John Anthony Fearing

I was saddened to learn of the death on April 1, 2007 of John Fearing ("Mr. Fearing" to me), a great man, who, as teacher, musician and father figure, has been a major influence in my life, even though I only encountered him twice, and briefly, since finishing high school in 1969.

I have only vague memories of music in school until I moved to Vancouver in fourth grade. In Lord Roberts Elementary School, music was actually a "subject." Mr. Fearing, the music teacher, taught us to play the recorder and to count by saying "ta, ta, ta-te ta, ta-te, ta-te, ta-a-a-a". I don't think I will ever forget "Little John," the recorder tune he made us memorize.

Mr. Fearing left Lord Roberts to upgrade his qualifications, so we had someone else for music while I was in grade 7. Then I hit Grade 8, in 1964, and there he was, teaching band, music and English in my high school! I took those subjects from him for the next five years.

King George Secondary School was the second smallest school in the city, with only around 420 kids and 21 or 22 teachers. Since there weren't enough band students to fill a band class in the normal school schedule, we always played in the morning (7:45) and at lunch (12:15 to 1:00). Mr. Fearing encouraged us to play in small groups, taking us around the city to perform in churches such as Ryerson and West Vancouver United Churches, where he was the organist. He also took the entire band to his summer home on Thormanby Island, off the Sunshine Coast. I recall it being an A-frame structure, with a granite bluff for a front yard.

Mr. Fearing's love was early Western music, that of the mediaeval, renaissance and baroque eras (oh, yes, we played a lot of renaissance music). He enjoyed harpsichords, and took us to see the S. Sabathil & Son Ltd. harpsichord factory in Vancouver (it's now on Bowen Island). We kids put thumbtacks on all the felt hammers of his school piano to make it sound more like a harpsichord, and I think he kept it that way for the rest of my years at King George.

Mr. Fearing's terraced bandroom was beside the main entrance, with practice rooms at the top, and a chalkboard at the lower end. Rather than seating the band on the terraces, we sat on the top level which was big enough to accommodate the whole band in, if I recall, three rows. The terraces were for the desks, and the room resembled a lecture hall with the piano, stereo and teacher's desk at the bottom. There were also a few practice rooms at the top, big enough for a quartet, with large glass windows that probably were intended to ensure there was no mischief. Down at the bottom, behind the chalkboard, was a long, narrow instrument storage room. There were entrances at the top and bottom of the room. Kids sneaking in the upper door when he was teaching below would often hear a booming "Put the wood in the hole!"

In Music Appreciation class we listened to everything in the "serious" categories from early music recorded by English ensembles to Stravinsky to John Cage. The classes were long enough to hear a whole LP record, and I enjoyed listening to the classroom stereo very much. I bought my first record, Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet, because I liked the art work on the album cover he passed around while we were listening to the recording. I remember also listening for class after class to Benjamin Britten's long, long War Requiem. I don't know if that was in English class or Music Appreciation, but it's fair to say we heard a lot of it...

How fitting it seems that Mr. Fearing died on April 1. I have two enduring April Fool's Day memories of him. One April 1st, probably when I was in Grade 9 or 10, five or six of us lifted his Volkswagen, a real Beetle with handles on its bumpers, over to the entrance to the teachers' parking lot, and placed it across the entrance - almost a perfect fit. He wasn't happy about that, but it was fair, I think, since it was the natural outcome of my other memory of that day. He had just played an April Fool's prank on us - he gave us this incredibly hard surprise music appreciation exam, collected all the papers in, and threw them in the trash, saying "April Fool!"

Mr. Fearing taught us to think critically. He expected more than just ordinary schoolwork. Our English course included an assignment to watch the controversial CBC television show "This Hour Has Seven Days" every week, even though it aired at 10 p.m. Sundays.

I played clarinet in the school band, until Mr. Fearing let me play the bass clarinet. The bass clarinet was my principal instrument for most of high school, although I also played tenor sax a little, too (he abhorred saxophones).

School band was fun. Not only did we have this "stern disciplinarian" with a sense of humour leading us, but other teachers joined the band. Among them were Henry Penner (tuba), Bob Emmott (trombone), Gareth Prytherch (clarinet)and, later, I believe Stan Carr (sax) and possibly Mrs. (Mavis?) Kent on clarinet.

I was not a particularly good student, but I enjoyed school, for which I thank Mr. Fearing and his fellow teachers, and in particular the staff members who were part of our band. While the photograph to the left on his obituary is a good one, the two at the bottom of this page, are the man I remember.

I don't know if Mr. Fearing realized the impact he had on my friends and me, a bunch of kids from single-parent families. We hung out together, music and our paper routes being the glue that kept us together. This could not have happened without John Fearing's support and encouragement. We still talk about him when we get together.

I know my mother phoned him more than once to get advice on how to raise a teenager, which is ironic considering he was only a young man himself at the time.

I don't think I would be playing music today if it weren't for John Fearing. I will always remember him, and be grateful for what he taught me.