“I am going to bring nine people to Paxton, Illinois to organize a state convention. Saturday, May 25 is the date. St. Louis will be next.”

That’s what Hugh McGraw, executive secretary of the Sacred Harp Publishing Company, wrote on a note tucked in a shipment of books to St. Louis singers in 1984. Meanwhile, those of us in Charleston, Illinois, thought we were gathering at Paxton on that date to meet and sing with the Chicago singers we had recently met. We didn’t reckon with the power of Hugh McGraw! This was to be our first real introduction to the tradition of Sacred Harp singing and, I like to think, an important part of the story of its expansion across the country.

Sign welcoming singers to the second Illinois State Sacred Harp Convention, September 1986.

Early Days: Charleston and Chicago

Back in 1980, Lee Steinmetz and Dave Miller, English professors at Eastern Illinois University, concocted the idea of getting a group from our church choir together to try singing from the 1971 Original Sacred Harp: Denson Revision. Dave had been introduced to Sacred Harp while a graduate student in Iowa. I don’t recall how we grew to a group of singers with regularly scheduled meetings, but I do know that we thought we had found some lovely, different choral music, even though it had some obvious “errors” in the harmony, which we fixed. We also added dynamics (we probably hadn’t found the few tunes which had them written in) and arranged the songs to suit our pleasure. I should mention that our efforts didn’t please Dave, who obviously had some idea of what Sacred Harp singing should sound like. We didn’t sit in a hollow square, but all sat together, seated around someone’s living room or in rows in the church choir room, with our choir director leading by nodding with her head.

I visited the library at Eastern, wanting to know more about Sacred Harp, and there discovered Buell Cobb’s book, The Sacred Harp, A Tradition and Its Music.1 I still love that book and was so thrilled when I met Buell for the first time at the National Convention.

Meantime, our group began singing at churches and clubs to give programs wherever we could get people to invite us or invited ourselves. Although these would probably be considered performances, our intent really was to spread the word and gather more members, which we did. This led to our “performance” at a talent show at Eastern. We had styled outfits for ourselves: the women wore gathered calico skirts with a ruffle on the bottom and the men wore dark pants, white shirts, and narrow string ties.

During this time we were invited to sing at Eastern’s Celebration, a “smorgasbord of the arts,” held every spring on the campus. It was there in about 1984 that a talent scout from the Libertyville (Illinois) School of Folk Music came to Celebration, looking for groups to sing for their programs and were invited to Libertyville to perform.

The summer before that performance, five of our group—Lee and Doris Steinmetz, Hal Malehorn, Don Bardsley, and Ruth White—decided to attend the National Convention in Birmingham. We all were excited to hear their report when they returned, and they had lots to tell us! Everyone sang really loud and fast! And the ladies wore their finest dresses and jewelry. They reported about dinner on the grounds, the social gatherings, and some of the great people they met, including Hugh McGraw. So we decided to incorporate some of that into our presentation at Libertyville. We worked up a program, including coming with baskets and pretending to spread out “dinner on the grounds.” Another thing they brought back that we used was the comment “that was a good ‘un” after singing a tune.

Singers from Chicago and Downstate Illinois singing at a social at the Steinmetz home, during the second Illinois State Convention, September 1986. Members of the two groups met at a Sacred Harp presentation by the downstate group at the Libertyville School of Folk Music.

We had a great adventure that weekend. Several carloads of us made the trip—we must have had twenty singers or more. We were to sing at 8 pm, I believe, but were told on arrival that they had booked an Irish harp player and singer at the last minute and we would follow her. So it was 11 pm before we performed our “gig.” But here’s the amazing thing: when we got up to sing, we saw several folks out in the audience with Sacred Harp songbooks, following along. So for our last number, we invited them to come up and sing with us. And that was our introduction to the fledgling Chicago singers.

The Chicago singers arrived more or less at the same point we did prior to Paxton but by a very different route—one might say by way of folk music rather than choir music, and that made quite a difference. It was a time when singers from all over the “north” were finding and falling in love with this music through these and other pathways.

The First Illinois Convention

The Charleston and the Chicago singers were so amazed to find one another that we decided we should get together to sing. Lee and Doris Steinmetz had a good friend who was a United Methodist pastor at Paxton, on I-57, about halfway between Chicago and Charleston, and agreed to let us use their church; so a date was set, May 25, for the

Hugh McGraw at the fourth Illinois State Convention, September 1988. McGraw brought a group of Georgia singers to the first Illinois State Convention and “encouraged” the growing group to adopt Sacred Harp’s practices.

Ted Johnson remembers that it was his wife Marcia and fellow Chicago singer Judy Hauff who were in contact with Hugh and who received the phone call from him enquiring, “Y’all are going to have a convention?” So Hugh sent them the bylaws, the minutes and promised to bring a group of singers from Georgia. Oh, and he said, “do y’all sing the shapes?” and, after a significant pause, “Well, you’ll learn.”

Most of us in Charleston had no idea what a convention was or what was in store for us as we entered approached our encounter with traditional Sacred Harp practices. Each of our groups worked up some songs to perform for one another. We in Charleston couldn’t believe it when we heard these folks were coming from the South. We had planned to sing in the church basement and had a music stand in the center of the square to hold the book for whoever was leading. Next thing we knew we were upstairs in the sanctuary and people were pouring in from all over: Georgia, Alabama, Missouri, Wisconsin, Indiana, Minnesota. I will always remember how supportive the southern singers were. They didn’t tell us we were doing everything wrong (though they must have shared that among themselves!), just gently drew us into the tradition. And Hugh came prepared with copies of the constitution for the first Illinois Convention, which is what we became on that momentous occasion.

The class at the third Illinois State Convention, September 1987.

Ted Mercer recalls that there was a great deal of preparation in Chicago, attempting to learn the shapes, and choosing a repertoire of songs to present. He recalls that nearly the entire group made the trip. We Charleston singers worked hard at preparing a number of tunes (not the shapes, though); and we had practiced some anthems that we would sing with the newly-found Chicago group. We caravanned down from Charleston Saturday morning, but the Chicago singers arrived on Friday and encountered the Georgia contingent at the motel. Ted remembers Hugh McGraw, Delores McGraw, Richard DeLong, and Matt DeLong. They gathered in one of the motel rooms for a warm-up. As Ted writes, “A new, deafening sound filled the small space; I almost felt like the room was about to explode. As he leaned past me to get a beverage from the cooler during the singing, [then-Chicago singer] Jim Carnes whispered to me, eyes wide and pointing to Richard DeLong, ‘he’s yelping!’”

Georgia singer Geneva Prichard, sitting behind Ted, invited him to Holly Springs the next weekend. He and Judy Hauff did attend and were deeply affected by that experience. He wrote, “After we returned to Chicago, our director Phil Trier expressed the opinion that the Illinois State had ‘mixed’ results. I think he was uneasy about the southern influence. Indeed, scarcely a month later after the contingent from Chicago went to the National Convention, singers were insisting on leading themselves rather than being directed and when director Trier said ‘Do you want to sound like a group of backwoodsmen?’ we responded with a spontaneous ‘yes!’”

From Then to Now

There were singers in our Charleston group who still wanted to sing choir music and perform. As many of us traveled south and adopted longstanding Sacred Harp practices, those people were either absorbed into the group or gradually fell by the wayside. Ted Johnson points out that one of the great things about this music is that it will accommodate and absorb all sorts of sounds into itself without harm. The Chicago singers were immediately hooked as they traveled to singings and learned all they could about Sacred Harp and its traditions. For us in Charleston, it was a combination of things: the influence of Hugh McGraw, southern singers coming to us on Ruth Brown’s bus, and some of us venturing south to sing. [Read about a bus trip to the New England Convention organized by Alabama singer Ruth Brown in vol. 2, no. 2, of the Newsletter.—Eds.]

And even before the bus came, bringing singers from Alabama and Georgia, Joan Aldridge ventured our way. I was singing alto back in 1987 and happened to sit next to Joan at the National Convention that year. She decided to make the long trip from Anniston, Alabama, to Charleston, Illinois, that fall and has hardly missed a convention since. We have been delighted to host many other singers from Alabama and Georgia, from Canada, and from the United Kingdom. It’s not just about singing or about food—it’s fellowship that keeps us going! And traveling. We learned from Bob Meek, stalwart Kentucky singer, sadly no longer with us, that if you want people to come to your singing you have to go to theirs.

Front bench tenors from near and far at the fourth Illinois State Convention, September 1988. From left: Ted Mercer and Stephen O’Leary (Chicago), Jeff Sheppard (Alabama), Lee Steinmetz (S. IL), and B. M. Smith (Georgia).

The original intent was to alternate the Illinois State Convention between Chicago and Charleston but when the Midwest Convention was established the next year we inherited running the Illinois.

As I write this, we have just held the thirty-third Illinois State Convention (and I have attended all of them!). It now meets on the Saturday before the third Sunday in September and we sing from The Missouri Harmony as well as The Sacred Harp: 1991 Revision. We attract a small but loyal core group from Illinois, Missouri, Wisconsin, Indiana, and other states, including many who came to that first tentative attempt to hold a convention; and we add an occasional new singer from here in Illinois. We haven’t been very successful in attracting musicians from Eastern Illinois University or church choir members. Those interested in history or folk music have been more likely to gravitate to us. I think that’s been true of much of the “northern” expansion of Sacred Harp singing; it’s not through churches as much as folk venues that we have grown.

Ted Johnson, Karen Isbell, and Janet Fraembs anchoring the treble at the sixth Illinois State Convention, September 1990.

The Holy Grail of the perfect singing site still eludes us. As we travel around I have been known to spot a small country church and wonder aloud if that would be a good place to sing. We have moved the convention around some as needs changed. Currently it’s at the Texas Christian Church, in the countryside between Clinton and Decatur, which is fairly convenient to both our major cooks.

Providing enough food for dinner on the grounds was a problem at first as we didn’t yet have the concept of cooking a dozen different dishes in preparation. After Terry Hogg and Lori Graber joined our group that was no longer a problem. Each of them individually could cook enough to feed the entire class!

D. J. Hatfield leads the class at the twenty-second Illinois State Convention, September 2005.

Finally, I think it’s worth sharing these words sent to the singings list in 1999 by the late Larry Olzewski, Old Harp singer from Tennessee:

They do have a responsibility, those that join Harp singing. They must put away all their pains and groans and griefs and fears, to give the Harp community a priority in their lives. Their agenda must be as contributors to the community, for its wellness and awareness of the next person who walks in the door. If they dwell on what they get out of the Old Harp then they are not givers and don’t, it seems, last long. If the individuals who focus on giving and sharing to build the community harmony then they will stay.

That’s what we’ve tried to do over the thirty-three years of the Illinois Convention—find those who will stay. Age and death have taken some of our core group of loyal singers. I believe it takes young people to attract young people and we’re not very successful at that, though we have established a monthly singing at Urbana which attracts some students from the University of Illinois.

And there will always be some who respond to the pull from that rectangular book with so many old tunes and new, sharing our unaccompanied voices in praise, sadness, pleading, longing, and joy.

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1.  Buell E. Cobb, The Sacred Harp: A Tradition and Its Music (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1978). [↩]

My love of Sacred Harp began with my grandfather, Jim Fields, who took me to a singing school in 1958, when I was ten years old. H. N. “Bud” McGraw was the teacher. I was immediately in love with the music, the warmth, and the welcoming hugs for a little newcomer. Some of the other attendees of that singing school were Hugh McGraw, Jeff Sheppard, Buford McGraw (and lots of McGraw children), Charlene Wallace, and Jack Hicks, my grandmother’s cousin, who was in his eighties and had never learned to sing Sacred Harp. I remember being able to show him which line to sing on for the tenor part. Years later, when he was more than 100 years old, Jack had fun telling the story of how I helped him learn to sing “when he was a young boy.”

James T. “Jim” Fields and Dessie Brown Fields, 1921. Dessie Brown Fields’ brother, Leman Brown, served on the Sacred Harp Publishing Company board of directors and was married to Ruth Burnham Brown. Photograph courtesy of Louise Holland.

On the way home that first night, Papa, my grandfather, seemed a bit nervous for some reason. We chatted, and he asked me some roundabout questions about the night. Finally, he said, “You’ll like it better when you get used to it.” I responded, “I already like it!” My grandfather told me years later that he was worried that I wouldn’t want to go back the next night. That singing school was the beginning of my love affair with Sacred Harp music and the Sacred Harp family.

We attended the singing school every night for two weeks, two hours each night. The first hour was spent on instruction and the second on singing with everyone sitting in parts. We newcomers stayed on the tenor part to learn the lead before we tried to sing another part. Each of us had to jump in and learn to lead as well; the first song I led was “Weeping Sinners” (p. 108t in The Sacred Harp). Papa taught me never to lead without my book. To this day, I can’t lead without at least holding my book. It’s the prop holding me up. We had a theme song that we practiced each night with the goal of singing it well on the last night of school when the community would be invited to come sing with us. That song was “Lawrenceburg” (p. 380). That was a real challenge, but we did it! After the singing school ended, I didn’t realize it was only the beginning—I cried and hid my face in the book. What a happy surprise it was to learn that we could sing somewhere almost every weekend!

Jim and Dessie Fields with their daughter Ruth Fields Ayers, ca. 1948. Photograph courtesy of Louise Holland.

My Papa died late in 1959, so we didn’t get to sing together very long. Still, when I sing the songs that have been sung by so many generations before me, I feel a sense of place, of belonging, on the timeline of Sacred Harp history. I feel the ones who came before me, and I feel those who will come after me. I’ll always be thankful to him for that wonderful, loving gift.

Another strong influence in my singing life came from Jim and Lillie Belle Ayers. They became my surrogate grandparents, friends, and means of getting to singings. As I grew up, I learned from them how much it means to others to encourage, teach, love, and transport those who wouldn’t otherwise have a way to go to singings. I would call them as often as my mother would allow it—she didn’t want me to be a nuisance! It’s probably a good thing there was no caller ID: “Oh, no, it’s that Holland girl again!” They were unselfish with their time and their love. When the 1960 Edition of the Denson book was published, we had local evening practice sessions to learn the new songs. Each time we would go, Jim would have a new song picked out for us to practice. We would pull off the side of the country road, learn the song right there in the car, and be ready to sing it with the group when we arrived.

A scene from the 1960 United Sacred Harp Musical Association in Bowdon, Georgia, captured by a reporter for the Bowdon Bulletin. From left to right: Hugh McGraw (convention vice chairman), Will Laminack (“oldest in attendance”), Kathy Holland (“youngest in attendance”), and Jim Ayers (chairman). At twelve, I wasn’t really the youngest attendee—I was just the one that Jim chose!

Jim was a prankster. He loved to get a gentle chuckle with his tricks. His car was a 1959 Cadillac, the one with the tall fins in the back and the taillights about halfway up the fins. I had never seen such a fancy car, with its electric window controls. I had no idea that Jim could control all four windows from the driver’s seat. One time, he lowered my window in the back seat, then told me not to be playing with the windows, all the time watching for my reaction in the rearview mirror!

Fellow altos (left to right) Joyce Walton, Charlene Wallace, and Carlene Griffin, at the first National Sacred Harp Convention, Birmingham, Alabama, 1980. Photograph courtesy of the Sacred Harp Museum.

I learned to sing alto from Charlene Wallace and Joyce Walton. When I arrived at a singing, I would rush to put my book on the chair next to Charlene’s. She would sing toward me and point to my page when I got lost or made a mistake. She was so patient. She has helped countless youngsters and not-so-youngsters learn to sing. Just sitting beside her was a learning experience. I still love to sing beside Charlene.

Around this time, I learned another important lesson: when there is a book on a chair, that chair is spoken for! I don’t remember specific instances, so I’m sure I was gently reprimanded, probably when someone’s book was already on the chair next to Charlene’s. That lesson has stuck so well that I still remember, with shame, the two times in sixty years that I moved someone’s book after reaching a reasonable age of accountability! I remember where each of the two singings was, and I remember whose books I moved.

I attended singing schools taught by H. N. “Bud” McGraw, Jeff Sheppard, George Phillips, Loyd Redding, Buford McGraw, Euclid McGuire, and others I’m sure I’ll remember later. Most of these names will be unfamiliar to many of you. I name them to say that I learned from them, collectively, and that there is always something new to learn, someone new who needs help, someone new to love and encourage. I can’t tell you how many times I saw Jeff Sheppard reach forward from his front row seat to take the hand of a child or an adult who was learning to lead. In one of the last pictures I saw of him, he was doing just that.

Jeff Sheppard, always an entertainer, often in a borrowed hat, aboard one of the many bus trips to far-off singings organized by Ruth and Leman Brown. Photograph courtesy of the Sacred Harp Museum.

Jeff was also a prankster and an entertainer, his green eyes always dancing with mischief. At the end of the 2007 Camp Fasola at Camp Lee in Anniston, Alabama, everyone was visiting, saying goodbye, and hating to leave. I was chatting with Jeff at one point and he kept glancing at my pickup truck. Finally, he said, “Would you like to come by my house today?” Well, I was flattered, and said, “Yes, I’d love to come visit with you and Shelbie this afternoon!” He ducked his head, chuckled out loud, and I realized I’d been had. He had a stepladder he wanted to load in the back of my truck so I could bring it to his house. From pranksters and mischief makers like Jeff I’ve learned how much fun it is to get to know my fellow singers on a different level. I think that’s one reason so many singers return to Camp Fasola year after year—to learn, of course, and to sing, but also to spend time with each other in a more intimate setting than usual. We come to know each other in a broader and deeper sense.

Ruth Brown with Jasper “Jap” Walton, at the first National Sacred Harp Convention, 1980. Photograph courtesy of the Sacred Harp Museum.

My great aunt and uncle, Leman and Ruth Brown, were the wise owls in our family, the ones whose counsel we sought. You may have heard stories of Aunt Ruth’s bus trips to Sacred Harp singings. If you were at the youth session of Camp Fasola in 2015, you heard some of those stories first hand from those who had traveled with the “Bus Lady.” [Read about a 1985 trip to the New England Convention on Aunt Ruth’s bus in vol. 2, no. 2 of the Newsletter—Eds.] From the perspective of a family member, her niece, I learned how important it is to be patient with your fellow travelers.

Luggage doesn’t arrive immediately at a hotel door. Someone is given the wrong key. Another’s room isn’t satisfactory. Still another doesn’t like what is being served at a group dinner. One such participant, on a trip to Hawaii, refused to come to the bus at our scheduled time because she had been chatting and hadn’t finished her lunch. People get tired and irritable traveling on a tight schedule. Through it all, Aunt Ruth maintained her grace, dignity, and patience, and vented privately, not to her bus people. That’s not to say that she didn’t have the ability to quietly but firmly put one in one’s place when the occasion demanded it.

Aunt Ruth’s trips were always filled with stories, lessons in patience, and a deep appreciation for the nuances of travel. Her ability to handle the inevitable challenges—like missing luggage or delayed schedules—was something that always stuck with me. Traveling in a group, especially when you’re on a tight itinerary, can test the patience of even the most seasoned wanderers. But, like Aunt Ruth, it’s all about keeping calm, finding moments of humor, and remembering that every delay or setback is part of the adventure.

In fact, sometimes those very hiccups lead to the most memorable moments. This reminds me of the flexibility needed when exploring places like Hawaii. With its beautiful beaches and breathtaking landscapes, Hawaii demands a certain relaxed approach to travel, and one of the best ways to embrace that is by going with the flow—and exploring on scooters. When it comes to exploring the Hawaiian islands, renting scooters offers an easy and enjoyable way to get around. Much like Aunt Ruth’s careful planning of her trips, it’s important to take a step back and allow yourself to enjoy the journey.

Lonnie Rogers, 1990s. Courtesy of Karen Rollins.

From Lonnie Rogers, I learned how important it is to recognize and welcome someone you haven’t seen at a singing in a while. During my college years, in the late 1960s, I stopped  regularly going to singings. About 1971, I went to Lonnie’s singing at the elementary school across from his house in Ephesus, Heard County, Georgia, after having missed it for several years. It was cold that first Sunday in March, and as I stopped at the back of the room to take off my coat, Lonnie came to welcome me. He took my hand in both of his, and said, “Kathy, it just looks natural to see you coming in here.” He leaned in toward me as he spoke to me and looked directly into my eyes; he was so sincere and loving. He told me stories over the years about connections between our families. We lived in adjacent counties, and he wanted me to know these family stories that I wouldn’t have known otherwise.

Hugh McGraw, at the first National Sacred Harp Convention, 1980.
Photograph courtesy of the Sacred Harp Museum.

From Hugh McGraw, in addition to many Sacred Harp lessons, I learned the importance of flexibility. In 1985 a singing friend told me she was going with Hugh and a group of singers to the New England Convention in Middletown, Connecticut. I wanted to go so badly, and to take my daughter. My friend told me to call Hugh and ask him about it. It didn’t occur to me at the time what a huge favor I was asking. Nevertheless, Hugh said of course we could go. He made all our reservations, had to change his car rental arrangements, and never mentioned any inconvenience. When we arrived at our destination airport and went to retrieve said rental car, what we saw was about the size of my Toyota Prius! Hugh walked all around that car twice trying to figure out how to fit us in. It just wouldn’t work. When he returned from his trip back to the rental office, he had the keys to a seven-passenger van for the nine of us. We had luggage stashed in every available space inside the van and more tied to the luggage rack on top! We had to stop a few times to retie pieces that fell off the edge of the rack. Three of us took turns sitting on a piece of luggage by the sliding door. We had a blast, attended a wonderful convention, and returned home without serious incident.

I know each of us has stories of people who have had great influence on our lives. These are just a few of mine. I’d love to hear some of yours sometime. And I’d like to leave you with some bits of advice I’ve learned through the years.

1. Don’t forget that a book on the chair is a sacred covenant! Also, if you intend to change seats after a break, take your book with you.
2. If you need to get up during a song, find a way to go around the perimeter of the group.
3. Responsible front bench tenor singers always beat time with the leader and look up at the leader. Some leaders need your help, and some don’t. Watch them for cues. Also, there are times when singers on other parts can’t see the leader, and your help is needed.
4. Have your song ready when it’s your turn to lead, and call it out from your seat when you stand. Have a backup song chosen in case your first choice has already been called.
5. If you are called to lead immediately before or after the Memorial Lesson, choose a song that fits that mood.
6. Let the person keying have some “space” to find their note. Help only if the pitcher asks you to. You can also pitch your own tune; just let the keyer know.
7. Be aware of how the singing is flowing, with highs and lows throughout the day, when choosing a song to lead.
8. Singers have a wide range of belief systems. What each individual makes of the music and lyrics is up to that person. Respect that right. I think that’s something we do pretty well, actually.
9. Even long-time singers make mistakes or sing something incorrectly out of ingrained habit. It’s okay to give it a go and not do well—or just listen and try to follow along.
10. Find your elders, those who have helped you in some way that you remember, and let them know over and over, how important they’ve been.
11. Finally, when you know a friend who won’t be with us much longer, find a way to say goodbye. I learned this lesson from my mother, who taught me how important it is to acknowledge an impending death; to let that person know how much they have meant to me, and to say good bye.