Telling the Truth

On October 31, death put a punctuation point at the end of Bill Supplee’s earth-life.  A full stop, like coming to the end of a book.

Bill gave me something to live for.  Music.  In particular, the music of the church.  Not as a spectator, but as a full participant.

He also introduced me to a musical world of beauty, majesty, joy, pathos, truth, light, guidance, hope, identity and challenge.  A world that seamlessly accompanies and nurtures my spiritual formation even today.

Bill was born on 9 July 1924, and died Friday, 31 Oct 2014.  I first met him when I was a freshman in college.  I was blown away by the quality of music he elicited from untrained voices.  Were these angel voices?

We had no music major at the Bible college, yet music loomed large in the curriculum.  Besides regular congregational singing in chapel and other settings, we had required and elective music courses plus private piano and organ lessons, voice lessons, and occasional instrumental lessons if someone qualified was around to teach them.

Towering above everything was the Ambassador Choir.  Anywhere from 80 to 90 members each year.  Admitted by audition.  This meant singing for Bill.   He was looking for learners, not stars.  Women and men who could carry a tune and follow the leader.

After my first semester I tried out for the choir.  The names were posted.  I was on the list!  Early on Bill asked me to play the piano for part practices, then for all concerts until I graduated in 1964.

Twice a year about 40 to 50 choir members boarded a bus to go on tour.  We sang our way from South Carolina to Pennsylvania, Florida, Texas, and anywhere in the East along the way.

Bill didn’t have a sophisticated method for the way we used our voices.  Nonetheless, we knew the drill:

• Learn your part and all words by heart.  We don’t sing from music scores.  We sing by and from our hearts.  You will be tested periodically.
• Be able to sing your part while standing next to almost anyone in the choir.  For each concert, Bill prepared a new lineup mixing eight parts and both genders so that we were on our own even in the ‘crowd.’
• No swaying or moving around.  This isn’t about you!  Stand still and tall, arms at your side, eyes focused on the conductor.
• Volume, speed, intonation—not your decision.  Your job is to follow!  If you rush, or hold that gorgeous note too long, you’ll be out there alone.  You’ll also get a quick glance from Bill who doesn’t miss anything.
• Hit your notes spot on; no sliding up or down to get to the destination.  Get there the first time!
• Tired?  Not feeling well?  Emergency adjustments made as needed before the concert or during intermission.  Otherwise, know that when you come along you’ll be in the lineup.
• Listen to the piano or organ as you sing; stay on pitch!  A finger pointed up means you’re flat.  Listen to the piano or the choir, and adjust your pitch accordingly.
• On the other hand, don’t let someone else’s pitch drag you down.  Or up.  Just keep singing.  On pitch.
• The goal is to sing and articulate with one voice.  Sometimes a whisper of sound; sometimes the bumps-on-my-skin sound of unison voices breaking into eight part harmony.
• After the concert, mingle with attendees.  Don’t huddle around and rerun the concert or engage in social activities.  This is your opportunity to connect with people and show your appreciation for their presence.
• During introductions from the risers give your name, home state or country of origin, and any other item Bill requests.  Project your voice and smile!
• During brief opportunities for a personal word from the risers, keep it short and to the point.  Don’t wander or preach.  This isn’t about you.  It’s about the message of the music.
• Write your host/hostess a personal thank-you note for hospitality.  Be discrete when you get the mailing address before you leave.
• Don’t leave your guest room without cleaning it up!  And don’t stay up all hours talking with your host family.  They need their sleep, and you need yours.  Sleep deprivation is hard on pitch and health!

Then there was the drill for the accompanist:

• Keep processional and recessional beats steady; bring them in without wearing them out or dragging their feet.
• It isn’t about your playing.  It’s about people being able to understand each word of each selection.  Don’t drown out the choir.
• As much as you may love a particular piece, it isn’t about how you feel the piece.  It’s about how Bill is leading it.  Watch him like a hawk, and follow him.
• If you make a mistake, keep going.  It isn’t the end of the world.  Yes, Bill will notice.  He’ll raise his eyebrows ever so slightly and quickly make eye contact with you.  He’ll never demean or scold you.  Relax.
• Before each concert you’ll usually have a little time to get to know the piano.  Remember which notes aren’t in good-enough tune, and which notes don’t work.  Don’t get a prune face about it and don’t complain.  Just adjust.
• If the choir isn’t hitting notes spot on and Bill’s attempts to raise or lower the pitch don’t work, be ready to fade out if he makes the cut sign (fingers across the front of his neck).  Don’t just stop abruptly.  Make it sound as though that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
• Whatever happens, don’t lose heart.  Bill asked you to do this because he knew you could do it.

I also worked my junior year as business manager of the choir.  Bill was 20 years older than I.  Yet not once did he patronize me, lord it over me or belittle me.

Here’s the truth I realized while working on this post:  Bill Supplee was a father-like mentor to me.  He brought out the best in me and taught me life lessons about how to lead and how to follow; how to live and how to die.  I am deeply grateful.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 November 2014