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Songs in
the South
(Live from the Tabernacle Choir)
by Robb Cundick
A
Journal of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's Southern States Tour.
Angel
on the facade of Bass Hall.
After I promised
Scot and Maurine an article about the Choir's Southern tour I wondered
if I had made a mistake - would there really be enough interesting
things to write about? As I review my experiences at the end of
Day One I realize that won't be a problem.
Those who have
read my article about tour preparations know this story already
has a substantial preface, but there is yet one crowning pre-tour
experience to relate. Our final rehearsal took place on June 8th
- a full week before leaving - when we performed the tour concert
privately for our families. But on Tuesday the 12th, a different
kind of special occasion took place for the choir, orchestra, staff
and spouses/guests.
Meeting in
the Temple
In recent years
we have held a special meeting in the Solemn Assembly Room of the
Salt Lake Temple just before each major tour. In that sacred setting
we have treasured an opportunity to fully charge our spiritual batteries
with prayer, hymn singing and a message from a General Authority.
This time we looked forward to the extra special prospect of hearing
from the Prophet.
When President
Hinckley walked into the room, dressed in white and carrying his
now-familiar cane, it seemed as if we were sitting in his home and
he was coming into the living room to greet us. The Prophet minced
no words in bearing sure testimony of the work in which we are engaged.
His voice rose in volume; each fervent expression underscored with
gestures of the hand as he spoke his unwavering confidence that
Joseph Smith's vision was a reality and the Gospel has indeed been
restored. He emphasized the importance of standing firm in our faith.
We caught a glimpse of his more intimate emotions when he talked
of feeling embarrassed at having become tearful in front of the
Church-wide audience at the Winter Quarters Temple Dedication. On
that day he had been particularly moved by what he referred to as
the "terrible price" paid by early members so the Church could become
what it is today.
Once again it
was brought home to me how keenly our Prophet feels the debt we
owe to our heritage. He called upon us to remember those sacrifices
and to emulate them. The challenges to be faced on a Tabernacle
Choir tour seemed much less significant when placed in this context.
How we have grown to love this great leader! And yet he never allows
himself or the rest of us to get too caught up in our own significance.
"Sing, sing, sing!" he called playfully as he and Sister Hinckley
made their way out.
Admit
it now -- do these guys really look like they sing like angels?
But they do! I can testify so because they sit right behind me.
Houston Flooded
Out
Continuing on
with the present, this first day of the tour has been the object
of uncertainty all week. Remember the famous line, "Houston, we
have a problem?" Well, this week it was Houston itself that had
the problem - and it was a problem of Texas-sized proportion. Last
weekend, tropical storm Allison wreaked a devastation that was largely
ignored in the national news. Torrential rains caused terrible flooding
in the downtown area. Several people lost their lives; 25,000 became
homeless and there was over a billion dollars in property damage.
Among the casualties
was our first performance venue, Jones Hall - home of the Houston
Symphony Orchestra in downtown Houston. Its basement was flooded
to the ceiling, destroying the symphony's music library and several
priceless musical instruments. Its mechanical plant, which controls
air conditioning and electricity, was under water for four days
and will have to be entirely disassembled and cleaned. The hall
will not reopen for two to six months.
At our meeting
in the Temple, President Hinckley asked Choir President Mac Christensen,
"Do you have a place to perform in Houston yet?" 'President Mac'
shook his head dismally. "Do you know what day it is?" the Prophet
teased. This was Tuesday and our concert was scheduled for Friday,
and thus had this question remained in the forefront of our minds
and prayers for the rest of the week. Would a suitable substitute
be found?
Wednesday night's
10 o'clock news showed President Mac saying, "We have not found
a hall yet, but I know in my heart that we will." We learned later
that over 40 halls were considered but didn't work out for one reason
or another. Pleas were made to one group, who had a large Church
available that would have worked well, but even after several tries
from progressively higher government authorities, their leaders
could not find it in their hearts to welcome us there. The Methodists
and Lutherans offered churches, and Rice University offered a concert
hall, but they could have accommodated only a fraction of the 3000
seats that had been sold. Events finally reached the point where
announcements were published in Houston papers saying the concert
was cancelled.
Last
minute preparations were still being made to the hall as we rehearsed
in Houston.
But in the end
the promptings to our President's heart came true. Thursday afternoon,
with the help of local Stake President and Houston City Manager
Albert Haynes, a hall was found - the old "Astro Arena" next to
the dilapidated Houston Astrodome. Aged and barn-like, it was hardly
an elegant concert hall, but the city of Houston kindly donated
it free of charge. Technicians descended, temporary lighting was
mounted, our portable sound system installed, risers rented (I was
wrong in my first article when I said we were taking them with us),
and the matchless members of the Church got the word out and brought
in a large, friendly audience. Once again, when fervent prayers
are raised to the Almighty, the impossible revealed itself to be
mere illusion.
I hope someone
who attended the concert will read this and back me up when I say
that it was a glorious occasion. The challenge of the surroundings
and soberness of the previous week's events made for a greater appreciation
that the concert could take place at all, and increased its meaning
for both Choir and audience. Perhaps we will one day return when
Jones Hall is fully restored, but our Heavenly Father's Spirit will
be felt no stronger on that day than it was in the old Astro Arena.
It is now the
morning of Day Three and I am sitting on the bus waiting to leave
for the longest leg of our journey - from Fort Worth to New Orleans.
Thankfully, Fort Worth was spared the ravages of Storm Allison so
the challenges here have been relatively mundane. The five-hour
bus ride from Houston left us time to rest at the hotel before walking
two blocks to Bass Concert Hall for afternoon rehearsal. As I arrived
at the stage entrance I was introduced to Kent Ecker, a security
guard at the hall, who greeted me as a fellow member of the Church.
He is a convert of five years after having been a devout Lutheran
and said with enthusiasm that joining the Church was the best thing
that had ever happened to him. He had been looking forward to our
arrival with great anticipation.
The
lobby at Bass Hall.
It is likely
that Fort Worth's immaculate Bass Hall will be the best performance
venue of the trip. It is only a few years old. What a pleasure it
was to stroll through its lobby and view the elegant features: colorful
blue-skied ceiling murals; marbled balconies, walls and steps; angels
etched in glass. I was told it cost $67 million and was financed
with private donations: The outside facade was adorned with two
gigantic angels, each blowing a golden trumpet. [Mr. Bass's wife
is a member of the Church - perhaps she influenced the motif]. It
is small wonder, then, that we felt immediately at home.
We have learned
to gauge the quality of a hall's resonance by listening for overtones
- higher notes that, by the physics of sound, can be heard above
even though they are not actually being sung. Hearing overtones
is a skill that took me a while to master - it is like looking at
a "magic eye" picture, where a three-dimensional scene emerges from
seemingly random patterns. Bass Hall might be one of the best places
in the world to learn to hear an overtone. As we warmed up, the
twelfth above our unison note sounded as clearly and purely as I
have ever heard it. Surrounded on the stage by a beautiful hardwood
shell, the sound was so rich it was as though we were singing from
within a Stradivarius violin.
The evening
concert was completely sold out, with approximately 2000 in attendance.
As in Houston, it was thrilling. Both audience and Choir left with
a feeling of exultation. I walked to the lobby afterwards to be
greeted with smiles, exclamations about the beauty of the performance,
and enthusiastic handshakes. But the person I was most interested
in seeing was Kent Ecker. When I found him, before words could even
form on his lips, his glistening eyes told how deeply he had been
moved. Though confined to his security office and witnessing the
concert only on his monitor, he was overjoyed at having been present.
There was a
glowing review in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram this morning. It
said the concert made it clear that our reputation is richly deserved.
"Nobody hallelujahs like these folks hallelujah!" I was
also pleased when the reviewer pointed out the beauty of the softer
pieces, which as I have said before, project the Spirit of our Heavenly
Father even more than do the powerful ones. He said, "Over
the course of the evening it was not the largeness of the choir's
sound that made the greatest impression. Instead, it was their impeccable
smoothness and dynamic control. Their whisper is as awe-inspiring
as their thunder..." Wow! Choir Director Craig Jessop later
said the Fort Worth concert was one of the greatest musical experiences
of his life.
Let me close
this entry with a little of this morning's "Bus Driver Humor." Outside
of Fort Worth we passed a town called "Waxahachie". The story goes
that a Highway Patrolman had pulled over a speeder when a second
Patrolman came along and stopped to find the first sitting in his
car and scratching his head. "What's the matter?" asked the second
Patrolman. "Do you know how to spell, 'Waxahachie'?" replied the
first. "Oh - don't worry about it." said the second. "Just let him
go and we'll pull him over again when he reaches Waco!"
Hastily-prepared
sign at the Astro Arena Ticket office. No time to find out how to
spell, "Mormon"!
It is now Monday
morning - Day Four. I think I have written just about enough for
one article, but there is one more thing I want to add. Last night
we arrived in New Orleans after a full day bus ride from Fort Worth.
We had dinner and then held Sacrament Meeting in the hotel. Some
beautiful talks were given, but one stands out for its poignancy.
President Mac Christensen recounted some of the details of the struggle
to find a concert hall in Houston. He expressed his frustration
with the one group, who went so far as to make it clear that the
reason they would not let us use their church is because it is "dedicated
to Jesus Christ."
But then dear
President Mac put everything in perspective by giving a heart-rending
illustration of how and why it is important to forgive. The thoughts
he spoke were sacred and personal so I don't feel it right to share
them in detail. But it is public knowledge that his eldest son was
one of Mark Hoffman's bombing victims. Suffice it to say that President
Christensen, after much anguish and soul searching, has found it
in his heart to forgive Mark Hoffman.
It is hard to
think of any more devastating thing than the loss of a child, especially
under such cruel and senseless circumstances. It draws immediate
likeness to the anguish our Heavenly Father must have felt as his
son died on the cross. After pondering that, forgiveness of the
group who had turned us away hardly seems to take a second thought.
TO BE CONTINUED
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