Remembering Dr. Helen Reed Trobian, the First Female Bugler in the U.S. Army
I began teaching music at Milligan University in 1998, and the following year, I started an orchestra there. At one of my early concerts, I was introduced to a small lady in her late 70s who was in the audience and who was living in a home near the campus. Her name was Dr. Helen Reed Trobian. I quickly discovered that she had lived a remarkable life as a musician and music teacher. She was a brass player and had been the first female bugler in the U.S. Army. After her time in the Army, she had taught at a variety of colleges, including Wiley College in Texas, a historically Black college. She and her husband were the only white faculty members. This was during the Civil Rights era, and she participated in sit ins and fought alongside her students for racial justice.
There was a time between university teaching that she and her husband owned a music store. After full careers, Helen and her husband began to look for a quiet town to settle in. Somehow, they picked Elizabethton, TN, and moved to that little house near Milligan University. Despite her intentions to retire, Helen was a passionate music educator, and offered to teach brass at Milligan for a few semesters before I came there. By the time I met her, she was completely retired and also widowed. Her husband had died soon after they moved, and except for one friend she had made, she was alone. They had no children and no close relatives.
I felt drawn to her and began to visit her and to take her out to lunch. She had many fascinating stories about her life in music, and she was encouraging to me as a young music faculty member with this fledgling orchestra. She wanted to help me, and one day she gifted several violins and a viola that she had from her years of owning a music store. She also gave me stacks of music for string orchestra and various string chamber ensembles. Within a year or two of our friendship, she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. At first it was mild, just a bit of a hand tremor and some difficulty finding the word she wanted. She called it having to search through the Rolodex. I finished my doctorate during these years, and she actually read my dissertation, which I considered a truly sacrificial gesture on her part. She gave me a signed copy of her autobiography, Chosen, and it helped me truly grasp the remarkable life she had lived.
Eventually the disease progressed until she could not live at home. Since she had no family to care for her, she moved into a nursing home. I continued to visit her there and bring her little gifts to try to cheer her. It was very sad to see her in that place. She had little financial resources and so she was in a fairly run-down facility. One day, a colleague of mine went with me to visit her, and she was talking about how awful it was to not be able to read anymore because of her disease. He asked her if she could read anything right then, what would it be. Without hesitation she said, “Gabrieli brass scores.” I have never forgotten her answer. Despite her situation, music was still what was on her mind and in her heart.
Soon after, in 2003, she passed away at age 84. She had a graveside service with full military honors. There were only about 10 of us present, including my 11-year-old son. I played “Abide with Me” on the violin. After the funeral, I was presented with the folded military flag. It was mounted in a case and hung on the wall outside my office. It is still there today. I enjoy looking at it and thinking about this amazing woman, and I enjoy sharing her story with my students. Hers was a life that touched many students. May her memory be a blessing.
