Twenty-five years at Euclid Avenue Congregational Church

On Sunday, November 2, 2008, I celebrated twenty-five years as Director of Music at Euclid Avenue Congregational Church of the United Church of Christ, in Cleveland, Ohio.  I began there (as Interim Director) on November 1, 1983.  During that time I have survived three permanent ministers, at least that many interim ministers, associate pastors, directors of Christian Education, secretaries, and custodians.  What better way to celebrate than to give a recital?  You can download the program. (PDF).  (Audio samples forthcoming)

The church publicity committee did a good job of getting the word out, and there were between 75 and 100 people present, including  a fair number that I didn’t recognize, and some friends whom I would not have expected to see.

I am never fully satisfied with my own playing, but it went reasonably well.  There are always things to improve.  George turned pages for me and pulled stops in several of the pieces, especially the Messiaen “Apparition”. It is (I think) more nerve-wracking to turn pages and pull stops than it is to perform.  But he was very confident and things came off without a hitch.

After the concert there was a lovely reception in the church parlor, with spoken tributes by several people.  I am pleased to say that the church is taking up an “anniversary collection” on my behalf that will be used for scholarships for persons wishing to study organ.  It is a wonderful idea–much better than a gift to me; I have more than enough of my own.  The church also commissioned a quite amusing iron sculpture that is a caricature of me playing the organ and conducting at the same time.  Everyone should have a statue!  I may not have an Oscar, but I still have a statue.

Remembrance of Things Past: Turning Pages for Messiaen

Yvonne Loriod and Olivier Messiaen sign autographs at the Cleveland Museum of Art

There are some events that you remember for the rest of your life. One of those occurred for me almost exactly 30 years ago, October 13, 1978, when Olivier Messiaen and his wife Yvonne Loriod played a concert at the Cleveland Museum of Art.  I was living on Long Island at the time, but my friend Bruce Shewitz, who was working in the Musical Arts Department of the museum at the time, asked me if I wanted to come back for the concert.  Not only that, would I be interested in turning pages for the major work on the second half of the program, Messiaen’s “Visions de l’Amen” for two pianos, which Messiaen and Loriod would perform together.  Loriod played Debussy and solo Messiaen (excerpts from “Vingt regards”) on the first half.

Bruce turned for Loriod; I turned for Messiaen.  We met briefly prior to the beginning of the concert, Messiaen showed me his tattered score of “Visions.”  He did not speak English, and my French was rudimentary at best.  But he was cordial.

The performance went off without a hitch, despite my terror of making a mistake.  I confess that during the last movement I became lost in the very repetitive music, but the composer carried on. (It was a work that I had heard before, but I had never seen the score before.)  About midway through the performance of the 45-minute work, I looked down at the piano keyboard and saw smudges on the keys which I almost immediately determined to be blood.  Messiaen had cut himself on the keyboard while he was playing.  But he didn’t miss a note.

After the concert, we were in the green room behind the stage, and the composer disappeared.  Karel Paukert, Curator of Music and host of the event, went looking for Messiaen and found him, with a damp paper towel, back out on the stage cleaning the blood off the piano keys.  Messiaen’s comment was, “It’s a good thing my wife didn’t see it, because she would have stopped the performance.”  Lucky for all of us.

After the backstage congratulations and greetings (and clean-up), Messiaen and Loriod spent time in the museum lobby signing autographs.  He signed my program, “with thanks to the page turner.”  There were pictures taken, which you see above.  The Messiaens are seated with their backs to the camera.  I am at the far right, with the light-colored suit (and considerably more hair than I have today).  Bruce is to my left.  Karel Paukert is kneeling in front of Loriod and in the center is Paukert’s (now former) wife Noriko.  The only other person I recognize in the picture is (I think) the organ builder Charles Ruggles (with the bald head and beard.)

It seems hard to believe that this was thirty years ago, for Messiaen’s 70th birthday tribute.  This year we celebrate his 100th anniversary.  On November 2nd, I’ll be playing a recital at my church (Euclid Avenue Congregational Church in Cleveland) including three of Messiaen’s more austere organ works in his memory and honor: Apparition de l’Église Éternelle, Monodie, and Chants d’oiseaux (from Livre d’Orgue).

In memoriam: Paul Jerabek

Overnight on Sunday/Monday Paul Jerabek, my friend and 65-year member of the Euclid Avenue Congregational Church Choir, died after a few weeks of declining health.  What is remarkable is that Paul was 98 years old, almost 99, and until a few weeks ago he was very active, still doing many things around the church, living in his apartment at the Breckenridge Village retirement home in Willoughby, driving himself to events.

As I said, he was a member of the choir for 65 years before retiring a couple of years ago–in his 90s–because he felt that his singing was no longer up to his own standard.  (Truth be told, he was still doing just fine, especially for someone of his mature years.)  He and his late wife Alice had sung for many years in the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus under Robert Shaw, Robert Page, Margaret Hillis and others.

Paul was kind, unassuming and modest, but he had many talents.  After retiring from his main career he became a prize-winning rose breeder.  I will never forget visiting his home where he had what seemed to be an acre of beautiful rose bushes.  As a gift, he once gave George and me a cutting of his own breed “Our Pearl” which continues to flourish at our house in Cleveland, being the first rose to bloom in the spring, and it is always the last rose to die in the winter.  Paul was also an award-winning photographer of professional calibre.  His pictures—especially of his own roses—have been published in many magazines.

There are some of us who assumed that Paul would outlive us all, so it came as an immense shock on Monday evening when I heard of his death.  We will be discovering many things around the church that he just “took care of.”  I especially will miss him with the choir, because for the almost 25 years that I’ve been at the church, he has filed away the choral music that the choir performs.  It’s a big job that I never had to worry about.

On Monday evening I volunteered with the crew from my church that every 5th Monday prepares a meal for homeless people in the inner city of Cleveland.  When I arrived for duty at 3:00 (I don’t usually get to help because I’m usually at work when they prepare and serve.) Paul’s daughter Cyndy Henderson and grandson Peter Henderson were preparing a salad.  I asked what they needed done, and they said I could help with the salad.  (This was before I knew that Paul had died, and no one said a word about it.)  I found out later that I had stepped into Paul’s usual role for the preparation of the 5th Monday Meal—he had prepared the salad.  I was honored to take his place.

I—along with his many, many fans—will miss him.  Rest in peace, Paul.  I know that you’re still here with us in spirit.

Easter at EACC 2006

Easter at EACC 2006,
originally uploaded by Virtual Farm Boy.

[Click on the photo above to see all of the Easter 2006 photos.]

Every Easter Sunday after church all in attendance gather on the front lawn and each person is given a helium-filled balloon. The balloons each have a card attached signed by a church member. At the signal from the Pastor (“The Lord is risen!” “The Lord is risen indeed!”) everyone releases their balloons and they float skyward. The cards have a place for the people who find them to fill in their names and location and to mail them back to the church. There are usual between 15 and 20 postcards returned, sometimes from as far away as New York and Pennsylvania.