I arrived at St. Olaf from a small town in Saskatchewan, Canada, in the fall of 1967. Why St Olaf? Good question. No one I knew had ever been there (although my father’s uncle had graduated from Carleton in the mid 1930s.) I knew nothing of the traditions, none of the songs, not even what St. Olaf was known for in the academic world.
What I did know is that I wanted to attend a college in the United States. I was born with dual citizenship, was miserable in high school (isn’t everyone?), and thought I should try living in the other country for a while. So why St. Olaf? Well, one hot summer day in 1966, my family was driving back to Canada after having visited my grandparents in Iowa. Dad decided that if I was intent on attending an American college, we might as well look at Carleton since it was not too far out of the way. I was not impressed. Then my dad said, “I think there’s a college on the other side of town.” We drove up the Hill.
We parked somewhere near the chapel and began exploring the St. Olaf campus. I thought it was gorgeous. We entered the chapel. Someone was playing the organ. The music, juxtaposed with the light filtering through the stained-glass windows, was magical. Sold!
Now, think 1967 … what was happening in the U.S. at that time? Political unrest, demonstrations, student takeovers of major college campuses. To my parents’ credit, they trusted the people at St. Olaf to keep me safe as they agreed to send me to this place in the United States.
So I arrived in September full of hope that life would be transformed since I had “escaped” my childhood. I had no idea what I would major in, or what I wanted “to be” when I grew up, other than not the me I was before.
A day or two later, my roommate who was from a family steeped in Ole history and experience, announced she was heading off to audition for Manitou Singers. I liked to sing, though I realize now that singing hymns in church was hardly “singing,” so I went along. When I entered the audition space, Alice Larson asked what I had brought to sing for her. Nothing. I didn’t know I should, so she asked me to sing My Country Tis of Thee. Oops. Didn’t know the words, being from Canada and all. I suggested God Save the Queen, same tune. I don’t remember any other requirements beyond that and a few arpeggios to ascertain vocal range.
A day or two later, I learned that I had been accepted into Manitou Singers — but my roommate had not. I really didn’t understand what the big deal was, but the atmosphere in our dorm room was icy for a long, long time.
At the first Manitou Singers rehearsal, we were seated by section. I was with the first sopranos. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I sat where I was told to and opened the music I had been given. After a warmup, we began to work on that piece. We were sight reading. I don’t remember what the music was, but I was blown away by the sound. I had never performed anything that sounded so wonderful, and this was before we “learned” the piece!
Fast forward to spring of 1968. In the St. Olaf music world at the time, spring was a time of anxiety because with the warmer weather came the all-important audition season that would let one know where one would sing the next year. By now I had learned the hierarchy of music on campus, and everyone in Manitou Singers was signing up to audition for the St. Olaf Choir — so I did, too. I walked into the room where Kenneth Jennings sat behind the piano. I don’t remember what was involved, but I do remember very clearly his words: “Nice voice; untrained, but nice.” I immediately phoned home to ask if I could study voice instead of organ next year. And, no, I didn’t make St. Olaf Choir.
On to the next round. Robert Scholz auditioned those of us who were not destined for the St. Olaf Choir. I was “waitlisted” for Chapel Choir. That was humbling, but I learned that I really wanted to sing, that life was better when I sang, that I can hear harmonies but because I can only sing one note at a time, I need other singers to fill in the chords.
Midway through the fall of 1968, I was called to the Chapel Choir and sang with them for two years. I remember a performance of Mozart’s Mass in C with the St. Olaf Orchestra. Other than St. Olaf Christmas Festival concerts that year, I had never heard a symphonic choir. The richness of sound with all the vocal and instrumental components was awesome. I wanted more.
At that time everyone knew that it was impossible to get into the St. Olaf Choir as a rising senior. All that training for just one year? It just wasn’t done. Nevertheless, I auditioned at the end of my junior year. I had been studying voice for two academic years and figured I had nothing to lose. By then I knew I had a good ear. I still couldn’t sight read, but I could remember what I had heard, and I could maintain pitch in an a cappella situation, no sharping or flatting when I sang.
I made call backs! I was terrified! I had no confidence in my ability and certainly didn’t want anyone to “hear” me sing, except when they had to. And there I was in Steensland Hall, standing with singers who were already members of the St. Olaf Choir, matching pitch, blending in, and forgetting to be uneasy because it all sounded so good.
Two days later, I learned that I would be an exception. I would spend my senior year as a member of the Ole Choir! I would rehearse two hours a day, five days a week all year; I would wear a purple velvet robe with white satin cuffs and collar. I would hold hands with the singers beside me and sing a full concert of Bach, Gabrieli, Mendelssohn, Nielsen, Jennings, and Christiansen, from memory on stages in multiple cities as we toured for two weeks.
How did this change my life? I never did overcome my insecurity vis a vis the music majors on campus, but I never stopped singing either. At my 50th reunion where I had the opportunity to speak with other Ole Choir members of my generation, I realized that I have not since 1967 taken for granted the opportunity to sing with others. It doesn’t get old. My family (David Johnson ’70 and three amazing daughters) and my career (librarian) have been wonderfully fulfilling, but my sanity has been saved time after time by going to rehearsal. I currently sing with a 100+ voice symphonic choir (thank you, Dr. Schulz), a 30-voice chamber chorus (thank you, Dr. Jennings), a 16-voice motet group, and a 30-voice women’s close harmony (yes, barbershop) group. These are my friends. These are my people. Thank you, St. Olaf.