It is not a general rule of mine to tout a Mormon radio program. It may have been a product of the Great Depression that influenced all American citizens from 1929 until 1941. There were not a lot of things to tout. Nearly all of my similarly aged colleagues agree that the two major influences in their lives were the Depression and World War II.
There is an old expression of making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. It may not be a perfect expression for the fact that this music lovers ear was first attracted to the Mormon broadcast in 1936 on Sunday mornings. My work at service stations (filling stations) in Missouri somehow permitted listening to the Mormons on radio as work took place. So the sow’s ear in my case, permitted me to hear perhaps the greatest choir in the country and to hear three or four minute essays delivered in elegant, mid-western tones by Richard L. Evans, an Apostle of the Latter Day Saints Church.
The program was called Music and the Spoken Word. It was called The Mormon Hour, even though it ran only one half of an hour. In Mormon terms, Evans was called an “Elder.” A summary of the accomplishments of Elder Evans is contained in these two sentences:
“Elder Evans is best known to the world as the voice of The Spoken Word, a part of the weekly Mormon Tabernacle Broadcast. Elder Evans wrote, produced and announced the coast-to-coast radio network program from the Salt Lake City Tabernacle from June, 1930 until his death in 1971.”
Each Sunday, the Mormon program would be brought to us by CBS radio. The “music” part of the program was offered by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir consisting of 360 voices. Their ages range from 25 years to 60 years. The choir was wonderfully disciplined and performed under the direction of James Conde, who also played the magnificent organ at appropriate times. And now there is an orchestra of 110 volunteer members which appear on the program.
The Mormon hour program was written and announced by Elder Evans. My memories, which are now 68 years old, tell me that the first words from Elder Evans mouth were:
“From the Crossroads of the West, we bring you Music and the Spoken Word.”
Then Evans would identify the choir and conductor Conde and finally, himself. Then he would say:
“From within these walls, we bring you Music and the Spoken Word”.
The music produced by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was so great that listeners had to listen. There were no tools dropped or flat tires bounced at the filling station during the choir music.
About half way through the broadcast, Elder Evans would deliver his essays which contained not one word of Mormon theology. Here are a few titles of his essays or sermonettes:
Taking the Place of Other People
People Aren’t Perfect
Learning to live with People
To Youth Leaving Home
The Courage to Say “I do not know”
On Offering Excuses
On Waiting for Ideal Conditions
In the first book of Elder Evans, we find 214 essays. There are six books in my collection; so the total is near 1300 essays. The books were published by Harper’s and Brothers, a major American publisher. These books were bought before and immediately after the Second World War. Five of the hardcover books sold for $2 new. A slightly larger book, published by Harper in 1957, cost $3. Inflation perhaps. It has been my pleasure, even as a non-believer, to read every essay in the six books.
After the Spoken Word, Elder Evans would close the broadcast with these words:
“Next week at this same hour, Music and the Spoken Word will again be brought to you from the Crossroads of the West. Again we leave you within the shadows of the everlasting hills. May peace be with you this day and always”.
Elegant words and elegant music. These broadcasts must have made a big dent in my brain as they have been remembered for 68 years. All the dialogue quoted above came exclusively from my memory; no reference books were available or needed until the newest book arrived this week after the essay was virtually completed.
The Crossroads of the West is, of course, Salt Lake City.
Evans died in 1971 at the age of 65 years. As the Mormons phase it, “Elder Evans was sustained to the Council of Twelve and ordained an Apostle on October 8, 1953…” It must be supposed that only the President of the Mormon Church outranks an Apostle.
The six books in my possession are:
Unto the Hills
At This Same Hour
The Spoken Word
From Within These Walls
This Day and Always
The Everlasting Things
You will notice, the books take their names from the Elder Evans introduction and parting words on the radio broadcasts.
The Evans essays took only a few minutes to deliver. There was no cajolery and no urging to get right with the Lord while there is still time. And mostly, there was no attempt to regurgitate dubious thoughts learned at a seminary. His academic years were spent pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree and a Masters in the same field. His thoughts were unburdened by what Joshua may have whispered to Ezekiel, or was it Hezekiah, perhaps in 300 B.C.
My work brought me to New York in 1955. Apparently, CBS does not broadcast the Mormon programming in New York City, so it is necessary to rely on records and books. Earlier this week, we played a record of Music and the Spoken Word recorded years ago. It gives me great pleasure to report that the music and the words are as appropriate today as when they were first recorded.
Since Evan’s death in 1971, he has been succeeded by J. Spencer Kinnard and now, Lloyd D. Newell.
Some of these essays are a struggle to write. This one about Elder Evans, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and James Conde wrote itself.
E. E. CARR
January 17, 2004
Post Script about a little humor in religious expressions:
This essay was written before it came to my belated attention that this was the 75th Anniversary of the birth of Music and the Spoken Word program and before the 75th Anniversary of the birth of Martin Luther King, Jr. was to be celebrated on January 19th. It must be concluded that my bring up system could use a drastic overhaul, but I never thought it would be in use for this long.
A new hard cover book covering the history of Music and the Spoken Word arrived here this Saturday. It prints some essays delivered by Elder Evans and two of his successors over the span of three quarters of a century. They are still good.
The purpose of this Post Script is to observe that ministers who practice the art of preaching seldom, if ever, include a little humor in their words. What a great pity. As much as Richard Evans was admired starting some 65 years ago, he never permitted an ounce of humor to penetrate his broadcasts.
The observance of the King celebration was celebrated in Summit, New Jersey on January 18th, by a joint church service between two black churches, one Baptist and one Methodist, and a white Presbyterian church. They had rented the auditorium of the Summit High School which is an austere and sort of lonely setting for such a celebration.
The first hour or more of the service was dominated by the Methodist and Presbyterian pastors. It was an hour devoid of any humor. At least one of the choir members, dozed off – and missed absolutely nothing. Then it was the turn of the Baptist preacher. That is where the proceedings became interesting and the dozers awoke much like Lazarus.
The Baptist preacher, J. Michael Sanders of the Fountain Baptist Church in Summit, spoke in the elegant terminology of Southern Baptists. In an ironic twist, he asked the three congregations to fill this “great sanctuary with joyful praise.” It made no difference if he was preaching in the Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan or in a one room church in Alabama or in the antiseptic setting of the auditorium of the Summit High School. His style was unaltered.
When there was mike trouble, the Baptist preacher wryly observed that such trouble did not exist until they got mixed up with Methodists and Presbyterians. Everyone was laughing with the preacher and he had not even begun his message.
Then Reverend Sanders explained to everyone that in the Baptist tradition, the congregation and the choir were expected to talk back to the preacher. Amens were welcome and halleluiahs were even more so. When his choir began to applaud his explanation of talking back, the Baptist preacher said, in response to that spontaneous applause, he would voluntarily add 15 minutes to his pared down message which was to last at least an hour.
About the proposed length of his message, he observed that there was heavy snow falling as he spoke. Snow removal crews around here traditionally are slow to go to work. Reverend Sanders explained that when he reached the end of his proposed sermon, the snow may even have been removed. Then he said there would be a little get together in the cafeteria after the ceremonies were concluded. He urged the combined congregations to meet somebody new and if you can’t find somebody that you do not know, talk to somebody that you do not like.
By now all the dozers were awake and the three congregations knew they were being addressed by a good guy. Good guys are in short supply in the religious business, particularly preachers.
It must be asked if soldiers engaged in the most hazardous occupation that exists today, can lampoon each other, why are religionists dour and devoid of humor. It may be suspected that accountants sometimes laugh at their own mistakes. Those who work in low paying jobs have a camaraderie based on humor. It may be suspected that undertakers have inside jokes. But people in the religious business flee at the thought of humor.
Perhaps by the scene stealing performance of the Baptist preacher at the 75th celebration of the King birthday in Summit, N.J., it may be that another preacher or two will loosen up and try a little humor. On the other hand, perhaps it would be too much to ask for course reversal or even course changing at this stage of the other preacher’s careers. It is not clear if prayer would help. But in the meantime, if you want to have your religious preaching served with a dash of humor, go to the Fountain Baptist Church in Summit. It is suspected that white Presbyterians or Methodist worshipers would be more than welcome by Reverend Sanders. And they might learn something, even if the sermons take the better part of Sunday morning.
EEC 1-19-04
~~~
Hell of a post script — almost as long as the essay itself. Still though, I can appreciate that Pop never shut himself completely off from religion, with the understanding that it sometimes can still contribute value like music, or a sense of community. It’s easy to see things in black and white, but much harder to find merit something like organized religion, which by the whole he considered to be pretty awful. At the end of the day, every organization is just a bunch of people, and there are great people everywhere. And the Mormons can friggen’ sing.