Originally created 09/30/05

City can march to own tune



They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.

- Andy Warhol

Augusta State University will mark Georgia Archives Week with a Tuesday tribute to J. Louis Sayre.

Almost a century ago, Mr. Sayre was one of our town's most prolific music masters, best known for writing marches, including Greater Augusta March, which was played by John Philip Sousa.

I know about Mr. Sayre because he was the subject of a mystery that I wrote about back in the 1990s. A reader in South Carolina had found an old letter from Mr. Sayre during an estate sale and passed it along to me because it was on newspaper stationery. He wondered who he was, and so did I.

I eventually found his local musical claims to fame, and a relative - his grandson, who was living in Kentucky.

Scott Sayre told me his grandfather eventually moved to Atlanta and had performed on radio shows there before passing away in 1962. He was buried in Augusta's Magnolia Cemetery.

Tuesday's event begins at 2:30 p.m. at the Reese Library.

You know, for years I've wondered what Greater Augusta March sounds like. The ASU wind ensemble is prepared to answer the question.

MORE MAIL: Summer's over, but traveling isn't. Your postcards are still arriving.

Ginny and Jim Cash send a card from Boston's Fenway Park, which should be hopping this weekend. Marty and Doris Charnbock say Tennessee is "just beautiful."

Harry Mercer sends a card from Hong Kong with some words on it I don't understand.

David Daitch is on his last vacation cruise of the year and sends a postcard from Nova Scotia. Also in Nova Scotia is a group from North Augusta First Baptist - Muriel, Mary Thelma, Jean, Barbara, Jeanette, Priscilla and Heather. Esther and Lisa are enjoying cool weather in Vancouver.

TODAY'S JOKE: Sports writer John was a good golfer, but as often happened his first drive sliced deep into the woods. Unwilling to take a penalty stroke, he decided to blast his ball back out to the fairway.

Unfortunately, his shot hit a large tree, ricocheted back and struck him in the forehead, killing him instantly.

When he arrives at the Pearly Gates, St. Peter notices his attire and greets him by saying, "You look like a golfer. Are you any good?"

"Absolutely," John replied. "I got here in two strokes, didn't I?"