Music

Adventures in Washington: An Insider’s View of the Tabernacle Choir’s Visit to the Inauguration
by Robb Cundick

Intense, hurried, soggy, exhausting, yet exciting and inspirational. That is the Tabernacle Choir’s trip to the Bush Inauguration in a nutshell.

Brother Craig Jessup leads the choir with passion and love.

Early on the morning of January 18th we flew from Salt Lake City aboard a single chartered MD-11 wide body. Four hours later we deplaned directly to buses at rainy Baltimore-Washington International and proceeded to two Marriott hotels in the beautiful Baltimore Inner Harbor area. Thirty-five miles north of Washington DC, this was the closest the Choir could find so many rooms on such short notice. We had a couple of hours to check in and enjoy a delicious dinner, then change and head off to a full dress rehearsal for Friday evening’s concert.

Another major challenge for Choir leadership had been arranging for a concert hall. Fortunately the small but beautiful Center for the Arts at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia was available, but that made for a ninety-minute bus ride from Baltimore. However we soon discovered 90 minutes was only in the rare event there wasn’t a traffic jam on the Washington Beltway. Our first negotiation of this pathway seemed almost as long as the plane ride! Still, this meant we could enjoy the spectacular Beltway view of the Temple as we traveled to and fro, and despite the rainy weather, when it first came into sight we felt a thrill in our hearts and were left fittingly inspired for the events to follow.

Friday morning provided the only free time of the trip. I had a visit with my eldest son, who by a strange twist of fate was interviewing for the Assistant Controller position at our very hotel that day (yes – he got the job!). While some enjoyed a respite in the hotel, many visited such attractions as the Baltimore Aquarium or Fort McHenry, site of the battle that inspired the text of our opening selection for the concert that night: “The Star Spangled Banner”. The Fort McHenry visitors told us they sang the anthem for the Park Service Employees, and it was a moving experience for all.

The Choir was at its best for the concert Friday evening. Brothers Craig Jessop, Mack Wilberg and Barlow Bradford had programmed a lavish banquet of music, from Brother Wilberg’s beautiful and spirited hymn arrangements, to patriotic favorites, to the boisterous “Cindy,” to selections from Mendelssohn’s “Elijah” and two glorious choruses from my own Father, Robert Cundick’s “The Redeemer.” This concert had it all; rapidly paced and sans intermission, it ended with the perennial favorite encore, “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” followed by our always-heartfelt “God Be With You ‘Till We Meet Again.”

For the first time, talented members of the brass, wind, and percussion sections of the new Orchestra at Temple Square joined us on tour to supplement the organ accompaniments. What a wonderful boost they provided to the performance! The 1600 seat auditorium was filled with an enthusiastic audience that included members of Congress, employees of Foreign Embassies, and members of the Church. With three encores, they clamored for more -despite Brother Lloyd Newell’s cautioning, “Don’t encourage them – they have over 1200 pieces in their repertoire!”

Adding the Orchestra at Temple Square to the performance at George Mason University was thrilling.

Thank goodness for the Friday morning break, because the rest of the tour became a true marathon. Arriving back at the hotels at 11:30, we were to be in concert dress and at breakfast by 5:30 a.m. Buses left promptly at 7:00 a.m. in order to have us at the Pentagon parking lot for security procedures at 8:30. There we passed through metal detectors that seemed to complain no matter how many things we took out of our pockets. I was treated to a custom hand frisking by an MP – I’d never been frisked in my life.

The parade was not to start until afternoon — why did this procedure have to start so early? Well, this was Washington after all — home of our nation’s bureaucracy. Fortunately we were afforded the luxury of a heated tent, where after a careful check of our identification we spent the next three hours amid other parade participants such as the colorful “Red Hot Mammas” from Idaho (I understand they do an entertaining routine with shopping carts, but we didn’t see it). There was also group of participants from the yearly Christmas re-enactment of Washington’s Crossing of the Delaware. Clothed in period dress including three-cornered hats, they called attention to the historicity of the day. There were also men dressed as Buffalo Soldiers. Portable latrines were available outside the tent and as I returned from a visit, here came Abe Lincoln, rushing along fretting that the misty rain might unglue his beard. A Mariachi Band provided a coup de grace to the festive atmosphere, with some of the Choir members organizing a sing along.

At last we were allowed to re-board our buses. As a Travel Coordinator I was to account for every person on my bus, and I soon discovered someone was missing. The poor fellow had been in the latrine and returned to find the tent to empty. He was soon collared by two military attendants who escorted him straight to the bus as though to jail. Each bus was assigned a military security officer who had strict orders that no one was to enter or leave until we reached our float. We mistakenly thought our wait was over when our attendant told the driver he could move out. However a police car soon chased us down with lights flashing, and a red-faced officer told us to return immediately.

The Choir’s performance at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia was received with great joy by the audience.

Oh well – the brief tour around the Pentagon parking lot at least provided a small diversion. Our chagrined Navy escort (who turned out to be a recent convert to the Church) soon had to admit over his hand radio that it was he the culprit who had given approval to leave. “It was my mistake, Sir.” I worried that he was destined for court martial, but as he later visited with his officer outside the bus I could see a sheepish grin and knew that all was forgiven. He later told us that the motto for this operation was similar to the Marines’ “Semper Fidelus” (always faithful), only with a slight modification: “Semper Gumby” – always flexible! Probably an old military joke, but it provided a nice laugh for us and helped keep the atmosphere light.

Our bus driver was able to find the inauguration ceremony on the radio, so we listened to both the Vice Presidential and Presidential Swearing-in Ceremonies as we waited. We also heard President Bush’s Inauguration speech. All of this again impressed upon us the magnitude of the historical event in which we were participating.

Finally, a police motorcycle brigade arrived to escort the bus convoy (there were seven Tabernacle Choir buses along with many from the other participants) into the city proper. Good – some action! I had never had such an escort, and it was exciting to see motorcycles blocking freeway entrances and pulling over cars in front of us to clear the way. I could see how a little too much of this could give one a swelled head. Our sense of importance evaporated quickly, however, as the escort dumped us on a side street and disappeared, leaving us to more interminable waiting.

Finally, at around 1:30, we covered the final distance to where we disembarked and walked a few more blocks in pouring rain to our float. The float was simple, but impressive in its enormity. There were two flat bed trailers, hooked together and pulled by a tractor. We sat eight across on forward-facing benches in over 40 rows. There was only one place to enter, so loading was lengthy and tedious. Those of us who had listened to the experiences of prior inaugural participants did not have trouble keeping warm. We wore layers of clothing under our concert dress along with hats, gloves and long dark overcoats. Each of us wore matching bright yellow plaid scarves to maintain a sense of uniformity. As it turned out, the concert dress would have been unnecessary, for although we had planned to remove our outerwear while passing the President, it later proved to be impractical.

The boarding of the float took on an almost comical nature as we squeezed together in heavy rain, accompanied by the incessant barking of dogs. Dogs? Yes – who should be right behind us but Susan Bucher of Alaskan Iditarod fame along with her team of drenched doggies, howling in discomfort and impatient to mush! Hurry up, we were told – you’re going to hold up the whole parade! Finally, loading complete, our float crawled forward a couple of blocks to join the innumerable bands and floats waiting for the parade to start.

At last there was a break in the rain and we could lower our umbrellas. Though clouds continued to threaten, conditions turned out to be not nearly as bad as had been feared. But it was time to wait yet again, for the parade would not begin for another hour or two, and we didn’t actually join it until around 4PM. The scene was colorful, with bands, military formations, floats and flags everywhere to be seen. A gigantic, noisy helicopter circled round and round over what I presumed to be the White House, hidden from our view to the left. To our right was the Capitol Building, still wearing multiple draped flags from the Inaugural Ceremony. As I surveyed this scene I considered what an incredible feeling it must be to be the man in whose honor all these events were taking place. All around were the emblems of a powerful nation, peacefully transferring its executive power.

Two lines awaited entrance into the parade. The bands were to our left, and since there seemed to be more of them than anything else, multiple bands would pass before our line edged forward. Many were high school bands whose cheerleaders, majorettes and drill teams were, for the most part, dressed in scant clothing. Some of these poor girls were shivering and crying, and this quickly awakened the mothering instincts of female members of the Choir. Upon boarding our buses that morning we had been handed packages of chemical hand warmers – small bags that will stay warm for several hours once exposed to air. Advised by our compatriots that these would be useful, most of us had already brought our own supply, so there was a great surplus of them. Our float suddenly became a dispensary as we distributed hand warmers to the passing bands. Once they discovered what we were handing out, the youths flocked to our side like birds to bread. I wondered if the warmers would really be that much help, but later learned that some of the girls said after the parade they’d never forget the help from the “Warmin’ Mormons”.

At last it was our turn to join the throng on Pennsylvania Avenue. At first, confusion seemed to reign. Our float was equipped with a sound system that was to play music we had recorded the prior Sunday, and to which we would add our live voices. But it took a few minutes to get things working. There were some glitches, including the almost immediate failure of one of the four amplifiers. I found it to be a little disappointing to tell the truth – the conditions were difficult to say the least. But we gave it the very best we could and finally got going, singing alternately, “America the Beautiful” and “God Bless America”. We would wave and smile to the crowd while rubbernecking to try and catch a glimpse of Brother Jessop or Brother Wilberg’s conducting.

Parade route was drenched in icy rain, wind and cold weather.

Though the crowd was diminished by the bad weather, people along the parade route sang along and waved back to us, and despite the tough conditions we could see that many were moved and most were in a festive, patriotic mood. People called down for our attention from windows and roofs of the buildings above. Though there was the occasional negative language of protesters towards us, the overwhelming reaction was of enthusiasm. But when our brief moment in front of the President finally arrived, it overshadowed everything leading up to it.

The White House was almost last on the parade route. As we approached we could see that the whole area was brightly lit, and just at that point the rain started in earnest again. A sign indicated that bands should stop playing for a time so as not to interfere with the sound of those who were actually passing the President. Our float paused for a moment, then turned the corner into the bright lights and sped towards the reviewing stand as we launched into the closing verse of “Battle Hymn.” Finally we were singing something so familiar that we hardly needed to glance at our conductor. We could look to our left as we approached and then all-too-quickly passed our new Commander in Chief and his entourage.

But what a moment! I became oblivious to the rain as my eyes quickly drew to President Bush and his father, our former President. Both stood and moved forward as they smiled, waved, and even blew kisses to us. They were not fifteen feet from where I sat. Indeed, had it not been for the bulletproof glass it seemed I could almost have touched them. Their response seemed genuinely affectionate, and I felt a sudden surge of excitement and joy at the privilege of being a participant in this monumental occasion. These emotions swept away my earlier disappointment, and we finished the parade a short time later still feeling an exuberant glow.

What to say after that? We returned to the hotel by 7:30 and I did have one more choice experience that day – dinner with my East-dwelling son Joel, Daughter-in-law Kristin, and three month old Mandy the Wonder Baby – my first grandchild. It was yet another event that ended all too soon. Then off to bed with another early wake up call – we had to pack and have our bags down to the bus at 5AM. Pulling out at 6:15, we headed for our last task – the weekly “Music and the Spoken Word” broadcast followed by a “Mini-Concert,” again at George Mason University.

It’s always a struggle to get going at Sunday Morning Rehearsal before the Broadcast, but with two straight partial nights’ sleep it seemed nigh unto impossible this time. Brother Jessop exercised admirable restraint in his complaints about our hideously drifting pitch and general lack of energy. However, I suspect most were doing as I was – just trying to survive the rehearsal, pray like mad for a boost of energy, and save my remaining voice for the performance. When we have given our all we know we can rely on the Lord to make up the difference, and as always, He came through. The broadcast and concert were once again filled with joy and the Spirit. We could board the buses one last time and head for the airport feeling that we had accomplished all that the Lord had asked of us. And how fitting to catch one more glimpse of the Washington Temple – this time backed by a cold but beautiful blue sky.

As we landed in Salt Lake City, one last memorable event capped the experience. Someone had playfully thrown a pillow that happened to catch and remove one Brother’s toupee. People in the back started giggling and before we knew it, pillows were flying everywhere. The fire of the majority finally concentrated on two particularly militant Brethren in the center, and they were almost buried under a mountain of pillows. Hopefully we can be forgiven for a Sabbath pillow fight – it was a great stress reliever as we ended this hurried marathon and walked out to the welcoming arms of our families.

2001 Meridian Magazine.  All Rights Reserved.