CHANTICLEER at Elizabeth Rich Bell's Memorial Service ~ 27 March 1999

My Mother, Elizabeth Rich Bell, died only three days before her 87th birthday in early March, 1999. I was able to be with her at the end, which truly was a blessing. An even more visible act of grace was Chanticleer’s singing the choral prelude before my Mother’s memorial service in my hometown, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The odds of that occurring were so remote that I hadn’t even contemplated it. After all, Chanticleer sings all over the world. And in the two weeks before my Mother’s service, the group sang in Mexico, Texas, Florida and Connecticut.

Completely by chance, I discovered that Chanticleer was to sing a concert only fifteen miles from Harrisburg the night before my Mother’s service. That was after calling the organist at Grace United Methodist Church to arrange a rehearsal for the afternoon before the service. When I was twelve years old my Mother made me promise to sing at her funeral. That’s a heavy burden to place upon a twelve-year old; but I intended to honor her request as best I could. Ron Sider mentioned in passing that he couldn’t rehearse too late on Friday afternoon because he was hosting a party for Chanticleer that night after their concert at Messiah College, where he was a professor.

Immediately I began to consider the possibilities. First I called Andrew Morgan, who sang with me in the Schola Cantorum at the Shrine of Saint Francis here in San Francisco. Since Andrew worked at the Chanticleer office, I figured he might know the tour schedule. From home late on a Friday night he didn’t recall the exact flight information; but gave me Frank Albinder’s e-mail address. Oh, the miracle of modern technology. Saturday morning the week before the service I e-mailed Frank, who responded within minutes. He wrote me that he had passed my message on to artistic administrator, Philip Wilder, and Lori Harnes, tour manager. But he cautioned that time constraints would be extremely difficult.

On Monday morning Julie in the Chanticleer office was kind enough to give me the phone number of the motel where the group was staying in Hartford, Connecticut. I must have called the motel at least thirty times trying to reach Philip or Lori. As a good tour manager, Lori was making arrangements by phone. I even became friends with the woman at the front desk, after being assured I wasn’t becoming a pest. Eventually I got through and explained to Lori that I realized it would be logistically tight with an 11:00 service and a 12:25 flight about a half hour away from the church. But it wouldn’t be necessary for the group to stay for the entire service. Chanticleer could sing before the service as part of the prelude. Lori said she would talk to the guys and that a decision would be made by vote at their business meeting. And she would give me a call later that night after their concert.

Meanwhile I was completing the final draft for the order of service to be printed here with the expert assistance of my friend, Deborah Sweeney. I was beginning to think it wouldn’t work out. But at 10:30 Monday evening (which was 1:30 AM in Hartford) Lori called me at home to say the group had agreed to sing.

I reserved five parking meters especially for Chanticleer in front of the church. Full dress wouldn’t be appropriate for late morning anyway, so the guys wore dressy casual clothes as they would to a school. Despite their dress, I suggested they sing in front. But several of them asked to sing upstairs in the rear gallery. That was a wonderful idea.

Following a Brahms chorale prelude “Herzliebster Jesu” -- at exactly seven minutes to the hour-- from the rear balcony of Grace Church below a marvelous Tiffany window of the Ascension, Chanticleer sang Franz Biebl’s “Ave Maria.”

Then quietly--unobtrusively--they descended the back steps and drove to Harrisburg/ Middletown Airport in view of Three Mile Island and made their return flight to San Francisco.

I had meditated during the Biebl by trying to control my breathing. Under even ordinary circumstances, tears well up in me at the beginning of the "Sancta Maria." I did my best to compartmentalize; for I had to sing in just a few minutes. Cynthia played “Meditation” by Massenet on her violin as Mother had requested. Then after two psalms read by my niece Morgan and nephew Matthew, I sang Gounod’s “Repentance” as Mother had made me promise when I was twelve. I got through the recitative. But when I started the main theme “Oh, Divine Redeemer,” I began to sound like Alfalfa in “The Little Rascals.” I didn’t stop singing. But there was a quiver in my voice I had never experienced before.

Chanticleer had sung the Biebl at Louis Botto’s funeral service at St. Dominic’s. That was a powerfully emotional occasion--only days before Louis’ birthday. Joseph Jennings demonstrated then what I experienced internally at my Mother’s service.

When Chanticleer undertook its second national tour, we sang at the Forum in Harrisburg. Afterwards my parents had a reception for us and Mother baked a surprise hazelnut cake for Louis’ 31st birthday on March 3, 1982.

My family and I will always be grateful to Chanticleer for playing such a significant part at my Mother’s memorial service.

JOHN MILHALY & LOUIS BOTTO & FOUNDING OF CHANTICLEER ~ FEBRUARY 22, 1978

10th Anniversary Photo 1988/Chanticleer.org

Back on the Third Sunday of Advent, December 14, 2008 I wrote about Louis Botto’s and my singing two of the solos in Henry Purcell’s Rejoice in the Lord Alway, when our Dean Stanley Rodgers died in the middle of the service at Grace Cathedral. Louis and I had sung several other Purcell solos and duets together. We were the altos in The Community Music Center’s performance of “Come, Ye Sons of Art” back in 1976. (That was when I first met Jonathan Klein, who sang in the chorus.)

Later we repeated our duet Sound the Trumpet in Grace Cathedral Choir’s performance of “Come, Ye Sons of Art.” We alternated singing the other alto solos.

Although Chanticleer today always describes Louis as a tenor, in fact, he and I were the original altos in the group. I was first alto and he, second. In those early days we frequently lowered keys for some Renaissance music by as much as a major third. That was until Randy Wong joined and we had our first genuine soprano. I moved up to second soprano; but I really always was just a high alto. (You can hear me on soprano singing with Randy in the Josquin de Pres “Ave Maria” on Psallite.)

I first met Louis in 1974-75 when he moved to San Francisco from Washington D.C. with a law professor, Jerry Witherspoon, who became a professor at Boalt Hall. Jerry had formerly been the president of a small college in Vermont. I think it was Middlebury or Bennington. Anyway, when he came to terms with himself and got divorced, he eventually lived with Louis in D.C. They then moved to San Francisco together and lived at the Belgravia Apartments on Sutter Street-- just down the hill from Grace Cathedral.

Louis had been married and divorced, too. I met his former wife, Jan, when Chanticleer first sang in Corpus Christi, Texas near the end of the autumn tour in 1981. Louis later married a second time. It was after he broke up with Rick Cohen and needed a place to live. A Japanese photographer at the Fairmont Hotel needed a green card. So they secretly married – and I guess it worked out for the two of them. I can’t remember her name. It was something like Umi.— but that’s not it, sorry. (I do remember that she trained her cat to use the toilet.)

I’ve jumped ahead. Louis had just joined the choir at Grace when I met him. He was a graduate student at then Dominican College (now University) in San Rafael. He was studying voice with Marian Marsh, with whom I sang the leads in Handel’s Acis and Galatea with Donald Pippin at the Old Spaghetti Factory (now called Bocce, where I used to eat lunch between services most Sundays with the Schola Cantorum at the National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi. Coincidentally, we had at least seven or eight Chanticleer alumni sing with the Schola Cantorum at different times.). Before Chanticleer, Louis had a Renaissance trio called Unicorn with a soprano named Jill and a lute player.

I remember when Louis met Rick Cohen, who also sang in the choir at Grace. Rick lived on 20th Street, just a few blocks from me, and used to give me a ride to church on Sundays. And I remember when Rick consulted me as to whether it was right for him to try to woo Louis away from Jerry. I don’t recall exactly what I said.

I do recall being invited to dinner at Louis and Jerry’s at the Belgravia in February or early March 1977. Louis cooked one of his fabulous dinners— that time East Indian. It was then that I was introduced to John Mihaly, and I believe it was at that dinner that I first heard John talk about his idea for a new men’s vocal ensemble that would merge two traditions – the repertoire of the King’s Singers—that quintet of former choral scholars from King’s College Cambridge – and the size and informality of Yale singing groups, of which I was very familiar since I had sung with the Yale Spizzwinks. John had just dropped out of Yale Divinity School. I learned from Fenno Heath at the 9Oth Spizzwink Reunion nine years ago that the King’s Singers had been artists in residence at Yale when John was there.

Now officially Chanticleer management has asserted that Chanticleer was founded by Louis Botto. Certainly, Louis made Chanticleer. Without him, we probably would have folded after the second concert. But as I am in a unique position to know, Louis took an idea presented by John Mihaly and ran with it. And even at our first meeting and rehearsal in my dining room on 23rd Street on Wednesday 22 February 1978, the first words were spoken by John Mihaly, not Louis. Of course, this was years before Joseph Jennings joined, or, in fact, anybody else currently connected with Chanticleer. But the official line is set. So be it. But I think the Chanticleer office should know the truth, if only for themselves.

The awkward part was that John Mihaly wasn’t a particularly good baritone; so we made him our business manager. Regrettably, he turned out to be even worse as a manager. When Tom Hart joined he suggested getting a real business manager in Susan Endrezzi. So we fired our actual founder!

From this first-hand experience, I now find myself extremely skeptical of any birth narratives, be they Biblical Gospels or American fables--as in George Washington and that quaint cherry tree (after all, this is Washington's birthday... depending on which calendar you use.... on the old Julian Calendar it was February 11th.) The actual facts are usually too complicated and convoluted; so an official line is adopted -- and for the most part, it generally works. It certainly is simpler.

Personally, I feel that John Mihaly should, at least, be acknowledged for originating the idea of Chanticleer. But he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Last heard, he was in upstate New York. And he was always prone to various illnesses; so I doubt he’s still alive.

Again, Louis Botto-- though not the actual founder-- was responsible for making Chanticleer what it is today.

RAMBLING APPETITES ON THE WAY TO TWELFTH NIGHT

Today is the Twelfth Day of Christmastide..... “twelve drummers drumming” and all that. Shakespeare wrote a play Twelfth Night… and I’ll get around to it eventually. Tonight is also a time for feasting.

I have always eaten food too quickly. Of course, my Mother, Ibby Bell, was probably one of the slowest and most agonizingly careful eaters I ever encountered.

In the third grade I started piano lessons, but the only time my teacher could fit me into her schedule was on Monday— during lunch. So Mother would pick me up in the car and give me a sandwich and a thermos of soup, which I devoured on my way to the lesson. And Mother wondered why I ate so quickly. (After eating a few times with Gary Murakami, he asked me if I came from a large family).

My Dad was quite a hearty eater. When he first courted my Mother—or at least was a guest in Woolrich— he demolished a cake my grandmother had baked. She was not pleased. Mother said that Goggie had planned to have the cake last at least several days, if not a week. (This was not the case of a prospective mother-in-law inviting a possible future son-in-law to “Eat, eat. Help yourself. You’re too thin. Have some more.” That was not part of Mother’s tradition. On the other hand, the Rich’s had four daughters. Grandmother Rich simply didn’t know a young man’s appetites.

As a pastor, Dad made house calls. These invariably included something to eat. This meant that Dad came home already full. But he ate a second dinner anyway. That was easier than explaining to Mother.

Dad said that when he retired he'd like to be a short order cook. I think he really meant, he just liked to talk to people.

Everybody loved Sherry Bell.

I’ve inherited some of Dad’s appetites. One of my nicknames with Chanticleer was ‘Piranha.’ And Dennis loved the time I ate at the Bohemian Club with some fellow choristers on a Thursday night. There were ten of us at a round table. I ate as usual, and carried on an extensive discussion about economic or political matters. When I looked up, everybody was staring at me – and at their watches. Alex Hargrave—from my jazz quintet –had placed bets. I finished ahead of even their fastest projections.

At times, this has been an advantage. When Chanticleer sang at an early music competition in Bruges, Belgium in 1981, the choir of Kings College Cambridge gave a concert at one of the major churches. The ticket line was horrendous and our group had not yet had dinner; so I volunteered to wait in line for all of us. After getting the tickets, I ordered – half an hour after everyone else— and finished first.

Nine years ago, on a Sunday in April, I signed out of Vespers to hear a performance of Mahler’s Ninth with the San Francisco Symphony. I left Saint Francis right after the motet and before the hymn, and managed to get a taxi to Davies Symphony Hall. But it wasn’t until intermission that I remembered I had not eaten any breakfast--only three cups of coffee. So I waited in line at Dress Circle. Just as I ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of champagne, the bell rang. I managed to eat all the chicken—if not all the lettuce – and to gulp down the champagne. That was probably a mistake, because halfway through the symphony, I desperately needed to go to the loo. But I waited until the end. I thanked my friend, Joan, for her extra ticket, and promptly excused myself.

(When I wrote that, I hadn’t realized that that afternoon's service would be my last performance with the Schola Cantorum for several months. I had had a mild case of bronchitis since our return from Italy in 2003, and my Nurse Practitioner at Kaiser recommended a reduced schedule through the summer in order to recuperate completely. While away from the Schola a few months, I worked on some art projects.)

My Dad’s great friend Helen Heisey had taught art at the Harrisburg Academy on the river just a few blocks from our house in the middle fifties.

The Harrisburg Academy then was the old Wallower family mansion, a beautiful brick Georgian revival house... now replaced with three office buildings and a bank. Mr. Wallower, a publisher, had been on the board that had hired Dad to come to Grace Church back in 1951. He was a Princeton grad, who encouraged my brother Sherry to go to Princeton. Mr. Wallower lived in a handsome stone French-Normandy-style house on North Front Street by the river.

As a teenager, I went there with Dad to several meetings of the Eclectic Club (a men’s club of college presidents, judges, bankers & other local VIPs, who got together several times a year to read papers on historical, scientific and esoteric matters). Dad later inherited several mahogany bookcases (destroyed in the ’72 flood) two pair of unusual mahogany chairs, and a tall centennial Philadelphia highboy, which Julie had refinished for Mother, and that Cynthia now has in Florida.

Edgar Zollinger Wallower went by his initials E.Z. When Cynthia saw a black and white cocker spaniel at Edelhugh kennels in Dauphin, she asked Mr. Wallower to buy him for her. He said he would, if she would name him. So Cynthia named the puppy “Edelhugh E.Z. Dandy.” We called him EZ. He became Dad’s dog, when Cynthia went to Northfield. Even Mother eventually grew attached to EZ. She had always been the disciplinarian and had refused to allow any dog on the bed. Dad would simply wait for her to go to sleep, then signal for him to jump up. Dad was more direct in feeding EZ under the table, which, of course, annoyed Mother even more. EZ eventually accompanied me to California.

Back to my eating …I don't blame my culinary habits on my Father, or my Mother. It is my responsibility— my choice, my joy— to eat more slowly, to appreciate food— the sacrifice that is a gift of life. (I can still hear Dennis say that I’ll never change. And Deborah Sweeney has commented that I’m rather patrician……except for my table manners.) [Occasionally, I have managed to eat as my Mother would have preferred. Check out my 10/03/08 posting "Memories of France in 1980."]

Sometimes it can be a question of time. Old habits can be difficult to change. For five or six years, I had an outrageous schedule on Thursday evenings. I sang at Grace Cathedral. We had rehearsal at 5:00, Evensong at 5:15 –generally over at 6:00— then another rehearsal after dinner from 7:00 to 9:30. Only, I didn’t eat dinner. I left after the anthem, changed clothes, and dashed down the hill to the Bohemian Club— quickly munched some hot hors d’oeuvres— & then was usually a few minutes late for the required rehearsal.

As an associate member, I had to attend these rehearsals during the choirmen's dinner break in order to qualify for the privilege of membership. It was my choice. I was just grateful that the buildings were in close proximity; even if the return trip was all up hill. This crazy schedule allowed me many opportunities to perform in several groups.

My Dad was certainly a gifted performer, particularly in community theater productions. I think the first play he did with HCT, the Harrisburg Community Theater, was G. B. Shaw's The Devil’s Disciple, in which he played a patriotic New England preacher during the American Revolution. That role certainly fit, and was produced sometime in the middle 'fifties.

He was considered too old for another favorite role he had wanted to play. Dad was bemused when later they cast him as Feste the Clown in Twelfth Night, when he had to romp all over the stage and down the aisles in tights. Several people commented that he had rather nice legs. (See, I got to Twelfth Night eventually.)

The second Mrs. Wallower laughed and laughed with Dad around her kitchen table and regaled his performance as Feste the Clown …. the night before she died in her sleep. What a nice way to go!

Image:shakespeare-art museum-miniatures.jpg

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Today is the third Sunday in Advent. In the Episcopal & Roman Catholic traditions a pink candle is lit on the Advent wreath. The running gag is that Mary was expecting a girl!

Listening to a Purcell anthem at a Chanticleer concert on a Saturday night in March a few years ago, brought back a flood of memories… about Louis Botto, the nominal founder of Chanticleer— particularly during the several years I knew him before the founding of Chanticleer— and was an example of what could have happened to my father at the Hershey Convention Center when Dad suffered cardiac arrest as soon as he had finished giving a speech in 1977.

Louis and I had been two of the soloists for “Rejoice in the Lord Alway” with the Grace Cathedral Choir of Men and Boys on the third Sunday of Advent that same year, 1977. “How could I possibly remember with such specificity?” you ask. I’ll soon explain.

Louis was the alto soloist, and I, the tenor. Rob DeWitt was Baritone, I believe. Boyd Jarrell was new to the choir then; so I don’t think he was the baritone soloist. In any case, I’m absolutely certain about Louis and me.

Stanley Rodgers was the relatively new Dean of Grace Cathedral. His teenage son, Malcolm, was a member of the choir, and his wife, Helen, was sitting in the congregation. Dean Rodgers had just delivered one of his better sermons (part of which dealt with speculation about advances in military technology, which seemed to foreshadow President Reagan’s “Star Wars” policy, and how Dean Rodgers feared that our false reliance on technology would actually make us more vulnerable to risky adventures). That day Dean Rodgers was also the Celebrant, which was unusual – to do both in the same service. He was sitting in the large center chair directly behind the high altar in the crossing.

At the offertory we sang Henry Purcell’s “Rejoice in the Lord Alway.” We didn’t have a string ensemble; but we did use alternating organ and harpsichord. John Renke was at the organ, and John Fenstermaker, at the harpsichord, and from there, he directed the full choir. The piece is a long one with an extended bell tone introduction, repeated sections of soloists, ritornelli, chorus, and back and forth. Somewhere in the middle of the piece, Dean Rodgers slumped over in his chair. From our soloists’ vantage point we could observe, but we kept on singing. The head verger, Charles Agnew, walked over to see what was the matter. Soon he was joined by a doctor. We continued to sing. Then four men from the congregation came and carried Dean Rodgers away in his large wooden chair, and still we kept on singing.

Afterwards, the service itself continued as usual. As we were coming back to the Cathedral for rehearsal before Evensong, we heard the carillon begin to toll and toll – indicating that Dean Stanley Rodgers had, indeed, died as we had sung “Rejoice in the Lord Alway.”…...It was many years before we would sing it again.

Some time later we had a new Dean with a whole new set of problems and major controversies. The organ conservator— with a wry and wicked sense of humor— quipped: “Isn’t it about time we brought back that Purcell piece.”

Image:nndb.com

A Birthday in Edinburgh

Today is my friend Martin Krupa's birthday. He stayed in the Venetian room in my flat for two summers while on holiday from graduate school. He was working on his doctorate from the University in Bratislava, Slovakia. He works at a fine hotel in Edinburgh, where he lived with his sister, just recently licensed as a medical doctor.  I met Martin through my Polish friend Adam.

Martin was best friend to my three dogs, dear Rose, Prince Rupert, and Renzo. In fact, I called her 'dear' Rose because that's what Martin always called her. Unfortunately she left us just before Thanksgiving two years ago. He also was a very special friend to my Rupert. For the previous two summers Martin had an early job at the Chancellor Hotel on Powell Street near Union Square. When he got off work in the afternoon, he'd come home and take the dogs to Dolores Park and play ball with Rupert for several hours at a time. Of course, Rupert adored Martin. Renzo got to know him when Martin house sat for me during my holiday in Italy three years ago last September and October.

six years ago, I was getting ready to go on a music holiday with Chanticleer to Vienna, Prague and Budapest. I flew into Vienna a few days early, took a bus to Bratislava, and spent the weekend with Martin. Bratislava is a charming city -- the capital of Slovakia. It was Alexander Dubcek's hometown. It has a handsomely restored historical area.

My weekend visit included a Sunday afternoon and evening in Vienna, which is very close by train. We had a pleasant visit with two of his Viennese friends. After returning to Bratislava Sunday evening, I went back to Vienna on Monday morning, checked into my hotel, and had a delightful visit to Schloss Schonbrunn before joining the Chanticleer tour.

Martin is a good guy and I wish him well on his birthday! His friend Susan from the Chancellor Hotel extends her birthday greetings as well!

Dinner on Stage ~ Prague State Opera House

The high point of the concert tour with Chanticleer last year was the dinner on stage following a marvelous concert at the State Opera House in Prague, Czech Republic.

The State Opera House has a textbook German-Greek-Revival exterior, but a fanciful Rococo interior. It was built the latter part of the 19th Century. It was used as the setting of the major opera house in the movie Amadeus, most of which was filmed in Prague because many parts of the city are reminiscent of 18th Century Vienna.

After Chanticleer put on a superb concert, we were invited to a lovely reception in an elaborately decorated salon above the main entrance. I kept wondering where the Chanticleer guys were, because there was so much food and champagne. I was sorry they were missing it.

Our Austrian tour manager had told us we could leave our coats on the bus since dinner was close by. But first he wanted us to go back into the main theatre for a short talk on its history. As we entered we heard a harpist from behind the shut curtain, which then was raised to show all the members of Chanticleer standing around several beautifully set tables on the stage. We joined them. Then the waiters from the reception entered in a grand procession. They surrounded one table at a time, and on a signal, simultaneously placed each course on the table or took the empty plates away. Altogether, it was a marvelous dinner at the end of an extraordinary day!

Images:iPhone photos by Rob Bell

CHANTICLEER at MUSIKVEREIN Vienna 2008

photo.static.guim.co.uk

Just one year ago, I was with Chanticleer on a concert tour of Central Europe. They gave a marvelous concert at the Musikverein in Vienna. That's the hall where PBS shows the annual New Year's Eve Concert.

CHANTICLEER CHRISTMAS CONCERT

Photo:Chanticleer.org

Tonight after my fourth Christmas Concert at Grace Cathedral, I'm taking my cousin Clae to the Chanticleer Christmas at St. Ignatius. (That's directly across from the University of San Francisco School of Law, where I attended for a semester back in the late 80's.)

I remember the first Christmas concerts Chanticleer performed as part of the Renaissance Christmas at St. Mary's Cathedral. That's where we sang our concert before heading to the International Fortnight Music Festival in Bruges in July 1981, and when Robert Shaw made his famous (at least to Chanticleer) quote: "One of the most beautiful [musical] experiences of my life." He originally omitted 'musical' but requested that we insert it when we asked to use the quotation.

The picture shows last year's group-- the same guys I went with to Vienna, Prague, and Budapest in February 2008.

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After the Chanticleer concert tonight I'm going to a late party. So it's a good thing I don't have a morning service to sing before the Grace Cathedral concert tomorrow afternoon. Debbie Cornue and Adam K are coming with friends to the concert on my Dad's 100th birthday.

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The Chanticleer concert was excellent. Clae really enjoyed it. I hold them to an incredibly high standard, however, and found that two of their sopranos had a tendency to overcompensate and go sharp in their upper registers. Even so it was a very pleasing concert. I do have a quibble with their claim that it was the thirtieth year for Chanticleer Christmas at St. Ignatius. As I mentioned above, for the first few years, Chanticleer was one of several groups performing in a Renaissance Christmas at St. Mary's Cathedral. So I believe last night was the 28th concert at St. Ignatius.