The Path of Music

by Obie Shelton

When I was a boy and attending the Cleveland Public Schools, my music teacher saw that my brothers and I were gifted in music. She told my parents that they should get us into private lessons, but my dad was a minister, and we made just below the poverty level, so my mom said, “We can’t afford private lessons.” But the teacher told her, “I teach at The Music Settlement, and they offer scholarships to deserving students.” So we got scholarships through The Music Settlement, and that started all of us on trajectories that involved music either directly or indirectly.

In college I majored in broadcasting, and then I spent thirty years in broadcasting in Cleveland. But music—I kept it up. I still play. In fact, in the African American community, I might be known more for music than for broadcasting because I’ve played at so many people’s weddings and funerals and anniversaries.

When I started my broadcasting career, I found that I wasn’t playing my instrument. I knew that if I didn’t use it, I would lose it. So I came back to the Settlement and asked, “Can I find a teacher?” And I found a wonderful teacher. He was in his nineties, and he took me in as a son, and we developed a relationship beyond music. But he also taught me how to listen better to every sound that I make. And that made me a better reporter because I listened not just to what people were saying but how were they were saying it. The tones and the inflections, the phrasing—all that’s important. It made me a better listener. It made me a better husband, a better father, a better friend. That’s what music has meant to me. And The Music Settlement has been a big part of that.

If The Music Settlement weren’t here, there would be a lot of people who would not be able to realize that dimension of themselves that helps them connect with so many other people. Sure, you can learn music on the internet, you can get YouTube lessons, but to be in the same space with somebody who knows how to play and knows the music and can get right next to you and maybe even pick up the same instrument and play with you at the same time—there’s nothing else like it. There are other music schools in northeast Ohio, but the Settlement has a bigger capacity to be able to serve a wider range of people.

The Music Settlement is unique because, thanks to a significant endowment, they offer scholarships to people who are serious about learning music. I have referred some young people to apply for scholarships, and they got them. One young woman was a kindergarten teacher who wanted to use her violin ability to communicate with her students. But she hadn’t played in a few years, so she came back to The Music Settlement, started taking lessons, and worked up her skills. Now many of her students will remember her for the rest of their lives—that kindergarten teacher who helped them feel happiness, sadness, and so much more with her violin. That all started because The Music Settlement was able to offer that scholarship.

Sometimes I wonder if I would have been able to play the violin as well as I play today if I had not encountered The Music Settlement. I know a lot of young people will start in the schools and learn it to one level. But when I got into the Settlement, there was a whole other level that I learned technically. And that opened doors for me. I got a partial scholarship to Ohio University, and that allowed me to explore my own style on the violin. I’m classically trained, but that’s not what I’m known for. I play gospel music with my own kind flare and spin to it. And this was encouraged by what I learned at The Music Settlement.

I love to see how music makes the light come on in people’s eyes, no matter how old they are, no matter how young they are, no matter what their income level is. When you see someone coming out of a good lesson, there’s a light on. I remember what that light was like.

I also love the performance imperative—that music doesn’t mean a whole lot unless you play it for somebody. I remember when I was a student here, all of my teachers said, “Okay, you’re studying this music, but you need to perform it.” And I didn’t want to. I would get butterflies and wonder: Am I ready? But when you perform music, you share it with somebody, and that’s when it really means something. You can say things with music that you can’t say with words. We might disagree about something politically or socially, but when we play music together, we’re in sync.

When I was in broadcasting, people would invite me to come to schools to speak on Career Day. At first, I didn’t bring my violin in—I thought the kids wanted to hear what I did on the news. After a while, I learned that they were far more interested in me playing my violin. And I would tell them the stories about how I was a chubby kid growing up in Cleveland and not popular. I couldn’t play basketball. I couldn’t sing. But I could play violin. And they connected with that. So I would finish by telling them, “Broadcasting is how I make a living, but music is how I live.”

That’s what music has meant in my life. It’s hard to imagine going through life without it. And what I’ve enjoyed the most over my lifetime is the widening acceptance that there are all kinds of music, and that they all have value. Blues says something unique. Hip-hop says something unique. Country music has its own place in terms of expression. And all the music from the East and from different cultures—they all have value. Not one is more important than another. As Leonard Bernstein once said, “There are two kinds of music, good and bad. And if it touches you or touches somebody, then it’s good.”

Share Your Music Story

We all need stories that move us. To help others recall their own stories and inspire them to share those stories. We need stories to invite others into our community of people transformed by the power of music. What is your music story? How has music changed you?

Share Your Music Story