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- The San Diego Union-Tribune
November 29, 1997
71 years later,they wed
The sweet music of love never dies
By Patricia Dibsie
Staff writer
The beginning was beautiful and the ending just as dear, divided by seven decades of separation. But all that changed Nov. 4, 1997, when Wilda Yates became the the bride of Eugene Haskell.
He's 87 and she's 93.
The two were sweethearts at Excelsior High School in Artesia - south of Los Angeles - in 1926. He was a shy and studious senior; she was the new music teacher, fresh from the Univerity of Southern California.
He was 16 and she was 22.
"When I walked into Room 40 that first day for Glee Club, I saw this beautiful lady with wavy, auburn hair, sitting on the piano bench," he said at the newlyweds' La Jolla home. "She took my breath away and I remember thinking this was going to be the nicest class I would have that year. It was."
"Gene was a serious-minded student and president of his class," Yates remembered. " And he had a wonderful voice."
Haskell's entire life - both his heart and his head - was influenced by the young music teacher. He recalled it as the time that music became the center of his world.
He won a scholarship at USC and the two became a couple. After class, he spent many hours courting her on the piano bench in Room 40. There, he confessed, he stole his first kiss. His freshman year in college passed and one spring afternoon Haskell asked Yates to be his wife.
In the next school year, they planned their wedding. The two decided on the chapel at the Mission Inn at Riverside. She sent handwritten party invitations to announce their engagement.
Then Gene's folks stepped in and forbade the marriage.
Heartbroken, he left for Stanford University to finish his last two years of College. It took him two days to drive down for a visit in his Model T. The visits became less frequent and they drifted apart.
Yates stayed at the same school for the next 35 years; still teaching music in Room 40. Eventually she married and the couple adopted a daughter.
Haskell earned a bachelor's degree, then a master's and became superintendent of schools for Santa Cruz County. He went on to earn a doctorate, writing his
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vate learning and build character. The year was 1954.
During this period, Haskell was offered a position as superintendent for the Los Angeles city schools, but a member of his doctoral committee challenged him to prove his theory in the classroom rather than moving into administration.
He said he agonized over his decision for a week, but thoughts of Yates and the difference music made in his life tipped the balance. Haskell headed instead for Harlem in New York to teach high school music.
The principal, Haskell recalled, told him the only avaible class was for mentally retarded teens.
"But it was really a dumping ground for students other teachers weren't able to control," Haskell said.
The principal warned Haskell that the kids had run off three teachers quickly. They had locked the last one in a closet.
"They were hostile and sullen and just what I had been looking for," Haskell said. He opened his box of musical tricks and had the kids in a chorus line by the end of the semester.
The performed the opera "Hansel and Gretal' at a school assembly. They were invited to sing at other schools and performed for the city's superintendent of schools.
Haskell founded Lyric Theatre International, an organization for high schoolers based on the principal of his dissertation.
News of Haskell's success traveled west and then - Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley invited Haskell to bring his program there. Watts had exploded. The year was 1965.
Haskell had married, had a daughter, divorced then married again. Yates married in 1931, was busy teaching and raising a daughter.
"I came home," Haskeel said of his decision to work in Los Angeles, adding that he had often thought that his success was also Yates' success. Back then he thanked her often, bot only in prayer.
The years passed, and music did its magic on more than a few lives.
Haskell created the Royal Champions of the World, a group sponsored by Lyric Theatre International. He challenged the teens from Watts to treat themselves as royalty. He urged them to work to erase racism and refuse to pollute their bodies with drugs. The groups mission: to promote peace through the voices of children.
Haskell asked his students to come up with an impossible dream, then challeged them to make it come true. The kids wanted to go to the White House and sing for President Ford.
And they did. The year was 1975.
Haskell was divorced a second time; Yates would soon become a widow.
Two years later, 23 Royal Champions boarded a plane for the Middle East, guests of the Shah and Empress of Iran. They spent two weeks promoting peace and mutual appreciation of cultures through music, dance and song.
That same year, Yates began her first of several trips around the world; Haskell became ill and underwent the first of 18 operations.
In 1994, high school classmates decided to organize a reunion. Haskell's thought returned to Room 40 and he tracked down his former music teacher's address. He sent her an invitation to the reunion, but she declined, writing back that she had plans on that date.
Her letter ended, "But I hope we can meet again."
"That was all I needed," Haskell said, "We made arrangements to meet a few weeks later here at the Hotel del Coronado.
" She opened the hotel room door, I looked into her face and everything was the same, just her hair was a different color." Haskell remembered, squeezing his bride's hand.
"White and not that lovely auburn," she blushed, adding, "I never forgot his face. I have always loved Gene."
Seventy years later, the two have a chorus of children - hundreds who have joined Lyric Theatre International and Royal Champions. They took 23 of the kids to Europe on tour last year and plan on doing the same next summer.
Chapters of the Royal Champions are in several California cities, including San Diego. Another is in Tijuana.
"Working with someone you love keeps you young." Haskell reased. "And being with the one you love sets the clock back. I feel 65."
"If he feels 65, then I feel more like I'm 60," she teased back. "We've got so much work to do helping children learn and changing lives through music." Both have led full lives.
"But the best is yet to come," Haskell said. "Together at last."
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1910 - 2001 (91 years)
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