On May 15, 2011, my time as a singer in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir finally came to an end. Since I first entered the Choir in July of 1990 I always knew this day would come. Service in the Choir is limited to 20 years or age 60-whichever comes first. In my case, I actually got a little extra time because retirements are now held just once a year-after the April General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Before this change in policy I would have stepped down after the October semi-annual conference. So I was blessed with an extra 6 months!
I loved every minute of my 20 years in the Choir. No matter what I was doing-whether singing in a rehearsal, broadcast, recording session, or concert-it was all a great privilege and joy. To commemorate those wonderful years I have decided to write about ten experiences that have been especially meaningful to me.
10. Historic Tour to Central Europe and the Former Soviet Union.
When I was on my mission to Germany (from 1970-72) I took a couple of preparation day outings to the East German border-a portion of the “Iron Curtain” between Western and Communist countries that had been in place for most of my life. As I gazed across the barbed wire at armed guards and attack dogs patrolling the other side, that fence seemed like an impregnable obstacle. Little did I dream that not only would I live to see it fall, but I would be blessed to travel beyond that border and share my testimony through song.
Imagine my feelings, then, when my first tour with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir included stops in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, the former East Germany, Poland, and Russia-all countries that had seemed forever inaccessible.
A particular highlight of the tour occurred at the concert in East Berlin. A vote had been taken that very day on whether to move the capital of the reunified Germany from Bonn back to Berlin. News of the result came during a break in our performance, and when it was announced to the audience that Berlin had been chosen, the Choir joined in a great cheer that echoed throughout the hall.
The first two experiences I want to share, however, are of a more personal nature: one inspirational and the second a little more on the amusing side. It has been customary for the Choir, when singing to foreign audiences, to perform one or two songs in the native language. However, with an itinerary that would include German, French, Hungarian, Czech, Polish, and Russian audiences, this tour presented a unique challenge. To ease demands on the Choir it was decided that many of these songs would be sung by soloists with the rest of the singers humming in the background and perhaps singing a single verse or a few phrases in the language.
As I look back now, I wonder what I was thinking. Here I was a brand new member of the Choir-fortunate to have even passed the auditions let alone to think of singing a solo. But given I enjoyed the challenge of foreign languages and had my mission experience with German, I decided to audition. I tried out for two songs-one German and the other Polish. As it turned out I was selected to sing the Polish song as a duet with choir member Debbie Martin.
I found the Polish language-for this particular song at least-to be extremely difficult. I don’t have a copy anymore but I remember one particular phrase went something like, odnyeshukushangshst. What a mouth twister! Difficult enough to say; imagine singing it. But I had worked on it ceaselessly and that was undoubtedly the reason for my success. As the tour approached I continued to sing it at every opportunity, often going through phrases in my car during the commute to and from work.
Before continuing with the story I should share a little more about why, looking back, I truly wonder what I was thinking to have auditioned for that solo. You see, to put it mildly, I am a person overly sensitive to anxiety. Things have gotten better in my older years, but back in 1991 I remember feeling an increasing sense of dread about the upcoming performance as the tour progressed. It might not have been so bad had my turn come early in the tour, but the concert in Warsaw, Poland was the ninth of eleven concerts.
When I am singing I do feel a sense of peace and confidence and when the night of the concert finally came, as it proceeded I was feeling pretty good and that I was ready for what was to come. Since our song was to be one of the encores, and the number of encores varied, Debbie and I didn’t know exactly when our turn would come. When Brother Ottley signaled for us to come forward it took me by surprise and I found that I had been derelict in getting my music ready. Flustered, I hurriedly pulled out what I thought was the correct piece and stepped up next to Debbie.
There I stood on the stage of a grand, multi-tiered opera hall filled with thousands of expectant listeners. Brother Jerrold Ottley was looking at us to insure we were ready, his baton raised. But as I glanced down at my music I realized that I had made a mistake. There were two Polish songs, the other being the national anthem which we had sung earlier in the program. The pieces were in two separate music booklets and I had opened the wrong one-the one with the national anthem.
I started to panic. It was time to start; it would take too long to shuffle through my music to find the right booklet. But then a calm feeling came over me and I seemed to hear a comforting inner voice say, “You know the words, you’ve gone through them scores of times. Just look up into the faces of the audience as you sing.” And in that split second that’s what I determined to do.
I nodded to Brother Ottley and we began. The Choir hummed as Debbie and I sang the two verses and then all joined in on the chorus. The song, “God Who Held Poland,” had special meaning to the Polish people. It spoke of how God has watched over Poland during many adversities. Due to its religious nature it could not be openly sung under Communist rule. Many in the audience rose to their feet as we sang. Many shed tears.
It was a small miracle, but very meaningful to me. How easy it could have been for me, in my feelings of panic, to stumble and draw a blank on the words. But I felt the spirit of the Lord buoy me up. The music mix-up that could have caused disaster turned out to be a blessing. It gave me the opportunity to better connect with those to whom we sang and our performance in Warsaw is now a happy, inspiring memory.
9. A Close Call at the Border
As I said, the second experience is of a more amusing nature, although I would hardly have used such words to describe it at the time.
Given that we would cross several borders during the tour we were instructed to keep our passports with us at all times. Being a particularly conscientious and literal-minded person I made sure mine was in my pocket even while performing, and the concert at Prague, Czechoslovakia, was no exception.
Early the following morning, after seating myself on the bus bound for Dresden, Germany, I reached in my pocket and was dismayed to find that my passport was missing. Then I recalled that it was still in the suit jacket I had worn the night before, packed with my luggage in the compartment under the bus. No problem. I had just put it there and the bus was still at the curbside. All I had to do was step out and retrieve it. But when I did so, to my alarm, I discovered that my luggage had already been transferred to a separate luggage bus.
Choir business manager UdellPoulsen was on my bus and I quickly alerted him. He was naturally annoyed but said that he would call the driver of the other bus and ask him to stop and meet us before arriving at the border. That sounded like a workable plan so I did my best to stay calm.
But as we neared the border, we came upon long lines of buses, trucks, and cars. Arrangements had apparently been made to give the Choir priority, because our bus drove straight to the front of the line. Before I knew it we were stopped at the border with the luggage bus nowhere to be seen. A guard would board in seconds to check our passports. “Brother Poulsen! What should I do?” There was no time for him to think. “Get in the lavatory!” he barked.
The lavatory was in an exit stairwell in the middle of the bus. Just as I reached it I saw the green-uniformed guard come up the stairs at the front. His ascent mirrored my descent. Had he looked to his left he would have seen me, but I managed to slip inside just in time.
I locked the door, sat down, and prayed. Indeed, it would not be an exaggeration to say that I prayed with just about every fiber of my being. “Please don’t let him check this door!” I don’t know how long it was; it seemed like a millennium. But then there came a sudden, insistent pounding at the door. The game was up! I held my breath and prepared to face the consequences.
But to my great relief I opened the door to find that the pounding had come from teasing Choir members who were only too happy to drop me one last dart of distress. The guard had departed. Hooray! I would not be carted off to an East German prison after all.
I think Brother Poulsen was as relieved as I was. Had the guard checked the lavatory, my discovery would no doubt have caused a huge headache for him. Of course, the story quickly made the rounds in the Choir, and-especially as a rookie member-it took quite a while for me to live it down.
A couple of years later when we learned that our next tour would include a border crossing I raised my hand and humbly asked if the buses would have lavatories. My intended jest was apparently a bit too obscure; I don’t think anyone caught it. But I was certainly glad to learn that the buses would indeed have lavatories!
8. Israel
Security is a major consideration whenever the Choir travels. And when it comes to traveling overseas, any organization that may be seen as representing the United States-let alone a group as large as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir-is a potential target for actions that could range all the way from protests to terrorism. Given the volatility of the Middle East, it is nothing short of a miracle that a unique set of circumstances allowed for the Choir perform in the Holy Land in 1993.
Jerusalem Mayor Teddy Kollek’s policy was to keep the city open to all religions. And due in no small part to his support, the Church was able to lease a prime piece of property upon which to build its beautiful Jerusalem Center, home to BYU’s semester abroad program. A personal invitation from this great friend to perform with the Jerusalem Symphony carried unusual weight, and after careful consideration, Church leaders gave their approval to accept.
Besides performing the Berlioz Requeim with the symphony in Jerusalem, concerts were presented in Haifa and Tel Aviv. There was also a performance at the Jerusalem Center for friends and leaders from the Palestinian community. All of the concerts were received enthusiastically and to great critical acclaim.
Particularly memorable were outdoor filming sessions upon the Mount of Olives, at the Garden Tomb, and in the shepherds’ fields above Bethlehem. To sing of the Savior in the very places he walked and taught was unforgettable. The events of the Bible still seemed to hang in the air and felt more real than ever before.
But there is one particular experience of a more private nature that I treasure the most. After my father’s retirement as Tabernacle Organist, he and Mom were called to serve as hosts at the Jerusalem Center. Given that they were living in the Center, my wife and I (as well as my brother Tom and his wife) were given permission to stay with them rather than in hotels with the rest of the Choir.
On New Year’s Eve-our one free evening of the tour-we were sitting and talking with Mom and Dad when a knock came at the door. Would Brother Cundick play the organ in the chapel for Elders Faust and Holland, their wives, and guests? Of course! We joined the small group in the chapel, which has an unusual configuration in that the beautiful pipe organ is at the rear while the seats face the opposite direction towards picture windows that look out upon Jerusalem.
As Dad played we sat and reflected upon the view-the lights of the walled city, the Temple Mount, the Dome of the Rock. In between lay the Kidron Valley and off to the left (although we could not see it), the Garden of Gethsemane.
After Dad finished, several of those present related their feelings. I remember being impressed with them all but it is Elder Faust whose words have stayed with me-not only for what he said-but also the impressions I felt as I observed him from behind.
He talked of the night of the Savior’s betrayal in Gethsemane and expressed his hope that had he been there, he would have had the courage to stay when the others fled-perhaps even to offer his life in defense of our Lord. For a moment I glimpsed the depth of his love for our Redeemer. But I also sensed something else: how heavily the responsibility of his testimony weighed upon his shoulders.
As he spoke, Sister Faust rubbed those seemingly-heavy-laden shoulders. When he paused, she interjected a comment about how difficult his responsibilities were and how she wished people could see things through his eyes.
“If they only knew,” Elder Faust concluded. I took they to mean we-both members of the Church and the world in general-all of God’s children. If we only knew what he knew, we would see things very differently; we would have a greater appreciation for the difficulty of the decisions he and his fellow leaders have to make and we would be more willing to follow their admonitions.
That image of Elder Faust’s shoulders weighed down by his great responsibilities-and of his faithful wife helping him to bear that burden, is my most poignant memory from Jerusalem. And there is a little postscript: the next morning at breakfast I suddenly felt someone massaging my shoulders. I turned, and there behind me stood Elder Faust. I was not well acquainted with him. There is no particular reason he would have chosen me. He simply came in and performed that kind act because that is the kind of man he was. What a precious memory!
7. Touring with the Choir and Orchestra
My top ten list could not be complete without including the experience of touring with the Choir and the Orchestra at Temple Square.
Touring with such a large group is a unique experience. Long lines form whenever our fleet of buses stops at a rest stop. Hotels must be prepared to handle an influx of 500-600 people all at once. Elevators are always overtaxed. Other than pre-concert rehearsals, meals are the only opportunity for leaders to make announcements and communicate changes of plan and so they must be served quickly and efficiently in a venue large enough to seat everyone at once.
Risers, chairs, a huge electronic organ, large orchestral instruments, lighting, and sound equipment must be quickly moved in and erected for each concert venue and then taken down just as quickly, transported, and set up once again by the time the Choir and Orchestra arrive at the next location. A separate army of volunteers often works into the wee hours of the morning to make all of this happen.
Many people ask whether we as Choir members are required to pay expenses for tours. We are not; but although there is some opportunity for sightseeing, tours for the most part require a good deal of patience and hard work. The typical concert day goes as follows: breakfast buffet in hotel, pick up box lunch, long bus ride, wait in restroom line and eat lunch at rest stop, another long bus ride to hotel, check in, wait for elevator (or take stairs), unpack, bus to sound check, bus back to hotel for dinner, bus back to concert, change clothes, sing/play concert, bus back to hotel, pack and put luggage in hallway to be picked up and transported to the next hotel, sleep (and there’s never enough of that!). On days when there is not a concert there is time for limited sightseeing and, hopefully, a little more rest.
But I do not mean to make it sound like drudgery, for there is so much that is rewarding. We have opportunities to interact with people around us wherever we go and there is no more cheerful, optimistic group than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square.
I once watched a television program about a Brigham Young University photographer named Val Brinkerhoff, who was engaged in a project to photograph sacred places throughout the world. He quoted a fellow photographer, Bill Jay, who made a statement that affected him deeply, “When art lost its connection to worship, it lost its greatest power.” The program went on to talk about how buildings and monuments all over the world have been created using the best artists and materials as places to be set apart; intended for man to separate himself from the ordinary-to reach for power and strength from sources more holy than himself.
Singers in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir are familiar with sacred places. During my time in the Choir, in addition to our beloved Tabernacle and the Conference Center, we have felt closeness to the divine singing in the Solemn Assembly Room of the Salt Lake Temple, on the hillside in front of the Manti Temple, in the Nauvoo and Kirtland Temples, near the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York, as well as in the revered edifices of other religions such as the Cathedral of the Madeline in Salt Lake City, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City, or El Escorial in Spain.
But the wonderful thing about music is its power to make any surrounding a sacred place-at least for an hour or two. Be it a temple, a beautiful new concert hall, or a sports arena, the power of music-and, most importantly-the music of worship and praise to our Father in Heaven, can bring a feeling of holiness to any place the Choir sings.
In a sense it has been like taking the sacred and peaceful feelings of the temple on the road where everyone can have an opportunity to share in them. And that, to me, is what has been at the center of the privilege and blessing of touring with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
6. The Bush Presidential Inauguration
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir has participated in five United States presidential inaugurations, but only one came during my time-the George W. Bush Inaugural in January of 2001.
This occasion marked the first time the Choir travelled with members of the recently-formed Orchestra at Temple Square. While it was not the entire orchestra, it was great to have members of the brass, wind, and percussion sections with us to supplement organ accompaniments for an inauguration eve concert at George Mason University. The 1600-seat auditorium was filled with dignitaries, including members of Congress, ambassadors and employees of foreign embassies, and members of the Church. We were given rousing ovations and the success of that concert undoubtedly encouraged the inclusion of the full orchestra on all major Choir tours since that time.
The main event, however, was the next day’s inauguration parade, and that day was truly a marathon. Breakfast in our Baltimore hotels was at 5:30 a.m. sharp, dressed in concert dress. At 7:00 the buses hurried us to the parking lot of the Pentagon where we filed through metal detectors that seemed to complain no matter how many things we took out of our pockets. We then entered a heated tent-a secured area where we would wait until afternoon.
Here we mingled with numerous other parade participants. There were the “Red Hot Mommas” from Idaho-well-known for their zany routine with synchronized shopping carts. There were actors in period dress from a yearly reenactment of Washington’s crossing of the Delaware. There were men dressed as Buffalo Soldiers. But the coup de grace was a mariachi band with which some of the Choir members organized a sing along. And I still laugh when I remember taking a brief break outside and seeing an Abe Lincoln rushing along while fretting that the misty rain might unglue his beard.
In the early afternoon we boarded a convoy of buses and were given a police motorcycle escort to the staging area for the parade. It was exciting to see motorcycles blocking freeway entrances and pulling over cars to clear the way.We felt pretty important until our escort summarily dumped us on a side street and disappeared, leaving us to disembark and find our way to the parade float through pouring rain.
The float-consisting of two flatbed trailers pulled by a tractor-was simple, but impressive in its enormity. We sat in rows, eight across, on forward-facing benches. Having been warned to expect very cold conditions we had prepared by wearing layers of clothing under our concert dress along with hats, gloves, and long dark overcoats. Everyone also sported a bright yellow plaid scarf to pull everything together into a uniform of sorts.
With over forty rows, it took a long time to board the float. And our squeezing together in the coursing rain took on an almost comical nature given it was accompanied by the incessant barking of dogs. Dogs? Yes-who should be right behind us but Susan Bucher of Alaskan Iditarod fame-her drenched doggies howling in discomfort and anxious to mush.
But then a timely break in the rain afforded the opportunity to fully take in the colorful scene around us. There were bands, military formations, floats, and flags everywhere. A huge, noisy helicopter circled round and around over what we presumed to be the White House, although we couldn’t see the building itself from our vantage point. To our right was the Capitol Building, still wearing multiple draped flags from the inaugural ceremony.
Among those waiting were high school bands with cheerleaders, majorettes, and drill teams whose scanty uniforms were completely inadequate for the cold. Many of the poor girls were shivering and some even crying. Fortunately we had a surplus of disposable hand warmers which we gladly offered to them. Word spread and soon they flocked to us like birds to bread. Some of the girls were later heard to remark that they’d never forget the help from the “warmin’ Mormons.”
It was 4 p.m. before our turn finally came and we embarked down Pennsylvania Avenue. Although our float was equipped with a sound system, it would have been difficult to mike and amplify our live voices. We had thus recorded our parade selections the previous Sunday and sang along with them as we travelled the route.
January in Washington, D.C. is far from an ideal time for a parade. It was very cold and crowds were diminished by the bad weather. But we gave our best effort, singing alternately “America the Beautiful” and “God Bless America.” We sang, waved and smiled at the crowd while rubbernecking to catch a glimpse of Brother Jessop’s or Brother Wilberg’s conducting.
The highlight, of course, was passing the White House at the end of the route. As we approached we could see that the whole area was brightly lit, and just at that moment the rain started in earnest again. Although we had planned to remove our overcoats before passing the President, the rain made it impractical.
The float paused briefly, turned the corner into the bright lights, and then sped towards the reviewing stand as we launched into the closing verse of “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It seemed but a moment and we had already passed the stand, but what a moment it was!
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. Their response seemed genuinely affectionate, and I felt a sudden surge of excitement and joy at the privilege of being participant in such a monumental occasion.
Just another block or two and we were at the end. But despite our long, uncomfortable and difficult day, I sensed that all of us felt an exuberant glow. Those few seconds in the bright lights, singing for our President, had made it all worthwhile!
Stay tuned tomorrow for part two!
