Stand Up Straight and Sing! (32 page)

I AM THE PROUD
and humble recipient of more than thirty honorary doctorate degrees from colleges, universities, and conservatories around the world, and I have always taken special delight in the fact that the very first school to have invited me to receive such recognition was my very own undergraduate school, Howard University. I could not have been more surprised when in late 1981, only fifteen years after earning my degree, I received the beautiful letter from the university’s president stating that the board of trustees and others involved in such a selection process had voted to offer me this recognition at the commencement exercises of May 1982. I was thrilled. The occasion was made all the more special when I was presented with the opportunity to gawk at one of the other honorees that year, the great Sarah Vaughan. I cannot say that she was full of conversation, but it was still rather special to be with her.

Only a few years later, it was such a pleasure to find myself in the company of the Duke of Edinburgh in a ceremony on the campus of Cambridge University, where I received an honorary doctorate degree. I was an honorary fellow of two of the colleges, Jesus and Newnham, already, and I was deeply moved to be asked to return to receive such a prestigious honor. I was so very happy to have been invited to spend the evening prior to the day’s celebration on the campus, in the home of the headmaster for Jesus College, Colin Renfrew, and his wife—a night made all the more special by the events of the following morning. The joy-filled day began with my being serenaded awake by a choir of young men from Jesus College, who sang just outside the window of the room in which I slept. It was a complete and captivating surprise, but only the first of the many wonderful ways we honorees would be feted on that glorious, sun-drenched day. The procession was delicious: as we honorees made our way to the extraordinarily beautiful building in which the ceremony would take place, we walked along one of the campus streets, past student housing, only to be celebrated by students playing a catalog of my music through their open windows.

My walking partner and fellow honoree that morning was Javier Pérez de Cuéllar, Secretary-General of the United Nations. Yes, I was having quite a moment!

Then there was the ceremony itself. At Cambridge, the music/arts robing is beautifully distinctive. Rather than a black robe, as at so many schools, this one is white silk brocade. Tremendous! To wit, the arts chairman, whose job it was to do the actual presentation of the degree, used quotes from various ancient poems and prose, all in praise of music. It was a remarkable afternoon.

At the luncheon, attended by all honorees, our guests, and members of the faculty from each of the colleges at the university, I had the pleasure of being seated next to the Duke of Edinburgh, the patron of Cambridge University at the time. He proved to be a marvelous luncheon companion. We talked about all manner of things, including that I was scheduled to take a plane that afternoon to Vienna, where I would sing a recital the following day. I was quite amused when His Highness proceeded to advise me as to which route I should have the driver take from Cambridge to Heathrow Airport in order to join the M25, which was all the rage among drivers, who believed that this new motorway would save travel time in this southern part of Britain. I recall saying something like, “But sir, I cannot imagine that you have ever actually driven yourself anywhere in this country,” whereby he suggested—I am not altogether sure whether in jest—that as long as he took a regular-looking vehicle, he actually enjoyed driving himself from place to place, with the general public unaware of his presence. To this day, I am not absolutely certain that he was not having a little fun with me on that issue. But the conversation certainly ranks high in my memories of honorary-degree experiences.

Of course, there are other unusual opportunities that can arise from this profession. In the early 1980s, I was enjoying a short break doing something that has always been soothing, inspiring, and totally rejuvenating: taking time for walks on the beach. It was October and I was in Falmouth, Massachusetts, when I received a message that I was to return a call from a telephone number in Washington. It turned out to be that of Senator Charles “Mac” Mathias. I was being invited to sing for the coming presidential inauguration in January. Let me say straightaway that as I was certain that Senator Walter Mondale would become our President, I was not hesitant at all in thanking Senator Mathias for his generous invitation and that I would be absolutely delighted to accept the invitation.

When November rolled around and the votes were counted, I was not sure of how I should proceed, having already accepted the invitation for the inauguration. After much thought and consultation with my family and close friends, it was decided that I should move forward, and that it should be made possible for me, in an appropriate forum, to state my political and social beliefs and my affiliation with the party of Senator Mondale, not that of President-elect Ronald Reagan, who had now won his second term in the White House.

Senator Mathias, a Republican of the type that has all but disappeared from our political discourse, was sensitive enough to the situation to arrange an interview in the then-new national newspaper,
USA Today
. I was grateful for the opportunity to make it clear that I would take enormous pride in singing for the U.S. presidency, and that as a “dyed in the wool” Democrat, I would hope that others would view this participation as I did: as an act of citizenship. All was well.

That period in January 1985 proved to be one of the coldest ever recorded in Washington, and less than forty-eight hours prior to the inauguration, changes had to be made out of health and safety concerns for the parade participants, many of them musical groups from schools around the country, as well as for the spectators. The temperatures were far below freezing.

The inauguration would be moved from the outdoor area of the Capitol Building to the Rotunda, inside the Capitol Building. As a result, marching bands would not be able to take part in the ceremony. Family members and friends who had traveled to Washington would now have to view the event on television, as I would not be offered any tickets for seating in the Rotunda. Members of Congress and the Supreme Court and such would be accommodated in this now much smaller space, but the general public would not be admitted.

I was assigned an assistant for the day and, although well-meaning, she was rather at a loss as to what it was she was meant to do on my behalf. At my request, she accompanied me from the hotel to the Capitol Building that early morning. Upon arriving finally at the correct entrance and presenting ourselves to the bevy of security guards everywhere, I asked her to state that we were there early because I was to sing and had been offered Senator Mathias’s office as a holding space as well as a place where I could manage the preparations for my performance. Because my kind assistant had not the faintest idea of what I meant by this—I had told her that one of the main things I needed to do was to “warm up” my voice, having spent too much time outside this very large building looking for the proper entrance—she stated to security that “I needed to get warm.” General confusion abounded until it was possible for me to explain my predicament. Soon, we were allowed into the building and I thought all would proceed as intended.

At the ceremony, I sang the Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts,” as had been requested by President Reagan. At the close of the event, I stood waiting for the assistant to reappear; she never did. The Rotunda was now completely empty; even the security guards were not in evidence. To this day, I have not the slightest idea what happened to her or why she abandoned her duties with me that day. Perhaps she thought she had completed all that she was charged with doing.

In any case, I found myself wandering around those marbled halls trying to get back to Senator Mathias’s office to retrieve my belongings, and then to find the car that would return me to my hotel and my family. By the time desperation was about to set in, who should bound down a flight of stairs but the Speaker of the House, Thomas “Tip” O’Neill. I was happy to see him and thoroughly amused when he introduced himself to me. I stated: “Mr. Speaker, only a visitor from another planet would not know who you are.” I can still hear his wonderful laughter resounding through those great and grand halls. He was most gracious about my singing and asked where I was headed. I explained my predicament and in true “gentleman of the old school” fashion, he directed me to my intended destination, made sure I had understood the instructions, thanked me again, and continued on his way. A few moments later, I bumped, quite literally, into an actor whom I just adored, Telly Savalas. He was as lost as I had been. Together, we escaped our confinement, joking about it all as we found our way.

Yet another memorable opportunity arose when I was asked to perform at a state dinner for NATO leaders meeting in Washington. Of course, state dinners are planned many months in advance at the White House, due to the nature of our world, the obligations of our world leaders, and the schedules of all those involved. But with the participants gathered in Washington and the war in Bosnia having taken many devastating turns, President Clinton and our First Lady decided that instead of the long-planned luxurious evening at the White House, the working sessions would conclude with a concert. I agreed readily to the new arrangements.

It is hard to describe adequately the feeling that enveloped me, coming into what had for their time in Washington been the workspace of these nineteen heads of state, who now, for this evening, along with their spouses, were seated in the same semicircle of their workdays, awaiting a musical performance. I felt a privilege beyond expression in words. Dan Saunders, my piano accompanist, and I presented music that we thought would have meaning for these world leaders and to offer some of what music is able to do: soothe, inspire, comfort, and, yes, give pleasure. Our purpose was clear.

The first song was “Somewhere,” from Leonard Bernstein’s
West Side Story
.

There’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us,

Peace and quiet and open air wait for us somewhere.

The East Room of the White House became an intimate space for sharing music, words so full of hope, so full of meaning, that I was as glad as ever to be a part of this profession. One of the world leaders had lost a member of his family in the recent past and he stated that he had been so shattered by this that he had not been able to grieve properly. That he had not been able to weep—not until, that is, that evening, in the quiet of that space, with those around him who shared the same kind of responsibility in our world, with a small amount of time away from the cares of governance. In that moment, he allowed himself to feel. The President stood by as this personal story was relayed to me, and nothing needed to be said. I broke protocol completely and offered an embrace as my means of saying thank you.

I LOVE TO TELL
the story of being in my kitchen at home, having my private line ring and hearing a very familiar voice on the line, but not one that I had heard on a telephone previously. I was being asked to sing for the second inauguration of President Clinton, and he was making the call himself!

There are some very good practical jokers in my family, so I needed to be sure that it truly was the President. The validation was swift in coming. I was being asked to perform with the United States Marine Band, and to come back with a plan as soon as I could.

By now, I had learned a thing or two about appearing at such wide-reaching events, and this knowledge was most helpful in arranging all aspects of my participation on this occasion. I asked a great friend, Bruce Saylor, to compose a medley of music that I knew to be some of the President’s favorites, and thus
Oh, Freedom,
had its creation, a medley consisting of “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” the Spiritual “Oh, Freedom,” and “Amazing Grace,” ending with “America the Beautiful.”

As a choir and the Marine Band would be involved, I was happy that we were able to rehearse properly.

On the day, I was so very happy to have been in the holding area with our First Family, where the ease of conversation and amity was at once inspiring and inspired. I would remain in the holding area until the moment of my performance, due to the winter temperatures; I found those few moments alone to be just perfect prior to going out to sing for those assembled on the platform, the thousands in the seating area on the grounds, not to mention the millions via radio and television. I would sing from the same lectern used by those speaking, including the President, and I would be able to see the conductor via the teleprompter screens positioned on both sides of the lectern, exactly as we had rehearsed. I took my place at the appointed time, greeted the crowd, and looked down at the lectern, only to find completely dark screens! There was no way for me to view the conductor; the choir, Marine Band, and conductor were all well behind where I stood.

I decided against allowing panic to enter the situation and relied on listening as well as I could and going on from there. In the end, all was well, save a few extra heartbeats on my part.

EVENTS IN WASHINGTON, D.C.
, have provided some of my most memorable experiences, including my visits to the Kennedy Center Honors. The first visit, in 1995, was wonderful, as I was the surprise guest for Sidney Poitier. It was as a fairy tale to have rehearsed in secret with the orchestra, and to have had to stay well out of view during the activities of that Sunday evening in the concert hall of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Senator Ted Kennedy would welcome the crowd and speak to the need of the arts in all of our lives, and of his brother’s particular respect for and fostering of all art forms.

I sang “Amazing Grace” for one of the people on this earth that I adore without bounds.