Church Music
I’ve been involved in church music since 1960, when I was twelve. My father was the choir director at a small church, my mother played the organ, and I sang bass. As what is known as a Heldentenor, I eventually developed a range covering three full octaves. The choir was much too small to bother with first or second bass; it was simply bass.
We moved not long thereafter to the eastern side of Washington, DC, where we attended a much larger church. There, I sang first bass or second tenor as needed. I played for a Wednesday night service once on an organ, but I have never claimed to be able to play an organ, which was painfully obvious that evening.
I spent four years there before leaving for college. My girlfriend and I attended a church off-campus, and I sang first tenor in the choir. I sang second tenor in the college’s Madrigals organization, first bass in the college choir, and second bass in the college chorus. At the school where I was student-teaching I met a music director, and seeking to curry favor, asked if I could help with her church’s Easter service. I wound up composing a Motet, singing the solo lead, and arriving on Easter morning to discover that I had promised to write and play the introit on the organ. It was just as awful as you can imagine.
Into the Military
I won the draft lottery in early 1970, and was off to the military. My first Sunday, I went to church. The pastor asked if anyone could play for the service as the scheduled pianist had failed to show. I played, and since it was a piano and not an organ there was no lynching party at the end of the service. I wound up playing every Sunday for the duration.
Arriving at my first duty station in Heidelberg, I had the good sense not to volunteer anything. However, I was singing in the European Soldiers Chorus, where I sang baritone and played upright bass as needed. We performed at festivals, officers’ clubs and church events as requested.
The chorus flew to Barcelona, one of the world’s most beautiful cities, and we perfumed in the plaza in front of the world-famous Sagrada Familia Cathedral which, in my opinion, puts Notre Dame to shame.
We moved to Berlin, where I again volunteered for nothing. On return to the U.S., we began attending a Methodist Church, and I joined the choir. The choir director realized I had some skills the day I suggested basses come in with the tenors’ final note in a chorale in Messiah; I wound up loaning her multiple complete operatic scores, none of which I have seen since.
Next stop Fort Hood in Central Texas, where I did nothing. From Texas we moved to Bogota, Colombia, where I did nothing. We returned to Maryland, where I joined a Methodist church choir. I wound up becoming assistant choir director and occasional keyboardist, as well as baritone soloist. From there we went to Munich, where I organized a men’s church singing group. We called ourselves the Insufferably Self-Righteous Brothers. We also constituted half of the choir, with my eldest daughter singing alto, my wife singing soprano, and me singing baritone. I occasionally substituted on piano or organ (I had finally learned to make sounds on the organ that didn’t scare all the children and cause small pets to spontaneously combust). I began doing some original composing and arranging.
Sweet Home Alabama
From Munich we moved to Huntsville, Alabama, which was so unlike the rest of Alabama that we thought we should get passports to leave and re-enter the city. We attended a Methodist church there, where I joined the choir, did some arranging, and wound up becoming the assistant choir director. The woman who directed the choir got frequent migraines, so I would often have to take over the directing and playing the piano. Her migraines were made worse by consciously trying to stay awake; since the pastor was the Reverend Doctor Sominex, she had frequent headaches. I did some original composing and arranging, and occasionally played upright bass. Among other things, I composed a trio for two soprano recorders and a violin coninuo.
Next stop was Virginia. We began attending a Presbyterian church, where I volunteered to help lead the congregation in singing on Sunday mornings. The pastor never said a word, just ignored me to focus on a Korean-American woman who had been part of his selection committee. That set a pattern for our time at the Presbyterian church. I volunteered to create and lead a church orchestra; once more I was ignored.
So Now I’m a Lutheran
Skip forward to Dayton, Ohio, where we tried out a number of congregations until we found a Lutheran one where we felt welcome. I played keyboard as needed, and when the entire choir, including director and pianist, quit, I restarted the choir. We grew from a handful to a respectable number as I arranged and conducted choral pieces and composed both choral and instrumental pieces. I also played the keyboard, but was slow. Of course, I was slow; I was using a hymnal, doing chord analysis on the fly and faking it from there. Things improved immensely once we got a full-time real pianist.
We grew to the point where we could take on more ambitious projects. I began arranging hymns and composing introits and adding other instruments. As is common, most people were shy to sing solos. I asked the choir to name a member of the congregation who was too ugly to lead the congregation in prayer. I faced a quickly-forming firing squad. I then told them that singing a solo was nothing more than leading the congregation in prayer. People sang solos as needed thereafter, and members of the congregation told me that it was nice to see a variety of people singing solos. We merged with a larger and richer Lutheran congregation, which not long later split. Most of the people we knew went to the new congregation, and we followed. It had a praise band that handled the non-traditional service, and the traditional service got short shriff. We rented an empty elementary school, and used separate rooms for the two services.
The pastor became increasingly hostile to the older members of the church, and declared that multi-generational congregations simply did not work. Anyone who’s ever been a member of a Baptist church knows that’s rubbish. The children are the reason for the church, their parents had energy and ideas for programs, and their parents had time available and financial resources to execute the programs. As I was already in my late sixties, he actually became enraged with me. He was eventually asked to leave.
The End of the Road
Almost immediately thereafter I had a heart attack. I had quit smoking the night before, which proves something. While on a gurney in the O.R. I had a cardiac arrest. That in turn induced an ischemic stroke. The anesthesiologist promptly intubated me, destroying my vocal cords. The surgeon cracked my chest, restarted my heart, and all was well – except that my career in church music was over.
You certainly had an interesting musical career in the church. Nice, and all the people you get to meet and know. The comment made by the pastor who became hostile to the older members of the church reminded me of an article by Ezekiel Emanuel and his position on aging. He said he had no desire to live beyond 75 and he would refuse all treatment even if it presented a cure. Age slows you up, physically and mentally, he says, and he has no desire to go down that path. I see it as an extraordinarily materialistic view of things. Your medical issues put an end to your singing career, but it didn't take away the memories, and now you just have more time to write.
This is an absolutely wonderful post and, to me, the very best of your writing. Enjoyed it so much.