Anthony Michalsky kept a sign in the old Buna Band Hall that read: “The only place success comes before work is in the dictionary.” As Band Director over four decades, he showed us how hard work leads to success.
In October of 2023, a crowd gathered at Buna High School to celebrate his leadership and contributions to the community. The Michalsky Band Alumni Association unveiled a plaque, and the music wing of the high school building was named “Michalsky Hall.” Co-workers and former students shared memories of their time as his students. The common theme was his pursuit of excellence through self-discipline. Afterward, I talked to him about the “secret” to his successful career.
Anthony grew up in Crosby, Texas and played baritone in the school band. He enjoyed music at home too, as his father was a professional trumpet player in a polka band. After high school he enlisted in the Army.
In 1956 Pvt. 1st Class Anthony Michalsky was asleep at a U.S. Army Base in Germany when a drunk roommate came home and brutally attacked and beat him for no reason. The next day Anthony joined the Army band and moved to their dormitory. Like many young people, he found a safe place among fellow musicians. It was also one of the first steps on his path to success.
After the army, he earned a Music Education degree from North Texas State University, and in 1963 Buna hired him as Band Director.
“My first band had seventeen students.” he said. “Mostly kids who couldn’t or didn’t want to play sports.”
By the time he retired in 2007, the Buna High School Marching Band had earned twenty-two University Interscholastic League (UIL) Sweepstakes trophies, produced thirteen All State musicians, and launched dozens of people into careers as musicians and music educators. He also served as Buna Elementary School Principal for six years, during which time the school was rated Exemplary. He won two terms on the Buna School Board, and still consults with the band and choral directors.
While he worked alone as Band Director, Anthony is quick to say he had help. First, he credits his wife, Rebecca, for managing their home life and raising three children.
“She took care of everything at home so I could pursue my career.”
Buna was a “band friendly” town, too. After an early UIL Sweepstakes win, a parent compared him to Buna’s championship basketball coach from the early 60s.
“Cotton Robinson put Buna on the map and you’re keeping us there.”
Professionally, he had the ears and eyes of Phil Baker, a former band director. Phil came every Monday to observe us and offer advice – like, “to be successful you must surround yourself with successful people.”
“I often traveled on weekends, watching other bands and talking to directors,” Anthony said. “I learned from their experience.”
Our program grew from “a few students who couldn’t or didn’t want to play sports” to a popular elective that attracted a diverse group.
Anthony confessed to a built-in advantage within his student population. He reminded me that many of us could already read music from piano lessons or church choir. Having musically literate students gave him an edge. But there was no substitute for hard work.
In 1969 Buna won its first “Sweepstakes,” which meant a #1 rating in all three UIL categories – Marching, Concert, and Sight Reading. As a member of the 1973-76 bands, I was thrilled — and terrified. By the time I earned a spot on the front line, the Buna High School Band had a reputation to uphold and a winning streak to maintain.
Pride and self-discipline drove us as we practiced every weekday, starting at 7 AM. Under Michalsky’s watchful eyes, one hundred and twenty students marched up and down the field. First, without music, learning formations. We memorized where to turn and how to counter-march back through the ranks without colliding. Then we did this while playing “Invictus” or “The Viking March.” We changed formations, shifted shape, narrowly avoided disaster, knowing one wrong turn could ruin everything.
When we lined up in the end zone every Friday night, rowdy football crowds quieted. They watched as our week’s practice translated into a precision military-style halftime show. After marching, Michalsky indulged our teen urges. He let the band play a dance number while the twirlers and drill team presented 3 minutes of pop fueled dancing and baton twirling. We may not have been the main attraction but our Superintendent observed that the stands emptied after halftime. On Monday morning, however, we were back in our sweaty tennis shoes, marching up and down the dew-covered field, tweaking Friday’s performance.
Mr. Michalsky’s patience was on full display as we progressed through the season. During one halftime performance, I countermarched too early and led a dozen fellow musicians astray. Two trombones, several coronets, a clarinet, some flutes, and a tuba followed me as I marched beyond the boundary of our formation. Instead of a parallelogram shape, the band looked like the Big Dipper moving down the field. I was mortified. As we returned to the bleachers I made eye contact with him — and though his mouth didn’t move, his face said, “Better now than at contest.”
Even a “1” rating at November’s Marching Contest brought no reprieve. The next week we started rehearsing for the Christmas concert and spring UIL competitions.
“People waste time,” Mr. Michalsky said. “After Marching contest they take off for the holidays and lose valuable rehearsal opportunities!“
At the Michalsky Hall dedication ceremony former students recalled grousing about the outrageous practice schedule, extreme weather conditions, and perceived indignities we suffered. They also described how good habits and cooperative skills learned in Band have served them well throughout life.
Staying true to his beliefs, Anthony Michalsky shaped several generations of Buna children. He set a high bar and helped us do big things, one step at a time. We learned that while talent is good and enthusiasm is important, true success comes from hard work.