Paul Carl Magill

MAGILL, Paul C. age 78 of Centerville died after a lengthy illness on Thursday February 18, 2010. He was preceded in death by his parents, Maurice and Catherine (nee Stegemeyer) Magill, and an infant grandson, Noah Christopher Magill. Born in Cincinnati, OH, he is survived by his devoted wife of 55 years, Margaret (Peggy), and four children, Michael (Angelia) of Carlsbad, CA, Douglas of Centerville, Paul Joseph (Anna) of Cleveland, and Andrea (Tom) of Pasadena, CA; 11 grandchildren, Margaret, Caitlin, Kendall, Kaitlin, Max, Hunter, Cole, Andrew, Paul Jacob, Nathan, and Brian; and a brother, David, of Cincinnati. Born and raised in Cincinnati, he received his education at the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, Ohio State University and Miami University. His education was interrupted by service to his country in Korea. After beginning his teaching career in Cincinnati, the couple moved to Dayton in 1957 where he taught music in Kettering Schools for seven years. They moved to Oakwood in 1958 and resided there 40 years. He became the first music faculty member of Wright State University, opening the department in 1964. During his 24-year tenure, he was an Associate Professor of Music and Director of Choral Studies and founded the University Chorus, the University Chamber Singers, and the Men's Chorus. He also was Music Director of musicals presented by the WSU Theatre Arts Department. He directed several community choruses, including the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra Chorus, the Dayton Opera Chorus, the Dayton Rotary Boys Choir and the Miami Valley Nurses Chorus. A former tenor soloist at Grace United Methodist Church and Westminster Presbyterian Church, he was Director of Music at St. Paul's Episcopal Church for 22 years. Highlights of his career include conducting a performance of Brahms' A German Requiem with soprano Kathleen Battle, baritone Andrew White, the Area Episcopal Festival Chorus and members of the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra (DPO) at St. Paul's Episcopal Church; and conducting the DPO in the premiere of Dave Brubeck's "Light in the Wilderness" with Brubeck at the piano, baritone Joseph Albrecht, and the Dayton Philharmonic and WSU Choruses at Memorial Hall. He also performed as tenor soloist with the DPO several times. He was a member of St. Paul's Episcopal Church and Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia Fraternity. During his retirement, he enjoyed time spent with his children and grandchildren, and singing and traveling with the Cincinnati International Touring Chorus. His volunteer activities included Miami Valley Hospital, St. Paul's Episcopal Church and Meals on Wheels. He will be remembered for his dedication to his family, his impeccable musicianship, and his engaging sense of humor. Memorial services will be held on Monday, February 22, 2010, at 4:00 p.m. at St. Paul's Episcopal Church 33 West Dixon Ave. in Oakwood. The family will receive friends following the memorial service in the Cloister at the church. The family thanks the staffs of Memory Support and Cascade at Bethany Village for their tireless devotion and loving care of Paul. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Dayton Foundation at 500 Kettering Tower, Dayton, OH 45423 for the Paul Magill Choral Scholarship Fund, or to the Hospice of Dayton 324 Wilmington Pk. Dayton, OH, 45419. Condolences and other tributes may be sent to the family at www.routsong.com. Dad - His Legacy A husband, father, friend, teacher, a teammate I'm sure my father was at least one of these things to everyone here. For my family, he was all of those things. A complex man who kept much of his thoughts to himself - revealed intermittently and punctuated by moments of shared brilliance - usually associated with music. A music man. My earliest memories and the thread that can be followed through his lifetime; musical parents / family, pursuit of music education degree, teaching, performing, directing for decades here in the cities of southwestern Ohio. He reached a high point and then (like the destiny we all share) there was diminishment. Not by choice but by God's hand and the increasing frailty of existence within a human body in its latter years. O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING? These words (from the Brahms Requiem) became so meaningful to me. I'm sure for a while mom and dad wondered if I would ever truly comprehend the majesty of a musical masterpiece like the Brahms Requiem - but my brain reactivated in my late 20's (after my rock & roll band experience and seeing dad in the audience with cotton in his ears) and I found myself captivated by the world of sacred choral music. A new, deeper respect for my father grew during a particularly marvelous time when I had the pleasure of participating in a performance of this Brahm's Requiem as a member of the choir directed by dad. I'll always have that memory. Yes, I fought off a lump in my throat during the sections of the piece that affected me deeply (remembering dad's admonition to the choir - concentrate on the notes and pronunciations - don't let emotion strangle your voice. Although I successfully did that - at least most of the time, there was something that topped even the performance experience. For me it was the rehearsals: the motivation, the examination, the communication, the amphistation; striving to achieve something close to harmonious perfection. For the first time I really understood my father's ability to connect with people who loved music and to draw out of them that shared desire to take notes, written on a page, and meld instruments and voices so they matched (and possibly exceeded) the intention of the composer. In the movie Amadeus, Mozart's musical genius is described "it was as if he were taking dictation from God." I'm not placing dad among the great composers, but instead as a man who strived, who understood the potential joy held within a musical score and strived to bring it alive with whomever he could assemble as performers and whomever had chosen to listen. I applaud him for how hard he strove in this and for how very often he succeeded. That is Paul Magill's legacy. Dad's health declined dramatically, as he dealt with multiple aneurysms, spinal surgery, diabetes, and other maladies. He also was faced with a vascular dementia condition that began to change his personality. Before we all despair, let me tell you in some respects this personality change was a gift. Ask family members and close friends. He changed from a polite, considerate, but rather shy person into an absolute extrovert, eager to speak his mind to whomever might be in his line of sight. There was the evening in San Diego (dusk) when outside a grocery store we saw a couple sitting at a table under an umbrella. Dad looked at them both and then said to the young man, "you should ask her to marry you!" There was the time when he and mom were delayed in an airport. A large group of college age kids were lounging around and obviously bored. 5 minutes later dad was directing them all in a round version of Kumbaya. And my personal favorite, he and I were standing in line at a deli shop one early evening. A huge man in a greasy blue jean outfit (let's just say he was he a rough character) is in line holding a six pack of beer and a playboy magazine. Before I could stop him dad was reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around ready for a fight and looked down at dad who smiled, pointed to the beer and magazine, and said, "you're going to have a good time tonight, aren't you!" Well this guy looked angry for a moment but sized up dad and managed to crack a smile. With his usual restraint gone and his new found propensity to speak freely, he became someone who made me ask myself, should I talk to the person riding in the elevator with me? Should I tell the owner of the cleaners how much I appreciate their great service? Should I reach out to the guy at work struggling under his particular burden? What would the world be like if we all reached out to each other more? Another life lesson from dad. O DEATH WHERE IS THY STING? In his last days, we have gathered to be close to Paul Magill, to pay our respects, to speak his legacy, to celebrate his life and his passing to our Lord and Savior. When You Are With Me I'm Free To be able to say that my father was the best man I ever met is such an incredible gift! He was an amazing role model to us alla great father, a caring husband and a wonderful teacher. As I walk through my daily challenges I often ask myself, "What would Dad do in this situation?" In my eyes he was the perfect man. It seemed to me that there was nothing my Dad could not do. He was a soldier, a field medic, a carpenter, en electrician, a painter, a plumber, a sailor, a pilot and, most of all, a gifted musician. What a remarkable balance of masculinity and sensitivity! In his senior year in high school he was All-City and captain of the football team, He also had a part-time job at a flower shop, from which he often brought flowers home to his mother. As the Director of the Dayton Rotary Boys Choir he issued a challenge to all the boys that he could beat them in a push-up contest. I can still see him pumping out push-ups against a challenger and I never saw him lose. My favorite times with my Dad were when he would say, "It's time to go on an adventure." We would round up all our neighborhood friends and load up the station wagon and off we would gooften times to Wright State University where we would explore the construction of the new buildings. He was the only Dad I knew who would play "Kick-the-Can" with us. I remember hiding in a bush and hearing him fly by like a freight train, no one dreaming of stopping him as he advanced on the can. When I was in the Navy and overseas in the Philippines, I so looked forward to my Dad's letters. They were always typed and were so inspirational and empowering that I used to share them with my Navy Seal teammates. They would look forward to them as much as I would. When I learned my father suffered from Vascular Dementia I used to panic and think, "How can I go on without him?" You see, my Dad was my rock. I struggled for a long time trying to understand why my Dad had to die from this disease. I finally realized that I needed the last couple of years to prove to myself that I can continue on without him. In closing, I would like to thank you, Dad, for sharing your joy of music with so many people. Dad, I want you to know I'm free. CLARKOWSKI speach: I knew Paul Magill for nearly 33 years. When I came to WSU in 1977, Paul was one of the faculty whom I got to know first. We served together on the Voice Board, auditioning prospective students and conducting quarterly performance exams. We were a contentious faculty in those days, with lots of disagreements and plain old personality conflicts, but Paul was a voice of compromise and reason, with a gift for advancing his point of view without ever hinting at any disrespect for the opposing one. It was only later that I learned that he was the first music faculty member at WSU, and the founder of its choral program. I remember Barbara Foster telling me about the days when she and Paul taught lessons in the old farmhouse that stood on the east edge of campus near where the baseball field is now. She taught piano lessons on the first floor and Paul taught voice upstairs. One day she happened to look up during a lesson to see a body falling past the window into the shrubbery; Paul had forgotten his key, didn't want to interrupt her lesson, and had attempted to get upstairs by means of a none-too-sturdy trellis. Paul chaired a committee in the early 80's which worked out a system of measuring music faculty teaching loads; this is a system still in use, only now undergoing major revision as WSU moves to a semester system. I remember that someone said that the workload units we came up with should have been called "Magills" in honor of his work on a difficult issue. He was the music director of many Theatre Department productions in his earlier years at WSU, and taught a voice class for theatre majors much longer. He often complained good-naturedly about how unruly the theatre students often were, being naturally extroverted and uninhibited people, and I remember him saying once with a sheepish grin how he had been quite determined that Andrea would never be one of those theatre majors. In 1983 Carole and I joined the choir here at St. Paul's. Our youngest son Paul was a newborn and we had two more at home, and Paul found a little money somewhere to defray the cost of babysitters. The St. Paul's choir was one of the best in Dayton, and it was also an extension of Paul's teaching for a few lucky students whom he recruited to augment the choir. To get fine music out of volunteers with backgrounds ranging from no training to years of study and experience is no mean talent, and Paul was a master at it. I was proud to be part of performances with orchestra of Brahms, Handel, Rutter, Mozart, and many more. But perhaps more importantly, this church was blessed with music of very high quality week in and week out for some 24 years. He did show some favoritism toward a certain alto soloist, but Peggy sang so beautifully no one could possibly object. When Joan Forbes resigned as organist, I agreed to fill in until a permanent organist could be found. I thought I would play for a month or so. A month turned to two and then three as Paul interviewed some candidates but was unsatisfied. Finally I told him I was enjoying the job, and Paul took a huge risk on someone who wasn't really trained as an organist. For awhile he chose anthems with organ parts I could handle, and in myriad ways made my on-the-job training as easy as possible. I was the direct beneficiary of his patience, his willingness to forgive and forget, his unfailing congeniality and collegiality. Technically he was my boss here, of course, but bossiness of any kind was not in Paul's repertoire. When I heard of Paul's passing, I posted a message on Facebook, where many WSU students are in touch. Several posted short comments, and I'd like to share a few: An amazing musician and teacher; a gifted, passionate man; a most respected, kind, effective, and humble professor; a true gentleman. I would wholeheartedly concur with these sentiments; I also fondly remember his quirky sense of humor and his sometimes quaint and elaborate way of expressing himself, but most of all his devotion to the art of music. Paul Magill contributed in so many ways to the life of this community, and we would do well to remember and emulate him. Joe's remembrance: The death of a loved one is never easy. If it appears that our family has been handling it well it's for two reasons: one, we've been bracing for this for the past few years. I feel I lost my father several years ago, which was very painful but it helped prepare me for his eventual death. The second is that we learned to be this way by watching our fatherstoic, quiet, independent, filled with strength. That's neither a criticism nor a celebration; it's just a fact. Dad was an introspective person who loved to laugh but wasn't always comfortable in social settings. However, he also was the first to offer a helping hand to anyone in distress, something I strive for and hope to pass on to my children. We all deal with death in different ways and I find myself turning to the gift with which he blessed us all music. When I was out running the beautiful grounds of Bethany Village the other day, two pieces of music overwhelmed me. Ironically it's not because of the musical notes, but instead the lyrics. Of course, thoughts immediately go to some of the most beautiful and emotional pieces ever writtenBrahms' A German Requiem, Orff's Carmina Burana, Durufle's Requiem. And the Rutter Requiem, parts of which we have heard today thank you so much to our wonderful singers, many of whom answered the call to honor the man who had shared with them his life's passion. And then there's the Mozart Requiem, perhaps my all-time favorite piece of music. If someone would ask me why, I would have to be honest it's not because of the beauty, the majesty, the emotion. No. it's because I was honored with the opportunity to join the Wright State University Chorus just to perform that work under Dad's direction at his farewell concert. Plain and simple, that's why it's my favorite. But I actually have turned to more contemporary music; stuff that, quite frankly, Dad would have had little time or tolerance for. We were always trying to share with him the contemporary music that we so enjoyed in our young lives. We would ask him to listen to something that we were sure he would enjoy. Usually he would graciously listen and at the end grunt some sort of lukewarm response so as not to hurt us and then get back to whatever he was doing. Anyway, the first song that came to me was written by Gordon Sumner, better known as Sting, soon after the death of his father. He wrote of a man having a vision of being on a ship that is lost at sea. As the song progresses it becomes apparent that this journey is a metaphor for the man's life. Soon the weather turns bad and the ship is tossed about but never keels over. Eventually the man suspects that he sees a figure in the wheelhouse who is steering the ship against the storms of life, and at the climax he realizes the figure is his father, the rudder of his life. The second piece was written by Dan Fogelberg and is entitled The Leader of the Band. No explanation is necessary other than to say that Fogelberg's father was a music teacher and a conductor. I think it's appropriate to end with the refrain from this touching song: The Leader of the Band is tired and his eyes are growing old. But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul. My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man. I'm just a living legacy to the Leader of the Band.

Funeral Home:
Kettering Routsong Funeral Home
2100 E. Stroop Rd.
Kettering, OH
US 45429