Growing Up with a Preacher Man
Rev. William "Lester" Howard (1929-2021)
Mary Eulalie McLean Howard (1933-2021)
My First Piano Teacher, Betty Jane McMillan Kovatch (1922-2008)
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by Carolyn Ann Howard
My piano teacher growing up was Betty Kovatch. This woman had a profound influence on me, and it wasn't always good. But... it wasn't always bad, either.
My mother enrolled me in piano lessons when I was 5 years old. I don't know why, and I don't know how I came to be taught by Betty Kovatch. My mother always felt that signing me up for lessons was one of her greatest accomplishments. For me, the lessons have been both a blessing and a curse. I have been a professional musician for most of my adult life. Sometimes I wish instead, though, that I had didn't know how to play the piano. I love telling stories, history, and writing more than anything. I have no regrets in the end.
I first met Betty Kovatch in or around 1966. She lived at 301 Bluff Street in my childhood hometown of Monticello, Indiana. I still remember what the entirety of her house looked like. A huge rectangular living room with the "idiot box," as she called it, in one corner and a spinet piano in the opposite corner. In a cabinet, she kept her John Thompson method books, and my mother bought from her "Teaching Little Fingers to Play." I remember coming home from that first lesson and asking what my assignment was. Well, there was no assignment, and I was so disappointed. Click on photos to enlarge
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| 301 Bluff Street Courtesy Google Maps proper attribution given |
Mrs. Kovatch, as I will refer to her in this story, was a chain smoker and had 2 Siamese cats who would hide whenever I was there, except for the one time I spent the night. She would smoke half a cigarette between lessons, always back in her kitchen. And sometimes she would bring back the most amazing looking coffee drinks with her to sip on while she taught. I was always so jealous that she had a drink, and I didn't.
A couch partitioned off the teaching area of her home, and students would walk in at their appointed time without knocking. I was always a little early - story of my life - and so I would wait on that same couch. Socially, I was awkward, and one time, I heard Mrs. Kovatch laughing with another student, and so I laughed as well, because I thought I was just being part of the group. Mrs. Kovatch didn't say anything to me at that time, but she called my mother later to tell her I had laughed at a student. I got into so much trouble and the next week, I was forced to apologize to Mrs. Kovatch. It was really hard for me to do that, and it was so embarrassing. No one told me what I had done wrong or even what I was apologizing for. Besides, shouldn't the apology have been given to the other girl I supposedly laughed at? I would have never done this to any of my piano students. It's hard enough being a child as it is.
I owe the musician I am today to Dr. Douglas Reed, who was my organ professor while studying at the University of Evansville. When I first reached Ball State University in 1979 - with a full scholarship - I didn't even know what a chord was. I didn't even know fully what staccato meant! My students learn about intervals in their very first book; indeed, it is how I teach children to read music. Staccato/legato is one of the first technics they learn, and granted, I might not tell them that staccato means half the value of the note, I will certainly let them know later when they become more advanced. And the same with chords. And it's not because I'm a great teacher - which I would like to think that after over 40 years, I am pretty good at teaching - it's the method books that I use. It's in the method books where all these things are introduced. The method books guide the teacher to teach correctly and in order. The John Thompson series of method books, unfortunately, were not great. They did not guide the student or the teacher through anything. It was merely one song after the other and hopefully you were able to play it by the next lesson. More often than not, I couldn't, and it was, Mrs. Kovatch said, because I didn't practice enough. She was correct.
When I finally reached the University of Evansville, I remember vividly my first lesson with Dr. Douglas Reed. In that first lesson, I badly bungled a run. And I thought, "Oh no, here we go. He's going to accuse me of not practicing when really I had practiced quite a bit to prepare for that lesson. But after I finished playing, he looked at me thoughtfully and said, "Let's look at the fingering on that run." Mind blown.
One more comparison between my two most important teachers - I still to this day, at the age of 60, cannot bring myself to call Douglas Reed "Doug." He will always be "Dr. Reed" to me, even though my colleagues call him "Doug." Mrs. Kovatch, however, in my adult years, I called her "Betty."
Soon after I started lessons, I participated in my first recital. It was held at the Presbyterian church in Monticello, and I was the youngest student to perform. I forgot what piece I played because I at first had a different piece. Always anxious about things at hand, I practiced a ridiculous amount of time and learned my recital piece in one week. And so, Mrs. Kovatch gave me another, more difficult piece to learn. I was asked to curtsy after playing my piece, and I didn't know how, and that laughter that people do when a child is doing something cute or, more likely, awkward, I felt like everyone was laughing at me. I felt stupid.
One thing that Mrs. Kovatch was great at was arranging field trips and preparing students for contest. I think we did two contests per year, and they were a lot of fun, actually. I was popular with the other piano students, even though at school, I was unpopular and bullied. She would pair me with older girls to play duets for contest and for recitals, and those older girls would talk to me at school. Sometimes they would even invite me over for sleepovers under the guise of "practicing our duet together." What I mean by them talking to me at school - I had a very good friend that went to my dad's church, who was a little older than I. Although I considered her my best friend, because we did all the church things together, she wouldn't talk to me at school.
The contests were different. Many times, we would all ride together or in a caravan to wherever the contest was. And they were at really cool places, like one was at Northwestern University. I didn't understand at that time what a big deal that really was. I always performed well in the contests. But what was more fun than anything was the fellowship with the other students.
I do remember once all of us eating together in a restaurant and for some reason, I ordered a coffee. I don't understand this, because I didn't become a coffee drinker until much later in my life. Mrs. Kovatch loudly proclaimed that I was too young for coffee and again - stupid me. But one of the girls took me aside later and said, "You should've been able to have coffee."
We lived near Purdue University, and we would attend musicals and plays there. Or we would travel to Valparaiso for concerts. My piano teacher was very well connected and knew loads of people, and she was super outgoing. We were always treated with great care everywhere we went with her.
Mrs. Kovatch loved everything Hispanic and Native American. She claimed to speak fluent Spanish. She adored priests and monks and said that her delicious bread recipe was given to her by a monk at St. Meinrad. I asked her several times for the recipe, but she wouldn't give it to me. Her kitchen cabinets were overflowing with fiestaware, and her jewelry, for the most part, was Native American.
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| Fiestaware Courtesy Pixabay |
Mrs. Kovatch was always looking to find money. I'm not sure why, because she had a really good base of students, and she most likely worked at a church somewhere. She loved fancy clothes, though, so maybe that is part of it. And she loved to travel. She had a yard sale annually. She would collect items all year long and have a huge sale. In later years, I took part in these sales with her. It was a nice way of making a little extra cash, and I enjoyed having Mrs. Kovatch as my friend.
She continually berated her husband, however, so much so that I was afraid of him. He was always nice to me whenever I was there, but I still really worried about being in his presence. It turned out - studying for this blog - that her husband had been a famous professional football player for the Washington Redskins and Green Bay Packers. In Monticello, he worked for the RCA factory. It turns out, he was a good guy!
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| John Kovatch |
She also continually berated her son. I think it might be that he turned on her, but I'm not sure. For some reason, Mrs. Kovatch latched onto my mother, cornering her when she would pick me up for lesson or by calling her on the phone. So, I heard a lot more gossip from her than maybe other students. It was the decade of the 1960s, though. She stated that her son had become a sun worshipper in Seattle. I was unsuccessful in finding much out about Paul for this blog.
The musical disconnect, I believe, is that I wasn't interested - at that time - in classical piano. I wanted to play the top hits, and I loved Karen Carpenter, because she had a low voice like mine, and I could sing her songs while I played. I wanted to play Disney songs. I wanted to play Henry Mancini, Elton John, and Neil Diamond. She wouldn't have any of it, insisting that only the classics were worthy of being played. Sometimes I look at our current modern society and think of all the musicians working behind the scenes in popular music. That could have been me. Instead, everyone pushed me to go the classical route. It's all fine, though. In the end, my life is good, fun, and happy. And as my friend Lynn said, when addressing a piano teacher's group that I'm in, she congratulated us for picking such a noble profession and lifted us up by acknowledging the many lives we have touched as teachers. That's the best legacy anyone could hope for.
Mrs. Kovatch visited us one time in my current hometown of Evansville, Indiana. She stayed at The Executive Inn, and Mom and I went to her hotel room to visit her. I was working full-time at Schuttler Music as a teacher by then, and I asked her what she thought of the Bastian method book series. Mrs. Kovatch treated me like a child and refused to talk with me about teaching piano. Unfortunately, her behavior toward me that night made me upset, and I only had one more interaction with her after that.
In her later years, Mrs. Kovatch and her husband parted ways. She went to Arizona. I don't know if he stayed in Monticello or not. The last time I talked with her was right before she died. She called on the phone and asked me if I would buy her stamp collection for $500. I told her that I wasn't interested, and it hurt both our feelings badly. Mine, because I hated to see her beg, but money was tight for me at that time, now having a child of my own. Hers, because I wouldn't give in and send her money.
Mrs. Kovatch had big shoes to fill, though. Not only does her husband have a famous rating on Find-A-Grave, her father, Vernon McMillan also has one. Mr. McMillan is famous for having a sporting goods store in Terre Haute, Indiana, where he designed the first football helmet.
Betty died 11 Mar 2008 in Tucson, Arizona. She is buried in Lafayette, Indiana.
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