. I couldn't wait to get home to tell them, "Ah'm no gaein' back tae Emily's". Though the music did go on....
Forfar - Piano Pupils of Miss Emily L. Burns c 1951
In the 1950s there was a definite perception of hierarchy in the standard of piano teaching in the town. At the top were Mr W. D. Bernard and Miss K. McLoughlin, and then came a long tail down to those who "only took the beginners". Emily L. Burns was part of the tail, but she also had a reputation as having been a great 'vamper' for the silent films at the Gaffy, which made Emily special. Anyone who could rattle the ivories like Emily was bound to be a good teacher. Wrong....
Her pupils went for their lessons in one of those large, difficult to heat, upper-storey flats on Castle Street, which Emily shared with her sister Marge, also a single lady. Large brown furniture, a sweetish, 'foosty' smell, a gothik gloominess overall. Emily coped with the cold by wearing a knitted wooly hat and gloves with the fingers cut off, though she also had a secret weapon (see below). The lessons always followed the same pattern. You played your exercises for the week, and your practice piece(s). Then Emily would rattle your piece off on a piano which managed to sound both dull and tinny. There would be flourishes too, which you vaguely knew weren't on 'the music'. Then her pedagogic tour de force. You would pay the piece while Emily placed her wooly mitts over your hands, pressing your fingers down on the correct keys. This could go on for some time. The signal that the lesson was coming to an end was Madge bringing in the tea. Emily would then add a 'wee drop' of something (sherry, in fact) to her cup, but not, of course to yours. (Although she did offer the additive to me once, as it was, as she said, "a right soor (sour) day outside". I refused. Wimp.)
Looking at these neatly turned out, very 1950s pupils now, things don't look quite right. There should be cobwebs connecting us and somewhere the hovering spectre of Emily in her fright wig. I 'left' Emily after this photo was taken at Ross the Photographers. I had no idea that I was to be the only boy in the group. (An earlier photo included David Brown, whom I didn't know at the time, but was to become a close friend at Forfar Academy.) My smile here is totally false. I couldn't wait to get home to tell them, "Ah'm no gaein' back tae Emily's". Though the music did go on....