Merrill E. Moore was born in Algona, on the east shore of the Des Moines River, in northern Iowa, on September 26, 1923. He began playing piano at about the age of seven, picking out the melodies of the hymns he heard at the Methodist church his parents dragged him to on Sundays.

Then came Mrs. Gunn, a piano teacher, a fancy lady from the Oberlin Conservatory in Ohio. And what of her breasts? Did they linger, warm and rife, against the nape of young Merrill’s neck, fill his tender being with the intoxicating liquor of their perfume, as she bent over his shoulder to guide his hands across the keys? Mr. Moore makes no mention of this. Yet, one wonders at the sins which might—might, I say—cause a woman to flee in shame from the Oberlin Conservatory, across the endless desolate miles of Indiana and Illinois, to seek unholy sanctuary in Algona, Iowa. But let us speak no more of this woman, who in fact may have done no wrong. She is departed now. Let her Maker alone be judge.