UDGING BY early photographs of American social groups in the 19th century, one must come to the conclusion that musical societies—whether choral, band or orchestral—were almost entirely the domain of the male sex. Pictures reveal town bands full of men in uniforms and choral societies feature all male orchestras, while the mixed choirs host a healthy proportion of male (alongside female) singers. What happened to this masculine presence in all things musical in the United States? Where have all the men gone? Where have all the amateur musicians gone? Even more importantly, how might we rectify this serious cultural defect within our communities and parishes (if it is even possible)? Of course, I am the eternal optimist, so I firmly believe that not only is it possible, but that it is already happening in certain communities—and that our deeply committed Catholic communities are in a far better place to lead such a cultural revitalization for reasons I will enumerate below. Finally, I will offer one foolproof method, though perhaps not the most Christian of methods, to fill our choir stalls with boys of all ages.
A Musically Blessed Childhood:
I consider myself extremely fortunate to have grown up in a Volga German household from my mother’s side, and to be a part of the last generation of young people to know the Older Generation who grew up and lived “the Old Ways.” Most of the readership will likely be unfamiliar with the Volga German ethnic communities, but they were formed by a group of Germans who left the Germanic states shortly after the end of the Thirty Years’ War at the invitation of Empress Catherine the Great of Russia (who was herself a German princess by birth) to settle the Russian Steppes in the Volga region just east of modern day Ukraine. Settlers were permitted to keep their own language and customs, they were exempt from military service to Russia, and they were given freedom to practice their chosen religion (ministered to by Jesuits expelled from other European countries) as well as to rule themselves autonomously. As a result they were extremely isolated and their culture in effect froze in time. Modern day linguistical studies done by the University of Kansas German department on the Volga German dialects of those who settled in Kansas report that in their 110+ year sojourn in Russia, these communities incorporated no more than 40 Russian words into their German dialects. Nevertheless, as religious persecution increased in Russia in the 1870s, families began emigrating to the US and South America, with the largest group of Catholic Volga Germans settling in West Central Kansas.
“Car” Spelled The End • This isolation continued in Kansas until the time of the Second World War, but unlike many other German communities that lost their German language and culture due chiefly to anti-German sentiment, the Volga German peoples lost their language due to the power of the car, which allowed for an ever widening circle of engagement with the surrounding culture. But what does all of this have to do with the price of tea in China, much less a cultural shift in male music making?
Two Worlds • It is supremely important because it offered me a view into the remnants of a culture whose religious and secular undertakings were “frozen” in the time of the German Baroque/Counter Reformation period, as opposed to the prevailing American/Irish, early 20th century Catholicism that most Americans had become accustomed to, and the two worlds—especially in the realms of culture and music, whether sacred or secular—couldn’t have been more different.
Saint Fidelis Catholic Church—nicknamed “Cathedral of the Plains.” Built by the parishioners themselves and consecrated in 1911, it is the only basilica in the state of Kansas.
Mass Twice On Sunday? • As an example, my mother is from the town of Victoria, KS (why an entirely Volga German Catholic town is named after a famous protestant English queen, and how an English aristocrat helped the town to build Kansas’ most famous Catholic Church, is a story for another time), an entirely German Catholic farming community never larger than 1,300 souls, with only one church in town—but the one church that happens to seat 1,100. Why build such a large church for so small a community? Anyone in Victoria old enough to remember the time before the Second Vatican Council is quick to relate that everyone in town attended Mass twice on Sunday—once early in the morning where they usually received Holy Communion, and later in the morning to attend High Mass. The entire town returned for High Mass because it was seen as the center of life in the Community. Even in the early ’60s parishioners didn’t try to skip High Mass and all its accompanying music, and there was no noon Mass where those who wanted to could sleep as late as they wished before slipping into a quiet Low Mass in order to make their obligation (and mercifully have it over with for more important things later in the day). Of course, they were back in church again in the afternoon.
The Lord’s Day • A typical Sunday in my mother’s household saw her mother nursing the baby early and putting it back to sleep so that she could attend 6:00AM Low Mass, while grandpa watched over the household. When she returned, grandpa took all of the school age children to the 8:00AM Low Mass. The children sang in a choir with the sisters, which allowed grandpa to pray the Mass without distraction, just like his wife had done earlier. Afterward, the entire family returned for High Mass at 10:00AM, sung every Sunday by an all male choir. Being a German community, the Mass Ordinary was always a harmonized affair sung with the congregation in 4 parts.
Memory & Testament • As a young junior high boy, just awakening to a love of church music, I remember one Christmas in the ’90s when the Victoria choir sang the Kyrie from one of these old Latin Mass Ordinaries and I heard the older members of the congregation singing along in 4 parts. I just sat and listened and wondered how beautiful it must have been. I can give the names of grown men I know who are still brought to tears when they talk about the old men’s choir that used to sing in church. Back then the love of singing was passed on from father to son.
Polka, Songs, and Beer? • The culture of music in church was fostered and supported by a healthy and robust music tradition in the home and in the community, and nowhere was this more apparent than at weddings and funerals. Within my living memory there were as many men, if not more who, who took part in the music making. How many weddings have I attended wherein a circle of men stood (usually with a beer in one hand) singing before the dance began or during a break. Most of these songs were funny songs about people getting dressed in the morning (Hans hat schoen’ Huetchje auf), or drinking too much in the evening (Schoeni, gudi Nacht, wenn i’ hem soll’ geh’n) or dancing with a pretty girl (Mit so schoenes Maedje). How many times after a burial at the cemetery do I remember communal singing before returning for lunch? New Year’s Day was always spent visiting family and friends, with all the attendant music, merrymaking and drinking. Sometimes I wondered if they did anything besides make music. Most of us grandchildren lived in other parts of the US and only got to experience the fullness of this culture at large family gatherings, but it became a part of us. I doubt most of my cousins would have admitted to their friends back home that they could dance the polka and the waltz just as well as they could “dance” to pop music.
Silent Triduum • I unfortunately never new my grandfather, but he had a German dance band that played for many wedding dances throughout the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s, usually with one or more of his children beside him in the band. My mother recounts that as soon as he came home each evening he went straight to the piano or accordion and began playing—the house was always filled with music, except during the Holy Triduum, when all was quiet. Years later my mother was going through some family papers and came across a eulogy given about my grandfather at the local Knights of Columbus chapter shortly after he died in 1973. What I read surprised me, but also made me smile. The man giving the eulogy mentioned that as much as my grandfather loved music of all kinds, the music he loved most was the music (especially the motets) the Victoria choir sang during Holy Week before the changes in the ’60s to the Sacred Liturgy.
Leader Of The Family • As I mentioned before, I am blessed to have experienced the waning era of such an incredible community and I hope to pass on some the same to my children, but while the bulk of the music came from my mother’s side of the family, I firmly believe that it wouldn’t have taken such deep root if my own father hadn’t loved music so much himself. He loved to sing, play the piano and guitar, and I remember a few times when he and my mother played polkas and waltzes together on the piano and accordion after supper while we ran around the living room having fun. For some reason I remember my father often shaving in the evenings and he would do it in the bathroom just off the living room and leave the door open while I would play the piano. In my early days of sitting on the organ bench and being given the odd Mass time to play, he would drive me to church and attend a second Sunday Mass just so he could hear me play. He didn’t simply drop me off and tell me he would be back in an hour. Even though he loved sports and was an incredible athlete, he didn’t consider music beneath him.
Changing Society:
Society has changed much over the last 100 years and all of these reminiscences seem like a dream from long ago, a nostalgic moment to remember, but one never to repeat. We are busier now because of our time saving devices. We are more fractured than ever due to our attempts at unity. We don’t even remember the differences between men and women!
Parents At Fault? • Parents, at least the ones who care enough to give their children something of a higher order than just iPads and an eternal list of YouTube videos to watch, often fall into the trap of doing as many “kid friendly” activities with their children as possible instead of initiating their children into a healthy grown up culture. I know parents who love music, who are great musicians, but have never passed that love onto their children. Their response is that their children preferred endless sporting activities to making music at home—well, perhaps that’s because the parents failed to pass on a love of music making to their children. Their children’s friends wanted to play soccer so naturally their children wanted to as well (I am sure none of their friends were singing). The parents could have helped that. Let us remember that children can play soccer and sing.
Men + Music? • As Americans, we suffer from the bizarre notion that music making is beneath most males—and where that came from I can’t imagine because our country’s history is replete with stories about the love our founding fathers had for music and song (Washington loved to dance and was quite good at it), the singing of our soldiers in war, the singing of men on the frontier as they pushed westward, and even the singing of cowboys, some of the toughest and most colorful characters in our nation’s history. Even in the midst of the evils of slavery, blacks developed the beautiful art of the negro spiritual. We who are free can offer nothing better than Miley Cyrus and One Direction. Even in traditional Catholic communities (whether Old or New Rite) I sometimes find an undercurrent of opposition to teaching boys to be men and training them in the art of music. As for our fathers, I will say it again and again: if you don’t sing, your sons won’t, no matter how much you may wish it. On the other hand, even if you don’t sing very well but you attempt it nevertheless, I guarantee you your sons will follow suit. Every year I begrudgingly end up at some Super Bowl Party or another and I always find it amusing that so many men, who wouldn’t last ten seconds in a real NFL game, are screaming and yelling and having a blast (and thereby teaching their sons to do the same) watching two different football teams exercise the evening away on television. These same men, many of whom do not possess any skill at the actual game of football, nevertheless throw the proverbial pigskin with their boys and never think twice about it—all the while refusing to sing because “they don’t do it well.” Funnily enough, I bet that most of them would advance farther in a professional choir than they would on a real NFL team.
Problems in Church:
Then there is the question of men singing in church. If any readers happen to be of the ilk who still think trying to “pull in young people, especially boys, with cool music”—and I know from personal experience this crowd is still VERY much alive in the Church—just stop! If you teach grade school children music like “This Little Light of Mine” and force the 8th grade boys to sing along with hand signs (and YES, you still very much exist), you are not cool! Even if you are a great-looking 25 year old who plays a mean guitar and know some cool praise and worship, children do not think you are cool. I hate to say it, but contemporary Christian music is now old. If you are part of a TLM community and you are using a lot of schmaltzy tunes from the 1920s and ’30s, there is a reason why people don’t want to go to your particular High Mass.
Don’t Overlook This! • The Catholic Church already has a beautiful form of music that appeals to the masculine mind and heart (and equally to the feminine), which we call Gregorian chant. This music, done well, continues to appeal to young people as well as old, and offers an opportunity to repair unhealthy parish divisions, strengthen community ties and deepen a community’s spirituality. Likewise, with any other form of music a parish chooses to employ, the choice should be made in favor of really good music, and—if the resources present themselves—really great music. Your parishioners will thank you for it.
Thus endeth the rant…
A Solution:
How do we confront such a musical morass? How do we lob a well place volley onto the battlefield in the fight for better music in church? First, fathers, learn some good folk music and start singing it however badly you must, and rope your children (especially your boys) into the effort. They are similar to Guy-Am-I in Dr. Seuss’ beloved Green Eggs and Ham, if they taste enough great music they will grow to love it. And yes, they will love it!
Pro-Creation • Secondly, have as many children as you are possibly able—musical merriment grows exponentially according to the number of voices. I had always hoped for a large family so that as I entered the twilight of my life I might listen to beautiful music even if I could no longer sing. If I am honest with readers, I long prayed my wife would have three or four sets of quadruplets—SATB if possible. My wife must have had the Lord’s ear because such was not to be. But all jesting aside, this is largely why traditional communities are best poised for a musical revival. They have plenty of young people, possessing the one commodity necessary—the human voice. How many times have I attended a TLM where 40 boys serve the Holy Mass? I immediately envision ten boys serving Mass and 30 in a boys’ choir, rotating of course so that all of them can serve and sing.
A Guaranteed Method • Lastly, I promised that I would share with my readers one foolproof method to bring boys into their choirs, so I offer the following true story about one of my favorite Catholic, American, liturgical musicians, Fr. William Finn, C.S.P, founder of the Paulist Boy’s Choir in Chicago. Even he had difficulty recruiting boys to sing in the early 20th century from a rough neighborhood in Chicago (nicknamed “Little Hell”), until an unforeseen, but completely boyish solution came to his rescue.
“Me, train boys to sing?” Father Finn objected when his superiors gave him his assignment. “I’d sooner be sentenced to a cannibal’s stewpot in Senegambia!”
But in the black-robed army without banners, soldiers go where they are needed. During the black hard-times winter of 1903, traveling on a pass, lacking money for a meal on the train or for streetcar fare when he reached Chicago, Fr. Finn had arrived at Old St. Mary’s.
He walked up and down the Levee hunting volunteers for his choir. He got just two. One sang like a nightingale. He attended two rehearsals, then was never seen again. His father had just killed his mother.
The other choirboy was a big eight-year-old, Johnny Keely. He couldn’t sing for sour apples, but he had all the rest of the kids on his block buffaloed, so Father Finn made him peace enforcers.
Desperate for more singers, Father Finn appealed to the Christian Brothers. They helped him enlist his recruits. The Paulist Choristers sang publicly for the first time in September, 1904. But it was the great Boy Soprano Battle that set them on the high road.
Episcopal choirboys from prospering Grace Church, bound for a picnic, collided with the Paulist boys, who thought a street brawl was picnic enough for anybody. The ensuing war with fists and stones and barrel staves stopped streetcars, tied up traffic, and hit page one in every paper. (emphasis added)
Father Finn was apologizing to Grace Episcopal’s choirmaster when both heard simultaneously that boys were besieging their churches, demanding a chance to join the choirs, now that the papers said boy sopranos need not be sissies.
Thereafter Father Finn had all he could handle, in the rehearsal hall next door to McNally’s undertaking parlors, which was also the polling place to which Hinky Din and Bathouse John brought their voters (50 cents a vote, $1 for repeaters) on Election Day. Nearby was the biggest gambling dive between New York and California.
Eight years after their first concert, the Paulist Choristers sailed for Europe. They were to have been aboard the Titanic, but just missed the boat. They won medals in Paris, and sang for the Pope in Rome.
Now, if only I could morally justify giving rocks and barrel staves to my boy choristers in order to help them bring into the choir other boys who haven’t yet been convinced that singing is worthy of their manhood.