TWO
Strictly From Memories
The '70's – Going Strong
The Hollywood Tabernacle began to build on an international reputation of strong musical leadership, dynamic preaching, and lively evangelism. Ron Smart was responsible for the music. He led both the band and the songsters. We said “good-bye” to the Tobins in June of 1970, and so George Church was now responsible for the dynamic preaching. He always delivered. By this time I had been the corps sergeant-major for a few years and responsible for our principal evangelistic thrust at Hollywood and Vine. J.K.Wood had opted for the position of youth sergeant-major. What made these open-air meetings lively, however, was the full band, the large timbrel brigade – called the “Taborines,” and, most of all, the crowd that interacted with those in the ring.
The open-air services were anything but traditional. We read scripture, to be sure, and there was a brief message and invitation – some testimonies – even vocal solos, usually Eddie Yasutake or Laurel Hamner, but somehow the mix just couldn’t be described as traditional. It was the interaction with the people passing by or standing around that kept excitement in the air. Any time a siren went by on the boulevard I would stop whatever was happening and announce into the PA system something like – “Listen – stop – listen a minute” (and the siren would fade). “Somebody’s in trouble,” I’d shout. “Somebody needs some urgent help. Somebody needs fixing in some way. Somebody’s got some heavy problems.” I’d take a little pause and then add: “Could that somebody be you? Are things circling around you too fast – are you saturated with difficulties in your life? C’mon over and spend a few minutes with us. We have a plan that might work for you.”
Getting a crowd at Hollywood and Vine was a snap. We only had a couple of messages – one, the power of confession and forgiveness – God’s grace; and the other, the golden rule – Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.
The best thing that could happen was somebody challenging us in some way. I remember one Sunday evening holding forth on message #2 when a voice shouted out from behind some on-lookers over on the corner. “I don’t believe that stuff at all!” The speaker then drew everyone’s attention to an inebriated gentleman who hadn’t had a change of clothes in a week or so – scraggley beard filled with lunch, filthy, smelly, drunk. “That fellow there doesn’t need love, what he needs is money. Give him some money. (We always had the drum laying face up in the gutter and people passing by would often throw money on it – although we never made an appeal.)
By this time I had moved and stood next to the man holding my microphone up to his face. (I never surrendered the microphone.) I said: “If I thought money was what this gentleman needed I’d have given it to him earlier. He doesn’t need money. He needs somebody to care. We want to take him back to the Army, feed him and clean him up and help him get situated.”
“You need to give him some money – that’s all he needs. Give him a hundred dollars”
“If you believe that – why don’t you give him a hundred dollars?”
He looked at me and said: “Alright – I will. I’ll give him a hundred dollars right now.”
I stepped back, raised my voice to the entire boulevard where our exchange had gathered quite a crowd on all four corners of the intersection. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “We are about to engage in a grand experiment. What will it take to help this gentleman?” (I had my arm around the drunk now, dragging him up to the confronter.) “Does he need money or care? We’re going to test this question here and now, and we will evaluate the results next week at this exact time in this very spot.” I then got a promise from the man, from the drunk, and offered my promise as well. “We will all agree to meet here next week and observe the results.”
I got promises from both; of them and then promised everyone we would show. At this point, the man dragged out five twenties and handed them to the drunk who took off down the street immediately.
The next week, neither the man nor the drunk showed.
The following week, the drunk showed up – even more disheveled than before and also banged up with some healing wounds on his face. The man who gave the hundred was no where in sight. I got everyone’s attention again then asked the drunk: “What happened? Did the hundred dollars help you? Why didn’t you come back to the Army with us?”
All he said was: “I got rolled!” Then, seeing no one had any more money for him, he shuffled off up the boulevard.
My shoes got celebrated in a couple of other stories that helped attract a crowd. A shoe- shine boy with his box was standing in front of the band listening. I simply asked him for a shine while I spoke to the listeners on the corner. With a little encouragement, he put his box down in front of me and gave me the best shine those shoes ever had. I just kept on talking, using the “shine” as an object lesson until he finished. I then told him to go around and stop before every bandsman in order to get paid for my shine. The guys fished out deep. The kid did very well.
The other “shoe” incident concerned a barefoot drunk whom I noticed standing against the wall looking like a … like a drunk. I had been holding forth on loving one another and caring about each other – and he was a ready example of someone in need. Making sure my generosity was very visible, I slipped off my shoes, asked him to come forward, and gave them to him. He sat down on the curb and put them on and wandered away.
I began to envision the march back in my stocking feet, but a few minutes later he returned, threw the shoes at the drum, said: “They don’t fit!” and stormed off up the street.
Some people are hard to help.
When Lt. Colonel John Gowans was the Southern California Divisional Commander, he visited our open-air site, and I asked him to share a word. He noticed the Broadway Department Store across Vine Street and delivered a magnificent sermonette about the differences between the “broad way and the narrow way.”
The Citations
The Citations was a monthly, mimeographed publication of corps news, events, announcements, births, dedications, youth and music activities, home league programs, retirements, and promotions to Glory. It was a primary vehicle for building the morale of the corps, for giving the officer a ready printed pulpit, and for making sure everyone’s name was mentioned. It was a giant contribution that tended to be taken for granted. The entire publication would not have happened were it not for the strong commitment of one person, Florence Metzger. She started publishing during the very early years of the Citadel corps. Originally, the paper was called Citadel Citations, a name given it by my father, Lloyd Docter. He also designed the original masthead for the name and had the first four letters of each word intertwined.
Captain George Church preserved each issue published during the five years of his appointment at the Tabernacle. Other years seem to be missing.
In his opening letter to the soldiers in July of 1970, Church wrote: “Mrs. Church, Stephen, Susan and David join me in thanking each one of you for your wonderful welcome to the famous Hollywood Tabernacle. We consider this appointment a great challenge.”
As usual, George was right.
The Citations was a newsy, homespun, in-house, mimeographed monthly that was devoured every time it appeared. We learned things like Mil (Parkhouse/Boyd) Williams returning to Beloit, Wisconsin for her 50th anniversary of graduation from High School. Her sister, Victoria (Parkhouse) Nottle, accompanied her.
The Freeman family had moved down to southern California from Windsor, Ontario and started making an instant contribution to the corps program. The Citations told us their oldest son, Fred, one of our trombone players, was voted by his high school the most outstanding musician and the most outstanding baseball player of the year. I’m sure that made his daddy, Ed, happy.
Here are some classic examples from various Citations in the 70s.
Citation WANT AD DEPARTMENT: “Please return the books that I’ve loaned. Thank you.” Walt Jackson.
Vacation trips were mentioned – the Sunbeam troop gets a plug – and “our newest soldiers, Ed and Naomi Storey were in uniform ;this Sunday.”
A “must read” was the column called the Home League Scissorgrams. “If you want to improve your mind, your home, and your heart, make sure you attend Home League every Wednesday night at 8:15.” Marge Wiseman was the HLS (Home League Secretary), and she had a full group of a dozen or so officers with her. In June of 1970, the list included:
Carolyn Ireland Ass’t. HLS
Kay McAlpine Chaplain
Diane Docter Treasurer
Muriel Collier Education
Ruth Morton Service
Barbara Hood Worship
Ruth Borkgren Fellowship
Judy Watt Evangelism (They were stationed at the Evangeline)
Laurel Hamner Hospitality
Naomi Storey Ass’t Hospitality
Girlie Wood Sunshine Chairman
Violet Docter Welcome Chairman
The group was collecting Blue Chip Stamps for a new Silver Service – (probably still in use).
Another “must-read” was Salvation Sal’s column.
This included everything under the sun, and seemed to try to mention every name in the corps at least once. Every summer visitor was mentioned.
“Scott Lycan, Fred Freeman and Craig Bearchell have had a thrill of playing with the Senior Band.”
Boy Scout Troop 73, Eric Skarnas, scoutmaster, had a regular column. “What a thrill it was for the youngsters to race against each other on the model car track.”
The Music Department had a great spread in every issue written by Phil Hamner. “The Sunday Evening at the Tabernacle series begins it’s sixth year with the “Sound Generation: from the Monterey Peninsula Corps, and Major Norman Bearcroft will be our special guest next month.”
Of course, the Band had its own column – Behind the Baton, written by John Morton. In the November 12, 1970 issue he reported the bands visit to Beverly Hills High School (where Ron was the music director) for participation in the Music Educators Conference. Later, he added: “Barry Keys won the instrumental soloist award at music camp, and Scotts Lycan took top honors. He received a scholarship to next year’s camp.”
“Bob Gregg has now assumed leadership of the Youth band.”
“The Timbrelitas, nineteen little girls, ages 4 to 11, received new uniforms. They were adorable in Army blue dresses accented by long white sleeves with red and blue stripes with matching collar. Carol (Powell) McBride deserves much credit for training and leading such an outstanding timbrel brigade. Their smiles and precision playing was enough to stop the traffic on Hollywood Blvd.”
The May 1972 Citations reported that Major John Larsson, composer of Take Over Bid and Hosea, will be at the Tabernacle for the International evening, Sunday June 18.
In a November issue, a plaintive, and oft repeated note appeared: “Christmas Kettle workers needed. See Captain.
“Approximately thirty Tabernacle Home League members were involved in the preparation and serving of over 3,000 sandwiches and hot dogs to participants in the Santa Claus Lane Christmas Parade. Gallons of milk and coffee were served to band members, and VIPs converged on the Hollywood Palladium, where Mrs. Captain Church served.”
“It was great to hear Don and Isa McDougald singing in the songsters again.”
In March of 1972, six new junior soldiers were enrolled: David Carr, David Church, Tammy Evers, Amanda Carr, Joanne Bearchell and Charles Evers. Recruiting Sergeant Lorin Corliss completed instruction for seven new senior soldiers: Annie Bate, Grace, Kenneth and Lee-Ann Lucas, Thomas Maruzzi, Helen and Virginia Brooks. Nine Junior Soldiers were transferred to the senior rolls: Brian Bearchell, Janet Docter, Russ Lycan, Karyn Morton, Christine Orr, Peter Slack, Peggy Sparks, Kathy Wood and Deborah Youngquist.
“We extend a warm welcome to Terry and Beryl Camsey and children Martin and Rosalind who will arrive in June.”
“A highlight of the June Home League meeting was the visit of Mrs. Captain Kay Rader for our worship program. Her message was a blessing and inspiration to all.”
“The last Sunday evening in March was honor Junior Soldier Night. These youths in grades five through eight planned and carried out the Salvation Meeting. In addition to prayer, testimony, song, and scripture, there was a visual presentation of The Salvation Army doctrines, prepared on posters by the Jr. Soldiers. The Honor Junior Soldiers, David Carr, Susan Church, Sharon Docter, Lawry McAllister, Steve Church, Mary Docter, Teddy and David Horwood meet Sunday mornings to prepare for their oral review in early May with Captain Don Sather, D.Y.S.
“Congratulations to Dick Docter who has completed the six years of Corps Cadets and has graduated with honors.”
“Brigadier Sara Jones was a gracious hostess, serving delicious refreshments for 35 ladies at an evening garden party.”
“The XYZ club, led by Vi Docter, is growing by leaps and bounds. On August 17, the group journeyed to Descanso Gardens where they had lunch and enjoyed the beautiful flowers. Coming up – a trip to the Arboretum.
Whatever went on, one could be sure that it would be reported in the Citations. I wish we had kept them all.
In August of 1972, Ron Smart took the band to Australia and New Zealand. We played seven programs in Australia with concerts in Brisbane, Toowoomba, Sydney, Canberra, Shepperton, Stawell and Melbourne – plus a number of afternoon engagements in shopping centers, schools, factories and the like. Then, jumping to New Zealand, we had evening concerts in Christchurch, Dunedin, (the coldest I have ever been), Wellington, Hastings, Hamilton, and Auckland.
The band featured the artistry of two fantastic soloists – Randy Stillwell, who played the theme composition for the trip, Bruce Broughton’s Pleasure in His Service; and Wilf Mountain, who played anything put before him. Also featured on programs was the Neophonic Ensemble, a big-band style group of up-tempo, jazzy sounds made up of all brass instruments, bass guitar and drums. They wailed together, and Randy soared.
We had a great afternoon parade in the rain in Rotorua – a beautiful resort area in the mountains of New Zealand. Our principal number on the tour was Ray Steadman-Allen’s The Holy War, and I had the privilege of introducing it with a short monologue.
Featured on every evening program was a vocal solo by Captain Church who absolutely owns the part of “Light Fingered Freddie” from the Gowans and Larsson musical, Hosea.
He always sang in costume – dressed like many of the spectators at our open-air site at Hollywood and Vine – very inebriated. He entered from the rear of the auditorium and made his way down the aisle to the stage. One evening, the usher would not allow him to enter because of his attire, and George almost missed his cue – finally simply pushing past the over zealous door man and, once again, tried to steal the show.
It was a great trip. Randy Stillwell met and wooed his future wife; Ulf Nystrom saved a guys life by keeping him from jumping off a bridge; and we introduced “pictorial programming” that involved the projection of relevant slides on a screen behind the band during various pieces of music.
After returning home, the band remained active and committed to Fall programming. Music seems to be a vital part of our past – and integral part of our present, and, I suspect and essential part of our future. While music is not “the corps” – for the corps steps beyond that to other dimensions of ministry and service – it is, nonetheless, the most important contributor to our identity.
Every musician has had “peak experiences” in which the music has touched that person to the very depths of his or her soul. I have had many. The ultimate for me, however, occurred in the early 70s in the Scottish Rite Auditorium, high atop San Francisco’s Nob Hill, just across the street from the Grace Cathedral. The Tabernacle Band had been invited to play at various Commissioning services. The band had played a stellar concert the evening before and now was present for the Sunday morning Holiness Meeting. The auditorium was filled to capacity very early, and the crowd seemed very social with much conversation and walking in the aisles. Harry Sparks’ book reminds me that it was ten minutes prior to the beginning of the meeting when the Chief Secretary, Colonel William Chamberlain, stepped to the microphone and took a moment or two to quiet the house and get everyone seated. He asked the ushers to close the doors, and, finally, gaining complete silence, he asked them to prepare for a spiritual experience as the band played Eric Ball’s mighty work: Resurgam – I shall rise again.
Ron stood and moved to the center of the band. I noticed there was no music stand in readiness for him – no open score to help him conduct the complicated masterpiece. It was already locked in his heart.
Then, with a sense of majestic dignity we began. The opening melody is a call to faith –
The souls of the righteous are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them. In the eyes of the foolish they seem to have died; Their departure was accounted to be their hurt, and their journey away from us to be their ruin: but they re in peace.
THE BOOK OF WISDOM
The music moves through frustration and despair – hints of death, fear of judgment and the tensions of a life that must be lived daily.
Then, completely alone, the solo euphonium soars as only Wilf Mountain was able to do, singing with intense simplicity and remarkable beauty, the faith melody, now in a slightly different guise, leads the listener through the reality of death into peace and tranquility and an exaltation of spirit.
As the band’s final notes slipped away to die in the echoes of that great hall, there was only silence – no applause, no movement, no child’s cry, no whisper heard to still the moment. Then, a prayer was offered by one so filled with feeling that words came only haltingly.
Eric Ball wrote: “In the face of despair, sorrow, even fear, the Christian makes the eternal affirmation – Resurgam – I shall rise again.”
Returning from the heights of Nob Hill to the Monday of Los Angeles, each member of the band carried that moment of intense motivation with them.
By the mid 70s, Ron (now Dr. Smart), had taken the band on four major tours – to Europe, twice to Canada, and to Australia and New Zealand. Now, he found himself recruited intensively to become the Assistant Director of the Sydney Conservatory, located just a stones throw from the magnificent Sydney Opera House. It was a career move that could not be ignored. He left to accept that appointment, but has returned often to refresh memories and visit a daughter who married an American.
William Gordon took the band, and it continued its commitments to the corps program, special events, like participation in several motion picture and television programs, and assistance to the Division and the Territory, now headquartered in southern California.
Jim and Laurie Read were in town for four years during this period and contributed mightily. Jim served as YPSM and went to UCLA full time, earning a Ph.D. degree in Philosophy with an emphasis on Ethics. Laurie worked full time as a nurse at night and raised their three children during the day. The youth band was having a hey day period and was led by Bob Gregg.
The Long Beach Camp Meetings were attracting big crowds. These annual Divisional programs were Col. Parkins’ western response to the Old Orchard Beach meetings in the Eastern Territory. They provided us with introductions to outstanding Bible scholars, Army leaders, and excellent musical guests. The Tab band was active in these services as well. On one occasion, the corps put on a play I wrote, and it happened during a heavy vacation period right in the middle of the summer. It starred Joy Church as Evangeline Booth. It was called “Don’t Turn Him Away” and required tremendous effort from most of the corps – including the full band, songsters, youth corps and most of the congregation. My wife, Diane, was in charge of the costuming that involved Army dress around 1914 as well as contemporary dress. It presented both “The old #2 corps and the current corps. The plot involved poet Vachel Lindsey’s arrival in Los Angeles after a trip across the country during which he had stayed primarily in Army shelters. When arriving here he learns of the death of the Founder and writes his epic poem, “When William Booth Entered Heaven.”
We staged it in the Long Beach Civic Auditorium and made the audience part of the play. It was much fun – a great way to spend a summer and used much of the talent in the corps.
The Churches were appointed to San Francisco in 1975 and were succeeded by Brigadier and Mrs. Les Longden. This was a time of steady ministry and good pulpit instruction. After short periods of leadership from within the brigade, the Tabernacle Songsters came under the leadership of Bill Flinn. This began a relationship of courageous creativity and dramatic growth for the songsters. At the outset of his leadership, the brigade had approximately 25 singers. Within a very few years, this number reached 40 and began to attract attention.
They participated regularly in the Sunday evenings at the Tabernacle (SEAT) and made several short trips in the division and the territory.
In June of 1977, Lieutenants Bill and Linda Pickup were appointed as Tabernacle corps officers. Prior to this appointment they had had one other appointment – in Roswell, New Mexico. This information, however, does not provide the complete picture of this energetic and competent young couple. Anne (Madsen) Pickup and her husband Bill were both from a current line of multi-generational Salvationists. Both were children of officers. They had worked in significant Army programs prior to training and had advanced college degrees.
Both were excellent communicators in the pulpit, hard working, thoroughly dedicated, outstanding musicians, great Bible scholars and positive leaders. They had two children within the age groups of many children from the congregation.
We had started discussions concerning the state of the buildings on the Tabernacle site and were making plans to remodel the entire facility. A capital campaign raised what we requested, but this turned out to be insufficient to do what we had hoped. Therefore, we tried to scale back.
In 1982, Captains Bettie and Richard Love were appointed corps officers and our future became the principal topic of conversation.
***
In Pasadena, the 70’s was the Longden decade as Major and Mrs. Albert Longden had become the corps officers in 1969. The soldiery got used to their new building, and for a few years things progressed well. Captains Paul and Kay Rader were in town as Paul worked on his doctorate at Fuller. There was considerable community service during the decade with the beginnings of a fine youth center program.
Nevertheless, the band’s membership slowly began to slip away to other corps. Perhaps, they had lost some part of their identity with the loss of their traditional open-air meeting site for almost 100 years at Fair Oaks and Colorado. The old neighborhood was changing. The freeway wiped out a number of homes as well as the old Army building, and the older part of town (later to become Old Town) seemed to have mostly empty buildings during this transition period. Access to the new neighborhoods east of Lake seemed difficult to achieve.
Old soldiers report that the sand seemed to be emptying itself from the glass, and no one knew how to stop it.
In 1977, Captains Ed and Naomi Storey were appointed corps officers. They had met the Army as a result of an open-air service at Hollywood and Vine. They worked very hard to stem the tide of departure, but were only able to maintain a declining status quo. A pro-tem officer followed them, and in 1981 Major Leslie Hood assumed the helm. Shortly after their arrival, discussions began to occur concerning the next steps for Pasadena.
Once again, we see a corps, once a major ministry, begin to disappear. The Army needs to examine data carefully and provide the kind of help necessary in circumstances like those experienced in Pasadena in the early 80s.
