Marching 100 Alumni Band Association – RIP Dr. William P. Foster (1919 – 2010)

It was only a few days ago that I visited with Dr. William P. Foster. It was on his birthday, and I walked into his room, seeing a single balloon tied to his bed that said, “Happy Birthday!” I took a seat in the room, then stood by his bed, where I said a short prayer before talking to him. He didn’t respond to me at that time, but I told him who I was, wished him a Happy Birthday, and began talking to him. I talked to him about the times that he would drive up in his Cadillac with my press credentials on game day, with my name written on the envelope by him. (I could spot his handwriting a mile away). I talked to him about other events that he would have remembered during the time he was Director of Bands, even mentioning the 60th Anniversary Celebration the Marching 100 Alumni Band Association sponsored, an event that was one of the last that he and Mrs. Ann Foster (RIP) would last attend together. I chatted a little while longer, then told him that I’d come back tomorrow.

Thursday came around, and there I was, sitting by him. This time, he wasn’t on life support, and was moving around a little. I, again, told Doc who I was, and I began talking to him again, reminding him of how he used to rehearse us, taking one note of a song for what seemed like forever, then mention “transfer of learning” to us before taking the song from the top. It was then that I noticed him trying to raise his hand. He got it up a little, and I said, “Good, Doc. Let’s try it again. We’re going to get you back in shape, one downbeat at a time. You have to be in shape if you’re to conduct Elsa’s again.” He stirred again, and there it was, his hand coming up, and slowly going back down. I didn’t cry, but felt like the Lord had brought me there to help Doc, so I continued to talk to him about getting better. Again, his right hand came up, then it went back down slowly. He did this a couple more times, while I just stood by his bedside.

While I stood over him, watching him stir and rest, his hand came up again, but this time it was different. He put his hand in mine, and left it there for a moment. I rubbed his mitted hand, and then he slowly put it back by his side. He did it one last time, and I felt like he was on the road to recovery.

I told him that I was about to go, that I would come back to visit him after the band came back from a performance in Charlotte Saturday, and then I left him.

Little did I know that it would be the last time I would see Doc, but I was happy to have been there for him, watching him try to give me that perfect downbeat that he’s always mentioned. Well, he’s in a much better place now, where there’s nothing less than perfection in his presence.

Thanks Doc, for the memories, the worldwide trips, the opportunity to be a leader AND servant to you and the FAMU Bands as a trumpet player, Head Drum Major, and Alumni Band Association President. You will be sorely missed, but your legacy will live in me forever!