Patricia Quinn, Phil Leibel’s daughter, met me at Tim Hortons on Dec. 8, 2016, to relate her dad’s life and musical career. It was a long interview; there was much to tell.
Phil Leibel, the son of German-Russian-Catholic immigrants, was born in 1919 and died in 1984. The driving force in his life was music. He played music at dances and functions and owned a music store where he sold and repaired an extensive range of instruments, sold sheet music and gave music lessons. I remember stepping in with Phil’s band at a dance in Paynton. Phil was a consummate musician. His standards were high and he required that everyone in the band have high standards as well.
In Phil’s early years, life was hard. When he was eight, his young mother, Magdalena, died of cancer. His father remarried a widow with a large family. When the Great Depression swept over the land, feeding 18 hungry mouths and the farm’s mortgage was a constant concern.
However, amidst the hard times, a good thing happened. With a “how to” book, Phil taught himself to play the family’s foot-pedal organ and, later, the accordion. Phil, with his accordion, walked the country roads to play music at the neighbouring homes of friend and relatives. Phil’s repertoire consisted of German folk music – polkas, waltzes, schottisches and so forth. Radio also exposed him to contemporary music. Two of Phil’s brothers, Peter and Mathew, and sister Madeline also played accordion. Music was a way for the Leibels to pass the time.
World War II arrived and momentous change characterized Phil’s life. He enlisted in the Regina Rifles Regiment and was stationed in distant places like Victoria and Prince Rupert. The army bandmaster noticed the young man who carried his accordion everywhere and asked him to join the band. Phil said “yes” without hesitation. Phil was required to keep the beat for the marching band while playing a massive, heavy and awkward brass sousaphone (tuba). In the accompanying dance band, Phil would alternate between playing the sousaphone, and the smaller euphonium and baritone (all members of the tuba family). These instruments provided a strong bass line and a strong beat. Dancers stepped to the latest big band tunes. Phil loved how music could lift the spirits of enlisted men and civilians alike.
We turn now to the Materi family who had strong connections to the Leibel family. Phil met his bride-to-be, Linda Materi, who lived on a farm close to the Leibels. She was of the same German-Russian-Catholic stock as Phil. The Materi family, especially Linda’s younger brother, Frank, were struck by Phil’s musical abilities.
Frank Materi’s first recollection of Phil was when he came calling on Linda. Phil was impressive standing in a horse-drawn sleigh, reins in hand. Even more impressive was a beautiful Art Deco style, rhinestone-studded Frontalini accordion in a blue velvet case. He had bought the instrument by selling cigarettes his family had sent him overseas. Frank knew it was only a matter of time before Phil formed a dance band and he, 14 years Phil’s junior, became Phil’s life-long friend and partner in The Knights of Rhythm. Frank already knew how to play the accordion when he first met Phil. He got his first accordion, a small button accordian, from neighbours who took him and his siblings in during the hard times. His parents paid for it and he had to pay them back. It took a long time.
The Materi children all loved music. Joe played the harmonica and guitar. Most of the girls sang and accompanied themselves on the guitar, harmonica and accordion. Ted taught himself to play guitar and accordion while attending school at St. Thomas College in North Battleford. Jack strummed a catalogue-ordered “Roy Rogers and Trigger” guitar and sang. On one occasion, the two young brothers played a fund-raising radio show broadcast from Saskatoon to raise money for tuberculosis research. The Materi family were all self-taught, playing by ear and memory. Before he could read music (which Phil passed on from his army days) Frank said it took a month to learn a piece by memory. Like Phil, Frank’s musical background was German-Russian folk influenced and popular radio. Phil noted that Frank was an “exceptionally” fast learner and “one hundred per cent,” the highest compliment Phil could pay, and coming from him, it really meant something.
After Phil and Linda married, they moved about in search of employment. Regardless of when and where they were, Phil would find an opportunity to play his accordion. They ended up in Sylvan Lake, Alta., where Phil worked as a mechanic for his sister Annie’s husband, John Schmidt. Linda supplemented their income by waitressing.
Their next move was to Saskatoon where Phil took army-sponsored courses at Kelsey Institute designed to help soldiers adjust to civilian life. He studied radio and television. Linda took homemaking courses. When they watched Gone With the Wind, they couldn’t afford the 25 cents to buy popcorn.
When Phil and Linda moved to Battleford (from Macklin via Luseland and Wilkie), Phil found work as a mechanic at Moe and Jeep George’s “Calvert dealership.” He mentioned to Moe and Jeep that there was a home full of boys who would soon need a job, which resulted in good paying jobs for many of the Materi boys and an opportunity for some to play hockey (Ted, Frank’s younger brother, became an outstanding hockey player with the Battleford Millers, eventually moving to Calgary to work for Alberta Telephones and contributing to Calgary’s entertainment scene as an excellent musician). Except for Jack who had bought his father’s farm, most of the Leibel and Materi families eventually moved to the Battlefords. Frank did not immediately move; he stayed back to help his brother Jack with the farm work. The Materi’s new home was at 302A-23rd St. West in Battleford. Anton and Anastasia were retired and the remaining children either went to school or found jobs. Sadly, three years later, Anton died from heart failure. Upon her father’s death, Pauline, Frank’s younger sister, returned home from Victoria to care for her mother who died in 1984. Years later, Pauline became ill and moved into the Battlefords District Care Centre where she died. Frank had regularly brought his accordion to play for her.
When Frank moved to Battleford, he worked at a variety of jobs including driving cab for the George brothers. Frank eventually bought the taxi business and renamed it Crown Cab. Phil, in the meantime, had moved from his job as a mechanic at Calvert’s to work for Bill Tait (Tait Electric) as a television and radio repairman.
Before Phil and Frank joined forces musically, Frank had played for dances with his brother Jack and banjo player Pat Pearson in Denzil. They played old-time German music and country music (Hank Williams and Wilf Carter were favourites). At the same time, Phil was playing with the Lobmans, a five-piece band from Macklin.
Frank recalled the first time he and Phil played together in Denzil. Phil had come home from the war. It was before Phil’s marriage. They played together as an accordion duo at St. Peter’s country school (named after Phil’s grandfather, Peter).
Phil’s and Frank’s families were strict Roman Catholic who were required to observe annual “holy days of obligation.” Phil noted that “holy day” was derived from “holiday.” In Phil’s mind, this meant these days were meant to be celebrated. Surely this meant playing music. Keeping these days in a less strict sense was a template for the way Phil wanted to live his life – in a celebratory way. Phil was going to do his best with a career that he genuinely enjoyed. Further, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be small-minded or parochial in any sense. Phil would go on to show that an individual with a strong German Catholic and agrarian background, and with strong musical interests, could bring much value to a post World War II Canadian town or city.
When Phil and his young family moved to Battleford, there was no house waiting for them. So, as mentioned, Phil and Linda and their toddler-daughter moved into cousin George’s Queen’s Hotel. During this time, Phil helped his Materi in-laws (who were living in the Queens as well) build their retirement home. Upon completion, the Phil Leibel family moved into the Materi’s basement until Phil could finish his and Linda’s home. It was a laborious task. The foundation-basement had to be dug by hand. Fortunately two of Linda’s brothers and Frank were there to help. Finally, the modest flat-roofed house was completed (located at 31-22nd Street). To raise extra money to build the house (because the bank would not lend), Phil and Frank played at various house parties in both town and country. Frank recalled playing for the Hilsendigger, Frolich, Sack, Degenstein, Schwann, Winterholt and Hoffinger families, to name a few. Frank recalled the high energy dancing to his and Phil’s lively music. On one occasion, thee-year-old Patsy went to a party with her parents. She was absolutely enthralled with the music. Frank noted that, “She must have wanted to hear another polka.”
Phil named his band The Knights of Rhythm for two reasons: because of his time during the war as an army musician and because of his involvement with the Knights of Columbus. Phil’s competence with electronics provided a backdrop for the band’s success. Phil had purchased a recording timetable to cut vinyl records of his and Frank’s accordian music by using a heavy reel-to-reel tape recorder. In 1954, he cut a record for Sister Anthony, Frank and Linda’s eldest sister.
Now I will speak to Billy Cain’s involvement with the Knights of Rhythm. Billy was born on Sept. 11, 1890 and died on Jan. 2, 1971 in North Battleford. Billy emmigrated to Canada from England in 1912. He worked by day in the laundry room at the Saskatchewan Hospital. By night he played music. He joined the Knights of Rhythm in 1954. Frank Materi remembers Billy as a comedic, somewhat anarchistic, highly talented character.
The story is told of an occasion when Billy was a drummer in Robby Robinson’s Battlefords Sea Cadets Marching Band, a precursor to Norm Lehman’s City Kinsmen Band. In 1952, the Sea Cadet Band was marching to a rousing tune. Billy was playing the snare drum, evoking gasps from spectators at the sight of a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lip. Robby Robinson ran over and ordered Billy to ditch the cigarette, to no avail. He was immensely talented but had a rebellious streak.
As a testament to Billy’s phenomenal talent, he played for silent movies after World War I.
What a find Billy was for the Knights of Rhythm. In Prince Albert, he played as a one-man musician. With the Knights, he often stole the show with the German Polka Band, especially during the band’s much needed rest breaks. Armed with a bass and snare and triangle, cymbals, whistles, sticks, metal brushes and a wooden backed “fish,” Billy could amazingly conjure up a steam engine train pulling a long line of rail cars – making it suddenly appear on the stage of a small prairie dance hall. Frank remembered that Billy could never hit his snare drum without putting on a show. When someone called for “Under the Double Eagle, out would come Billy’s metal-barred glockenspiel. When Phil nodded, Billy would hammer out his part on the silver bars. When he switched his hammers for mallets, he could suddenly change the mood by switching to the wooden-barred marimbas. Billy made the mallets dance on the keys that were laid horizontally like piano keys. To top it off, Billy could shake out a tropical rhythm with two maracas. Billy played with the Knights for many years. Frank said that when he joined the band, he looked old, and when he left, he looked old.
On special occasions, the Knights would dress up – shiny, silver threaded black shirts and dress pants. Patsy, Phil’s 10-year-old daughter would dress up, too – in a grey woolen outfit.
Phil’s son, Willy, was not an original part of the Knights but when he was older, he became an integral and important member of the band. He started where Billy Cain left off – a drummer. Willy was an excellent drummer. He wasn’t extroverted and a showman like Billy. He let his talent speak for itself. ( Willy carried on his father’s business after Phil died, logging many years as the owner of Centennial Music. Willy sold musical instruments – guitars, accordions, drums, amplifiers and a whole range of accessories. He built solid body guitars. He also sold sheet music gave music lessons and became an accomplished guitarist, accordionist, and clarinet and saxophone player. I personally have spent many hours in Willy’s store visiting and talking politics and music.)
Many musicians stepped in with the Knights over the years. Spike Pool was a mean guitar player. Joe Weber was the band’s first vocalist. On one occasion, Phil’s band was playing at the Meadow Lake Stampede. Joe fell off the stage. He was feeling no pain, if you get my drift. He climbed back up and just kept on singing. Frank played the Hawaiian guitar. Then there was Jim Kite. He played banjo-mandolin. We can’t forget Lorne Miller on drums and Kim Miller on alto sax. Back in the sixties, Dennis Pidwerbeski, an exceptional base player, played in the band. Every band wants Dennis now. Then there was John Gagnon, always smiling, always happy. In addition, Pete Bahrey played saxophone, Pete Keller also played sax. Al Schommer, Ray Coates and Gene Thera were members of the Knights for some time. Bob Hildebrandt was a real asset, one of the best bass players in the business. Ray Rossler also played bass. The famous Don Ross played alto sax. Ken Nelson, a fine musician, and Cliff Nesseth, an exceptional guitar player, added to the Knights. So did Ron and Ray Wandler. The singers included Steele Ross, a cowboy singer, Billy and Ruby Martodam, a threesome – Linda Leibel, Vi Charbonneau and Susie Schneider who sang at CJNB Radio – and Kelly Wehran (this was back in the late 70s). Perhaps the most accomplished singer of all was Lillian Cadrain (Kopp). She had a beautiful voice. She also played bass guitar. The percussion section on occasion included Joe Birch (a barber), Happy Rackel and Jim Stabler.
The band played for weddings, house parties, Knights of Columbus dances, stampedes and rodeos, New Year’s dances and parties, office parties, Legion dances, Canada Days, family reunions, and even at kids’ Hallowe’en parties.
When Phil died in 1984, the Knights of Rhythm folded. As Frank put it, “That was it.” It was the end of an era. But the legacy of Phil and his great band, The Knights of Rhythm, lives on.
