Day 11. Babel and Plankinton

I wear many hats at PBS. Social Media maven, website design, research assistant, communication specialist, content editor, online producer, marketing manager. Tonight I have a very important role.

Tripod.

No really. I am standing in the home of a Baptist Choral Director bouncing light onto his face while he is interviewed for an upcoming segment. Holding the white reflective surface, in this case a binder, as steady as I can so that he is seen in a good light. Which is how it should be, in fact he should be basked in nothing but good light, listening to this man I am not only mesmerized, but transported back to memories of my middle and high school years.

"The music today doesn't have the depth it used to have...the layers of vocals aren't as strong...children are hurting their 'instruments' trying to perform at too young an age" - these comments weren't lost on me. I had the fortune of a few good, no, great choral directors.

While the Dr. answers the interviewers questions I am transported back to a time in my life when music filled my days and singing strengthened my lungs. 

Not to be too dramatic about it, but I never realized how much I miss singing until I was standing in front of this man talking about church choirs and the hymns sung at masses.

When I was in sixth grade at Lincoln Elementary School you had the chance to take up an instrument and join the band. I was able to get my father to sign the permission slip and grabbed the $5 year-long rental fee and headed to school. You had to 'audition' to get the right instrument. I was hoping for a trumpet - it only had three plungers to push down and I figured it would be easy to learn. I waited my turn. The band director looked at my fingers and my mouth structure. He turned around to the pile of cases behind him and handed me a long beige case.

What a funny looking trumpet. 

I opened the case and found a foreign silver object. This had lots of keys and no plungers. What was this?

We ran out of trumpets - but you should do well with this one - it's a clarinet. Clarinet? That can't be right, it was silver and long. Not segmented and black like the ones I saw the other kids opening and inspecting in the outside room.

We ran out of the other style, this is the last one left. A....silver.....clarinet. Sigh. My dreams of being cool had been trashed again. Oh well, I wanted to be part of the band so silver clarinet it was. I went and purchased reeds and began my lessons. I found out an interesting truth. Those black marks on pages really made sense. I could read the music beautifully. If only I could make my fingers play the notes written. I don't believe I was really good and I believe the first place ribbon I got for my solo competition was a sympathy gift for the girl standing on stage, her knees rattling, playing the Marine Hymn on her silver clarinet.

We moved to Oak Creek during the middle of that year and I had to turn in my clarinet. Oak Creek didn't have a rental program, you had to buy an instrument, ending my clarinet career. But they did have something else, choir.

The music teacher at Shepard Hills started an after school choir and we performed at evening concerts for our parents. Years of competitive swimming (I had learned to swim at the age of 3 - another story for another day), had increased my lung capacity helping my voice to easily fill the gyms to the rafters.

I loved to sing and found out I didn't need to buy reads, or wax. I didn't have to worry about keeping the case clean or wiping the spit out of the horn (just out of the corners of my mouth). Better still, I could take my voice anywhere. And I did. I sang in the fields, in the woods, in the shower (ok, everyone does that), and while vacuuming - that was the best because I could sing and no one would hear me and yell to stop. 

I rarely sang in the house - with 11 other people there were plenty of critics.

Sixth grade choir lead to trying out for the group "Young Folk" in Junior High. In those days the school only had seventh and eighth grades so you had two years to qualify. Young Folk required auditions. I was crushed when I didn't make it the first year. Eighth grade came and I had a secret weapon. Lori. My soon to be best friend had moved in during my sixth grade year and had a super power. She could play the piano and taught me about rhythm and timing. 

We both auditioned and made it into the group. The group met after school and rehearsed for concerts and performances throughout the southeast communities. Mostly nursing homes and community centers. We sang folk music, Puff the Magic Dragon, Eleanor Rigby, Country roads. I still belt them loudly when they come on in the car or on Pandora. Mr. Salzwedel (prouncounced Salz - Wade - Dell) made sure we had musical opportunities, passing out instruments to accompany the songs. It was during these days that I learned percussion instruments like the Latin Cabasa and fish-shaped guiro. It's eeeeee e e eeeeee e e rhythm was just the best. My ADD came in handy for this instrument since I could play it while singing a completely different pace. It was also during this time that I learned the electric Bass, Wendy S. had taught me, It was fun to reuse my clarinet days in such a modern instrument.

"Music is now an afterthought in the church", Dr. C brought me back to my tripod duty. I adjusted my position and listened to his answer with renewed interest. "You don't get the levels of voices that you once got".

Boom! I was transported on to my next Choral experience. High School and the amazing Mr. Klotz. In 1976 girls could not join the Acapella Choir by registering for the class. They had to be in "Girls Glee" for a year first. This served a few benefits. In Girls Glee you learned the phonetic alphabet, how to mark the music with crescendo's and pauses. How to stagger breathing so everyone didn't gasp at the same time, how to roll your r's, and most importantly, it gave our voices a chance to finish maturing. Oh, and the reason boys didn't have to do this? Well, quite honestly not enough signed up for the boy's only class anymore, so they were passed into Acapella Choir their freshman year.

I was Mr. Klotz's aide for my entire 4-year high school experience. I would go help sort and clean music during my study hall (who needed to study - most people only slept anyway). I would help setup chairs for the performances in the gym and always made sure that Mrs. Klotz and their two daughters had fresh flowers on their reserved seats.

We performed for school assemblies, celebrations, a winter and spring concert as well as touring to different locations. 

The year before I joined the Acapella Choir they went to Washington DC and performed on the steps of the Lincoln memorial. Mr. Klotz was that good.

We had to memorize the music - there would be no folders of music on stage with us. I made some of my best friends and memories in that class, due to scheduling, always the first class of the day. Mary, Diana, Connie, Jeannie, Antoinette, Kurt, Steve, and of course Lori.

"The music would fill the rafters and you knew you were in worship", Dr. C. continued - drawing me back, but only momentarily. This statement reminded me of two of my favorite memories.

In my Sophomore year Mr. Klotz set out on a pretty lofty goal. For this group of students to perform Stravinsky's "Babel" - a forty-seven minute piece that was done in cooperation with our string orchestra. Babel tells the story of the building and destruction of a tower to honor God. The chaos that occurs after the tower falls and all of the people end up with different languages unable to communicate was quite a task. 

Being a female tenor I actually had a larger part than my soprano and alto counterparts. The men's voices were both narrator and 'the voice of God'. It was such a strong piece that we performed it for the competition that year and won first honors.

The next major event I remember, was performing "Dona Nobis Pacem" if you haven't heard it - watch this segment from M*A*S*H.

It is a strong piece that brings chills and goosebumps to this day. We performed it at the Christmas concert - it was the only song, mainly because the full length is 33 minutes long. So not only was it an amazing song, but then we did something amazing with it. Mr. Klotz had arranged for us to sing it in the Plankinton Building Rotunda downtown Milwaukee. This was before the building was converted into the "Grand Avenue" shopping center. Well before the lofts were put in - TJ MAXX wasn't even on anyone's mind as it didn't exist. 

We would practice by forming a large circle in the choir room with Mr. Klotz directing from the center. He had us spaced so that the person directly across from us was the same vocal group as we did. That way when you looked at the person you could almost hear the correct notes, and you would be certain to be signing the correct part.

We entered the rotunda, completely cloaked in our choir robes and collars. Encircled the balcony and waited while Mr. Klotz took a spot on the first floor even with the statue. There must have been some platform for him, I'm not sure, my memory is foggy on that point.

We took deep breaths and our voices filled the rotunda to the peaks, nooks and crannies. People came out of their offices and anyone in the area stopped to listen. For the full 33 minutes. It was magical.

"So what do you think is the difference these days?" - I was brought back with those words. And I knew the answer.

Teachers, the lack of music instruction in schools, the thought that the church needed more modern music. Impatience. 

I'm thankful for the teachers that helped build my love of singing. 

I continued singing for many years after leaving high school. Joining church choirs, auditioning for musicals with the local community theaters, and any chance I could in the car.

It was hard to leave the interview, not because my legs and arms were stiff from my tripod duties, but because I wanted to sit and talk performing with Dr. C. He and his wife Faye have invited me back at 'any time' to talk. I will have to take them up on the offer. Perhaps I'll bring Erica.

I drove home with the radio blaring, singing along to the ones I knew. I am so grateful for music, and couldn't wait to write this post.

Thank you to Mrs. Music Teacher at Shepard Hills Elementary, Mr. Salzwedel and most importantly, Mr. Klotz. Your dedication to building voices that reach the rafters has not been wasted on me.

A special than you to Everett for always introducing me to the nicest of people. If nothing else, I make a fine, steady tripod!