That Barber Shop Harmony "Sends" You

By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE

of the Minneapolis Tribune editorial page staff

published by the StarTribune

date unknown; probably 1954-1955

   IF A WISH could make it so I'd be up there with those Barber Shoppers tonight at their "Dixie Jubilee" in Northrop auditorium.  I am quite a warbler--when deep in a dream.

   I'll do the next best thing, unless felled by pneumonia.  I'll be one of the 5,000 eating it up in the audience.  Quartet singing invariably sends me, and save for a native timidity which keeps me in the shadows I might well be a participant.  The only other obstacles that come to mind are an inability to distinguish a whole-note from a gravy ladle and a voice that is good for little but cooling the mashed potatoes.

   I GIVE unrestrained applause to the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America, Inc.  The only thing I have against it is its tongue-tangling name.  Its goal is to "keep America singing"--and this is an exalted aim.

   The Minneapolis chapter was organized in 1944 with 16 members.  It now has 153 and is growing steadily.  Anybody with a yen to sing is welcome to join.  The boys meet twice a month and have a lot of fun.  Just how much I found out when I attended the group's Harvest of Harmony at West high school last November.  Never did I see a bunch of guys enjoying themselves more and more definitely transmitting the enjoyment to the audience.

   The Barber Shoppers are motivated not only by an urge to sing but by a realization that most of us don't sing enough anymore.  Perhaps we never did.  But it wasn't too long ago that the family would gather at the piano of an evening or Sunday afternoon and give out with "When You and I Were Young, Maggie" or "Annie Laurie" and have a whale of a time.

   Those days of family singing have vanished about as completely as the great auk.  We've succumbed to radio and TV and platters.  Available at the turn of a switch are Dinah Shore, Patti Page, Crosby, Como, Eddie Fisher and all the rest.  Topnotchers they are, and nice to listen to, but I can have more fun crawling into the bathtub and yowling "Let Me Go, Lover."  A poor thing it is, but mine own.

   MY OLD MAN used to be the best bass in Choteau, Mont.  He was not only the best one, he was the only one.  He was up there in the church choir every Sunday giving it all he had and liking it.  He was on deck at funerals and weddings and Easter and Christmas programs.  He belonged to a Republican quartet that toured the county at campaign time pouring it on the opposition with such as "There was a time when Democrats were known to tell the tru-u-th; I wonder why they never do it n-e-o-w."

   For several years he entertained the illusion that he had passed his talents on to me, since I was the only one of his kids who could come close to carrying a tune.  He was disabused, however, when he heard me--with wig on backwards--whining an off-key solo in a high school colonial spectacular.

   It was enough to make even a mild music lover flee to the hills and Pop dismissed me as just another one of his tone-deafs.  He even talked mother into letting me give up the piano.  I deemed this a favor at the time, since the instrument became a complete mystery to me the moment the teacher herded me into the bass clef.

   BUT I NOW regret abandonment of my musical education and urge parents to have more staying power than mine had.  For to know music is a great blessing.  Progress may be slow and frustrating and true attainment impossible but great rewards come with even a modicum of skill.

Eldest son Chuck's chorus in Rochester MN 

Available now on eBay

   My own kids, happily, take after their mother and are quite musical.  The youngest hasn't won his spurs yet but the other two, before getting hitched and striking out on their own, thumped the piano and harmonized quite expertly and were always having in their pals for jam sessions.

   The old place gets quiet occasionally now, with the piano gathering dust and nobody lifting his voice above a hum.  Silence can be nice, too, if the thing isn't overdone.  Right now, though, I feel the need for some close harmony and await the Barber Shop shindig tonight with ill-concealed impatience.

   There'll be 10 quartets on hand and a 100-voice chorus.  By close observation I may be able to sharpen up my solo technique.  Anyway I'll enjoy listening.

Copyright 2013 StarTribune.  Republished here with the permission of the StarTribune.  No further republication or redistribution is permitted without the express approval of the StarTribune.