Michigan+Alice+K. That might be the first thing he ever taught me. If I’m remembering correctly, it was on the first day of 7th grade band that Mr. Michalicek taught us how to spell his last name–the beginning of MICHigan+ALICE+K. I started out calling him Mr. Michalicek, but soon learned that he was better known as “Checker”, of “Checker and the Bluetones”, a popular local band in my community. He was a saxophone player, a keyboardist, and a singer, but many of us knew him best as our teacher. He taught us about music, of course–that was his job. But he didn’t stop there. Checker’s positive attitude, silliness, and true passion for teaching resulted in groups of kids who believed they could do anything. He not only wanted his students to learn and feel music, he wanted us to build confidence and share our talents with the world.
In my 8th grade year, Checker not only directed the regular middle school concert and jazz bands, he also created an “Alternative Jazz Band” in which kids who played any instrument could join to play jazz music. In addition to all of that, he organized the “South Side Rock Ensemble”, which most of us called “Southsiders”. I was one of the lucky ones who got to play in all of those groups. I played French horn in concert band and alternative jazz band, trumpet in regular jazz band, and I sang and occasionally played trumpet or cowbell in Southsiders. I had an absolute blast at an age that could have been really challenging. Take in my awkwardness in the picture at the top of the page singing with Southsiders. We all got cool hockey jerseys to wear when we performed–my mom found mine in my childhood bedroom closet for me:
Checker did things like count off a song with, “1…2…up-your-nose-with-a-rubber-hose!” He made one of the practice rooms into what we called “The Living Room” with an easy chair, a rug, and a lamp made out of a bassoon. And he let awkward, midwestern, (barely) teenagers perform songs like Heat Wave (Martha and the Vandellas), and Got to Get You Into My Life (The Beatles), and Low Rider (War). All these songs from the 60’s & 70’s with soul that we probably never had a chance of covering adequately, but we played them anyway. And we loved it–we felt like rock stars. I did, anyway. I don’t remember where all Southsiders played, but I know that once we played at the local hockey rink for about 650 teachers from all over Iowa who were in town for a TAG convention. I, in my nerdy librarian-ness, have a subscription to a website that has digitized copies of newspaper archives, where I found this article about Southsiders:
And even beyond all of that, Checker had a local recording studio come in so we could make an album. Each of the groups he directed (and our orchestra) had tracks on this album, which was produced on cassettes (because it was 1996) and sold with the proceeds going to support the school music department. I remember at least one VERY long day in that middle school band room, playing, and singing, and watching while my class/bandmates recorded their solos. Through that whole process I don’t remember Checker ever getting grumpy or snapping at kids. It just wasn’t his nature. He wanted to have fun, he wanted us to have fun, and he wanted to bring out the confident musician in all of us. Here’s another article I found, this one about our recording experience:
Incidentally, I grew up going to church with the owners of that local recording studio (Jeff & Sandy), and I had the honor of being asked to sing a duet with my sister at Jeff’s funeral this summer. That was actually the last time I saw Checker. I was rushing out, because I had to get back to work, but he saw me and stopped me and said some very Checker-like thing to me like, “You still got it, girl.” I wish I’d had time to stay and chat with him, because now I won’t ever get the chance. Checker passed away about a week and a half ago. That’s honestly partly why I didn’t end up publishing a blog post last week. I wanted to write about this man who gave so much of himself to help kids learn and grow and find their confidence, but I didn’t realize until he was gone how much of an impact he’d had on me and I wanted to process it all before I shared it. Without all of those music groups he directed, my middle school experience would have been very different. Without his encouragement, I may never have felt confident enough to sing solos in front of other people. What a gift he was to this city (and beyond), to not only bring out that kind of confidence in so many of us, but to share his own talents playing in local bands, and to extend his giving to the wider community by starting an annual fundraiser for the local food bank and their programs for hungry kids. Checker also ran summer jazz programs for kids, and in the last several years each kid who participated got a t-shirt that said, “Be the Person You Want to Be”. That, really, seemed to be his mission–to convince kids that they could be whoever they wanted to be.
One of the songs I got to sing with Southsiders was I’ve Got the Music in Me (The Kiki Dee Band), and as I was reflecting on what kind of a person Mike Michalicek was, I thought about the lyrics of that song, and how in many ways he seemed to embody them:
Ain’t got no troubles in my life, no foolish dream to make me cry.
I’m never frightened or worried, I know I’ll always get by.
I heat up, I cool down. When something gets in my way I go round it.
Don’t let life get me down. Gonna take it the way that I found it.
I got the music in me. (x6)
They say that life is a circle, but that ain’t the way that I found it.
Gonna move in a straight line, keeping my feet firmly on the ground.
I heat up, I cool down. I got words in my head so I say them.
Don’t let life get me down, catch ahold of my blues and just play them.
I got the music in me. (x6)
Feel funky. Feel good.
Gonna tell ya, I’m in the neighborhood.
Gonna fly like a bird on the wing,
Hold on to your hat, honey,
Sing, sing sing sing...
Checker’s passing was just one more reminder to me that I need to truly live while I can–I think we all do. And we all need to figure out how we, too, can make a positive difference in the world doing something we love. There are hundreds, probably thousands, of people out there who Mike Michalicek helped encourage to be the kind of people they want to be. I’m still working out what kind of person I want to be–sometimes it’s not easy to zero in on what the right path is, but I’m figuring it out, and I know I need to just keep taking the next right step until I eventually get there. I encourage you all to do the same. Rest in Peace, Checker. You can bet your sweet bippy you’ll be missed by many.
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