It was 50 years ago this week – November 20, 1972, to be precise – that I presented my senior voice recital at Oklahoma Baptist University, partially fulfilling – as stated in that evening’s program – “senior requirements for the Bachelor of Music Education degree with a major in voice.” As you all know by now, I went on to enjoy a remarkably successful career on the operatic stage.
OOPS, SCRATCH THAT LAST SENTENCE!!!
No, it’s my nephew Michael McCown, who was born to my sister Patsy less than a year later, who has enjoyed an outstanding career – now over two decades and counting – with the Frankfurt Opera (Oper Frankfurt, as it’s known there) in Germany.
As for me? Not so much! I won’t go into it in detail here, because I already told that story 2 years ago in 50 years ago today, I leapt out of the fundamentalist foxhole, about having lost my faith as a sophomore (thus beginning a years-long search for a faith I could call my own). This caused me to switch my degree from church music to music education, simply because I had never considered any career outside music. However, I never had a passion for teaching.
So when I graduated with that music education degree, I was a man without a career – or even a prospective one. It was a long, laborious, circuitous path – strewn with stops, starts, and even outright failures – that ultimately led to a successful career as a writer and editor, and later to a decade spent in Baptist leadership positions.
But back to the subject at hand. I loved those 4 years studying voice under Dr. Richard Farley. He was a fine voice professor, and he also became a friend in those years. When I shared my faith struggles with him, he was understanding, empathetic, and encouraging. While at OBU for Homecoming in 1998 for my 1973 class’s 25th anniversary reunion, I called Dr. Farley, and we had a wonderful chat. He remembered me well, even to the point of saying, “Your father was with the Home Mission Board, right?” Right!
By 2003, when I returned for the 30th reunion, he was in declining health and suffering from dementia. I called again, and his wife, Jean, answered. I said I would like to come over, and she told me that his dementia was advanced, and that he probably wouldn’t recognize me, but she knew the visit would be good for him. So I went over, and the three of us sat in the living room. He was weak and frail. When I talked about the Homecoming activities, he got confused, and said, “Do I need to go over there?” But we had a sweet visit, as I told him again how very much he had meant to me as both a mentor and friend, and that I loved him. He passed away in May 2006, and Jean passed away not long afterwards. I’m so thankful for that last visit.
I’ll share a little of the “backstory” of my senior voice recital. That summer of 1972, while I was home in Kansas City, MO, Daddy – whose Home Mission Board work was co-sponsored by the Kansas City Baptist Association, where he officed – called Wes Forbis, then the Dean of Fine Arts at William Jewell College in nearby Liberty, and asked him for permission for me to use the practice rooms at Jewell that summer to practice for my recital. Wes graciously and gladly gave his permission. So I drove out there almost every evening that summer, after getting off of work (I spent four summers working for the City of KC, MO, as a dog enumerator – yep, that’s what I did), and practiced hard for my upcoming recital. As a “perk,” while driving through the campus, I often stopped to let Kansas City Chiefs players, probably on their way to dinner, cross the road . . . their training camp was at Jewell back then.
A few days before my recital, I started getting sick. By Monday, November 20, I was coughing, sneezing, and just generally feeling lousy. Dr. Farley suggested that we could delay the recital, put it off a few weeks, even until after the New Year. But I was having none of that! First of all, I had worked too hard for this thing, and I had been feeling the pressure . . . I wanted to get it done! Besides that, my parents and sister were coming in, my parents from Texas, and my sister from Virginia. Nope, I was going full steam ahead. That afternoon, I walked down MacArthur St. to Shawnee Medical Center, saw a doctor, and got a shot.
I remember walking from Brotherhood Dorm to Raley Chapel that evening, and the pavement being icy and slick. Dr. Farley had mentioned, in light of any problems my sickness might cause my voice, that warm water could help relax my vocal cords and aid my singing. I had a very tall Pepsi glass that Mother had given me awhile back (I’ve been a confirmed Coke drinker from the first – not sure why she gave me a Pepsi glass, lol); I took that glass with me that evening and arranged with a friend to help me out.
The way these senior recitals work, you do it in concert (pun intended) with an underclassman (-person?) who is said to “assist” you. Paul DeRousse, a sophomore piano major, assisted me that evening, which meant that I would sing a set (anywhere from one to four songs), then he would play a set (one to two pieces), and we would rotate back-and-forth, but I would both open and close the recital. Paul studied piano under Charlotte Martin, who had been my piano professor my first 3 years (Betty Woodward taught me my senior year). Though just a sophomore, Paul was outstanding, playing four beautiful, challenging pieces.
So back to the warm water story. I asked a friend (Doug Castle, if memory serves) to take that Pepsi glass to the restroom, every time when I was coming to the close of a set, and fill it with warm water. When I came off the stage, he would hand me that glass, and I would down every bit of that water. It worked – I made it through the concert without my throat giving out, and I know the warm water helped. Thank you, Dr. Farley and Doug Castle (and Mother, for the Pepsi glass). By the way, after drinking all that water, I’m pretty sure I made a beeline for the men’s room as soon as the recital was over!
My accompanist was Carol Stewart. She was (if I haven’t forgotten someone, which is possible) my third accompanist at OBU. I’ve never been in touch with Carol since then. However, I’ve enjoyed reconnecting with my first two accompanists via Facebook in recent years – Pam Furgerson (now Pam Furgerson Malloy) and Pat Reeder (later Pat Reeder Perkins), who passed away a few months ago. If memory serves, my friend Ed Steele, then a junior voice student, aided with my recital by sitting at the piano and turning pages for my accompanist as needed. Ed – who is now retired after a long career as professor of music at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary – and I have stayed connected on Facebook in recent years. I messaged Ed this week to ask whether he remembers helping with my recital; he doesn’t specifically remember it, and my own memory is a little blurry, but after all, it was 50 years ago!
The recital went well for the most part (though, in listening now to some of these songs, I cringe when I hear my voice crack a little in the higher registers). However, there was one point at which my memory went blank. I was singing smoothly through one of the foreign language pieces – I think it was one of the German songs – when I forgot the next line. Being the “seasoned pro” (ha!) that I was, and since it was a foreign-language song, I simply made up the words to the next line or two until my memory finally kicked back in and I was able to finish the song as written. Yes, there may well have been one or two music students there who had learned that song and knew I had faked it, or maybe a German major (I guess they exist, but probably not at my recital) who would have recognized my “fraud.” Not to mention Dr. Farley, who knew something wasn’t right. Other than that, though, I think I “sold” it pretty well.
By the way, as I wrote last month, by this time Joanna and I were already meeting regularly at the University Center for her to teach me Cantonese. However, we didn’t start dating until January (1973). So at this point, my singing of My Lady Walks in Loveliness was purely speculative. Fifty years later, however, it has a special poignancy for me. Joanna did truly walk in loveliness, with every part of her being, and in my heart forever will.
Earlier this year, I had all of my old audio tapes digitized, including the one of my recital. So this week, in recognition of the 50th anniversary of that auspicious event, I created a YouTube channel, titled – what else? – Bill’s senior voice recital at OBU, Nov. 20, 1972. If you’re interested in hearing what my singing voice sounded like when I was 21, you can either follow that link to my channel, or click one of the following links to each individual piece of the presentation. I hope you’ll listen to Paul’s pieces, too. His performance added immeasurably to my recital.
MR. JONES:
1. REVENGE, TIMOTHEUS CRIES . . . G. F. Handel (1685-1759)
MR. DEROUSSE:
2. PRELUDE in e-flat minor . . . J. S. Bach (1685-1750)
MR. JONES:
3. DIE LOTUSBLUME . . . Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
The lotus-flower languishes under the sun’s brightness and, with drooping head, awaits the night. The lover moon wakes her and she, blooming, weeping, exhaling, trembling with love and love’s sorrow, unveils to him her face.
4. ZUEIGNUNG . . . Richard Strauss (1864-1949)
You know, sweetheart, that I languish away from you, that love brings heartache; for this, thanks. Once I was free and drank wine to my heart’s content and you blessed the cup; for this, thanks. You expelled my evil spirits till I become what I had never been before – holy, loving you; for this, thanks.
5. BONJOUR, SUZON . . . Leo Delibes (1836-1891)
Good morning, Sue! I’m home again, and you’re still the prettiest maiden here. I’ve made love and verses, far and wide, but you’re the one I choose. So let me in your door, I pray. Good morning, Sue!
6. LES PAPILLONS . . . Ernest Chausson (1855-1899)
The butterflies, snowy and fleecy, fly in cloudy swarms o’er the sea; happy butterflies, were your easy flight in the azure but for me!
MR. DEROUSSE:
7. INTERMEZZO in b minor, Op. 119 . . . Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
8. PRELUDE No. 25, Op. 45 . . . Frederic Chopin (1810-1849)
MR. JONES:
9. NON PIU ANDRAI . . . W. A. Mozart (1756-1791)
This aria is sung by that sly rascal, Figaro, to the unfortunate Cherubino who is about to leave for foreign lands in the Count’s regiment. Figaro, in mock-heroic manner, compares the gay and carefree life, which Cherubino has led so far, with what awaits him in the regiment.
MR. DEROUSSE:
10. DANSE . . . Claude Debussy (1862-1918)
MR. JONES:
11. THE VAGABOND . . . Ralph Vaughn Williams (1872-1958)
12. SEA MOODS . . . Mildred Lund Tyson
13. MY LADY WALKS IN LOVELINESS . . . Ernest Charles (1895- )
14. TALLY-HO . . . Franco Leoni (1864-1938)