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Edwin Harrell Hampton, the mastermind and longtime director of the St. Augustine Marching 100, the standard by which the city’s other high school marching bands were measured for more than a half-century, died Tuesday after a lengthy illness. He was 81. “Hamp,” as the passionate and dedicated band director was affectionately called by St. Aug’s faithful, led the all-male band to many honors including a 1987 performance for Pope John Paul II, a Tournament of Roses Parade in 2002 and a Thanksgiving Day Macy’s Parade in New York City. He was also at the helm when the Marching 100 became the first Black high school band to march in the Rex parade during Carnival in New Orleans in 1967 and led the band when it performed for eight U.S. presidents and in five NFL Super Bowls.
The band also performed at countless Saints home football games and is an annual favorite at many New Orleans Carnival parades including Zulu, Bacchus and Endymion.
Hampton, a Jacksonville, Texas native and Xavier University graduate, accepted a job at St. Augustine High School in 1952, the all-boys high school in the Seventh Ward that has educated generations of young men since it opened its doors 58 years ago. Hampton joined the faculty the second year of the school’s existence.
When he first came to St. Aug, Hampton found himself directing a band that consisted of only several dozen students but had a vision of creating a musical powerhouse that embodied superb musicianship, discipline and military-style showmanship. That dream blossomed with the formation of the school’s legendary “Marching 100,” a reference to a marching band that utilized four lines that each held 24 musicians and four drum majors.
To be honest, St. Aug’s Marching 100 often far exceeded the century benchmark of its name, in large part because of the desire of many young Black men in New Orleans to become a part of the school’s storied marching band.
The band has a long history of firsts, including becoming the first high school marching band to perform at the Essence Music Festival, a feat the school accomplished just weeks before Hampton passed away. The band took the stage near the end of Maze’s early-morning performance on the final day of the festival.
Hampton told WWL-TV reporter Eric Paulsen last year that when he came to St. Augustine he had to build a marching band from the ground up. He said the band was dubbed “The Marching 100” because “That’s what we wanted to be.”
“St. Augustine was all boys, and I wasn’t familiar with that format,” Hampton said. “I came up in Texas and I had never seen a band with all males. That’s how we got on the military thing, with it being boys.”
Hampton reportedly incorporated the complex, military-inspired marching routines after meeting an ex-Marine and participating in a summer workshop in which the marching style was taught. He also reportedly studied college marching bands. An innovative, creative genius, Hampton blended the showmanship of college marching bands and the military style he learned at the workshop with his own ideas, creating a hybrid style all his own that has captivated generations of New Orleanians and made St. Augustine halftime band performances one of the most popular ways to spend Friday and Saturdays in the Crescent City for a half-century. Even when the Purple Knights football teams struggle, St. Aug fans and supporters turn out in droves to see the always entertaining halftime shows. Savvy fans know better than to visit the concession stands or the restrooms when halftime is approaching.
It’s been 25 years since Gary Huntley, a 1984 St. Augustine graduate, donned the famed purple and gold Marching 100 band uniform. Still, he remembers that first day of summer band practice when he was a ninth-grader like it was yesterday.
“I can remember how intense the try-outs for the band were,” Huntley, Manager of New Business Development at Entergy, told The Louisiana Weekly. “It was in the summer time, it was hot and was very regimented. It almost reminded you of being in the military. There was not a lot of talking and chatter going around, you did what you were told to do. It was perfection from the beginning, it was conditioning.
“When Hamp spoke, he commanded this respect, just the way he talked,” Huntley added. “He didn’t talk to you in a disrespectful way. It was kind of like you knew who he was and everybody in the community knew about the reputation of the band and about Hamp as a band director. When you got in that environment and he asked you to do something, you just did it. He just commanded this respect.”
Hampton’s ability to run things properly was aided by the discipline of upperclassmen in the band who knew the system well and made certain that new band members would toe the line. That kind of pressure to uphold the band’s legacy and traditions kept the adrenaline flowing in 14-year-old newcomers, Huntley recalled. “The older guys in the band would serve as mentors and would correct you if you were wrong,” he said. “You definitely didn’t want to make a mistake. There was a lot of pressure on you. As a freshman coming in, you didn’t want to be singled out. Everybody’s older than you, you’re trying to make a good impression, you’re opening your mouth but you don’t want to say something stupid.
“It was all the pressures of being a freshman coming to high school magnified by trying to join an organization that had a reputation for perfection. It was definitely intimidating, but the intimidation was really more self-imposed than anything. It was the seriousness of the program and trying to live up to a standard and you knew that walking in from the first day. The intimidation was ‘Do I measure up?’ more than anything. Whatever you thought the standard was when you went in, it was reaffirmed from Day One when you stepped into band practice. ‘You don’t come here to play around, you come to make the band. Some of y’all are not going to be here. That’s just the way it goes. We wish everybody luck. Work hard. Let’s get it.’
“That was the way it was spelled out from the beginning,” Huntley said. “You knew that you had to give 100 percent because if you didn’t you wouldn’t be there. That was just the facts. Discipline was very strict. He wasn’t going to let an individual destroy what he’s taken many years to build up. We saw that. We had people who were very talented musically who didn’t make the band or made the band and got put out for conduct or not being there on time. It was the daunting task of trying to live up to what it takes to be in the band.”
The pressure of making the band was made all the more intense by long, grueling practices under August heat in New Orleans with droves of teenagers lined along the school’s fence to get a glimpse of the Marching 100.
Neither the heat of a typical New Orleans summer nor the fatigue that came from hours of marching up and down the schoolyard convinced Hamp to stray from his insistence on old-fashioned hard work, former students say.
Emile Francis, a 1980 St. Augustine grad who played flute in the marching band and flute and saxophone in the jazz band, says the most important thing he learned from Hamp was “professionalism. Pure professionalism. Hamp never thought us anything wrong. As far as your moral structure, it was beautiful. Hamp never misguided us. Professionalism as far as being on time and teaching the music the way music is supposed to taught.”
“He had a very strong work ethic,” Huntley recalled. “He wanted perfection. The lines had to be straight on the field. He would stop a practice if something didn’t sound right. He cut to the chase. It was all about showmanship and perfection.
“Even in the concert band, we would rehearse even some of the minute things for hours,” he continued. “It was about perfection and intonation.”
Hampton’s high expectations and standards produced hundreds of educated and disciplined young Black men ready to take on the world. All of that attention to detail had its origins at 2600 A.P. Tureaud Avenue.
“Mr. Hampton stressed responsibility,” Huntley said. “You had to be on time, you had to be where you said you were going to be and if you had any kind of leadership role in the band, he held you accountable for it.
“If your section (of the band) was messing up, he’d come to the section leader and be like, ‘Hey, why aren’t you doing this?’”
Former band members often credit Hampton with cultivating a love and appreciation for music of all styles, including jazz, during his work with them. Despite he is best-known for the Marching 100, Hamp also oversaw the school’s concert and jazz bands.
“If you had talent, he pushed you,” Huntley said. “Hamp and the other band directors pushed you to excel musically. Wherever you had talent, they’d try to recruit you into those other areas. Hamp was really good about exposing you to different types of music. The band played a lot of popular songs but we played some traditional R&B songs as well. The last game I went to, they were still playing Earth, Wind & Fire’s ‘In The Stone’ 20 years later. In the concert band, we played some classical pieces that I would have never learned or heard of it were it not for Hamp. He had a passion for the art, and he wanted to make sure that you developed that too..”
Despite Hamp’s image as a stern taskmaster who demanded perfection from his teenaged charges, the bearded band teacher also had a sense of humor.
“He did have a great sense of humor,” Huntley said. “When you really got to know him on a personal level, he gave you the sense that he knew everybody in the band personally. He could call you out. There were some things he could joke about — not the performances, per se. When he got to know you, he would joke a little bit before parades and after band practice. Not so much before band practice, because it was still about the business.”
Francis fondly remembers Hamp’s response when the band that he (Francis) directed at St. Mary’s Academy for nine years outperformed his alma mater to capture first place honors in the 2002 Oshun Parade. “My girls came in first and the fellas came in second, and Hamp wasn’t mad at all,” Francis said. “He was looking at it like ‘Well, I win either way because either we win or one of my students wins.’ He was like, ‘Hey man, those guys had it coming. They weren’t paying attention and you came in and got ‘em.’ He was laughing about it. He rubbed their noses in the fact that I took 41 girls and beat them.
“Of course, the next year they came back and waxed us.”
Huntley remembers the criticism St. Aug and Hampton endured in the 1980s when the Purple Knights marched in the Rex parade on Mardi Gras Day. “A lot of people couldn’t understand why St. Aug was marching in Rex instead of Zulu,” he told The Louisiana Weekly. “I just don’t think people really understood what was going on. We got the invitation to march and Hamp was always about perfection. I think he just wanted to show that St. Aug could compete on any level and I think he wanted to world to see that. Back in the ‘80s when the world saw images of Mardi Gras, they really weren’t focusing on Zulu unfortunately. But to see Hampton in front of the band coming down Canal Street was just iconic.”
“Edwin Hampton will forever be remembered for his service and commitment to St. Augustine High School and for his distinguished work with the band,” U.S. Senator Mary Landrieu said Wednesday. “The popularity and achievements of the Purple Knights is evidence of his passion and dedication to the school, this program, and most importantly, the students that he mentored.
“Although we are saddened by his passing, Edwin Hampton will live on in the memories of family and friends and through the performances of the Marching 100.
“My family and I offer our prayers and condolences to his daughter and the rest of the Hampton family.”
Huntley said Edwin Hampton’s influence on his former students extended far beyond music. “St. Aug was located where it was; it never moved,” he said. “It continued to serve the community” in which it is located. “You have a lot of young Black men who may not have had a strong father figure or role model in their lives and some of the things that Hamp brought to these guys in the band reinforced some of those values you would typically learn from a strong male figure in your life.
“Even those of us who had fathers that were part of our lives and instilled values” benefited from being around Mr. Hampton, Huntley said. “For the people who were getting it at home, to have that reinforcement at school just fortified our character.”
Edwin Hampton is survived by a daughter, Tamara Hingle; and four grandchildren, Yakitha Hingle, Mikell Hingle, Malcolm Hingle and Anthony Hingle; and a legion of friends, colleagues and former students from St. Augustine.
Hampton was lain in state at St. Augustine High School on Friday, where visitation took place from 12p.m. until 4p.m.
On Friday evening there was a viewing at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre for the Performing Arts in Armstrong Park followed by a memorial service.
The St. Augustine High School Marching 100 performed at several events for Hampton over the weekend, giving the visionary band director a proper sendoff.
Visitation continued Saturday morning from 8 a.m. until 10:30 a.m. at Corpus Christi Catholic Church, 2022 St. Bernard Ave. A Mass of Christian burial was celebrated there on Saturday morning followed by interment at Providence Memorial Park, 8200 Airline Dr., Metairie, LA.
A jam session was held for Hampton at Sweet Lorraine’s Jazz Club Saturday night beginning at 9:00p.m., giving St. Aug alumni and others who recognized Hampton’s talents an opportunity to reminisce and celebrate him.
Rhodes Funeral Home handled the arrangements.
This article was originally published in the July 27, 2009 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper |
