One of my fondest childhood memories is hopping into the family Plymouth, riding 12 miles to Old Town and watching the Bangor Band perform in the local bandstand. Trumpeter Ward Shaw, gussied up in white shirt, blue blazer and black trousers, helped fill the summer air with the strains of John Philip Sousa and Maine’s own march king, R.B. Hall.

“All right, it’s time!” my mom instructed my brother, sister and me as we honked the horn in appreciation of dad’s rousing performance.

I never saw the smoky gin mills and small-town dance halls where dad played thousands of gigs from the early 1930s to the late ’80s, so I savored his Bangor-area bandstand shows. To me, the outdoor wooden landmarks, no two of which were alike, were his stage and on it he, his fellow musicians and the conductor stood 10 feet tall.

Most Maine towns boasted a bandstand or two in our ancestors’ time, but today, less than 25 original ones are left standing, having succumbed to fire and neglect. More than 160 of the town centerpieces were built in the state after the Civil War, and into the early 20th century, the heyday of the bandstand era.

Trombones and tubas weren’t the only bandstand attractions, explained Barbara Merrill Fox, a retired Bar Harbor travel agent whose illustrated book, “Lest We Forget – Band Stands of Maine,” is drawing raves for its careful chronicling of a bygone era.

“Teenage boys used to drink beer and smoke corn silk under the bandstands,” she said. “And they ‘didn’t let no girls go.'”

While razing the decaying Old Town bandstand a few years ago, Fox said, workers uncovered a trap door in the ceiling and a rope used by young toughs who blew smoke out through a hole in the roof. The town now has a new bandstand, of similar design, built 100 feet from the site of the old one.

In 1971, while working for AAA, Fox dreamed up “mystery tours” where tourists embarked on scavenger hunts. One day she happened onto the vintage bandstand on Union’s village square, which she photographed.

Writes Fox in her introduction, “Thirty years later, this one small 2″x2″ picture provoked a personal odyssey – a search that had me traversing more back roads and following clues more obscure than those I had written earlier!”

Later, she and her husband, Dick Fox, tooled around Maine in a 1928 Studebaker, visiting original old bandstands in Millinocket, Monson, Eastport, Sherman Mills, Vinalhaven and other towns, and the reconstructed one in Lubec. Farmington is home to Maine’s oldest existing bandstand, built in 1874. Some bandstands are one story while others, which she dubs “hot dog and ice cream” types because of snacks that could be sold on the lower level, are two stories.

Her book’s more than 200 photographs, most culled from her own postcard collection, reflect a myriad of architectural styles, such as the lovely 1881 Victorian bandstand in Lewiston, an 1882 Gothic revival one in Limerick, and Togus’ Italianate landmark, built around 1875.

Bangor built several bandstands but only two survive in known photographs: one in Davenport Park at Main and Cedar streets, the other in Central Park on Harlow Street, where GOP presidential candidate James G. Blaine stumped in 1884. The latter apparently burned down in the 1911 fire.

Veteran brass player Bill Stetson of Brewer recalled another bandstand across from the Bangor Public Library. And whatever happened to the ones at Broadway and Chapin parks? Fox found them mentioned on city maps, but questions if they ever were built.

Fox’s self-published book, her first, is polished and thorough, thanks to the guidance of her retired scientist husband (“You didn’t document that one; be more organized; a little more accuracy needed there,” he tutored); and her son, Lincoln Merrill, president of the board of the Maine Historical Society.

Also helpful was designer Katie Murphy of Univoice Graphics in Portland, whose rainbow of type fonts, chapter headings and page layouts will dazzle the reader.

At the center of it all is Fox, a 68-year-old Connecticut native who parlayed her love of music (she isn’t musical but her late father, Forrest Downing, was), and history into a testament to Maine’s bandstand era. Readers may be surprised to learn that bandstands were originally uncovered, having evolved from Revolutionary-era liberty poles, which were town gathering places on Memorial Day and other patriotic occasions. Later, roofs were added.

“The Civil War was the last major U.S. conflict in which soldiers marched into action to the sound of live music,” writes Fox. After the war bandstands in Oakfield, Kingfield, Dexter, Calais and other towns sprouted like brown-eyed daisies. The open bandstand in Foxcroft, circa 1862, may have been the state’s first.

Along with wonderful old photos, some of which picture town bands and a group of Penobscot Indians in full ceremonial garb, readers will savor Fox’s colorful anecdotes.

The late drummer Bob Jones recalled comically directing traffic near Davenport Park decked out in his light-blue band outfit, which resembled a trooper’s uniform.

Washington County spawned many bandstand yarns, and has done the best job of preserving its old structures. Harry Lewis, who was 94 when Fox caught up with him, remembered the time a dog, answering the call of nature, filled up a Calais musician’s bass drum, adding considerably to its weight.

So, does Fox have a favorite bandstand? Probably the one pictured on the cover, she said, showing the Queen-Anne style treasure in Milo Junction, now the Piscataquis County town of Derby, on opening night, July 22, 1908.

“It’s a good one because there are musicians in it; most pictures show empty bandstands. And there’s a ghost. Can you see the ghost?” she asked.

Clear as day, in the far right edge of the picture, is the faint gray image of a musician who moved too fast during nighttime photography.

Could he have been my grandfather, Lewie Shaw, a young clarinet player who performed at Milo Junction? The answer, like most Maine bandstands, is lost to the mists of time. But not their legacy, which has been immortalized by an author who believes her book is the first in the nation to cover the topic of bandstands.

For that feat, Fox should take a bow. And audience members should feel free to honk their horns in appreciation.

“Lest We Forget – Band Stands in Maine” is available in Maine stores for $21.95, and from Foxrun Associates, 12 Seely Road., Bar Harbor 04609, for $24, including tax, shipping and handling.