"The Great Musician."
Address to Hawthorne Camp, Daughters of Utah Pioneers, Our Pioneer Heritage 10 (February 1930): 85-91.
I feel very much honored to be invited to meet with you, the Daughters of Utah Pioneers. I think the year 1866 was the last year that the men and the teams were sent all the way across the plains to bring the emigrants. The next year they only had to go as far as Laramie, that would be about half way across.
I was a boy of twelve years at that time. The pioneer trip across the plains, the emigrating trip from the old country here forms sort of a background for my life, as it interested me immensely. Born and raised in a quaint Welsh town of surrounding beauty, of course I hadn't seen much of the world when we started for Salt Lake City. I wasn't spared much of the pioneering work. I had the privilege of walking all the way, excepting the Green River and Platte River which were too deep for me to ford, and the rest of the way I walked like a real pioneer. I don't know whether all the pioneers enjoyed it. The journey across the plains was such an experience of pleasure to me, that I found it difficult to sympathize with the pioneers who thought it a hardship. I find my mind wandering off now, and I can see myself in a way the first day I started across the rolling country. I was too elated to walk, so I would run ahead and then would stop and wait for the crowd. Of course I was a very young man. I was going across that thousand miles and as I was going to have a walk between two and three hundred Danish girls, I ought to have been content and happy. We were to have left Liverpool with an English company. There was a mistake made in Liverpool by not booking us for the ship and when we got there, we found to our alarm that there was no place and we would have to wait for the next ship. I surely had a cry-out at that time. The next ship, they found us a place by putting the sailors down below. It was a splendid old sailing vessel. We were nearly five weeks on that journey, and I was truly grateful for being upon the upper deck with fresh air, after a mere peep below at the crowded condition, I can assure you. There were four hundred people below the deck.
I realize that this is not speaking upon the pioneers that we really think of coming here, but sometimes I have wondered where we should draw the line. When the railroad brought the Pullman train across, then it ceased to be an event to cross the plains. Those who had come from the old country and arrived here in three weeks, missed the great joy and great experience of crossing that glorious and wild country. It didn't seem to me that it was so warm and suffocating, but when I read history and read of the snowstorms, I am glad we were privileged to come in the summertime. As you know there is always a storm early in September, and we were somewhere about Green River about the time that storm came up, but it wasn't severe that year.
We entered the Valley on a Sunday morning. We had camped at Mountain Dell the night before, and crossing below Fort Douglas to come down Brigham Street was the climax of the most wonderful experience of my life, Salt Lake looking like an absolute paradise. I could not think of it having anything to do with a wild desert land of snakes, as I heard would be our lot when we came into the desert.
The Tabernacle became almost my home, later on. All my work has been done in connection with the Tabernacle, since I started out to teach music as a profession. Before that, the little town of Willard was a paradise to me. I have never found people that equaled the people I found in the little town of Willard when we took up that as a home. My folks, brothers and sisters, after two years, moved up to Malad, the southern part of Idaho. I had my choice to go with them or remain and take care of the place. My father was a man of about fifty-five years of age. I was the baby, the youngest of ten children, so that my father and mother were well along in years before I ever saw them (again). I then chose to stay there and take the place. I clung to it. I kept that orchard for thirty years after coming to Salt Lake, having no intention of ever going back, but it was among the people I loved. One of the most lovable of them was the father of Jardine, secretary of acriculture; he was a young fellow (who) came over from Manchester.
The choir in Willard was led by a Welsh brother, twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, I loved him most devotedly; but when he left Willard to go to Malad, I wanted to go with him, but by the time the folks went there, I would rather remain where I was. I stayed at the home of Brother Ward, Dr. Will Ward; there they made a home for me, and I became one of the family. But I would yearn for my mother. Speaking of walking, I walked home from Willard to Malad, a matter of sixty or seventy miles, many and many times. When I started out, I walked all night before I would get home. When I walked all night and got all tired out, I found a shanty on the way; there I would rest for an hour and when it became near daybreak, I would reach home and see Mother's candle in the window waiting for her boy.
Now, Daughters of the Pioneers, I don't know how well you have loved your pioneers, but you cannot do a more honorable thing than cherish their memory and express your appreciation in work. The great thing is that you have organized so that you can do the things that there are to do, and which individuals cannot do. You will not have any more regard for them through uniting together, but you can show your appreciation in works that you cannot accomplish individually. You have my sympathy in that.
The pioneer part of the Church history is one nearest and dearest to my heart. I was trying to count up among the scattered music of my own compositions what I might have that could be used to put in the practice of singing the right thing at the right time. Sing what you mean and mean what you sing. Use our own songs not merely because Stephens, or Giles or Beesley wrote them, but because they are the means of expressing your heart feelings, and you should develop them and have your own songs and compositions. Encourage the good. The trifling, for jolly fun, is good sometimes. My impressions of the music your forefathers used is that there is possible danger of their being misunderstood. There is a tendency, when looking up pioneer songs, to only look up the trifling. You will represent your grandfathers and grandmothers, have them fixed up for bugaboo or scarecrow and think these represented the pioneers.
Remember they may have gone around in rags, but they had honest hearts. I now think of the first wedding dance I was invited to. I hadn't shoes, so I went with nice black feet. A brother friend of mine noticed this. He said: "Evan, why didn't you wear shoes?" I went because I was the only little boy asked by the bride and bridegroom to the wedding. The same thing happened the first time Brigham Young came visiting us. In speaking President Young's name, I am reminded that I have met and known all the presidents of the Church, all but the Prophet Joseph. I knew President Young very little. He traveled once to the north after I arrived here, and I saw him and heard him speak, which privilege I was proud of. The day President Young came, we had been all day throwing rocks out of the road because it was in poor condition, so the road was cleared to permit the carriage of President Young to come into our town. I was the only little boy in the choir at that time. They hadn't started using boys in the choirs in those days, so I was the only young boy in the choir of Willard when President Young came there. I was very bashful in those days. You would find me very likely with my coat off and I didn't dream of having a vest in those days. We wore a coat in winter and only shirt sleeves in the summer. The day of the meeting, I was crying about not having a coat. A pioneer sister, being the first to come, asked what I was crying about and I said: "I am crying because I haven't any shoes." I felt I was among the big folks and to be without any shoes I would be ashamed for Brigham Young to see me barefooted. She said: "President Young won't think any the less of you for not having them; if he doesn't like it, tell him to get you a pair." I went to the meeting. After the morning meeting, we had prepared a banquet for the visitors. The meeting was held in the bowery, and such a wonderful time they had. I went over as far as the door with my choir friend, but I would not go in. I just wanted to see the president pass. Finally President Young came along with the others, and he took my hand this way. He said: "My boy, why don't you go inside?" "I only sing in the choir," I said, "and I am not dressed well enough to go in." He patted me and said not to hesitate to go in. I felt that was a matter of acquaintance between me and the President.
I worked five years as a railroad hand, and when President Young passed away, I made up my mind I was going to his funeral. I came all the way from Willard to the funeral and when it comes to music, I don't think I ever heard the great organ so grand. The Death March, Handel's march, written by the same composer as The Messiah and played by Joseph J. Daynes at the organ, was wonderful. Instead of going down to the lower part of the building, I came around the organ as it seemed to wail tenderly and sweetly the loss of President Young. We felt it a great loss.
Later on, President Taylor was very fond of my children's work, and he was very fatherly to me. At that time the presiding bishop, Preston, and I got acquainted. He lived in Logan and finally came down and was appointed presiding bishop. He was in charge of the Temple Block.
I used to walk from the Eleventh Ward with Brother and Sister Tuckett to the Tabernacle on Sunday mornings, when some of my best songs were composed. It was on one of these occasions I composed Vales of Deseret. It is a song that was used by the choir, selected to be used as a contest piece first. I am rambling, but as long as I say something, I guess it doesn't matter. The pioneers in their work were very systematic when it came to the truth and doing things. They did it the best way. They led out. They made their own paths and that is one of the great things they did. They led out and didn't follow. You folks have it in you, and you should, and doubtless are, leaders in the community.
Going back to the Tabernacle again. The framework of the big Tabernacle was up, with no roof, but the arches were in place when we arrived. I noticed it very much; however, I never expected to use it very much, as I have done for over forty years for musical purposes.
The other incident I remember well. Coming down Brigham Street, straight north from here perhaps, there was, I imagine, several hundreds of people who had turned out to meet the emigrants. It was a nice, beautiful Sunday morning, so that the people were able to meet the emigrant train, and as I walked on with the rest of the pioneers, among those coming to meet us was an old lady with a basket in her arm. She looked kindly at me and I looked at her, and she got her basket and reached in and brought out three beautiful peaches. They were the early kind. We used to dry them. Fine fruit. She came to me and she handed them to me. I had been then twelve weeks or more traveling from New York this way, and we had a great many people coming to offer things (there), but it was always for sale. I would have given anything if I had the money for the peaches, but I didn't have the money and worse than that, I didn't have the language. I couldn't talk anything but Welsh, one thing I missed by not coming over with an English Company. Coming over with Scandanavians, I learned more of their language than English. I backed away and said: "I have no money." Finally she forced me to take them and I expected to see the police and it worried me. I have never forgotten it.
Speaking about the coat. When I came down to conference when I was fifteen years, three years after I came in, there was I should say, hundreds of loads of straw piled into a stack, and that was our hotel. I was interested in the choir and naturally I wandered into the west door. Brother Careless was choir leader, and he noticed me there in my shirt sleeves. He came up quietly and patted me on the shoulder and asked where my coat was. "I have a coat but I thought I would not need it." "I think you had better go and get that coat," he said. So I realized dress had something to do with it. I had fun over that.
The time came when I came to the Tabernacle and had the privilege of leading by the hand to the platform Nordica and Madame Melba, and of conducting part of the numbers sung by the choir during the concerts. I became noted as the one man Nordica knew who had gumption enough to refuse to put on a swallow-tailed coat for a concert. I absolutely refused and was joked many times about it. The first time I was asked to go out when I was not dressed properly. I could not see any beauty in the nice white front. The time came when I put on a dress suit for my choir boys, for I insisted that they have dress suits on for the concerts we gave when we went to New York and Washington, D.C. I took 200 good jolly Mormons to sing for President Taft, and they gave a two-hour program that they were delighted with and they gave us lovely refreshments when the program was over. You may remember the time we sang in nearly fifty different places. Singing in Washington would be equal, if in England, to appearing before the queen, and we did it in dress suit. The joke is on me.
I should say one more thing. You may remember, though I doubt if you do, Gilmore's Band. This band would come here and would give a musical Jubilee in the Tabernacle. Gilmore's Band was the greatest band in America in those days, and not excelled by Sousa's band. His advance agent hired me to get a chorus for him after I had been teaching five or six years. It was a big step for me. I was not given the Tabernacle choir for eight years after I had come to Salt Lake. I had a choral society of four hundred people of all denominations, all music lovers. It was the rule not to discuss politics or religion. We met for singing only. It was organized to get a chorus for Gilmore's Band jubilee and they were glad to have the chorus. Mr. Gilmore had his wife and daughter along. He asked about this and that and the other while we were chatting there pleasantly. Finally he said: "Are your choruses ready?" I said: "They are," and he said: "I expect you to conduct those numbers with the band." I thought it was quite a task to conduct the band. So I hesitated. "No, I don't want to do that," I said. "Oh, but I want you to. The singers understand you and your work, and you have prepared the chorus and it will be the right thing, and I always insist when I do have a young conductor who is doing work for that kind that he lead. It will do you good and the people will be glad to see you." I wanted to right bad, I admit, but I didn't want to be talked about. So finally I said: "Mr. Gilmore, you may think it very funny, but I will do it under one condition." And he said, "What is that?" I said, "That is that I don't have to put on a dress suit." He said: "That is all right, my boys are all in uniforms and the singers will be in dress suits, but that is perfectly all right. You do it your own way."
What do I know about pioneer songs and music? The one thing I mentioned before is that I want you to keep in mind the good music that was among them, that they may not be misrepresented. Don't think they only liked the comical songs. They liked the jolly songs, and they sang to the point. If it was to be a pleasant meeting, a gathering where the people chatted with each other and laughed heartily together, they liked: "Wait for the Wagon, and We'll All Take a Ride." That as a poem is not grand, but it was a part of the work they were doing. Don't think of it as a musician. "Some Must Push and Some Must Pull." That was mixed with leaving beloved ones on the plains. They sang the songs to lighten the hearts and they were enjoyed except by those who could not stand the hardships of the journey. Music should be chosen for the occasion and the funny songs were to the point, and the brothers and sisters who would write these songs for the occasion were inspired, by the way. I gained a good deal of popularity when as a young man I would dress up as an old maid and sing, "The Old Maid of `45." President Taylor used to enjoy that more than anything. I used to sing it at a children's concert. We would put on a thousand children to sing the choruses, and that was laying the foundation of music for the youth. I had many hundreds of young and sometimes old people studying, singing and meeting together. We constructed a platform across the west end, and we would put a thousand children there. It was a glorious sight, and I expect there were some of you here in the chorus. I am reminded how old I am getting and know it, when I meet some young lady and she smiles sweetly and tells me that none of our composers write like "you do", and I will say, "do I know you?" and she will answer, "No, but my grandmother used to go to your singing classes." Then I am thankful my hair is gone as I haven't got too much gray.
Back to the pioneers again. Besides the humorous songs and songs like "Come, Come Ye Saints," the emigrants always brought in songs that were popular in homes they came from, and especially in my time, the songs written in the United States during the (Civil) War and some of them were sad. "Farewell Mother, You May Never Take Me to Your Heart Again." It is wonderful how the person will enjoy the sad ones. I remember, when a boy, of singing over in my mine the songs I enjoyed, like "Mother Kissed Me in My Dream." Emotional songs were liked by the fathers and mothers. Love songs were sung, such as "Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still" and "Darling Be True to Me."
We expected every emigrant train that came in to bring new singers, and the singers were to have their own favorite song and some of the yellow paper, and the copies were brought over by choir leaders. I sang young, when only a boy. I was blessed with the power of appreciation whether I heard the music or not, and I developed the unique. That is this: When I had a new composition, no matter how difficult or how easy, I would take and read it as you read a newspaper and don't try to sing it, or try it on the piano. Nearly everyone will go to the piano to hear a new thing, but I like to study it as a picture in my mind. That is the way I get the musical pictures. For sometime now, my best works for the past twenty years, The Vision, The Martyrs I have written about hearing them until singers give them to my ear.
Folks, I cannot enjoy the radio. I have banished it from the house. I told my housekeeper I wouldn't pay the rent if she brought one into the house.
The last thing I have written is an anthem. President Ivins sent for me about three weeks ago. I thought they were going to send me to the Hawaiian Islands on a mission. Brother Nibley said, "We sent for you to tell you that we want you to write a special anthem for the centennial celebration in the Tabernacle. We want you to do what you have done with the "Hosannah." We want you to write something that the congregation can join in with the chorus, for a mass of ten thousand people." I said: "I will try, you are giving me a hard task to write music that a congregation can sing, but I'll do the best I can." You may happen to know in the "Hosannah Chorus," written for the dedication of the Salt Lake Temple, I led sixteen sessions at the dedication of the Salt Lake Temple. The chorus was so written and arranged that "The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning" was sung while the choir went on singing "Hosannah." The new anthem would need to be something in that line. I am just setting the type now. The congregation will sing in about two-thirds of the anthem, and I think it will be about as effective as the "Hosannah." I just got through. I went after the work that night and the Lord blessed me with inspiration. Those who follow me can write the thing in the right time, and music will progress and your grandchildren will have better music than you have had. I am glad to have shared in the building up of music in our midst. I will sing you a song and then close.
