Crescendo

by Allen Cheney

  Again, Fred sat quiet on the bench. He certainly had never imagined his life without music. But he’d never really given much thought to how that was going to look after high school.

  Mrs. Dudley pulled her theory binder from her desk and opened it to the introductory section. “Well, at least know this. If you do want a career in music, you’ll be doing yourself a big favor if you learn to read the notes.”

  By holding firm and not letting Fred take the easy way out, Mrs. Dudley became another woman who saved him. Just like Mrs. Duncan, who whispered, “I believe in you,” Aunt Eleanor, who protected Fred from danger, and Mrs. Lewis, who gave him a safe place to call home, Mrs. Dudley gave Fred the time and attention he needed to develop solid sight-reading skills and to learn the basics of music theory. She cared enough to not only recognize both his strengths and weaknesses but to prepare him for what might come next in his life.

  What did come next was an introduction to a highly acclaimed voice instructor at LaGrange College—Madame Elizabeth Gilbert. Madame, as she preferred to be addressed, was in her seventies by the time Fred auditioned for her, but she was lively and spirited and young at heart, and when she welcomed the nervous teen into her college studio with an operatic greeting, he could tell at once that she had much to teach him. The only problem was, Madame was not only highly selective in choosing her private students, she was also very expensive. Even if she did agree to tutor this high school freshman, how was he supposed to pay her?

  “Mrs. Dudley tells me you’ve got quite a voice,” Madame said. Fred could only blink. He still wasn’t sure he had any special abilities to speak of. He only knew he loved music and he wanted to learn all he could about it.

  The instructor walked from the door and placed a well-worn stack of sheet music on the piano. Fred had never seen anyone carry herself with such presence, and he wondered if maybe she had led a privileged life in some foreign country before landing here in LaGrange. “She’s got you playing for the Episcopals too, I hear?”

  Trying to feign confidence, Fred kept his spine straight, his chin up, determined to make a strong impression despite the anxious twitch in his gut. “She asks me to help her sometimes at the Episcopal church,” he answered, “but I’ve actually been playing since sixth grade over at Shoal Creek Baptist.”

  “You’re in high school and you’ve already worked as a pianist for two churches?”

  Fred nodded. “Organ too.”

  Madame smiled. “That takes commitment. Shows you’ve got a real work ethic. And Mary tells me you accompany too?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll play for whoever asks me.”

  “Well, that’s no small talent,” Madame said kindly. “There are many who can sing. Many who can play. But not many good accompanists. Even I have trouble finding one for my students.”

  Fred exhaled. Mrs. Dudley had insisted he was talented enough to at least meet Madame, but when he first entered the college studio, he’d suddenly felt too young, too inept to be there. Now the instructor’s kindness eased his fears.

  “Would you like me to play while you sing?” Fred asked. “Anything.”

  “Oh, I like your style,” Madame said with a laugh. “How about ‘There Is a Time’? Familiar with that one?” Surprisingly, she began to sing the jaunty bluegrass number and Fred jumped in by the second stanza, matching her step for step on the keys.

  Fred kept careful watch over the joyful instructor, noticing the slight upturn of her lips as she sang, the warm glint in her eyes as he played the jovial tune. He sensed she was pleased, and he gave his all, keeping his fingers light and the tempo upbeat as the lyrics delivered hope: “The path is new, the world is free.”1

  When the song came to its end, Fred held his hands on the keys as the sound faded from the strings. He knew he could play well enough to make people happy, but he was not convinced a woman of Madame’s esteem would have any interest. Her choice of song seemed to suggest she doubted he had any classical abilities. Surely she was simply doing her friend a favor and entertaining herself with the teen’s performance.

  “All right. Now, how about you sing for me,” Madame said. “Let me see what we’re working with here.”

  Fred politely agreed, taking a look at the familiar sheet music as he kept his seat on the bench of the concert grand. He had never played such a high-quality instrument. Shoal Creek Baptist had a hollow-sounding upright. The school owned a banged-up spinet. The Episcopalians had a baby grand, but it was tinny in the upper octaves. As his fingers rested lightly on the slick ivory keys, he could hardly wait to play another song on this shiny Steinway.

  “You want to play while you sing?” Madame asked, a tinge of surprise in her tone. It was rare to find a student who chose to sing and play at the same time, especially those focused on higher levels of vocal performance.

  He held his breath, hoping she’d allow it.

  Madame waved her hand over the keyboard, a graceful gesture suggesting he go right ahead.

  With that, Fred delivered a beautiful rendition of “I Heard a Forest Praying.” He had been rehearsing the song for weeks with Mrs. Dudley, and he struck every note with deep emotion. As the final chord faded, Fred exhaled. He’d nailed it!

  “Well, Fred. I’ll be honest,” Madame said. “I’m quite impressed. And I’m not easily impressed.” She smiled. “I’m sure Mary told you I don’t have any openings in my schedule right now, but . . . I do have an idea.”

  Fred held his breath.

  “I am in dire need of an accompanist for my students. Perhaps you could help in exchange for private lessons? Fair enough?”

  Once again, fate had delivered an unexpected opportunity, and Fred was eager to accept the challenge. He thanked her kindly, and with that, Madame set a schedule, hiring this high school teen to accompany college students during their private voice lessons. It was an ideal opportunity for him to grow on many levels, one that proved to be the beginning of Fred’s budding career.

  Eight

  With access to Madame’s instruction, Fred began to dream of a career in music. He was barely a sophomore in high school when—thanks to his uncanny work ethic and the many connections music had already made for him—Fred stopped by the local radio station, WTRP FM, to pitch an idea. Within minutes, he had signed on to launch his very own show in partnership with one of Madame’s students, a talented Miss Georgia beauty queen who had relied on Fred’s accompaniment for her public events. Soon this dynamic duo was on air each evening at five o’clock, producing Songs for You. Together they would sing everything from classical opera pieces to old standards, with catchy show tunes and hymns in between—anything people wanted to hear. The show offered fresh variety along with a comfortable conversation and quickly became a primetime hit.

  Soon listeners began prodding Fred to audition for the Horace Heidt Youth Opportunity Program, a televised talent competition quite similar to modern shows such as American Idol or The Voice. Each week several acts would perform, and viewers would vote for a winner, many of whom were catapulted into successful entertainment careers after the victory. With encouragement from teachers, friends, and the greater LaGrange community, Fred entered the competition during tenth grade. And even though the auditions proved grueling, Fred made it to the championship stage.

  Mrs. Dudley drove Fred more than an hour to Atlanta, where Horace Heidt’s crew was busy setting up to film the final round of the competition. Palpable excitement filled the room, the stakes being so high. The winner would be guaranteed a regular spot on Freddie Miller’s Atlanta-based Stars of Tomorrow show, a regional partner for the national talent competition. Fred’s nerves were wound tight as he rubbed sweat from his palms.

  At Mrs. Dudley’s suggestion he had passed each level by performing Frankie Laine’s chart-topping hit “I Believe.” Now he resolved to cling to the meaning of those lyrics, relying on his fragile faith to ease his fears. In the silence of his mind, he surprised himself by offering a simple prayer: Thy will be done.
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  Then he took to the stage. The lights found him as he claimed the black piano bench and adjusted the heavy microphone. Cheers filled the room while he readied his hands, and once the roar lulled, he began to play. Those in attendance seemed to ride the notes with him, surfing the sound waves as his voice carried a powerful message to the crowd.

  I believe for everyone that goes astray

  Someone will come to show the way

  I believe, I believe

  I believe above the storm the smallest prayer

  Will still be heard

  I believe that someone in the great somewhere

  Hears every word1

  By the time the handsome sophomore hit the last note, the audience was already on its feet for a standing ovation. The cheers lasted so long, the announcer had to quiet the crowd.

  Sure enough, Fred took home top honors, skyrocketing the teenager’s popularity and garnering him a broader recognition for his innate talents. It also landed him that coveted spot on Freddie Miller’s show. From that day forward, Fred would hitch a ride to Atlanta once a month so he could perform as a regular guest on the popular program. Television being a fairly new form of technology at the time, it was a big deal to be broadcast from WAGA studios right into America’s living rooms, where families gathered for their evening entertainment.

  As his status increased, doors continued to open, and Fred became more determined than ever to see where those opportunities might take him. Occasionally he would sit back and take a long look at all he was accomplishing at such a young age. If ever a shadow of doubt dared to sink him, he would return to the piano and sing the song that had launched his budding career, never stopping until he’d made it to the last line: “Then I know why I believe.”

  Nine

  By his senior year it was time for Fred to consider his next steps. The LaGrange community had proven themselves time and again in the key people who refused to allow their local musical prodigy to fall through the cracks. But as college drew near, Fred’s financial hardships could no longer be denied. As his well-off peers selected dorms and received new cars for graduation, he found himself with no way to afford higher education on his own.

  Once again the generous people of LaGrange came through, granting Fred a full scholarship to study at LaGrange College, including a dorm room on campus. With his expenses covered, Fred gratefully enrolled at the small Christian institution, excited that it offered a strong focus on the performing arts.

  While Fred had already garnered great regard statewide for his talents, it was about this time that he also began to be recognized for being a notable heldentenor. Fred knew enough about the history of music by now to know that, in opera circles, heldentenors were revered and quite rare, earning some of the most grueling roles. Known to have a darker, deeper vocal tone, especially within the mid- to low registers, they carried a weight that was key in nineteenth-century Wagnerian operas. The best heldentenors produced an almost hybrid sound, as Madame had explained, exhibiting a texture similar to that of a baritone but with a broader pitch range. This was the vocal quality Fred had learned to create, and so by college, he was already being compared to legendary opera greats such as Bernd Aldenhoff and Ernst Kraus.

  Of course, his voice was not his only talent. Accompanying was Fred’s true joy. Sympathetic to other vocalists, he was known to adapt the music to suit their skills, breathing along with them as they sang. As a vocal performer, he understood what a singer needed from the piano, and he delivered.

  In 1952, just before the official start of his first semester, Fred strolled through the oak-draped quad with his friend Johnny York, talking and laughing beside the colorful perennial blooms. Suddenly Fred came to a cold stop. His focus was set on a dark-haired beauty crossing campus, her light-blue dress catching the breeze, her smile seeming brighter than the sun.

  When Johnny noticed Fred’s abrupt shift, he grinned and said, “That’s Winnie Langley from Columbus.”

  Fred had no words. His entire body warmed.

  “Come on,” Johnny said. “I’ll introduce you.”

  Fred shook his head. “She’s far out of my league.”

  “Oh, come on.” Johnny patted his friend’s shoulder for a firm show of support. “Voted Most Popular. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten high school.”

  Winnie passed the young men as she headed for the women’s dormitory. Johnny said “Hi,” and she gave him a demure smile. Then he raced to open the door for her.

  “Thank you,” Winnie said shyly.

  She glanced at Fred.

  Fred looked away.

  Once she was out of sight, Fred finally exhaled. Johnny returned to his friend’s side and said, “If you don’t ask her out, I will.”

  The following day, as Fred was walking into the Fine Arts Building for work with Madame, he glanced up toward Winnie’s dormitory. The oldest on campus, it claimed the highest elevation and boasted stellar views from its top floor. As he searched each window, his heart throbbed, anxious to get another sight of the beautiful young woman in the blue dress. Then he found her, perched on the ledge of her open window with her floral skirt billowing in the breeze, and his heart filled with excitement. Their eyes connected, and Fred hurried away, embarrassed. He glanced back just long enough to see Winnie’s sweet smile, her eyes still following him through the azaleas.

  The following day Fred could hardly wait to pass the dorm again. He’d dreamed about Winnie that night, and he was hoping to find her at the window once more. This time he would make a point to offer a friendly wave, maybe even shout hello.

  As he looked again to Winnie’s room, there stood the girl he could not get out of his mind. Their eyes met, longer this time. Heat rushed to his face as he waved and smiled. She laughed kindly and returned the gesture.

  With classes starting the following week, Madame called a glee club meeting, hoping to get rehearsals off to a strong start. As fate would have it, Fred and Winnie each had signed up. It turned out Winnie was not only considered to be one of the most sought-after young women on campus because of her striking beauty and charming personality, she was also a respected vocalist in her own right, already garnering praise for her exceptional skills as an operatic soprano. With Fred’s luck in full gear, Madame asked Fred to accompany Winnie. He jumped at the chance, taking his seat on the bench while trying not to let his nerves show.

  He had certainly accompanied many attractive young women, but as Winnie leaned in to ask him to play “Summertime,” he became dizzy.

  By her first note Winnie captivated Fred with her lyric coloratura soprano, a voice capable of the highest ranges and smoothest transitions. Here stood this beautiful coed with a Scarlett O’Hara waistline, eyes that drew him in like magnets, and a smile that lit up the entire room. Plus, she could sing like an angel!

  Winnie delivered the lyrics with emotion, singing about high cotton as only a true southern girl could do. But when she sang this verse, his whole heart was sunk:

  One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singing

  And you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky.1

  The lyrics spun around Fred, and he couldn’t stop staring at her as he played. Then Winnie turned his way and their eyes met, just as they had from her dorm window, and in that instant, she skipped the entire next part of the verse.

  Fred handled it like a champ, skipping along with her, keeping right in step at the keys. None of the glee club students seemed to suspect a thing, and if Madame caught the faux pas, she didn’t acknowledge it.

  After the meeting, Winnie waited for Fred in the hallway.

  “How on earth did you do that?” she asked, moving to his side as he left Madame’s studio.

  “Do what?” he managed to say. Fred was determined to play it cool despite the swell of anxiety he felt in Winnie’s company.

  “You know.” She smiled. “How’d you make it look like I didn’t make a mistake? I skipped half a verse, and no one even noticed
.”

  Fred shrugged, the way Johnny York would have done, grateful she couldn’t see his palms sweating. “That’s my job. To make the singer look good.”

  Winnie’s brow raised. “Even if they sing off-key or drop a lyric?”

  “Especially then,” Fred said, humble as ever.

  Her brilliant smile persisting, Winnie shook her head in disbelief. “I think I’d better keep you in my pocket, Fred Allen.”

  Fred nodded, feigning confidence. “Yes. You do that.”

  Ten

  Fred was enamored of Winnie but still convinced that she was too good for him. He focused on his music and simply sighed when his friend Johnny York soon began dating her. It made sense. Johnny was Mr. Everything—charming, good-looking, smart, athletic, talented, and charismatic. Plus, Johnny had the one thing Fred didn’t: the wealth and upper-middle class lineage that a girl like Winnie Langley deserved.

  Still, as promised, Winnie kept the talented accompanist in her pocket and did her best to always perform with Fred at her side. Fred was more than eager to be in her company any chance he could get—even if she was dating his best friend. His schedule remained packed tight, but he always went out of his way to clear space for Winnie.

  By that time one of the Baptist churches had begun paying Fred to serve as their official organist. Sometimes Winnie was paid to sing for the larger Methodist church in LaGrange, and Fred would slip away to accompany her on those Sundays she needed him. But one weekend Winnie received an invitation to sing at her family’s hometown church an hour away, and she was eager for Fred to join her.

  “I don’t want to sing without you, Fred. Mother and Daddy said you’re welcome to stay at our house. We’ll head down Friday in time for dinner with the family. Then, Saturday, I’ll show you all around Columbus. You’ll love it. Of course, we’ll swing by the church for a quick rehearsal, and we’ll perform for Sunday morning services before heading back here.”