CHAPTER XXV

THE CHORUS OF THE TEMPLE

Its Leader, Professor David Wood. How he Came to the Church. A sketch

of His life. The Business Management of the Chorus. The Fine System.

The Sheet Music and Its Care. Oratorios and Concerts. Finances of the

Chorus. Contributions it has Made to Church Work.

With a pastor who had loved music from childhood, who taught it in

his early manhood, who was himself proficient on several instruments,

music naturally assumed an important place in Temple life and work.

From the moment of his entering upon the pastorate of Grace Baptist

Church, Mr. Conwell made the music an enjoyable feature of the

services.

In this early work of organizing and developing a church choir, he

found an able and loyal leader in Professor David D. Wood, who threw

himself heart and soul into helping the church to grow musically. He

has been to the musical life of the church what Mr. Conwell has been

to its spiritual growth, and next to their pastor himself, it is

doubtful if any man is so endeared to the Grace Church membership as

is Professor Wood, their blind organist.

He came to them in May, 1885, the regular organist being sick. His

connection with the church came about in the most simple manner and

yet it has been invaluable to the work of The Temple. His son was an

attendant at the church, and when the regular organist fell ill,

asked his father if he would not take his place. Ever ready to do a

kindness. Professor Wood consented. The organist never sufficiently

recovered to come back to his post, being compelled to go West finally

for his health. Mr. Conwell asked Professor Wood to take the position,

and from that day to the present he has filled it to the satisfaction

and gratification of the Grace Church.

He was born in Pittsburgh, March 2, 1838. His parents were poor, his

father being a carpenter and he himself built the little log cabin in

which the family lived. When David was a baby only a few months old,

he lost the sight of one eye by inflammation resulting from a severe

cold. When about three years old, he noiselessly followed his sister

into the cellar one day, intending in a spirit of mischief to blow out

the candle she was carrying. Just as he leaned over to do it, she,

unconscious that he was there, raised up, thrusting the candle in her

hand right into his eye. The little boy's cry of pain was the first

warning of his presence. The eye was injured, but probably he would

not entirely have lost its sight had he not been attacked shortly

after this with scarlet fever. When he recovered from this illness

he was entirely blind. But the affliction did not change his sweet,

loving disposition. He entered as best he could into the games and

sports of childhood and grew rugged and strong. One day, while playing

in the road, he was nearly run over by a carriage driven by a lady.

Learning the little fellow was blind, she became interested in him

and told his father of the school for the blind in Philadelphia. His

parents decided to send him to it, and at five years of age he was

sent over the mountains, making the journey in five days by canal.

He was a bright, diligent pupil and a great reader, showing even at an

early age his passion for music. When eight years old, he learned the

flute. Soon he could play the violin and piano, and in his twelfth

year he began playing the organ. All these instruments he took up and

mastered himself without special instruction. In mathematics, James G.

Blaine was his instructor for two years.

After leaving school his struggles to succeed as an organist were hard

and hitter. Despite his unusual ability, it was difficult to secure a

position. He met with far more refusals than encouragement. But he was

persistent and cheerful. Finally success came. Two days before Easter

the organist of an Episcopal church was suddenly incapacitated and no

one could be found to play the music. Professor Wood offered himself.

The rector's wife read the music to him. He learned it in an hour,

and rehearsal and the services passed off without a break. He was

immediately engaged, his salary being one hundred dollars a year, his

next position paid him fifty dollars a year. In 1864, he went to St.

Stephen's Episcopal Church, Philadelphia, as choirmaster and organist,

which position he still holds, playing at The Temple in the evenings

only.

He is to-day one of the most widely known organists of the country,

being acknowledged everywhere a master of the instrument. He is a

member of the faculty of the Philadelphia Musical Academy, principal

of the music department in the Pennsylvania School for the Blind. It

is said he has trained more good organists than any other teacher in

Philadelphia.

His cheery, kindly personality wins loyalty and devotion at once. His

Christianity is the simple, loving, practical kind that fairly shines

from his presence and attracts people to him immediately. The members

of the Chorus of The Temple are devoted to him. No rules are required

to keep them in order; no other inspiration to do their best is needed

than his simple wish.

In the old church at Mervine and Berks streets he had a volunteer

choir of about twenty, all that the little organ loft would

accommodate. They could sing as the birds sing, because they had

voices and loved it, but of musical training or education they had

little. They were drawn from the membership of the church, composed of

poor working people.

From this nucleus grew the chorus of The Temple, which was organized

in 1891, six weeks before the membership took possession of its new

building. With the organization of this large chorus, Professor Wood

faced a new and difficult problem. How was he to hold from one hundred

to one hundred and fifty people together, who were not paid for their

services, who were not people of leisure to whom rehearsals are no tax

on time or strength? These were nearly all working people who came to

rehearsal after a day's tiring employment. That he has succeeded so

splendidly in these fourteen years proves his fine leadership.

He had a body of workers devoted to the church, people before whom was

ever held up the fact that they could serve the Master they all loved

by singing, if they could in no other way; that they could give their

voices, if they could give nothing else. He had a body of workers

devoted also to himself, who would have followed him unhesitatingly no

matter what commands he lay upon them. But he felt they should have

some other encouragement, some other interest to hold them together,

so almost immediately upon their organization he took up the study of

Haydn's "Creation." It seemed a stupendous undertaking for a young and

inexperienced chorus, one with no trained voices, few of whom could

even read music at sight. But they plunged into the study with spirit.

No incentive was needed to come to rehearsals, no one thought of

dropping out. Indeed, the opportunity to study such music under such

a master brought many new members. And in the fall of that year the

oratorio was given with splendid success.

This method has been followed ever since. Every year some special work

is taken up for study and given in the fall. It is an event that is

now a recognized feature of the city's musical life, eagerly awaited

by music lovers not only of Philadelphia but of nearby towns. In

addition to Haydn's "Creation," which has been sung four times,

the chorus has given Handel's "Messiah" three times, Mendelssohn's

"Elijah" twice, Beethoven's "Mount of Olives," Mendelssohn's "Hymn of

Praise," Miriam's "Song of Triumph." It has also given a number of

secular concerts. For all this extra work neither Professor Wood nor

any member of the chorus has ever received one cent of pay. It is all

cheerfully contributed. The oratorios are given with a full orchestra

and eminent soloists. In the secular concerts the music is always of

the highest order. Guilmant, the celebrated French organist, gave a

recital at The Temple while in this country. The chorus believes

in the best, both in the class of music it gives and the talent it

secures, and has long been looked on by those interested in the city's

musical welfare as a society that encourages and supports all that

is high and fine in music. Among the selections given at the Sunday

services are Gounod's "Sanctus," the magnificent "Pilgrim's Chorus,"

the "Gloria," from Mozart's "Twelfth Mass," Handel's beautiful

"Largo," the "St. Cecilia Mass," and others of the same character.

The plan of fining members for absence from rehearsal, which was

adopted at the time the chorus was organized, has also had much to do

with its success, though it is rather unusual for a choir. Instead of

being paid to sing, they pay if they do not sing. The fine at first

was twenty-five cents for each failure to attend rehearsal or Sunday

service. Many shook their heads and said it was a bad idea, that the

members wouldn't come and couldn't pay the fine, and that the chorus

would go to pieces. But the members did come, and when for any reason

they were compelled to stay away they cheerfully paid the fine and the

chorus flourished. These fines helped to pay the current expenses of

the chorus. In the last three years the amount has been reduced to

ten cents, but it still nets a sum in the course of the year that the

treasurer welcomes most gladly. A collection is also taken at each

service among the members, which likewise helps to swell the chorus

treasury.

Speaking of the organization and work of such a chorus, Professor Wood

says:

"In organizing a church chorus one must not be too particular about

the previous musical education of applicants. It is not necessary that

they be musicians, or even that they read music readily. All that I

insist upon is a fairly good voice and a correct ear. I assume, of

course, that all comers desire to learn to sing. Rehearsals must be

scrupulously maintained, beginning promptly, continuing with spirit,

and not interrupted with disorder of any kind. A rehearsal should

never exceed two hours, and a half hour less is plenty long enough,

if there is no waste of time. In learning new music, voices should be

rehearsed separately; that is, all sopranos, tenors, basses, and altos

by themselves first, then combine the voices. You should place before

a choir a variety of music sufficient to arouse the interest of all

concerned. This will include much beyond the direct demand for church

work. The chorus of The Temple has learned and sung on appropriate

occasions war songs, college songs, patriotic songs, and other grades

of popular music.

"No one man's taste should rule in regard to these questions as

to variety, although the proprieties of every occasion should be

carefully preserved. Due regard must be paid to the taste of members

of the chorus. If any of them express a wish for a particular piece, I

let them have it. When it comes my time to select, they are with me.

Keep some high attainment before the singers all the time. When the

easier tasks are mastered, attempt something more difficult. It

maintains enthusiasm to be ever after something better, and

enthusiasm is a power everywhere. In music, this is 'the spirit which

quickeneth.'

"In the preparation of chorus work do not insist on perfection. When

I get them to sing fairly well, I am satisfied. To insist on extreme

accuracy will discourage singers. Do not, therefore, overtrain them.

"An incredible amount may be done even by a crude company of singers.

When the preparation began for the opening of The Temple, there was

but a handful of volunteers and time for but five rehearsals. But

enthusiasm rose, reinforcements came, and six anthems, including the

'Hallelujah Chorus,' were prepared and sung in a praiseworthy manner.

Do not fear to attempt great things. Timidity ruins many a chorus.

"Do not be afraid to praise your singers. Give praise, and plenty of

it, whenever and wherever it is due. A domineering spirit will prove

disastrous. Severity or ridicule will kill them. Correct faults

faithfully and promptly, but kindly.

"In the matter of discipline I am a strong advocate of the 'fine

system.' It is the only way to keep a chorus together. The fines

should he regulated according to the financial ability of the chorus.

Our fine at The Temple was at first twenty-five cents for every

rehearsal and every service missed. It has since been dropped to ten

cents. This is quite moderate. In some musical societies the fine is

one dollar for every absence. This system is far better than monthly

dues.

"The advantages to members of a chorus are many and of great value.

Concerted work has advantages which can be secured in no other way. A

good chorus is an unequaled drill in musical time. The singer cannot

humor himself as the soloist can, but must go right on with the grand

advance of the company. He gets constant help also, in the accurate

reading of music. Then, too, there is an indescribable, uplifting,

enkindling power in the presence and coöperation of others. The volume

of song lifts one, as when a great congregation sings. It is the

_esprit du corps_ of the army; that magnetic power which comes from

the touch of elbows, and the consecration to a common cause. No

soloist gets this.

"Some would-be soloists make a great mistake right here. They think

that chorus work spoils them as soloists. Not at all, if they have

proper views of individual work in a chorus. If they propose to sing

out so they shall sound forth above all others, then they may damage

their voices for solo work. But that is a needless and highly improper

use of the voice. Sing along with the others in a natural tone. They

will be helped and the soloist will not be harmed.

"The best conservatories of music in the world require of their

students a large amount of practice in concerted performance and will

not grant diplomas without it. All the great soloists have served

their time as chorus singers. Parepa-Rosa, when singing in the solo

parts in oratorio, would habitually sing in the chorus parts also,

singing from beginning to end with the others.

"Many persons have expressed their astonishment at the absence of the

baton both from the rehearsals and public performances of the chorus

of The Temple. Experience has proven to me, beyond a doubt, that a

chorus can be better drilled without a baton than with it, though it

costs more labor and patience to obtain the result. To sing by common

inspiration is far better than to have the music 'pumped out,' as is

too often the case, by the uncertain movements of the leader's baton."

With a membership that has ranged from one hundred to two hundred

and fifty, skilled business management is needed to keep everything

running smoothly.

The record of attendance is regulated by the use of checks. Each

member of the chorus is assigned a number. As they come to rehearsal,

service, or concert, the singer removes the check on which is his

number from the board upon which it hangs and gives it to the person

appointed to receive it as he passes up the stairway to his seat

in the choir. When the numbers are checked up at the close of the

evening, the checks which have not been removed from the board are

marked "absent."

The bill for sheet music for one year is something between $400 and

$500. To care for so much music would be no light task if it were not

reduced to a science. The music is in charge of the chorus librarian,

who gives to each member an envelope stamped with his number and

containing all the sheet music used by the chorus. Each member is

responsible for his music, so that the system resolves itself into

simplicity itself. In the Lower Temple enclosed closets are built in

the wall, divided into sections, in which the envelopes are kept by

their numbers, so that it is but the work of a moment to find the

music for any singer. An insurance of $1,200 is carried on the music.

Typical of the spirit of self-sacrifice that animates the chorus is

the fact that for nearly ten years after the choir was organized, one

of the members, in order to reduce the expense for sheet music, copied

on a mimeograph all the music used by the members. It was a gigantic

task, but he never faltered while the need was felt.

In order to avoid confusion both in rehearsals and at each service,

every singer has an appointed seat. There is also a system of signals

employed by the organist, clearly understood and promptly responded

to by the chorus, for rising, resuming their seats, and for any other

duty. This regularity of movement, the precision with which the great

choir leads the attitudes and voices of the congregation in all the

musical services, the entire absence of confusion, impresses the

thoroughness of the chorus drill upon every one, and adds greatly to

the effectiveness and decorum of the service.

Most remarkable of all the work of the chorus, perhaps, is the fact

that it has not only paid its way, but it has in addition contributed

financially to the help of the church. Most choral societies have to

be supported by guarantors, or friends or members must reach down in

their pockets and make up the deficits that occur with unpleasant

regularity. But the chorus of The Temple has borne its own expenses

and at various times contributed to the church work.

At the annual banquet in 1905, the following statement was made of the

financial history of the chorus since 1892:

Amount Received--

Collections from members $ 2,564.60

Fines paid by members 975.60

Gross receipts from concerts 11,299.40

---------

$14,839.60

Amount Disbursed--

For music $ 2,167.80

For sundry expenses for socials, flowers for sick,

contributions for benevolent purposes, etc. 1,035.81

Expenses of concerts 8,506.34

Contributions to church, college, hospital, Sunday

School, repairs to organ, etc. 3,050.51

--------

$14,760.46

The chorus has furnished a private room in the Samaritan Hospital at a

cost of $250, pays half the cost of the telephone service to a shut-in

member, so that while lying on his bed of sickness he can still hear

the preaching and singing of his beloved church, and has contributed

to members in need; in fact, whatever help was required, it has come

forward and shouldered its share of the financial burdens of the

church. It is a chorus that helps by its singing in more ways than

singing, though that were enough.

Out of the chorus has grown many smaller organizations which not only

assist from time to time in the church and prayer meeting services,

but are in frequent demand by Lyceums and other churches. All the

money they earn is devoted to some part of The Temple work.

The organ which rears its forest of beautiful pipes in the rear of the

church is one of the finest in the country. It was built under the

direct supervision of Professor Wood at a cost of $10,000. The case

is of oak in the natural finish, 35 feet wide, 35 feet high, 16 feet

deep. It has 41 stops, 2,133 pipes, four sets of manuals, each manual

with a compass of 61 notes; there are 30 pedal notes, 9 double-acting

combination pedals; all the metal pipes are 75 per cent pure tin.

In loving Christian fellowship the chorus abides. No difficulty that

could not be settled among themselves has ever rent it; no jealousies

mar its peaceful course. Professor Wood is a wise leader. He leaves

no loophole for the green-eyed monster to creep in. He selects no one

voice to take solo parts. If a solo occurs, he gives it to the whole

of that voice in the chorus or to a professional.

Dr. Conwell reads the hymns with so much expression and feeling that

new meaning is put into them. The stranger is quietly handed a hymn

book by some watchful member. The organ swings into the melody of the

hymn, the chorus, as one, rises, and a flood of song sweeps over the

vast auditorium that carries every one as in a mighty tide almost up

to the gates of heaven itself. And as it ebbs and sinks into silence,

faith has been refreshed and strengthened, hardened hearts softened,

the love of Christ left as a precious legacy with many a man and woman

there.

Russell H. Conwell, founder of the Institutional church in America · 第 25 / 36 章