The Challenge, The Success, The Journey Done

A musician is gone from this world, leaving a legacy of outstanding recordings, beautiful performances, and stunning moments of inspiration not just to those with handicaps, but to everyone he encountered. His name was Stacy Blair, a trumpet player of the highest order. A brilliant man whose unbridled talent was matched by his relentless discipline and desire for success, Stacy overcame his blindness to become one of the greatest trumpet artists of his time. I urge you to read his biography and take a minute to remember this amazing man, a man dedicated to excellence in performance. http://stacyblair.org/Stacy_Blair/About.html

As a very immature but somewhat talented horn player, when I first arrived at Hardin-Simmons in 1978, I heard the stories of the legend of Stacy Blair. Stories that were hard to imagine but indeed were true. Stories of his ping-pong and pool playing abilities, his sense of his surroundings, his ability to remember every voice and sound he heard, and mostly his remarkable talent. But these truths paled in comparison to his rigorous discipline and commitment to excellence. His gifts were immense as was his engaging personality and brilliance. As a student at HSU, Stacy was rarely found without a trumpet or mouthpiece in his hand, not wanting to waste an opportunity to improve. Yes, he was talented and had an aptitude for the trumpet, but it was his devotion to practice and learning that is the most impressive. As a sophomore at Hardin-Simmons, I finally met the legend and I asked him if he had any suggestions for me as a budding horn player. He laughed that famous contagious laugh of his and said, "Practice much and listen always!"

Because of his blindness, he learned music by listening to recordings and imitating the masters. Imitation being the greatest form of flattery, Stacy took this to another level by infusing his own artistry and personality into his performances. Specializing on the piccolo trumpet, but adept at all styles, Stacy performed throughout the world with orchestras, making beautiful recordings demonstrating his unswerving dedication to beauty and excellence. But it was his concerts at churches and various conferences that stick out in my mind. He and Dr. John Campbell on the organ performed throughout the state and beyond, gracing congregations and audiences with trumpet joy and musical artistry. When he played, his music communicated beauty and love that seemed to reach to the soul. He was not a great blind trumpet player, instead he was a wonderfully expressive, technically gifted, and incredible trumpet player who also happened not to be able to see.

His blindness was a challenge but he met it head-on with a prodigious memory. His memory was that of a computer, and his ability to organize what he, heard was without equal. I recall giving him a phone call after a few years of not having spoken with him. He answered "This is Stacy Blair" and I said "Hi Stacy, this is...". But before I could finish, he said, "Hi Rob, How are you?" I asked him if he would be available for a performance and he said with a touch of amusement, "I'll have to check my calendar." I knew his calendar was in his head! Later walking with him, I noticed he operated on two levels, conversing normally but also being aware of his surroundings, sensing obstacles and changes in the feel of the room or environment. He knew where the tree was or the chair and always knew when a person was coming close to him. He counted steps and memorized everything as he journeyed.

He was a living testament to overcoming disabilities, to having a strong work ethic, and to a life of musical expression. Yet, struggle he did at times. The life of a musician can be difficult, wrought full of financial ups and downs, great stress, fear of decline, and waiting for the next phone call. All these plus the ubiquitous problems of blindness and deteriorating health took their toll on Stacy who struggled with various challenges the last few years.

I recall spending some time with a blind pianist several years ago. I went to his motel room to pick him up for a concert at church. He opened the door, letting me in and closing the door behind him. Suddenly I was steeped in almost total darkness and rather shocked about it. I really could not see anything. Yet I could hear my friend rummaging around in the room getting things ready to go. He then asked me to grab the voice translator box that was near the bed. Not wanting to demonstrate weakness, I began to feel my way around the room hoping to touch the object and get it out to the car. Finally after hitting my foot and nearly hitting my head on something, I asked him if I could turn on the light?

He laughed uproariously and said "Of course, it doesn't matter to me." I was immediately struck by my own ineptness at handling darkness even for two minutes, realizing he had spent his entire life that way. The challenges of blindness can only be understood by the blind. As an exercise, try spending a few hours functioning in the world with your eyes shut or covered. The challenge is tremendous and the sympathy for the blind will remain with you forever.

Stacy's blindness was not an obstacle for him as a musician, but in some ways it was difficult for him as a traveling soloist. The seeing eye dog helped as did the myriad of people, but in the end it must have been a challenge and one that only a blind performer could understand. In spite of that, Stacy was a fireball of joy and happiness. Always quick to laugh, he loved life, people, and music, spreading joy everywhere he went with a constant kind word, a smile on his face, and an optimistic spirit. Who can forget his sly grin and creative spark as he offered his warm personality to everyone. He will be missed but he leaves behind a wealth of recordings and a host of people who admired him and learned from him. He gave us so much and will not be forgotten. Thank you Stacy for being such an inspiration to so many.