It’s Time to Strike Up the Band : Nordquist Won’t Blow Own Horn, but Somebody Should

Draped across the blackboard of the Santa Fe High School music room, the butcher-paper banner reads: “1987 Concert Band Goal: Get 500 People to our Concert.”

Doug Nordquist, band director and Olympic high jumper, leans over the tuba stand, trying to arrange his long legs in a comfortable position. As his music students drift in and out the brass-cluttered classroom, Nordquist attempts to express his feelings about being awarded a gold medal at the Goodwill Games last summer in Moscow.

“The ceremony didn’t go until 10 at night,” Nordquist, 27, said. “And there were only about 1,000 people in a stadium that seats 100,000. But watching the flag go up, the “Star Spangled Banner” playing . . . you know, I cried. It didn’t really matter that most had left.”

Attendance would seem to concern Nordquist. Maybe not in the numbers per se, but in that basic desire for somebody, anybody , to witness and acknowledge the effort that years of training and mental discipline produce.

In the summer of 1984, Nordquist remained virtually unknown until he earned a berth on the Olympic team--second to Dwight Stones, a distant cousin. Nordquist placed fifth in the Olympics with a jump of 7-feet 6 1/2-inches.

In 1986, Nordquist won the national championship at the Athletics Congress meet. He won at the Olympic Festival and at the Goodwill Games with a leap of 7-8, his personal best.

But did many people know? Not according to Nordquist.

“I got more press in Spokane than I did in my hometown,” he said. “(Here) they made more of a deal about Carl Lewis getting third than me winning.”

Nordquist’s first competition of the year will be at the Sunkist Invitational indoor track meet tonight at 8 in the Los Angeles Sports Arena.

“You have to be a student of track and field to know who I am,” Nordquist said.

Or a student of music. At least at Santa Fe High, where Nordquist took over as music director five years ago.

After attending Fullerton College, he transferred to Washington State, where he earned a degree in industrial arts with a minor in music.

A drum major at Washington State and Sonora High School, Nordquist still plays in a tuba quartet at his church and sometimes at Disneyland. But watching him in his classroom tells a story of even more devotion.

Nordquist’s desk is a jumble of music sheets and textbooks, maroon and gold lettermen’s jackets and just-shined tuba parts. A track bag, stuffed with sweats and shoes, sits in back of the door, in preparation for his 2 p.m. workout.

Several Olympics and World Games posters, a cluster of band trophies and “Say No To Drugs” stickers adorn the classroom wall. Our reputation is as good as our performance, one poster reads. Another: Let’s do our best.

“I really respect him as a teacher,” said Scott Shields, a sophomore trumpet player. “He got money for jumping and spent it on bow ties for us once. He does stuff like that.”

Said Fullerton College Coach Jim Kiefer: “Doug is like a Norman Rockwell painting. There is no pretense to him. He’s real--the sweet, boy-next-door type. He really gets excited when he talks to you about his music or his high jumping. He’s enjoying life so much.”

In a freshman health education class, Nordquist begins a discussion on teen-age pregnancy by asking students how they deal with the peer pressure to have sex at an early age.

Few students answer, but Nordquist illustrates the point by sticking out his chest, trying to imitate a boy making advances. The students laugh but know Nordquist is serious about his lesson.

“I hate machismo,” he said. “I hate it. These guys that go around and think they’re so bad. Forget ‘em. Don’t you think it would take a stronger man, a real man, to say no than to just do it because the other guys do?”

Heads bob up and down. Class dismissed.

Back in the music room, Nordquist talks of the upcoming festival his band will perform in.

“Our goal is to receive a ‘superior’ rating,” he said. “That’s the best you can do. Getting lots of people there to watch is another goal.

“When I was a junior, 12 people came to a performance I played in. Usually these kids get about 200 people to show up. But if you get 500, it makes the kids feel so good. They think, ‘Hey, these people are coming to see us .’ That’s a great feeling.”

And what of his own track performances? Is Nordquist finally getting the recognition he deserves?

“Now, the press (recognition) is better,” he said. “But I realize I’m not flashy and I’m not controversial. I’m boring. I go home and go to sleep at 10. It’s not news, it’s too nice.

“But it really doesn’t matter to me. I get my reinforcement through coaches and other athletes. That’s how I’ve gotten my strokes. Everybody needs them.”