My First International Competition

The 1977 International Convention – Philadelphia, PA

A remarkable journey to the 1977 International Convention

Prologue:

Summertime.

Some of the best times of my life occurred during the summer. There was the summer of 1970, when I was invited to train withhigh school’s championship varsity football team, even though I was only in eight-grade.

The summer of 1986 when I was fortunate to marry my wonderful wife, Jody (who has put up with me for so many years!), and the following summer, which brought the first of our two daughters are among the more memorable. Great joy; great times; great experiences.

The Summer of 1977 was another of those memorable summers. Nearly 50 years later, those memories still live in my heart, as vivid today as they were so long ago.

This is a tribute to those who made it so special.

The Beginnings

I began my association with barbershop harmony in the fall of 1972 while in high school

The school glee club was made up of about 20 students and was directed by Tom Cogan, a math teacher at the school. He had a goatee and a handle-bar mustache, which he waxed daily so that each point curled neatly.

The reason for the handlebar mustache was that Tom was a member of the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America (SPEBSQSA) and sang with the Albany, NY chapter, The Fort Orangemen, as well as a barbershop harmony quartet. Two years after I graduated from high school, Tom went on to work full-time for the Society as a field representative.

Of course, our Glee Club sang barbershop harmony, or at least tried. Our repertoire included such songs as Yona from Arizona, Dangerous Dan McGrew, and He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands. Looking back, I cringe at how bad we were. Twenty kids, who knew very little about music made for some rough edges.

In the summer of 1974, the summer before my senior year, Tom invited me and a couple other seniors to a chapter meeting of the Fort Orangemen. The Fort Orangemen had about 30 members and met and rehearsed every Tuesday night in Albany.

I was instantly struck by the camaraderie. Here was a group of men of all ages and from all walks of life enjoying a common thread – singing. This was my first exposure to true barbershopping, and I loved it. The chorus would often sing at nursing homes, church meetings and ladies’ card parties. We normally sang with about 20 men and everyone seemed to enjoyed our music, you could tell from the smiles on their faces and the twinkles in their eyes.

College – Rochester, NY

After graduating from high school in 1975, I attended a college in Rochester, NY. Unfortunately for me, studies and sports distracted me from Barbershopping, so I didn’t look up the local chapter until the beginning of my sophomore year in the fall of 1976.

The Chorus of the Genesee met each Tuesday night at Harmony House, a magnificent 100+ year old building first used by the Webster Grange. The building was three stories tall with a full-sized kitchen and dining area on the bottom floor and a large meeting room on the third floor. But the most impressive room was the main floor. This was a full-sized theater/dance hall with a stage and dressing area. This was far different than the small office space and classrooms I was used to while in Albany!

And that wasn’t the only difference.

Unlike the Fort Orangemen, the Chorus of the Genesee had just won the right to compete in the International Chorus Competition the following summer in Philadelphia, PA. It was the first time in several years that the chorus had won the right and they were doing everything to prepare for their performance. The chapter had over l00 members and was expecting to put 90 men on stage. That was a far cry from the 20 man chorus I sang with in Albany.

In the months leading up to the contest, our weeks were filled with rehearsals, rehearsals and more rehearsals. Our music team; Mike Morgan, Sound category specialist Don Stothard, Interpretation category specialist Jan Muddle and Stage Presence/Arrangement specialist Fritz Foquet were busy perfecting each respective part of our contest package. Each were incredibly talented in their categories and would later become some of the most respected coaches and judges in the whole society.

Besides our contest package, we were also preparing for our annual show, which would be held at the Eastman Theater that spring. The show featured the chorus and our chapter quartets, plus the Regents, the 1974 International Quartet Champions. It was a busy three months with the chorus needing to learn new music and choreography, create a set, promote the show and sell tickets. It was an all-out effort by every member and lasted right up to the last minute with chorus member Burt Louk putting the final touches of paint on the set just as the curtain was about to go up! We performed in front of a near sell-out crowd, and it was a great time filled with fun, laughter and lots of singing.

Once finished with the annual show, we turned out attention exclusively on the International contest. This would be my first experience at an international competition. For that matter, other than a divisional contest with the Fort Orangemen, this was my only other competition. But I was not the only “rookie” in the crowd. Over the six months leading up to the competition, a number of others had joined our group. All told, about half the chorus was made up of singers who had never performed at an international competition. That lack of experience would later play an unfortunate role in our performance.

Philly Bound!

Finally, the day arrived for our trip. This was my first summer away from home, and the main reason was to participate in the contest. It was a fun experience. I had obtained a summer job and was living on my own. Unlike during the school year, the pace was much slower and I could come-and-go as I pleased. So when I wasn’t working, I was singing.

We arrived in Philadelphia on a Wednesday afternoon, the first official day of the Convention, after an eight-hour bus ride. The bus, which left from Pittsford Plaza, was full of people, beer and food. We drank, sang and ate the entire ride. This was my first trip to Philly, and I immediately fell in love with the city. We were staying at the Ben Franklin Hotel in downtown Philadelphia and I had arranged to room with three other members of the chorus, Church Ward, Burt Louk and Karl Vogt. We were secretly bunking four men to a room, but only paying for two. I would later learn that Church, Burt, and Karl made this a normal practice at conventions and I was now their new “fourth”, a position I was honored to keep until I returned to Albany in 1981.

The following morning found us attending the first of our rehearsals in Philadelphia. We had arranged to rehearse in the basement of a nearby church. We set up the risers and began our run-throughs with Mike Morgan out front directing, and Don Stothard, Jan Muddle and Fritz Fouquet listening and watching keenly. Every few measures we would be stopped, something would be corrected and then we’d continue. After rehearsal, we spent the afternoon and evening at the quartet quarterfinals. A total of 50 quartets were competing in this contest including The Entertainment Committee and the SunnySiders, two quartets from the Rochester chapter. We listened to them all and after that, sang and drank until the early hours of the morning.

It was more of the same on Friday, with morning rehearsal followed by the Mass Sing, one of the highlights of the weekend. Each year, the society would schedule this event at a nearby square, where all the members of the society would gather and sing together as one voice. Being part of a 10,000 voice chorus was nothing less that incredible. People were looking out their office windows and news crews were on hand to report of the festivities.

The Quartets

The quartet competition was outstanding. I had gone from being exposed to the quartets from Albany to the quartets from Rochester. That was a remarkable leap. Now, I was simply in awe. These quartets were so, so, so, good. To put it in perspective, the two quartets from our chapter that were competing in the International Quartet Competition – The Entertainment Committee and the SunnySiders – placed 42nd and 47th, respectively. Heck, I thought these guys were so good, they would win! Although they competed wonderfully, the quartet contest would be won by the Most Happy Fellows, a quartet from Seattle, WA that brought down the house with their World War I package on Saturday night that was simply spectacular.

At one point during that Friday evening, I ventured out into the lobby of the arena to take a break from the action. As I stood there, I noticed a quartet enter the hall (I figured it was a quartet as all four of them were dressed alike in funny clothes). But what struck me as peculiar was that one of the people dressed in funny clothes was being brought into the arena in a wheelchair. I didn’t remember anyone performing the previous night in a wheelchair, so I made a mental note to pay attention when they performed. Back in my seat about a half hour later, the emcee for that evening, our very own Keith Clark, announced “From the Land of Lakes District, The Roaring Twenties!” Everyone cheered wildly and the four guys I saw earlier in the funny clothes all came bounding out on to stage – not one of them confined to a wheelchair. I was confused. I knew what I had seen just 30 minutes earlier, and yes, this was the correct quartet. But there they were, all four of them singing and prancing like there was not tomorrow.

Later that evening, I asked Mike Morgan about what I saw. Mike explained the person in the wheelchair was Ron Riegler, the baritone for the quartet. Ron was seriously ill with cancer and could barely walk, much less perform. He said that Ron would lie in his hotel room all day long, resting. At showtime, he’d get wheeled right up to the edge of the stage where he would get up and perform. The wheelchair would be waiting for him on the other side of the curtain, and he often would collapse into it. The Roaring Twenties placed fifth that year, and sadly Ron Riegler would not live to perform again. I think back to the courage and dedication that took and will never forget.

Competition Day!

Saturday morning brought a sense of thrill to the air for all of us. This was competition day. As was our usual practice, we met at the church for rehearsal that morning. Later, we eagerly headed to the arena for our allotted practice time on stage. The competition was held at the Philadelphia Civic Center, a cavernous facility with over ten thousand seats. We arrived at the arena and were led to our dressing area in the basement. There, other choruses were also preparing for their ten minutes of rehearsal time. We assembled and ran through our competition package in preparation for our slot. We had to be prepared as the officials were extremely particular about how much time each chorus could take on stage. There was no margin for error.

As we prepared to walk to the stage area, chorus member Joe Bradbury announced the exact progression to the warm-up room, ready-room and then to the stage. He even paced off the distance and counted the number of steps we would ascend. As we made our way to the warm-up room, we found ourselves walking along next to the San Diego Chorus, who had just completed their practice time on stage. All week long, the San Diego chorus sported name tags and banners that exclaimed San Diego’s Got Jazz-bo! The signs were plastered everywhere and made for a buzz about what songs they were singing. But as we walked along, side-by-side, there was not the usual camaraderie between the members of each chorus.

Only silence.

At that moment, I think each of us realized the significance of this competition.

We were playing for keeps.

We were led from the warmup room, through to the ready-room and onto the stage for our rehearsal. The arena was empty except for the stage crew and camera crew. Each year, the society hired a crew to film each segment of the convention, which was later made into a full-length film. The films were then sold or rented to chapters and became a historical documentation of the event. Once assembled, we blew pitch and began to sing. We stopped immediately. We realized that the echo was bouncing off the rear wall of the arena and returning to the stage in a one-second delay. A buzz went through the group, and Mike stood out front and assured us that once the arena was filled with people, that the acoustics would improve. Still, we sang with trepidation

After our time on stage, we headed back to the church to do some last-minute rehearsing. The mood was casual, everyone talking and joking and trying to stay calm. A couple of flasks of liquor were also helpful in calming anyone’s nerves. Some thought they sang better with a little nip. We mounted the risers dressed in our uniforms and prepared to run through our numbers. Mike stood out front and began talking to us. He told us how proud he was, how much we had accomplished and thanked the newer members for their participation.

“How many guys have never sung on an International Stage”, he asked. Numerous hands went up. Mike pulled a small box from his pocket and explained that we “rookies” could use a little luck today. He passed around the box and asked each of us to take one of the items inside. Everyone was abuzz as the box was passed from rookie to rookie, but I couldn’t tell what was inside. Finally, the box made its way up to where I was standing – in the fifth row, stage left, third from the end next to Dick Weisenreider. I peered inside to see what was causing the commotion and was stunned. The box was full of four-leaf clovers – real ones! Now, as a kid, I would often look for four leaf clovers in the field behind our house as they were so hard to find. I could not fathom how Mike was able to come up with an entire box of them! I shook my head in amazement. This was a special moment. I took a clover from the box and slid it into the slot for my nametag. That is where it still remains today.

The Contest Package

The Chorus of the Genesee was the third largest chorus competing at the contest. We were putting 89 men on stage, and I really thought we were going to win, given our size. Wearing our powder blue suits with blue and white pin-striped shirts, red ties and white caps, we looked and sounded great singing our two contest songs, Moving Picture Ball and Old Mill Stream. The music team had tied the two songs together brilliantly in an excellent theme. We were movie extras on a motion picture set in Hollywood and Mike played the role of the great Hollywood movie director, Cecil B. deMille. The first song, Moving Picture Ball included a number of references to Hollywood stars such as Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Members of the chorus were dressed like each of the stars depicted in the song, including Ed Bartusek, who played the role of Charlie Chaplin. Ed had delved so far into his role that he even found a film about Chaplin at the local library which he used to study Chaplin’s mannerisms.

Another passage in the song referred to Max Sennett’s bathing girls. Max Sennett was a pioneer in Hollywood at the turn of the century, and his Bathing Beauties were world famous. One evening while rehearsing stage presence, long time member Gerry Barrett recalled seeing these bathing beauties in person and took time to explain to us younger members just how beautiful they were. Everyone smiled as they pictured Gerry in his day, elbow-to-elbow with these beauties.

But Gerry wasn’t the oldest member of our chorus. That honor belonged to Ed Hammele, although “Skinny” Wilson was a close second. Ed was in his late eighties at the time, but you’d never know it. As exhausting and grueling as our rehearsals were, Eddie and Skinny were always there. Never complaining, never asking for a break, and always -always – contributing in positive ways. Not only were they gentlemen, but the epitome of great barbershoppers.

The second song of our two-song “package” was Down by the Old Mill Stream, a classic barbershop harmony song, also known as a “chestnut”. The song was about a man remembering the first time and place he met his wife. The tender ballad was a 180’ turn from our up-tempo song and was meant to show the judges how well we could sing both types of songs and how well we could transition between them.

The Green Room

After we finished our final rehearsal, we walked to the arena from our rehearsal hall in the church to get ready for our performance. Needless to say, the sight of 90 men all wearing the same casual uniform caused many of the Philadelphians to pause and ask us what we were doing. Once in the Civic Center, we made our way to our dressing area where we finished dressing. The “Green Room” was in the basement of the arena, and each section was curtained off for the respective choruses, but there was little, if any room for privacy. It was chaos. Sixteen choruses. Each with sixty to seventy singers, plus support personnel, officials, volunteers. There were over two thousand people in this area!

Warm-Up Room

We were scheduled to sing fourth that afternoon. Singing in this position seemed to be a good omen. Many of the veterans said that singing towards the beginning of the contest was better than singing at the end. For one thing, the judges would use the first few choruses as a yardstick for the remaining competitors. The next was that the contest would often drag on for hours. Singing towards the end meant spending a great deal of time waiting around. It also meant that the judges would be tired and potentially less favorable to give a good score.

One of the judges that afternoon was none other than our own Jan Muddle. “Mud”, as everyone called him, was judging in his first international contest, and he earned it. Not only did he have the talent and ability, but he had a special way of talking to you that made you believe. At rehearsal on Tuesday evening before we departed, Jan talked to the chorus in a  quiet, serious manner. He said that as he was preparing for his role as a judge in the contest, he was spending a great deal of time listening to records of the previous years’ finalists. Jan said that we sounded as good as any of the top five choruses on that album. The chorus burst into cheers and applause. We all felt as though we could accomplish great things.

The Introduction

We made our way to the warmup room and then to the ready room. This was it – Showtime! All the months of hard work and preparation were about to pay off. Being in the fifth row, I was one of the first ones to come on stage when it was our turn. It took several minutes for everyone else to file in and while waiting, I remember standing there wondering if the microphones overhead were turned on or not. Joe Bradbury made his way to the front of the chorus and asked if we were all set. Joe played the role of the “Cameraman” for our set and had a mock film camera at his side where he would crank the film. Earlier, Joe had explained to us that once we were ready, and we could take as much time as we liked, he would cue the stage manager who would then throw a switch to flash the ready light mounted on the podium to alert the emcee.

The emcee already had a green light from the judging panel – that meant they were ready, but we were taking our time. Joe smiled as he carefully placed everyone in their proper position. Everyone seemed loose and ready. We all nodded agreement. “Let’s Go!” Joe turned to the stage manager and pointed. Out front we could hear the emcee fill time with idle jokes. When the light went on for us, he stopped in mid sentence.

“I have two lights, please close the doors. Everyone take a seat”

There was a pause as the room settled. Mike stood in the middle of the front row, dressed in the same powder blue suit, but wearing his pants as knickers with blue and white striped knee socks. Then the emcee announced, “From Rochester, New York, under the direction of Mike Morgan, The Chorus of the Genesee”. The crowd erupted into applause. As the curtain cracked opened, I remembered being blinded by the flash of the spotlights. We were told to not look down at the judges’ area, but for a moment I had to divert my eyes until they adjusted to the bright lights.

We were on our way.

Onstage

As on cue Joe Bradbury strode out with the clapboard he had made up for the performance. It read “Colossal Studios” across the top. Scratched in chalk under the area marked “Title” was “Moving Picture Ball”, then under the areas marked “Scene” and “Take” were the numbers “1” and “12”, respectively. Joe walked out with this funny gait, stopped at the middle of the stage and clapped the clapboard as Mike strode out to the edge of the stage, bowed and acknowledged the applause with a smile. He then turned back to the chorus and Jim Reid blew pitch. Jim was a veteran “pitch man” who stood about five guys down from me in the fifth row, between Bill Rohlin and Dick Kahler. Mike took three quick steps and raised his hands for the beginning of the song.

“I’m shouting. Hip Hooray (hooray), I feel delighted. Yesterday, I was invited. To a swell affair. All the Movie Stars were there (all of the stars were there).”

We were off and running on all cylinders. The music was pouring forth and we were moving precisely with our choreography. This was fantastic. We came to the climax of the song, “Charlie Chaplin with his feet; stepped all over poor Blanche Sweet”. In rehearsal, Mike had insisted that when we came to that part of the song, we needed to place great emphasis on the words “Charlie Chaplin”.

“I want you to blow the roof off the arena”, he said emphatically.

And we did. As Ed Bartusek stepped forward to do his imitation of the great comedian, we put our foot on the accelerator. The arena was filled with sound. Now on to the big finish complete with the front row stepping out and everyone dancing in a zigzag motion that had the audience laughing.

 “Wow, what a BALL!”

The audience burst into applause with nearly ten thousand people clapping at once. This was the first time I had performed in front of this many people and the experience was breathtaking. I stood there smiling from ear to ear – not because I had to for the judges, but because I was truly enjoying the moment.

Mike turned back to the chorus and called for pitch to be blown as rehearsed. Jim Reid blew it right on cue, but for some reason, no one seemed to hear it—possibly because the audience was still applauding. As we began our ballad, Down By the Old Mill Stream, we were off key – and off key badly. We struggled through the first two measures “Darling I am dreaming of the days gone by. When you and I were sweethearts, beneath the summer sky.”

The pain showed on Mike’s face as he labored to restore pitch, his eyes wide open with a serious look. This had never happened before, and I didn’t know what to do – and I’m sure most of the other “rookies” shared that same feeling. I watched Mike carefully for a sign. I thought he might stop, call for pitch again and restart the song, but I wasn’t sure if the rules permitted that.

Time seemed to drag as we plodded through each discord. As we ended the intro “Where I first met you”, there was a planned dramatic pause in the song before we were to launch into the chorus. That moment of composure allowed us to somehow restore pitch, re-gather our thoughts and move forward. “Down by the old mill stream” came out beautifully, as it had so many times before. But the damage was done. With the level of competition that we were facing, I already knew that there was no way we could win, but I was holding out hope for a top five finish.

We finished the song to polite applause from the audience. They, too knew we had erred, but were too courteous not to show their gratitude. As the curtain closed, everyone filed off stage quietly. A few of the veterans, lead Andy Wolf, Don Stothard and Bill Swift, the lead in Mike’s quartet, The Entertainment Committee, met Mike as we exited. I wasn’t sure if it was to console him or offer their thoughts. Whatever the reason, everyone knew that this was no one person’s fault. It was a matter of circumstance. We had so many rookies on stage this kind of mistake was inevitable. No one could be blamed.

The Dukes

After we sang, we were escorted to another area for our competition photo. Jim Miller, the great director of the three-time championship Thoroughbreds, was the official photographer for the Society. As we lined up, Jim stood out front with his camera and guided different people to turn a certain way or move slightly that way. Finally, he pointed and said “You, in the third row with the mustache, move…”

He never finished the sentence. He stood there with a shocked look on his face as he realized that each of us had a mustache – either real or fake. It was part of the package, although I never understood its purpose. Many of the members, who never had a mustache prior to the contest, actually grew one instead of wearing one of the irritating fakes. Everyone howled at Jim’s expression – he realized he had been had! But what was more interesting to me was how everyone reacted. Even though we had just finished our contest package on a downer, we were all laughing, enjoying the joke. That was a true testament to this chorus.

We were now free to change and return to the arena to listen to the other competing choruses. I didn’t even bother to change into my casual uniform. I removed my blue and white striped vest, starched collar and jacket and went to watch the remainder of the contest wearing my white tee shirt, powder blue uniform slacks and white shoes.

I somehow managed to make it on to the arena floor, about thirty rows back instead of our “reserved” seats in the upper deck. This was a great vantage point. All week long we joked about the location of our “reserved” seats—and the distance to the stage. Back then, there were no big-screen TVs that made it easy to see the competitors, so many of the veterans had brought binoculars. At first, I was teasing them about using them, but we were so far away that by Friday night, I was borrowing them as well!

As I sat there on the arena floor, listening to the other choruses, I was astonished at the level of great singing. Chorus after chorus that competed was more dazzling than the other. I was overwhelmed and found myself clapping and cheering for each one. By the time the twelfth chorus competed, I thought I had heard and seen everything.

I had not.

The Dukes of Harmony from Scarborough, Ontario Canada were singing twelfth. When the curtain opened, the crowd was awestruck by their Kelly-green costumes with green vests and spats that sparkled. Jan Muddle later said that when the curtain opened, it seemed as if they were electrically charged and those rays of electricity were coming through their eyes and fingers, shooting out into the audience, as if they were demonically possessed.

Then they started singing. Their first tune was the old favorite Keep Your Sunnyside Up. It was unbelievable. Sitting there, I couldn’t even tell you what the lyrics were. All I heard – or more correctly, felt – was this sound that made me shudder.

They were blowing the roof off the arena.

My jaw dropped – literally! I remember having to physically keep my mouth closed with my hand. It was wide open from amazement. I was simply astonished. It was now apparent to me that even if we gave our best performance, we were not in this class. They had such energy and excitement. The end of the song, which culminated in a spectacular crescendo seemed to lift the audience onto their feet. The arena exploded in applause. I now realized that the applause we received for our up tune was no comparison to this roar. It was deafening – and I felt as though I was leading the cheer.

The Dukes followed with the tender ballad Who’ll Take My Place as their second song. Like us, they sang an up-tune and a ballad to show their diversity. When they finished, the entire arena erupted again. There was no doubt who was the winner. These guys were head and shoulders better than everyone else.

My First Afterglow.

With the competition complete, the only thing left was to celebrate! And oh, what a night! The Rochester Chapter was host of the SenecaLand Hospitality Room at the Ben Franklin Hotel. Every year, each district would sponsor a hospitality room where the competing quartets would visit and perform. This was one of the highlights of each convention and would invariably include appearances by many of the medalist quartets as well as district quartets. Some of the larger districts would even rent large ballrooms to host their shindigs as the Vocal Majority from Dallas, TX would do at the 1982 International in Pittsburgh.

The SenecaLand Hospitality Room wasn’t quite that big. We had arranged for one of the suites on an upper floor that was quite nice, although a little on the small side. Soon the room was filled with chorus members, wives, friends and family all listening to the wonderful quartets and enjoying each other’s company. This was the first opportunity for the chorus to relax since our cast party, which we called “afterglows”, at the annual show, and it was much needed. We had worked hard for over three months, with coaching sessions, section rehearsals and so many rehearsals. This was a grand evening and everyone was having fun.

As the evening wore on, the quartets dwindled and were replaced by quartets from our district and chapter. Soon, pockets of “woodshedders”, pick-up quartets that would improvise a song, began performing. At one point there were several quartets singing at once. I began singing with Dick Secrist, Ed Bartusek and another “rookie”, Dana Hixson. Dana, a lead who was also a college student like me, had joined the chorus about the same time I did. The four of us were singing in the alcove near the entry door as we could not find any other place that wasn’t occupied by other woodshedders. That presented two problems for us: We were in a tight, high-traffic area with people coming and going, and given the size of the room – and the number of people in it – the noise was becoming deafening.

We couldn’t hear ourselves.

We waited patiently several times for others to complete their song or tag, but it was no use. Dick peered out into the hallway in the hope that we could sing out there without any interference. But it was late – after 1:00am, and most of the other hotel guests had retired for the evening. There was no other place for us to sing.

Or so Dana and I thought.

Suddenly Ed turned to the three of us and said “We can sing in here!”. With that, he swung open the sliding door to the walk-in closet and pulled the three of us in, shutting the door behind us. As we stood there in total darkness I realized just how dedicated Dick and Ed were to harmonizing.  Here we were, four grown men, standing in a hotel closet.

To sing.

“Give me a B-Flat”, said Dick. He hadn’t even flinched at Ed’s new find. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked at Dana – he was smiling from ear-to-ear. This was cool. Here we were, two twenty-year old rookies partying with some pretty hip guys.

In a closet.

We began singing. The noise from the room was diminished by the door and we were able to hear ourselves again. We began belting out My Wild Irish Rose. Suddenly, the door flew open. Standing there was Joe Bradbury with a look of amazement on his face. He had heard the singing and was wondering what was going on. We paused for a second, each looking at Joe. We then returned to our song as Ed slammed the door in his face. If he could have, he would have put the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door knob. Soon, the door was being opened by a number of people. Each time, they would look with astonishment, shake their heads and close the door. We sang for what seemed like hours, only pausing to refill our glasses with more Genny Cream Ale.

In Closing…

I never got to bed that night. I was having too much fun. I ended up in the hotel coffee shop as the sun rose eating a hamburger and fries and reflecting on the wonderful experience that was the last four days. I had made great friends with many of the members of the Chorus of the Genesee – friendships that last even today.

The Chorus of the Genesee would never go on to fame as one of the best-singing choruses in the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America, but that never bothered them. They knew that few other chapters in the Society had the camaraderie, friendships and fun that this unique group of men were able to share.

And that’s what made them different.

There were so many outstanding people who participated in that great chorus that wonderful summer. The three Weisenreider brothers, Gerry, Dick and Bob – and their father, Lou, who would spend almost as much time at Burke’s – the local watering hole around the corner from Harmony House – as he did at rehearsal. They weren’t the only brothers to sing in the chorus. We also had the Stothard brothers – George and Don. While Don was busy coaching our sound, George was our perennial emcee at all functions. He would always tease his younger brother, “Mom liked him best”. Although George has passed, I still see Don often. There were the Morgan brothers, Mike and Don, both marvelous directors who led the chorus many times through the years and were probably the most influential musical directors that ever led the chorus. Also singing with his father was Dave Morgan, my friend from college. We had other father/son combinations as well including Gene and Paul Sanderson, both great basses. Talk about keeping it in the family!

There was Phil McCabe, Bud Bulling, Jerry Pethic and Jack Burton.

Jack Burton.

Jack was the consummate good guy. Although he often had a gruff exterior, Jack had a heart of gold. I really miss Jack.

There was John Organ, who later became chapter president and helped guide the administrative end of the chapter with such panache for so many years. Jack Maracle was our own version of Bing Crosby. Jack, who sang lead, was as smooth as twelve year old Scotch. He, Ron Brown, Fritz Foquet and Bud Bulling made up the SunnySiders, one of the most entertaining quartets ever. There was Fred Hindom, who was a fixture behind the bar every Tuesday night serving as the bartender, usually til the wee hours of the morning when we would all head to the local diner for “s’meggs”, a term coined by Jan Muddle. Tim Drake was another gifted bass who sang almost as low as Mike. And standing in the second row right behind Jack Maracle and George Hugel was a fellow named Joe.

Joe DeRosa.

Joe would become musical director of the Chorus of the Genesee in 1979, a spot he owned until he moved to Florida in 1981. Joe was a terrific (and emotional!) director whose direction for such songs as Shenandoah was inspirational and moving. During the fall preliminary contest in 1980, many of us could barely finish singing our contest ballad, My Gal Sal as we were choking back tears. Joe’s great emotion and affection were unparalleled. But more than that, he was also a brilliant musician. After we returned from Philadelphia, Joe organized a marching band out of members of the chorus. The band was superb and was featured in our 1978 Annual Show at the Eastman Theater. And who could ever forget how Joe led them at the 1978 International Convention in Cincinnati! At the Mass Sing on Friday afternoon, Joe and the Marching Band led the entire 10,000 members in Coney Island Baby. WOW! I stayed in contact with Joe up until his death in the early 1990s. He was a great man who did great things for Barbershopping, including having a son named Tony – and grandson Joe.

Well, this is where it all began.

I would go on to become very active with the Chorus of the Genesee and serve in a number of different capacities, both administratively and musically until I moved back to Albany in June 1981. During that time, we had lots of accomplishments, sang at numerous district and international competitions and drank many a Genesee Cream Ale!

But that first summer, the summer of 1977, stands out as the most memorable. Perhaps it was because of the newness of the experience. Maybe it was the chance to being on my own. Whatever the reason, that was one of the most memorable summers of my life.

I owe a great deal to the Chorus of the Genesee, and all the wonderful people who made that summer of 1977 so memorable. They were Mentors. Leaders. Role Models.

And people I will never forget.