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9a. My Son's Impression of Barbershop (very long)
Posted by: "seaniniowa" deaconsmith@... seaniniowa
Date: Fri May 9, 2008 12:28 pm ((PDT))

My 20 year old son, Ryan, attended the CSD Spring Convention a few
weeks ago. He decided afterwards to write the final paper for his
Rhetoric class at Iowa on his experience. He allowed me to share this
with you. While he may lack some of the technical details, I think
his reflections speak volumes. I am very proud of my son, and proud
to be a barbershopper.

Sean Smith

--------------------------------------------------

Ryan Smith
Paper # 4
10 May 2008
Need That Barbershop Fix

It was a drizzly day as I boarded the bus heading downtown. Through
my numerous experiences taking this exact trip I can describe the ride
with great detail. First, there were the windshield wipers keeping
steady time as the passengers shook the droplets from their tambourine
umbrellas. Then came the irregular squeaking of shoes against a wet
floor, most readily identified as a violin in the hands of an amateur,
and finally, for emphasis, the cymbal splash as the bus drove through
a puddle ensuring that even the pedestrians nearby could not ignore
our hodge-podge symphony. Yet, on this particular day I hadn't
noticed any of these things. Instead, my ears were filled with four
male parts singing a cappella "My wild Irish rose, the sweetest flow'r
that grows / You may search ev'rywhere, but none can compare with my
wild Irish rose." These male voices are the essence of the barbershop
style of music, and the lyrics are from one of the barbershop
"polecats" entitled "My Wild Irish Rose" (Olcott).

The polecats are 12 songs in the repertoire of every barbershop
singer. The name arises from the Barber Pole Cat program (think "cool
cats down by the barber pole") that preached that one couldn't be a
"cool cat" until one mastered each of the 12 songs (Smith). These
polecats have been so ingrained in today's barbershopper that on a
recent trip to Walt Disney World's Magic Kingdom my father was able to
join the Dapper Dans, Disney's professional barbershop quartet
featuring world champion barbershoppers, for a few off-the-cuff songs
without any hesitation. With these memories in mind, I prepared
myself on the bus knowing that when I reached my destination, the
Central States District Spring Convention and Contest, I would be
hearing countless renditions of "My Wild Irish Rose" and "Heart of My
Heart" coming from men who had never met and who shared nothing in
common except a love for barbershop music.
* * * * *

But while many contemporary barbershoppers live for such conventions
where, thanks to thorough standardization, they can meet and sing with
someone all in the same breath, the sheer idea would shock the music's
originators. The first reference to barbershop came from the 1910
song "Play That Barber Shop Chord." However, its beginnings can be
seen nearly 30 years earlier when African-American singers improvised
harmonies to traditional folk and spiritual songs as well as popular
songs of the day (Henry). It is unclear when barbershop became a
style of music associated with white males, but undoubtedly this was
the case during the style's peak years between the turn of the century
and the roaring twenties. It is important to note that during these
times barbershop was still a style characterized mostly by
improvisation. This free-form style led to "the spontaneously formed
quartets of singers who hung around the barbershops" that are
responsible for the name barbershop (Stebbins 17).

However, the social attitudes of the early part of the century that
had encouraged such spontaneous song disappeared during the Great
Depression, and accordingly, so did the prevalence of barbershop
music. Yet, towards the end of the 1930's the tide began to change
and the increasing optimism inspired O.C. Cash and Rupert Hall to
renew their love of barbershop music and also to poke fun at the three
and four-letter New Deal government agencies that had become such a
part of American life during the depression. Towards those ends they
formed The Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of
Barbershop Quartet Singing in America (SPEBSQSA) in April of 1938 in
Tulsa, Oklahoma (Snyder 13-14). Aided greatly by the publicity over
their unusual name, the Society was able to expand its style of
recreational singing to many of the major cities in the United States
over the next few years.

Although, according to Snyder, the original intention of the Society
was singing for recreation, the notion of competitive singing quickly
gained popularity, and the first "World's Champion Quartet Contest"
was held in June 1939. As a means for standardizing judging, as well
as distributing music to the various chapters of the Society,
barbershop music was written down. This written music also allowed
the Society to distribute barbershop to men in the military, where
barbershop singing was encouraged as a recreational activity. Another
advantage of written music was the ability to have more than the usual
four people harmonizing which gave rise to barbershop choruses. Just
as quartet singing became competitive so did choral singing, and the
first international chorus contest was held in 1953. From that point
the Society continued to grow more complex in all of its facets. This
includes a more formal structure, increased standardization of judging
for contests, and Harmony College, an optional seminar that is devoted
entirely to perfecting the barbershop craft (Snyder 17-27).
* * * * *

For me, however, the Society was nothing more than the overseer for
the Spring Convention. The first event of the contest was to be the
quartet semi-finals in Englert Theatre beginning Friday night at
seven, but I had made plans to arrive early to the Sheraton, the
official hotel, and to head to the theater from there. Stepping into
the lobby was an uneventful venture. The ears that I had so fully
prepped for crooning men were met, instead, with the low hum of
conversation coming from the various bunches of men and their wives
throughout the room that was only to be broken by the occasional
hearty laugh or drop of a suitcase. Remembering my plans to meet with
my father, I wandered into the restaurant. I saw my father at the bar
and walked up to join him. As I took my seat I looked down the bar
noticing the water glasses sitting in front of each man. The
bartender seemed distant; this was not his typical Friday happy hour,
and he knew his tips would prove it. While sipping from my own glass
of water I was able to catch bits of the conversations swirling around
me.

"Yup, the youngest, Jenny, is gettin' married in July."

"Only four more years until retirement. Can you believe it?"

"Whatever happened to that old quartet of yours? Jerry sure was
one hell of a bass."

These men at the bar, men with laminated name badges identifying them
from Iowa, Nebraska, Missouri, Kansas, and Michigan, cared for one
another and shared their lives with each other as well as their songs.
John Hayden, a former district champion and avid barbershopper,
echoes these sentiments. When asked what has kept him returning to
barbershop for over twenty years he quickly replies "the tight harmony
and the camaraderie." Then he pauses looking around the room full of
fellow barbershoppers and continues "When you sing with a guy you know
him, and ten years later�you know him."

Sadly, one of the finest displays of the brotherhood of barbershop
was the result of tragedy. In August of 1997, barely two years
removed from winning a gold medal at the international contest with
his quartet Marquis, barbershopper Randy Chisolm died suddenly after
a seemingly mundane scratch became infected. He was in his
mid-forties. Still in his prime, this was a huge shock to Marquis's
fans and a blow to barbershoppers everywhere.

My father had known Randy on what, by most accounts, would be called
a casual basis. Randy had coached my father's chorus a few times and
sung with him once or twice. In 1995, before winning gold, Marquis
had come to Cedar Rapids for a show. My father was given the task of
picking them up from the airport, showing them to the theater for
sound check, and ensuring that they were taken care of during their
weekend stay. Undoubtedly, the men of Marquis had come across
innumerable helpers such as my father during their tours across the
country.

Two years later, just a few months before Randy's untimely death, the
international convention was held in Indianapolis. Through the crowds
of people my father had noticed Randy across the street, but accepting
their relationship as business for Randy, did not flag him down. Much
to his surprise, he heard his name yelled from across the street.
Randy had noticed him and came running across the street with a big
smile on his face. He greeted my father with a great hug and wanted
to hear how everything had been going since they had last spoken.

Randy's wake was held near Dayton, Ohio less than ten weeks later.
The drive was more than eight hours, but my father was determined to
make it. Upon arriving at the funeral home my father had to follow
the line of mourners out the door and around the block to find the
line's end. He waited nearly four hours to say his goodbye exchanging
stories with the barbershoppers from across the country that had met
Randy and telling stories to those that never had the chance.

More than a decade has gone by, and my father still gets choked up
when speaking of that experience. The emotion most strongly takes him
when he recounts a certain memory from his trip. His voice quivers as
he says "I pulled into the parking lot far away from the funeral home.
As I got out of my car I noticed Paul Gilman, another member of
Marquis, across the lot. He walked straight up to me and fell into
me, crying in my arms. I had felt I was on the outside of it all, and
he pulled me straight into the middle." Such is the life of a
barbershopper.
* * * * *

As important as the fraternity of barbershop is, what first inspired
all barbershoppers was the music, and I was cast headlong into it
later that Friday night. Of the 18 quartets participating in Friday
night semi-finals ten would advance to the finals on Saturday. The
quartets knew their chances when the stepped on stage, resulting in
the top quartets coasting by while those fighting for the last
qualifying spots over-reached themselves. The night had few exciting
moments, but I was assured that Saturday would bring many more.

The competition began Saturday morning at 10:30 with the chorus
contest. The spring convention hosts the small chorus competition,
and the choruses ranged from the mid-teens to about forty men in size.
The chorus competition employed more choreography than the typical
quartet would use, and the choreography, when poorly done, can be
quite distracting. The added men of the chorus resulted in a lost
blend of all the voices, also very distracting. Again, high points
were hard to find. However, my father's chorus, Twenty-First Century
Vocals, had provided a few and managed to win second place for their
efforts.

Still, the allure of barbershop had yet to solidify itself in me,
that is, until the quartet finals. Many quartets sang the polecats.
They sang them strong and fierce, and barbershop began to tighten its
hold on me. One quartet full of younger singers ventured away from
these classics opting instead to perform songs in a doo-wop type
style. Their music was entertaining, but it was missing a certain
something that all of the other quartets had. That something was a
major-minor seventh chord, a chord built by taking a three-note major
chord and adding a seventh above the root. Those well-versed in music
theory will understand this; the rest of us can only hear it. But it
is a chord so easily recognizable and distinctly barbershop that it
has come to be known as the "barbershop seventh" (Henry). It is the
chord that turns a man singing Journey in his car into a barbershopper.

I was baptized into this obsessive chord search later that evening as
High Definition, the eventual Central States District winners, took
the stage. Where these chords really come to life is during the tag
or end of the song. During their first tag High Definition's bass,
Adam Veteto, steps to the front, spreads his feet into a wide, sturdy
stance, and throws his head back belting a note as loud as he can.
The other three voices then join in doing the same until the whole
room is ringing. The barbershop seventh rings off of the ceiling, off
of the back walls, and off the bald head seated in front of me. The
four singers hold on for dear life until they can't sing anymore, and
just like that it is done. As surely as the well sung "Ave Maria"
moves one to tears, a ringing barbershop seventh sends chills down
even the most skeptical of spines.

Jim Hayden calls the above phenomenon the "lock and ring." I told my
father that I planned to use this phrase in my paper on barbershop.
He replied, "If you don't, you missed the whole point." For all
barbershoppers, the fascination begins and ends with a simple, yet
hard to produce, ringing chord. It is just like golf. One spends
hours whacking at the ball from the rough or down in a bunker waiting
for the one time that they connect perfectly and the ball lands just
where it was intended. For the golfer and the barbershopper, that one
time is worth all of the effort.
* * * * *

A few weeks have passed since the convention, and I find myself drawn
to barbershop music. A nagging has crept into me, and it grows
stronger at the end of a long week. I allowed myself to be vulnerable
when I created a "Barbershop" playlist on my iPod and am admitting
defenselessness now that I must listen to it. I figure my best chance
at saving face among my roommates is to shut myself in my room and
turn the barbershop on while I clean and fold laundry. They have
never ventured to join me for this time before, and I expected to hide
my addiction this way.

Initially, I thought that I was embarrassed by barbershop music, a
feeling legitimized by the Harvard Dictionary of Music's description
of barbershop as "banal" and "oversweet" (qtd. in Snyder 20). Yet, I
came to realize, banality can be a valuable commodity. Familiarity
and predictability are always comforting. Furthermore, oversweet may
be too sweet, but it can be forgiven because it is sweet at all.
And, despite my most vehement denial, sometimes a little sweet is
exactly what I need. I realized that I wasn't embarrassed by
barbershop; I just felt no need to boast about it. Sadly, in my
ego-driven world, the two had come to feel almost the same.

The spring convention ended, as all barbershop events do, with a
song. All of the men stood together to sing the Society's motto, a
song that if you read it once won't be remembered much past the next
day's lunch. But, and I welcome all challengers, hear it once and you
will never forget it.

"Keep the whole world singing all day long. / Watch goodwill come
awinging on a song. / Smile the while you are singing. Carry your
part. / Keep a melody ringing in your heart" (Dikiema).


Works Cited
Dikiema, Willis A. "Keep the Whole World Singing". SPEBSQSA, Inc, 2001.
Hayden, Jim. Personal Interview. 1 May 2008.
Henry, Jim. "The Historical Roots of Barbershop Harmony." The
Harmonizer 1 July 2001: 13-17.
Olcott, Chauncey. "My Wild Irish Rose". SPEBSQSA, Inc, 1959.
Smith, Sean. Personal Interview. 22 April 2008.
Snyder, Dean Atlee. "From the Inside�A Descriptive View of SPEBSQSA."
Barbershopping. Ed. Max Kaplan. Rutherford: Associated University
Presses, Inc, 1993. 13-32.
Stebbins, Robert A. The Barbershop Singer. Toronto: University of
Toronto Press Incorporated, 1996.