Paul Shoul Photo

Eric Bachrach founded the Community Music School of Springfield in 1983, after completing graduate studies in music at the University of Massachusetts. He remains its executive director.

Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser: What made you want to start a community music school in the first place?

Eric Bachrach: I wanted to find a way to merge my passion for music with social justice and political purpose. I’m from New York City. Springfield seemed the most urban choice for the school’s location, a city where an institution like this could make a difference. Before opening, I spent about a year meeting community leaders and getting acquainted with the city.

SWB: Were you well received?

EB: The concept, the institution itself, was welcomed from the beginning. The funding has been hard from day one. Life in the arts is always challenging, and we started the school during a recession. My observation is that poor people do not experience recessions; they don’t have retirement accounts. There aren’t savings to watch dwindle.

Besides funding, we’ve faced other major challenges. We had the misfortune of the public school building where we were housed being in the middle of Springfield’s gigantic flood. One of our pianos was twenty feet under water. That building was shut down. We were homeless for over two years, from 1994 until the beginning of 1997. A capital campaign at that time raised funds to take over a great old art deco bank building.

SWB: Community music schools have a long tradition, right?

EB: Yes. The first community music program began at Hull House in Chicago in 1892. Our school is modeled after the Settlement House Music School.

The initial idea—one that endures—was to give access to music instruction for all people, young, old, from all walks of life. We have about 700 students, starting with preschool-age kids.

SWB: What are some ways you make music accessible?

EB: The building has inspired us to use fallow space extremely innovatively. Settlement music schools do have a tradition of educating preschoolers in music. We opened a preschool of the arts, Prelude Preschool. We built a wonderful playground and an indoor play space, both of which benefit the community.

We’re raising money for a performance hall in which we’ll hold concerts, other organizations’ performances, and a film series.

We work hard to create community partnerships and send teachers out into the community. We wanted to reach teens and found that difficult to do by simply offering traditional instruction at the school.
What we’re trying to do is build bridges to underserved kids, to meet them where they are. A good example is our hip-hop program. Hip-hop’s an art form that came out of New York in the 1970s. Partnering with the housing authority, we bring kids to the school.

Then about eight or nine years ago we started working with teens in juvenile lockup—about forty-five boys and fifteen girls a week. They’ve done phenomenal work. They write music and poetry, use beat-making machines, and record their music.

This is one of the most popular—and often therapeutic—programs that DYCS (Division of Youth Corrective Services) has going. The kids write painfully moving poetry about abuse, dealing, being abandoned children, and how they got locked up.

SWB: You’ve been at this a long time.

EB: This work is really less a career than a calling.

SWB: Twenty-five five years ago, could you have envisioned the evolution of this school?

EB: I couldn’t have possibly imagined the breadth and depth of what we’ve accomplished. I can’t take the lion’s share of the credit, because it’s really the teachers and the staff whose work has accomplished so much.