Picture New York in January. Even for New Yorkers, like me, it’s the time of year when everyone is anxious to get away and distance themselves from the bitter cold, wind, messy snow, grey, and general dreariness of the heart of winter. In January 1987, I escaped to San Francisco for a holiday with two great friends who had recently moved there, David Higgs and Stephen Smith. On a fluke, I decided to take an interview for a Music Director position in neighboring Marin County, even though New Yorkers don’t believe anything of importance exists west of the Hudson River. What could it hurt? Right?
It was a glorious sunny day, and I was instructed to take the ferry from San Francisco to Marin. I might as well have walked from a black and white film into a color film! The contrast with “my” New York took my breath away.
Although I hadn’t taken the interview seriously, four months later I accepted the position that had been offered me there in Marin County. I was taken in by the intellectual match I felt with the rector of the church, the proximity to nature on a scale I had only known through photographs, the opportunity to design a new organ and have the contract signed before I stepped in the door, and the chance to build a music program completely from scratch. I was the first (and last) full time Minister of Music at this church, and one of only five full time music directors in the Diocese of California.
It was a heady time for a 29-year old, charged with the role of “putting this church on the map.” I built a semi-professional choir program performing everything from the Tallis Lamentations for Tenebrae to the Paul Winter Missa Gaia for St. Francis Day. I built a thriving Junior Choir that sang regularly, a concert series of chamber music and organ music that brought in great musicians from around the world, a recognition that the acoustics of this particular church created the prime venue for chamber concerts and recordings in the Bay Area, and an Artists-in-Residency program featuring the (now internationally renowned) American Bach Soloists – which I co-founded two years after arriving at this church. (More about that later in this blog.)
Although that description of accomplishments sounds very single-handed, I couldn’t have accomplished these things without the encouragement of the rector and the support of the congregation. They gave me the chance to flower in ways that I could not had I stayed in New York City. I also got to discover the major difference between the American East coast and the American West coast: The East coast, facing Europe, is a place for tradition, not particularly adaptive to innovation; the West coast, facing the Pacific rim nations, is a place for innovation, not particularly good at establishing lasting tradition. Consequently it’s easy to begin new things in the West (but very hard in the East); it’s difficult to maintain them in the West (but not as difficult in the East). I fit very comfortably into the innovator-entrepreneur suit of clothes; but it took moving to the West to figure that out. I’ve started five nonprofits while living in California. I don’t think that it’s likely I would have done that had I stayed in the East.
Making Ends Meet
But there were many examples of youthful naïveté that had major negative consequences for me. The first, and most important, was money.
I accepted a full time position at the richest church in the richest community in the richest state in the richest nation at the richest point in world history; but my income was only marginally above the poverty line. I didn’t know how to investigate this before I arrived, and I didn’t have the self-esteem to ask for more money. I was barely scraping by, gradually falling into debt, yet working among some of the biggest CEOs in California. That disconnect began to wear on me psychologically, building resentment toward the enormous entitlement of the people that encircled me. So I did what church musicians like me have done in the past, developed a concert career to bring in more income.
Let’s back up here.
Historically, musicians held very low social status. In the medieval period, musicians had less social status than guild members and were relegated to being traveling minstrels (basically gypsies) or monastics. After the Reformation, as congregational singing took hold in churches, instrumentalists and singers were relegated to a loft, away from the people, because they were considered uncouth. (Much has been written about this phenomenon in books about the English Parish Church.) By the baroque period (1600 – 1750), as choral and instrumental music began to proliferate, virtually every composer was an organist. Organists, Cantors and Choir Directors had a great deal of influence over the people of the community, but absolutely no power to act on their own. They were poorly paid and only employed at “the pleasure” of the magistrates and clergy. After The Enlightenment, musicians of all varieties were still considered second class citizens. Even chamber music, performed in homes and courts, had to be done behind a rope to separate musicians from the upper classes!
This paradigm started to shift because of Franz Liszt, himself an upper class citizen, who could not be on the “other” side of the rope. By the late nineteenth century, sociological changes had evolved such that musicians now fell into the category of “noble savage,” and the mystique of the creative genius started to take off.
But not in the Church.
As the secular world began to treat musicians with greater and greater respect, even awe at the God-given talents they were able to express, the Church doubled down on the concept of Servant Musician, employed at the whim of Church authorities, expected to operate solely within the parameters of the church world, and most significantly, not exhibit any qualities of free-thinking, innovation, nor independence. All decisions were top-down, patriarchal, and final.
Today for example, in Italy, organists are paid nothing. (They’re given the right to practice and teach on the church organ but must play Masses for free.) It’s only marginally better in Spain and France. The Catholic Church has made it clear what it thinks about musicians.
The Reform traditions, stemming from Luther and Calvin, have fared better because they have deliberately structured themselves in opposition to the patriarchal, top-down Roman Catholic Church. Musicians, while still under the direct control of the clergy, are afforded more respect, and with that, a more viable salary. But this salary is never on par with ordained clergy even though the amount of years of private instruction for musicians (at least ten for professional musicians, and in my case twenty) far exceeds the requirement for clergy (three years in seminary). Also the expense of a musical education is second only to medicine!
The Anglican/Episcopal Church has always floated between the two extremes of Roman Catholicism and Reform Protestantism. It loves its top-down, patriarchal, powerful, influential position in the world and refuses to even question the continued viability of that. But it wants to appear inclusive, egalitarian, “respecting the dignity of all human beings.” It pulls off both of these poles poorly. Musicians are given a lowly status with no voice. In the more prominent positions, they are expected to be a magnet for dynamic music-making that can uplift the community, yet a wall-flower in relation to the clergy and ruling Vestry or Cathedral Chapter.
The reason that the Anglican/Episcopal Church attracts so many great church musicians, in my opinion, is because it holds, by far, the richest musical tradition of any religion or denomination in the world. It nurtures the unbelievable wealth of music that the Catholic Church gave us during the Renaissance, the choral explosion in England in the 20th century, the mystical traditions of the medieval period and late twentieth century minimalists, the African-American tradition borrowed from the Methodists and Baptists, the phenomenal Bach tradition of the Lutherans, as well as several others. Episcopal organists and choir directors need to be on top of all of this wealth of music and information, yet completely subservient to clergy who mostly don’t have a clue about this storehouse of knowledge, expertise, nor wisdom.
In order to subsidize their income, Music Directors who can, take to the road to give recitals. Some teach, but in my case, I was much more drawn to the concert world. Sadly, this time away from my church positions, was always resented by my clergy employers. They expected me to function like an office employee, showing up exactly at the same time each day, and the same days each week. They resented me for my times on the road and took every opportunity to rake me over the coals as a result. The last clergy I worked for created a type of demerit system such that I was dinged for any time I wasn’t around when my contract said I would be, but not given any “credit” for the dozens and dozens of days I was at the church on days off.
The rector that I so admired started to sour on me, in spite of the program I was building at this church, partly because I loved playing concerts away from the church, but mostly because I didn’t adhere to his “my way or the highway” style of leadership.
After working together four years, he announced that he would be leaving one year later. The budget plummeted. All staff (except him) were reduced to half time. He left to become Dean at a seminary on the East coast where he, ironically, became a teacher of ethics.
With my salary cut in half, my financial difficulties turned into a veritable crisis that would take me several decades to climb out of.
After seven years in that position, I left for a full time job in San Francisco. But, 27 years later, I would return to that church for what would prove the final, painful chapter in my church music career.
My idol: J. S. Bach
“Those in charge are odd and ambivalent towards Music,
Which means I have to live with almost non-stop
Vexation, Envy and Persecution.”
– J. S. Bach (Oct. 28, 1730)
Ever since I can remember, I’ve felt that I’ve had a special affinity for understanding Bach, the person, and a special gift for communicating the actual music that emanated from the mind, heart, and spirit of that unique figure. He and I both have had careers in music, focused in the church, but also performing as concert soloists and conductors. He and I both had the misfortune of working under clergy we couldn’t respect and who made our lives full of “Vexation.” He and I both have discovered that the clergy’s misunderstanding about what it takes to be a musician, observing the following that many musicians develop, creates “Envy” in the clergy. And he and I both have learned that when a person with powerful authority witnesses their “underling” in the limelight, this can generate insecurity leading to “Persecution” of the underling.
In the Spring of 1988, wanting to actualize a dream of bringing Bach’s sacred cantatas to life, but not simply as a concert performance (a concept which would have been completely anathema to Bach) but in the context of a simplified liturgy, I paired up with an old classmate from my Conservatory days and founded American Bach Soloists (ABS). Based in period performance practice, with the hottest vocal and instrumental talents in the United States at the time, we set out to make a huge impact. We crafted unique concert programs (he won the argument about whether or not to use a liturgical format), recordings, summer festivals, and the like. There’s no question that my being in such a wealthy community, which would see ABS as their trophy, enabled this to happen. My co-founder was living in NYC, making his living as a tenor soloist, so we decided to split our responsibilities: He would hire the national talent, run the rehearsals, and sing tenor in the performances/recordings. I would create the board, find the money, rehearse the choir, handle the administrative end of things (including working with a marketing director, etc.) and play continuo in the performances/recordings.
My naïveté came to the fore again as this was developing from an inchoate idea to a world-traveling ensemble. I never suspected that my co-founder had his eyes on the prize (total control), resenting sharing the limelight with me. Ten years, and many thousands of hours, into the journey, he simply refused to hire me for any more performances. Because he had placed himself in the position of hiring, the musicians gradually grew to see him as the person fully in charge. There was no one to come to my defense, and my co-founder, himself, refused to give me an explanation.
This devastated me. I felt that I was quite literally the spiritual connection between Bach, his music, and the ABS ensemble. The fact that that wasn’t seen by anyone other than me plunged me into a despair that lasted nearly two decades.
Dante considers betrayal to be the lowest form of sin. He puts betrayers in the 9th circle of hell, the deepest level, where the devil himself is surrounded by people who betray the trust of others. The reason for this is that a betrayer has the ability to change how another person looks at the world, with the risk of even making them become malevolent.
Return
I’m well aware of the wisdom of not returning to a place of former employment, but I figured a lapse of 28 years made that wisdom irrelevant. (False)
I’m also well aware of the wisdom of not following someone of long tenure (15 years and more) without there first being an Interim. I made that gross mistake in my first professional position (Washington, DC) – following my predecessor’s 18-year tenure. I made that gross mistake at the Cathedral in Minneapolis – following a 28-year tenure. And I ultimately made that mistake at my final church position – following a 27-year tenure. Each ended disastrously for me, and partly because of the absence of an Interim. Each began with dozens of promises of an ideal working situation. Each presented the job as a “now or never” possibility, so that if I didn’t act on the job offer, I’d never see it again. None was willing to consider employing an Interim Music Director. Each thought they were too important to have an Interim, and/or never stopped to consider what changing musical leadership might do to the church’s microcosmic system. Each was a cauldron of dysfunction, back-stabbing, secrets, and opposing camps. In short, I naïvely walked directly into a hornets’ nest, not once, but three times.
Returning to my first California post, exactly 35 years after my initial hiring there, felt simultaneously familiar and foreign. Nearly all the people I had known there from my first tenure had moved or died. The organ which I had installed was in need of repairs. Disorganization of everything from contracts to the music library was widespread. And even the office building had been completely replaced since my first tenure.
None of this is bad or difficult. I set to work getting things into order. It’s something I’m good at and don’t mind doing. Besides, the rector who hired me gave me carte blanche to craft a sophisticated music program with lots of challenging music. Who wouldn’t jump at that opportunity?
He welcomed all of my ideas for innovation. We seemed like two peas in a pod. He commented, nearly every week, on how much he enjoyed the music from the Sunday before. (Just as an aside, a little praise goes a long way! In my fifty years working in the church, he was the only clergy person that consistently thanked me for what I gave to the congregation each week, and he was the only clergy to comment on hymns, organ music, and anthems.)
But there was an insidious demon lurking in this land of secrets and entitlement. A group of people within the congregation, including the Senior Warden and most of the Vestry, were intent to have the rector leave. They didn’t like his piety; and they didn’t like him. So, four months after my re-commencement at this church, he told me that he would be leaving.
There was a second problem that grew concurrently. My predecessor had hired a parishioner as a section leader. (Word to the wise: NEVER do that! It violates all kinds of ethical issues and ties your hands as a leader.) This section leader admitted that she didn’t want the role and hoped I would find a replacement for her when I could. But while she was a paid section leader, my expectations were the same for her as for any section leader: know your notes, show up on time, demonstrate good attitude, show me respect. When she demonstrated none of the four, I invited her out for coffee to discuss this. She was quite taken aback that I would challenge her. So from that day forward, along with her husband (who served on the Vestry) made it her personal mission to have me fired. I learned about this snowball effect, months after it had begun, from the Senior Warden. But I was assured it would blow over. The Senior Warden assured me that the music program and I were “the only things keeping this church together” as it sailed into uncharted waters following a very bumpy exit of the rector who hired me. As I say, a little praise goes a long way to build trust and friendship. I believed him. (naïve)
Following my hiring rector’s departure, an Interim Rector arrived for a planned six-month stint. Somewhere near the beginning of his term, or perhaps before it even started, he was given the directive to fire me before he ended his term. I, of course, only learned of this several months after being fired, but at least some of the professional staff was aware of this for the entire period of time, giving the character of our working relationship that of eggshells.
This Interim Rector had to come up with a smokescreen as to why I would eventually be fired. He couldn’t just say that I failed to kowtow to an entitled soprano. So for the six months we worked together (he fired me the week before his last Sunday), he made life miserable for me. First he insisted that I was to run all my music ideas by him for his approval. Then I wasn’t to address anyone in the office unless I ran my questions or concerns through him first. Then he twice changed my job description and notified me of the changes in the middle of my vacation (not even bothering to spell my name correctly). Then he started making fun of my mannerisms in public. And finally, a couple days before he fired me, he printed out the Episcopal Canon that states the Rector is to be “the final authority in the administration of matters pertaining to music,” (Canon 14) and threw it in my face. His disdain towards me was palpable.
On Tuesday, Oct. 18, 2022, I attended what was called my first annual evaluation. It was not an evaluation; it was a personal indictment. The Interim Rector recited all the myriad of ways that I was problematic to this church, then turned to the Senior Warden who fired me. (Recall what Dante said about betrayers.) One of the people present at this meeting was a Vestry member who seemed to threaten to kill me – or so I thought. He said: “Don’t bother to try and sue us. We have a lot of rich people here who could put you under.” It took me a half a minute to realize he was talking about financially, not physically. If that had been the end of it, that would have been bad enough. But it wasn’t.
They attempted to make me crawl to receive a one-month’s severance, but with increasingly demeaning and ruthless emails from their lawyer, they eventually denied that I had any claim even to that. The whole thing was ugly in the extreme and plunged me into a severe depression.
This time, I really did leave church employment for good.
To be continued.