I have put a lot into my memory doll house that reminds me of my mother and her interests and talents - definitely her creative and artistic talent. But my dad had his creative talents also - only his outlet was music.
Daddy worked for General Motors from the time I was six until he retired some twenty years later. He worked at Guide Lamp in the office where he wrote applications for states' approval for their head lamps.
It was a good job and he earned a pretty good salary, I guess. At least our family of seven survived even though our parents had to crawl out of the great financial hole created by the depression.
But my dad's real love was music. Daddy a a very nice bass singing voice, and his great love was sacred music sung by a choir. He had grown up the son of a Methodist minister, and he had learned early to love the music of the church. He did not play the piano. His sister, my Aunt Alice, had been given the piano lessons, and Daddy had been given violin lessons. I guess their parents had a small family orchestra in mind. But Daddy used his musical talents to add much- needed extra income to the family treasury. He directed church choir, a community chorus, and an American Legion male chorus. Besides this, he gave vocal lessons at home to some of the choirs' more talented singers.
The picture above shows the "music room" in my doll house, really the end of the living room. At our various rental houses, the piano had to be placed where it would fit. On Meridian Street we had two living rooms, one that could be shut off by french doors. On 13th Street, there were two living rooms, but we had to use a folding screen to provide a separate place for lessons. In those old houses, heating duct work didn't go to the second story. There were heat register grates cut into the ceilings of the down stairs rooms. Heat naturally rises, so that is how it traveled upstairs. These grates also gave ornery children a wonderful birds eye view of the lessons going on down below. And sometimes the lessons, or rather the singing, was pretty funny. We were in trouble more than once for giggling overhead!
Daddy's students? Well, some were better than others. Like I said, most of them sang in one of Daddy's choirs. Their voices were fine, but Daddy made them sing "fah lah lah" scales, and always was asking them to breathe deeply. Sometimes it was pretty funny. One of his students did become a professional singer.
He wasn't famous, but he sang in night clubs all over the country. Every time he came back to Anderson to visit his relatives, he would call Daddy and come back for one more lesson. I think it was mostly a way to keep in touch and thank Daddy for all his help.
A few years ago I attended a West Anderson church. A gentleman from the choir sang a solo. After the service he approached me and said that he had taken voice lessons from my dad, and he remembered me as a child. He spoke so kindly of Daddy. The soloist also had a lovely bass singing voice. It was a little like touching my Daddy again. So sweet!
I remember traveling on some Saturdays with Mother and Daddy to other cities where other American Legion posts sponsored chorus concerts, and Daddy's chorus would perform. His church choir also did some joint programs with churches in other towns. Mother and I would go, listen to them practice together, then enjoy a pitch-in church dinner, then stay for the evening program.
But the most memorable program was the one given by the Anderson Community Chorus. A stage was built at the base of the Japanese Gardens at Shadyside Park. The chorus sang on risers on that stage accompanied by an orchestra. All the songs selected to be sung were titled with girls' names. As the chorus sang, pretty girls in appropriate costumes would walk down through the gardens. It was a lovely concert, and we were very proud of Daddy so handsome in his tuxedo as he directed the chorus. Mother let us kids go up and sit at the very top of the high hill where we could wiggle and talk without bothering the audience.
We had so much fun, and I still remember the beautiful scene and the beautiful music.
So was any of his musical talent passed on to his kids? I guess not so much. We all sang - in choral club at high school, Clyde sang in a quartet at college, Dan always sang in church choirs, I sang some. We had voices that were good for a group, but not solo voices. I took piano lessons, but was not disciplined enough to practice like I should have. I can read music. I used to be able to play one song, "Bless This House" from memory. I can't even do that now. Mother could always play one song that she remembered from childhood lessons, too. Clyde learned to play Claire de Lune, not from music but by ear. Jack could play the boogie beat. It wasn't a very impressive family concert. Daddy had to hire a pianist to accompany his voice lessons. For years a teenager named Gerry Thornberry came to accompany the lessons. We all loved to have Gerry come to visit. She later married and became an English teacher, teaching at Anderson High School. Her name then was Gerry Casey.
But we all did learn to love music. Sacred music is still one of my favorites. All our homes have always been full of the sound of music from one source or another, and several of the grandkids and great grand kids have more than a little musical talent. So I guess you can say that Daddy's Beat Goes On!
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