RSCM Report: Part II

Two Ladies from Memphis (and one from Indianapolis)

One of our two scheduled organists, David O., became seriously ill before the Course and had to stay home. That left Debbie Smith, already the adult housemaster and organist for the Evensong, to learn the Mass music on the fly. The task would have put me in a panic; Debbie took it in stride. She was on the bench in the Todd Hall Chapel every morning at 6 am, besides all-too-brief visits to the churches, with both of the instruments unfamiliar to her. And in the Saturday and Sunday services, she played splendidly.

It fell to me to assist Kristin Lensch, the treble housemaster, as accompanist for two sectional rehearsals. It was an unalloyed delight to begin the day's work at the piano behind Kristin, facing thirty-some energetic trebles, Lucy and Ted from our parish among them. I could write much about Kristin, but will say only that she is one of the finest choral musicians I have encountered. Were I responsible for an RSCM Course, she would be my first choice as musical director. And Debbie would be the organist.

These two have been mutual friends for a long time, and part of the St. Louis Course from its inception. When I think of these Ladies from Memphis, I think as well of Debra Nethercott. Much of Mr. B.'s work fell to her as Executive Director, and I think it was a difficult week for her, most of all because her duties kept her from singing. I could say much about her as well, but it is sufficient to note that her choir has produced young musicians of the highest quality such as Eddie and Spencer, Kyle and her sisters, the Conley brothers, and too many others to name.

Though I see them only this one week of the year, I count these three ladies among my best friends and professional colleagues, and treasure my time with them.

[Footnote: It is not my normal policy to give full names in the Music Box, in order to respect privacy. I have done so here, and in the previous entry where I mentioned the Choir School, because of my respect for the work of these people, in hopes that my high opinion of them may serve in some small way as an endorsement.]

The Big House

Todd Hall, the site of the RSCM Course, was originally a private residence. After the Todd family gave it to the local Episcopal parish (St. George's Belleville) in 1982, other buildings were added, making it into a retreat center. Always, Mr. B. and Br. Vincent have stayed in the House during the Course, along with the musical director, with the rest of us in the other buildings, mostly Wilson and Blackburn.

I was assigned a room in Blackburn as usual. While I unpacked, Weezer came by and asked if I would move; they needed the room for one of the women. He sent me to the Big House, which I was to share for the week with Mr. Ashby and Mr. Kurth.

It is a luxurious place in a 1950's split-level manner, but at times, especially the first night, it reminded me of staying in my Mother's house alone after she had gone to the care center. I found that the Big House was empty without the two men who had always been in it (yes, “always” means “one week a year,” but I never saw the House in any other light). After the first night's Compline, I sat in the fine screened porch on the back of the house, eating a bedtime snack. The night was heavy with the sounds of a hot summer night in the country. It was quiet, beautiful with the last light of evening in the west across the Mississippi. But I missed Mr. B., who would be out here on the porch smoking cigarettes and talking with the other adult participants.

There are other memories in this house. I remember Mr. Todd, who built it for his family. Years ago, when I often sat in the grape arbor on the south end of the house to write, he would trundle up in his golf cart, unlock the padlock on the wooden door to the swimming pool, and go in to swim laps. He was (I think) in his eighties by then, and living in a newer house on the east side of the property. “We can't let people use the pool,” he told me. “The liability insurance is too high.” Since he died, the pool has been empty, drained and used for storage.

Some of Mr. and Mrs. Todd's values remain evident: most people would not build a private Chapel onto their house, with pipe organ and space to rehearse a seventy-voice choir. Nor would they build a labyrinth, nor would they give it all to the Episcopal parish and stay on hand to assist in running the retreat center.

A more subtle memory of them became evident to me as the week progressed: they loved the outdoors. I suspect that they lived as I lived this week, eating my first breakfast at 6 am on the screened porch, spending time out there in the evenings, walking the paths and byways of the property.

Charles and Virginia Todd in their way contributed much to the Course. May they rest in peace, and delight in the music we make in their Chapel.