Page 24 - CJSept24

William Dawson: A Personal Reflection

Then Mr. Jones’s expression turned more serious. At nearly eighty years old, Dawson was still strong,
“Have you ever heard the Tuskegee Institute Choir sturdy, energetic, and sharp as a tack, though a little
sing?” No, I hadn’t, though I knew they had made a shorter than I had expected him to be. I summoned up
record. all the courage I had. “Dr. Dawson, I would like to ask
Then, the question: “Would you like to hear a re- you a question about Ain’-a That Good News,” I blurted
cording of them?” out. With the candor that I was soon to learn was his
My heart was beating faster! “Yes, sir!” I replied. norm, he replied, “Well, I’m on my way to a session
“My wife attended Tuskegee and sang under Daw- and don’t have time to talk now, but you can come by
son. She has a recording of the choir. I will need to my room tonight and I will try to answer your question.
think about whether or not to let you borrow it.” I as- And bring a score!” Now my head was swimming! I
sured him that if he did, I promised to take care of it. asked his room number. And what time? “Oh, about
He decided to take the chance. He handed it to me, midnight.” Midnight? But that’s what he said.
and without the hint of a smile, he said, “This is one Ain’-a That Good News was a very rhythmic and
of the original recordings. You can’t buy it anymore. I extremely effective Dawson setting. We had always
believe I can trust you. Take it home tonight, listen to known it as a single piece of musical energy, each verse
it, and bring it back tomorrow in the same shape it’s in set as a variation, which moved unimpeded from start
now. If anything happens to this recording, I will have through a short coda to its conclusion, except for a final
to leave home!” ritardando and fermata near the very end. His recent revi-
William Levi Dawson was a giant. To actually hear sion had now inserted a slow verse before returning to
his choir sing his music was a thrill and absolutely tempo. I wondered why.
epiphanic for me, a young aspiring choral musician! So, a few minutes before midnight, I stood nervous-
What I heard—the timbre, the phrasings, the deep ly but poised to knock on his hotel door. I knocked. I
conviction that permeated their singing, how they sang waited. No answer. I knocked again. And waited. “He
artfully at the intersection of a universal choralism and is asleep by now,” I thought. “I will not knock again,
yet with proud and undisguised ethnic identity—all fas- lest I awaken him and irritate him.” Sadly, I walked
cinated me. I returned the recording to Mr. Jones the away toward the elevator. I pressed the call button, and
next day unscathed. But what I had heard changed me when the doors opened, out stepped William Dawson!
in a way that would last a lifetime. He invited me into his room to have a seat and show
him the passage that I was wondering about. Then he
explained his reasoning and started softly singing the
Meeting William Dawson recently added passage. I was soon moving to the beat
I was so excited to attend my first ACDA National and patting my foot in time, soaking in the moment.
Convention in 1979, now a young choral professor at Then, without warning, like a bolt of lightning on
Winston-Salem State University. We were in Kansas a cloudless day, he exploded, “What are you doing?”
City, and I was thrilled to find my still-new mentor, Eu- He pointed his index finger at me, the most accusative
gene Thamon Simpson, there. Simpson was a master index finger I had ever experienced except for that of
choral artist and consummate musician who became my father. “Patting my foot,” I managed to mutter.
the first person of color to conduct a Florida All-State “Why?” he demanded to know.
Choir. He then organized and led the Committee for Completely nonplused, I responded, “Keeping
Ethnic Music and Minority Concerns when ACDA in- time.”
stituted its Repertoire and Standards Committee struc- “Is that how you keep time? Is that what they taught
ture, back at a time when the organization was any- you in school? You keep time inside!” he said, thump-
thing but inclusive and embracing of diversity. He and ing on his chest. Then he looked at his watch and an-
I were walking together. “There’s Bill Dawson! Let’s nounced, “It’s getting late!”
go over and say hello.” My eyes stretched. The William I was being thrown out of William Dawson’s room! I
Dawson! was 6’1” when I walked in, but I might have been half

22 CHORAL JOURNAL September 2024 Volume 65 Number 2