1967 - Varsity Choir

At 8 mom got Steve and me to perform in a talent show. We sang "Chickory-Chick Cha-la-Cha-la." I was hooked on music and performance. Steve was stage-struck and stood staring out at the audience. Not me - I was cooking! "Alright! Everybody sing!"

1967 – Varsity Choir


“Up wha-ahh the smoke is ole billered an’ curled.” I sang, the sound somehow wending its way around the heart in my throat. The cockney accent rose clear and straight through the auditorium. “'T’ween pavement an’ staahs, is the chimney sweep world.” The 1966 spring choral concert was underway and I had a solo into which, somehow, I had innocently fallen. I continued in anticipation of “the high note”…the note I had had trouble hitting during most rehearsals. The chorus sang, “And throw me a kiss ‘cause that’s lucky, too.” I echoed their words and notes, “And throw me a kiss ‘cause,…” until I hit the challenging part…those last three notes. I closed my eyes. “…that’s lucky, too!” Pure and straight! Clear and not a crack in the whole verse! I begged my legs not to buckle as I stepped back into the chorus. Not long before they had done exactly that as I appeared at my first public performance with a rock’n roll band.

The group with which I had been rehearsing had gigged at the Moose Club dance and, during the second set, had asked me to sing a couple of numbers. Gloria, Louie-Louie and Secret Agent Man were my best songs so we launched into them right away. Following the performance mom, a chaperone, asked me to slur the words to Louie-Louie more so they were less intelligible. It seems some of her friends were shocked to hear the proper words pronounced so they were understandable…oops. Their concern was nothing like mine…I was in a state of shock as I looked out over the small crowd that well-filled the Moose Hall dance floor. I saw classmates in the crowd that looked at me with surprise although most faces were unreadable to me as I was barely conscience of the faces turned in my direction. This was a moment I had long looked forward to but, now that it had arrived, I wasn’t quite so sure I was as confident in my ability to hit the right notes and my ability to remember the correct words. I wasn’t aware that there any guys watching me or even in the room but every time I looked out at the crowd I saw familiar female eyes turned in my direction. Girls…watching me…this was not something I was familiar with and, hence, somewhat less than comfortable. I completed Secret Agent Man with a flourish I did not feel but felt compelled to deliver. Applause, an unfamiliar but pleasing experience, surrounded me. As I stepped to the edge of the stage Cheryl stood there. “I didn’t know you could sing!” Cheryl was an ex dance-partner in my other life as a Ballroom Dance exhibitionist, one of the girls I considered one of the more popular girls so I was pleasantly surprised by the attention. I beamed and stepped towards the edge of the low stage. The stage was no more than a couple of short risers that served to place the band about 15-18 inches above the crowd and a short step to the floor. As I stepped off the stage Cheryl and her girlfriend turned in my direction and she opened her mouth to say…something. I have no idea what she had intended because it was that moment when I stepped from the stage to the floor. Nervous tension had evidently gotten the better of me, and my shaking legs, in uncontrollable feedback that failed to lock my knees and my body continued forward in it’s own accord until I found myself sprawled flat on the floor. Applause turned to laughter and I turned bright red. Since that time I have gotten all of my cases of stage fright immediately following the performance. This is why I stepped carefully back into the chorus.

I had somehow been gifted with this solo due to my ability to mimic accents, and regional dialects. I retain much of this ability today having an instant repertoire of voices and characters, many of my own making but most being a less than perfect imitation of Warner Brothers or Disney characters. I do a mean Marvin-the-Martian, Mickey Mouse, Mr. Moose (Capt’n Kangaroo) and Yosemite Sam. My St Paddy’s Day joke, complete with the Russian accent of the limo-driver from whom I originally heard it, is a good example of this talent. I guess during my years as a sound engineer I managed to cultivate the ability to not only tell which violin in the orchestra is out-of-tune, but I can also tell the difference between Cockney, Aussie, Kiwi, and upper and middle-class versions of the Queen’s English. I do an unknown number of dialects from around the world. I was well on my way to this destination by grade school so when the cockney solo kept going unsung, my boredom caused Dennis McCreary and me to pipe up one day in 1st period chorus. We paused but Mr. Knepper waved us on to continue so we pushed ahead and sang the solo in unison. Me in my cockney accent. He asked us to continue this for the rest of the week. The next week Mr. Knepper asked me to perform the solo alone. He asked me to continue to perform the solo in class for our rehearsals and to stay for awhile after school to teach Nelson how to speak with a cockney accent. For some reason the schools favorite baritone soloist was too shy to do the accent…in fact he failed to get anywhere close to the right accent, phrasing or attitude that would be required for this number. To my surprise Mr. Knepper soon asked Nelson to forgo this solo (he had others to do) and asked me to perform in his stead. I was surprised but, as a big ham, I was more than willing to do this favor. The result of this solo was assignment to 8th period Varsity Choir and an opportunity to try out for permanent placement in this class.

Fortunately for me I wasn’t initially assigned to this class. Although, at the time, I thought this less than fortunate the delay in getting the correct class scheduled was, in the long run, beneficial. One of the talents that had to be demonstrated to qualify for Varsity Choir was sight-reading notes in try-outs. I had practiced but the truth was apparent…

…I don’t read music.

…but I qualified anyway…by default.

And I hear you ask – “How so?”

When I received my class schedule that year I immediately noticed I was not assigned to the Varsity Choir class – my only opportunity to letter in anything and I really wanted that letterman jacket. I made an appointment with my class councilor to have this oversight corrected. I also had an English teacher whom, the previous year for some reason after hearing she had also been my mothers teacher, began sending me to the office whenever the class got out of control – these were the first, last and only times I was “sent to the principal” during school. I had no idea why she was this way but she was. I also noted to my councilor that she was also OLD – no, I mean really old. When I informed the councilor that I thought she was getting a bit addled with age the councilor informed me she was a personal friend and she did not pick on anyone without justification and…blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening after it became clear he was not really interested in my opinion.

I was soon informed that the schedule was unchangeable with the classes I had scheduled. I made it clear I would not be attending any English classes after the following Friday. He informed me I would be suspended. I advised him he could start the paperwork right then as I would not be attending her English classes. I also mentioned it would be easier on everyone if he found a way to adjust my schedule. He said I would have trouble graduating without credit for the class. I said that was not unexpected. I left.

Monday AM I was asked out of homeroom to see the councilor. He advised me the only way to get me into Varsity Choir was to take me out of my scheduled English class and replace it with a 4th-period “Honors” English. He informed me with a haughty manner that if I failed ONE semester I would be placed back into my old classes. He clearly expected this to be a foretelling of my future. He summarily dismissed me to classes.

By the time I was introduced to the class we were a week in and in rehersals. I never had to try out! No sight reading! Escaped under the wire.

This English class was a session with no grammar or spelling requirements as all of the kids in this class were great English students – the class was about English Literature – yes, literature from England and Europe. Shakespeare, Roland At The Bridge, Beowulf in Old-English, classic poetry, iambic pentameter, all of the stuff about reading that I enjoyed so much since 3rd grade…and here was a class just for this stuff! (See: 1959 – Spring Bluff) And the teacher was writing a book on English Literature and so didn’t care much for grammar or spelling – wonderful! They had finally figured out where I should be! In retrospective I think maybe my councilor was expecting me to fail – I got straight A’s – one of the few classes I ever did that in.

Oh, and I finally qualified for that letterman’s jacket which I bought 1-size too large not realizing my growing days were past. Consequently the jacket always swam on my frame…

But, believe me, I wore it with pride.