Memorial High School Class of 1967

Smith sworn in as appeals court judge

OKLAHOMA CITY - Clancy Smith was sworn in Wednesday as the newest member of the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals.

Oklahoma Supreme Court Chief Justice James Edmondson appointed the former Tulsa County district court judge to replace Charles Chapel, who retired from the bench.

"This is a fine day for our court because we finally have five judges," said Court of Criminal Appeals Chief Justice Charles Johnson.

Smith was given the oath by Court of Civil Appeals Chief Judge Jane Wiseman. Two of her grandchildren, Jack, 10, and Luke Griffin, 8, of Tulsa helped her to put on her robe.

Tulsa County Presiding District Judge Thomas P. Thornbrugh described Smith as humble and modest, but with a wicked sense of humor. She is one of those rare individuals who is able to be serious without taking herself too seriously, he said.

"No one will work harder at her craft," Thornbrugh said. "No one."

Smith graduated from Hugo High School in 1960. She earned a bachelor's degree in English from Oklahoma State University in 1964. She taught high school English at Memorial High School in Tulsa and in Jacksonville, Fla.

She earned a law degree in 1980 from the University of Tulsa and was in private practice for 14 years before being appointed a special district judge in 1994. She was appointed district judge in 2005.

Smith said it is not her job as an appeals court judge to make law, but to interpret it. She said as a district judge she tried to ensure that everyone who went into her courtroom got a fair shake.

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Never too old to swing

Marge taught girls P.E. and sponsored Surfs at MHS

by: MICHAEL OVERALL World Staff Writer
8/25/2008

Slideshow: View a slide show and listen to the Saints of Swing in action.

Editor's Note: Tulsa World reporter Michael Overall writes about ordinary Oklahomans who turn out to be anything but ordinary.

Starting school at Oklahoma A&M, Marge Creager faced a tough choice.

She could be a cheerleader. Or she could play drums in the marching band. She wouldn't have time for both.

"I thought about it," she says, "and I figured you can't be a cheerleader your whole life. But you can play a musical instrument forever."

Except, life gets distracting. A college boyfriend becomes a husband. A diploma turns into a career.

Before you know it, half a century has slipped away and you haven't touched a pair of drumsticks since Truman was in the White House.

'Luckily'

Bud Martelle and his wife go to another church, but they came to south Tulsa's Asbury United Methodist for a special event one night.

As the crowd mingled, Dixieland jazz swooped down from the balcony, setting toes a-tapping and turning Martelle's head.

"What do you have to do to join the band?" he asked one of the pastors.

The pastor shrugged: "Show up."

"Easy for him to say," Martelle thought.

Martelle spent most of his adult life playing Dixieland banjos, but he hadn't performed in years.

"Luckily for me," Martelle smiles, "it turns out that everybody else started out in the same boat."

The trumpeter, for example, well he can't exactly remember when he last blew a note before joining Asbury's band, the Saints of Swing.

The trombonist describes it as "almost like learning to play all over again."

And the drummer was the least experienced of all. She hadn't hit a snare drum since Oklahoma State University was still called A&M.

'A lot different'

But Creager taps the snare just once and, without anyone saying a word, the whole ensemble slips naturally into "Stardust."

"We've all been playing together long enough now," she explains between songs, "that we don't need to talk much. We know what to do."

For the first 80-something years of her life, Creager had never — not once — sat behind a drum kit.

"It's a lot different," she admits, "from marching with just one drum. But you know what? It proves you're never too old to learn something."

'Just amazing'

During rehearsal, the band's manager casually mentions that their next gig will be at "the old skating rink," next door to Asbury.

The bass player wants to know if he needs to bring his amp, or maybe the rink will have its own sound system?

The manager winks: "Don't worry. I think they have their own."

Three nights later, Creager finds herself wearing a snazzy red vest and a bow tie, sitting under blue-tinted stage lights with eight — count them, eight — different microphones wired for her drum kit.

The Saints of Swing have played a few hundred shows since the band started five years ago, but mostly at retirement homes. Certainly nowhere like this.

Asbury has turned "the old skating rink" into a first-class venue for its youth program, complete with spot lights, sound boards and acoustic curtains.

The crowd easily topped 100 — by far the largest in Creager's Dixieland career.

"I've never seen anything like it," she sounds breathless. "Just amazing. It was the night of my life."

Associate Images:

Marge Creager keeps beat for the Asbury Saints of Swing during a performance at Asbury United Methodist Church's worship center, Venue 68.