METAIRIE — Bruce Hirstius fondly remembers the time he rubbed elbows — or rather knocked down — a Hollywood leading lady.

“I bumped up into Natalie Wood,” said Hirstius of the time he met the actress while she was filming “The Property Is Condemned” in New Orleans. “I actually bumped into her twice — I nearly knocked her down twice. I told her that we have to stop meeting like this. She said ‘it’s been fun.’ She was a really pretty lady. That was one of my highlights.”

The story of meeting Wood is just one of hundreds of stories that form the chapters of his wonderful life — which is 92 years and counting for the man beloved by Saints fans as the pocket trumpeter and dancing leader of the Storyville Jazz Band, a game day tradition for nearly four decades.

Life of the party

The brick home in Metairie is filled with living snapshots of Hirstius’ life.

The walls are lined with family photos, newspaper clippings of the band, and original paintings by Hirstius, including one of John Wayne and another one of Elvis. In the sitting room, there are the instruments that belonged to his late son and fellow musician, Gary Bruce Hirstius, and a glass cabinet with his late wife Jo Ann DiMarco Hirstius’ knick knacks.

Each corner of the house essentially spurs another story — or joke — from Hirstius. The conversation ranges from his passion of rollerskating on the Huey P. Long Bridge to talking with Oscar winner Anthony Quinn.

Not only do the stories pour out of him like ice tea from a glass pitcher, so do his jokes and one liners.

“Don’t pat anybody on the back because it is only 16 inches from a kick in the butt” or “want to know the penalty of being a polygamist? Two mothers-in-law” or “they said I should have been a standup comedian. I said I tried but I couldn’t stand up long enough.”

Hirstius has always been a beam of positivity.

“We were at Carrollton Shopping Center one day,” oldest daughter Lauren Hirstius said. “Mom was there to make a return or something so it was supposed to be quick. My dad, my brother and I were sitting in the back seat. We had our feet over the back of the seat. We were playing lift off. My mom just came back and looked at us and then looked at daddy. We didn’t want to stop playing and neither did he. He was like having another kid around.”

“My friends would always say, ‘your dad is the best,’” added daughter Leslie Hirstius Dunn. “I still run into friends from high school and they always ask about him and say how awesome he is. He was always the life of the party.”

That reputation is rooted in a simple life philosophy — don’t take life too seriously.

“Life is too short to be serious,” Hirstius said. “Seriousness can kill you.”

Humble but happy beginning

Hirstius was born on May 22, 1928, and grew up as the middle child of nine (seven boys, two girls) to William Frederick and Genevieve Farmer Hirstius. The family lived in the working class neighborhood of the Irish Channel as his father supported the family as a metalsmith.

The Hirstius household always had a passion for music and dance as his father played in a local string band — often practicing with other band members at the family home — while his mother loved to sing.

Hirstius remembers that his father didn’t have the patience to teach him the guitar but he says he did have a good sense of humor.

“I told him one day that I was sick and I didn’t think that I could go to school,” Hirstius said. “He said, ‘let me tell you something, Bruce. If you’re not dead by nine o’clock then your butt better be in school.’ I said I think I feel better already.”

The elder Hirstius also used his trade to keep his kids from fighting.

“We had an empty lot next to our house so he got tired of us fighting and built a boxing ring,” Hirstius said. “So every Saturday he would match us by height and weight and let us box. After a few weekends we didn’t have any fights among us.”

Despite growing up with the hardships of The Great Depression, Hirstius remembers his childhood filled with laughter, joy and of course, music. Hirstius recalls that his mother would never use foul language.

“She wouldn’t curse,” Hirstius said. “It was Thanksgiving Eve and she took the turkey out of the oven and burned herself. She just said shoot and I said ‘No, mama, that deserves more than just a shoot.’”

When he was developing his hip swiveling moves at neighborhood dances (he proudly states “I was Elvis before Elvis”) he was attending Alcee Fortier High School but dropped out his junior year after his father got sick so he could work to help support the family.

Hirstius then enlisted in the United States Navy.

“I went into the Navy instead of the Army because I didn’t want to get stuck in one place,” Hirstius said. “By the time my 18th birthday came around they had stopped the draft. I could have waited.”

Hirstius enjoyed his two years in the Navy, and because of his musical background, was a bugle player — a job he actually hated.

“I didn’t like being a bugler because you just sat around and didn’t do anything all day,” Hirstius said. “I said ‘how can I get off this thing?’ So I turned on the officers circuit one morning and blew as jazzy as I could and the commander came out and said who blew that horn. I said ‘I did, Sir.’ ‘If you do that one more time you are off this gravy train.’ I said under my breath, ‘Good because you are going to get it tomorrow too.’ The next morning I did it again and he took me off.”

Hirstius would go on to serve as quartermaster on the heavy cruiser USS Bremerton (CA-130) before being discharged.

After he returned home, Hirstius began working as a dry cleaner before moving on to eventually working as a shipping clerk to booking films for Paramount Pictures. Hirstius had a good life as he and his wife raised their three kids. Soon enough, the hip-swiveling boy from the Irish Channel found his way back to his musical upbringing.

A game day tradition is born

Hirstius was admittedly a tad rusty.

The year was 1979, and Hirstius was asked by his brother Donald to join a Dixieland ensemble that he was putting together to march in Mardi Gras parades. That band would be the Storyville Jazz Band.

“He asked me if I wanted to play in a parade,” Hirstius said. “I thought he wanted me to play drums but then he asked me how was my horn. I said ‘I don’t have a trumpet.’ He said ‘Get one.’”

Hirstius managed to borrow a trumpet from a student, but there was another issue — he hadn’t played a horn since he was a bugle player in the Navy more than three decades earlier.

“I went out in the garage and practiced,” said Hirstius, who is self taught and doesn’t read sheet music. “My lips busted and bled a little bit because I hadn’t practiced in years. I just practiced a few songs that I thought he would want. Thank God he picked the same songs that I picked out.”

The Storyville Jazz Band soon became a fixture in New Orleans during Mardi Gras, second lines, weddings and funerals. Then in 1986, the band was approached with an opportunity to play in a larger venue — the Superdome.

The story goes that Barra Bircher — who served at that time served as the New Orleans Saints director of entertainment — was looking to replace the Loyola-based band that had been playing inside the Dome on game days.

The Saints, though, were only looking for a three-piece band.

“I told them that if one of us plays then we all play,” Hirstius said. “I wasn’t going to split us up. Either you take the six of us or I will help you find a three-piece.”

The Saints relented and the Storyville Jazz Band started entertaining fans — at first outside of the Dome but quickly began greeting fans at Concourse A before games and then working their way to the Terrace Level of the Superdome.

Hirstius serves as the leader and pocket trumpet player for the Storyville Jazz Band. The other members are his brother Donald (snare drum), nephew Stacy (bass drum), Chris Bonura (tuba), Gary Gueldner (trumpet), Gregg Paretti (sax-clarinet) and Alex Halmes (trombone).

The band has become synonymous with playing New Orleans favorites such as “Little Liza Jane,” “Gin Mill Blues,” “Bourbon Street Parade” and of course, “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

“It is a great tradition and it’s pure New Orleans happy music,” said Mike Detillier, longtime football analyst for WWL 870 AM Radio in New Orleans. “It doesn’t take much to get Saints fans excited before or during a game but it’s tradition and a piece of the game unmatched across the league. Every team now has that musical part of the game but nothing like what Bruce and his group brought to Saints games. That Dixieland sound, that’s 100 percent Louisiana.”

For fans, the experience of hearing Hirstius and the rest of the band play those standards has long enhanced the gameday experience — especially when the Saints were struggling.

“Even when they are losing the fans still want us to play,” Bonura said. “Bruce is the one with the personality and when he starts dancing the crowds want him. We will always get ‘your that guy who dances with the band.’ We joke all the time that we are the most famous people that know one knows. We like him being the center of attention.”

The lasting impact for many Saints fans is the fact that the band would play to those people up in the Terrace section. That simple act of playing a few songs to the fans in the cheap seats made an impact.

“I remember as a kid thinking that everybody else in the league must have random jazz bands roaming through the sections,” said former Marrero resident and lifelong Saints fan Eugene Sutherland. “I would be sitting there in Section 649 and we would have Dave Wilson out there playing quarterback and we would be losing 28-7 in the third quarter. Then all of the sudden you could hear them coming up the concourse. You start bobbing your head and then they show up. We had our own band and that was so cool. That was something that we could be proud about.”

The music isn’t the only thing that the fans appreciate from the band. There are also Hirstius’ dance moves.

“I have a particular way of dancing and not too many people can follow me,” said Hirstius, who says his favorite dancing is the jitterbug. “People say they like my dancing and I will say I am not dancing. I am having an old conniption fit.”

“All of you have to do is show him a pretty girl and he will start dancing,” Bonura added.

The sound of silence

From 1986 to 2019, Hirstius and the Storyville Jazz Band never missed a Saints home game.

Hurricane Katrina didn’t stop him and the band from playing — it only changed locations for the home games to Tiger Stadium. Neither did the broken foot he suffered during that season. He didn’t stop playing after tearing ligaments in his arm following a family football game during Thanksgiving at the age of 70. Nor did Hirstius miss a game when he was hospitalized for pneumonia and doctors found fluid around his heart and his arteries were partially blocked.

Nor did Hirstius give it up after his son passed away in 2012 or after his beloved wife passed away in 2017.

“I have never missed a game,” Hirstius said.

That is until now.

The COVID-19 pandemic has silenced Hirstius and the band as fans have not been allowed at games. Even with 3,000 fans being allowed into today’s game against the Carolina Panthers, the restrictions have yet to be lifted for the band.

Yet, don’t expect to hear Hirstius complain about not playing for the fans.

“He is never in a bad mood,” Bonura said. “He never complains and always has something funny to say.”

Hirstius says he still gets inspiration from his childhood to deal with the tough times, in particular, a neighbor named Mrs. Moffitt, who inspired him despite a disability.

“She was a lady that was crippled but she was so nice when she would scrub wooden steps, she scrubbed the neighbor’s drains,” Hirstius said. “I often wondered how that lady did all of that with a crippled leg. When I think that I am too old to keep doing this or that I miss playing for the fans — I always think if Mrs. Moffitt. If she did it then so can I.”