How many of us realize that a complete performance of The Messiah by George Frederick Handel took place in Salt Lake City in 1875?  This was less than thirty years after the original pioneers entered the Valley.  Leading the orchestra and choir was 35-year-old George Careless.

A well trained musician from London, Careless had studied at the Royal Academy of Music and performed under the batons of the most celebrated conductors.  At age twenty-five, he left all that behind and immigrated to Utah, hoping to make a contribution in his chosen field of music.

When the ship's captain asked him to compose a special number for the docking in New York, Careless was handicapped.  His music and music paper were packed in his luggage.  But he used a piece of ordinary writing paper, drew the staff lines on it, and, seated at an empty barrel on the ship, wrote out the now familiar tune for Parley P. Pratt's “The Morning Breaks, the Shadows Flee.”

As director of the Salt Lake Theatre orchestra, Careless promptly raised its standards, and went on to produce a series of musical plays — operas or operettas.  For Aladdin he composed more than forty numbers, including duets, choruses, and solos or arias.  All of this is even more impressive when we realize that the music was written by hand and copied by hand for the different instrumentalists and singers.

I am amused at a short conversation between Careless and Brigham Young.  Brigham said he preferred soft, peaceful music.  It reminded him of angels.  Here was George Careless's response: “Well, President Young, you wouldn't want a straight diet of honey, would you?  Some of our hymns require stirring music.  But whenever you want anything different to what we are to sing, you need only to say so.”  President Young patted Careless on the shoulder and said, “Go on, my boy, you're all right.”

I like the fact that Careless, who certainly was entitled to an opinion on this subject, spoke forthrightly.  But he was not argumentative and made it clear that he would follow the instructions of his file leader.  Not a bad model in some situations.

The decision to perform the oratorio Messiah in 1875 was not one to take lightly.  It would tax the musical resources of the community.  With their different educational levels and musical background, would the people muster an audience able to appreciate it?  Undaunted, George Careless organized both orchestra and chorus, selected the soloists, including his talented wife Lavinia, and then scheduled a series of rehearsals. 

Not satisfied with mediocrity, he drilled them and drilled them.  Finally the great day arrived and music-lovers in Salt Lake City were able to hear the magnificent oratorio.

I don't know how good that performance was, but since the performers were selected and trained by a highly competent musician, it was very possibly an excellent performance by anyone's standards.  One critic recognized its significance as follows:

At least the Latter-day Saints were trying.  And the production had the full support of Brigham Young.  When Brigham attended one of the rehearsals, his lively intelligence and interest in music led him to ask conductor Careless to explain the counterpoint of “The Hallelujah Chorus.”  Careless was delighted to point out the different parts, the changes of keys, the repetition and interweaving of the melody line.  At the end of this short music lesson, Brigham Young exclaimed admiringly, “And the choir followed every motion of your stick.”

Lessons Beyond the Music

Was President Young recognizing underlying principles that extended beyond music?  With immigrants coming from different lands, he was faced with the huge challenge of forging a unified body of Saints.  They would not all be alike — two people are never exact replicas of each other.  There would be differences of talent, intelligence, skills, education, cultural background.  Many of these differences were good, adding to the spice and variety of life.  Like the different voices and instruments in the oratorio, they could complement each other and produce a harmonious work.

Yet there must be unity as well.  They must work together, not at cross-purposes.  As a covenant people, they were all dedicated to the same ultimate objectives.  Under the leadership of a prophet, they could follow his baton, confident that he, in turn, was following the Great Conductor.

In October 1961, after being sustained a new member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Gordon B. Hinckley said: “I was moved this morning as the choir sang that great anthem, ‘Crown Him Lord of All.'  The unity, the harmony, and the discipline of this choir always impress me.  Now, my brethren and sisters, God has written the score which we are to perform.  Our prophet is our director.  With effort and with harmony we can stir the world and ‘crown him Lord of all,' if we have the will to discipline ourselves with that restraint which comes of true testimony.”

At the First Presidency's Christmas devotional this year, the Tabernacle Choir and the Orchestra at Temple Square rendered a familiar number from Handel's Messiah :  “For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, unto us a Son is given ...”

The overtones of memory reverberate as our mind goes back to 1875, when the same number was heard.  We think of the harmony and unity of the Church under inspired leadership.  And we think of the Messiah, the Holy One of Israel.  Hallelujah!