21 November- A Story for Today

Driving home from Lawrence I passed through the rolling hills of northeastern Kansas. Contrary to images conjured up by “Wizard of Oz” beautiful broken hills constitute much of the state. Moving towards the Missouri River, patches of timber and outcroppings of limestone peak through the soil. Ages of water racing to the sea carved out craggy bluffs which hover over the wide river. On a fine fall day it makes for a picturesque drive.

The human geography in that neck if the woods is no less interesting. The entire Missouri valley was long frequented by French Fur Trappers, and their ‘Half-Breed’ families. Many of the oldest towns in the area came out of this business— St. Joseph, MO was founded by Joseph Robidoux in 1843. The WASP settlers came in the 1850s. Bordering a slave state, plenty of conflict inevitably erupted. Atchison briefly had a pro-slavery newspaper. Bordering Missouri counties were hotbeds for Confederate sympathy before and after the war (including Jesse James’ family). German Benedictine Monks established an abbey in Atchison in 1857 and ministered to Irish immigrants. Then Germans came too.

By the time my family showed up Atchison County was long settled. I thought about these folks today as this is the 126^th anniversary of their marriage. Both came from relatively unusual circumstances…at least considering our contemporary stereotypes of period values. We pine for the ‘good old days’. We do it a lot— especially concerning religion, family values, welfare, patriotism, immigration, etc. Today seems an appropriate time to reflect.

Joseph Emmerich was born in a small but historically significant Bavarian village in August 1855. Though Seinsheim sits in a fertile wine growing region he and his forebears were traditionally stonemasons and bricklayers. According to tradition they participated in the renovation of the large medieval cathedral of Würzburg nearby. (Seinsheim had excellent records extending back to the early 1500’s but, sadly, everything was destroyed when the USAF firebombed the area at the end of WWII).

When Joseph was 17 his family got wind of a forthcoming military appointment. So, naturally, he booked it for America in 1872. Tradition has it that our draft-dodger was a stowaway. Sure enough he shows up on no ships’ lists. Interestingly, one “Josef Emerich” does appear but that one appears to be Jewish— hardly helping the ‘mainstream’ argument. (I do, nevertheless, suspect Semitic roots in this branch, however, from other sources… but I digress).

Joseph drops off the map until 1880 when he surfaces in rural Atchison County, KS near Effingham. His father and siblings came over and joined him. They worked as stonemasons around small commercial quarry operations. One source hints that Joseph lived in Missouri prior to settling in Kansas. It was there that I suspect he met his wife…which brings me to Louise.

Louise Breitenwischer was born in March 1862 in Carondelet, MO, a bustling river town immediately to the south of St Louis. When she was born there were slaveholders in the neighborhood. By the time she died 90 years later we had atomic weapons and neon lights. She reportedly didn’t talk much about her family during her long life. I can understand why. Louise was illegitimate— her father a German Lutheran and a severe alcoholic, her mother French Catholic.

To be fair her grandmother was also born to a single mom. The village moral authority of 1815 could not have looked kindly upon “inconnu” or “unknown” scribbled in under “father’s name”! The great-grandmother in turn was born in exile— their family dislodged from their Rhenish border-town by Austrian troops coming to the aid of Monarchists during the Reign of Terror in the 1790s. It was not easy for them.

Within a five year range of 1882 things looked pretty bad for Louise. Both her parents, her remaining grandparents, and most of her aunts and uncles all died from alcoholism, alcohol related accidents or tuberculosis. The City of St Louis had annexed Carondelet and the family home was now wedged between the Mississippi, a shipyard, RR, and a sewage ditch which drained most of the city.

But there’s no hand up like a “hand-out.” Louise’s brother Frederick had saved $500— a handsome sum for 1882. He gave her the money so she would have a chance to get out, get married, and have a good life. (As an aside, Fred and his family came out alright— this particular anecdote was passed to me by a descendant, a daughter of one Busch Stadium organist and her husband a certain Cardinals player/Hall of Fame broadcaster).

And so it was that Louise got on a boat in the fall of 1882. It wound its way over 300 miles up the Missouri to Atchison, KS. Shortly thereafter Joseph Emmerich and Louise Breitenwischer were married 21 November 1882 at St. Ann’s in Effingham.

They had two kids, one of whom was my great-grandfather. Joseph held numerous jobs from mason, to restaurant proprietor, to shoe repairman, to farmer. He did well enough to sit on the building committee for the new Catholic Church in Effingham in 1896. Sadly, that building was destroyed fire (suspected arson) in April 2008.

I didn’t go through Effingham on my way home from Lawrence. However, as I passed though the Missouri Valley I thought a great deal about all the life and stories those hills have witnessed. God Bless them all.

Chant and Doing Things the 'Right Way'

Last week I attended “Windows on Chant” at Kansas University. The Division of Organ and Church Music at KU http://www2.ku.edu/~organ/ hosts an annual thematic conference in the fall. This year’s gathering centered around the theory, history, and practice of Chant.

Drs. Michael Bauer and James Higdon put together a splendid program (as solid as the department over which they preside!) Two ‘heavy-hitter’ presenters took us through our time together. Fr. Anthony Ruff OSB lectured on the history of Chant, its revival and semiology and Susan Ferré addressed the practical component from a keyboard (organ) perspective.

It would have been difficult to find a more qualified American scholar of Chant than Fr. Ruff. He brings a bounty of experience and scholarship to the table— ranging from his life as a Benedictine to his Doctoral studies in the heart of the German semiological school at Graz. By all accounts his book Sacred Music and Liturgical Reform is a sober, formidable, and long-awaited balanced breath of fresh air (for the Catholic world).

The conference was well attended and Fr. Ruff pointed out that these days most Chant seminars are. Chalk it up to orthodoxy/conservativism/whatever you want to call it— it is unmistakably a trend. Among tradition-oriented crowds the motivation is particularly clear— this is getting back to our roots. And make no mistake that’s important. Vatican II was indeed quite clear about preserving the corpus of Sacred Music. However, nothing happens without a little irony.

As Fr. Ruff gave his talk on the history of Chant revival at Solesmes the funny business became clear. Call it a tale of two monks: after years of sparring with the Germans and bucking unfounded Papal endorsements of the Cecilians the French school of Chant interpretation took the lead (ca. 1903). But all was not well. The Solesmes monks all wanted to do the right/authentic thing…but they disagreed about what precisely that was. Infighting ensued.

Joseph Pothier suggested that rhythm should be driven by the text (oratorical). André Mocquereau supported a smooth equal rhythm. Mocquereau won that battle (as any person who sings Solesmes Chant knows). As it turns out, according to the current scholarly consensus (built upon a convergence of the best available sources), the wrong guy won. There were other disputes to be sure but this ironic incident represents a microcosm of historical performance practice debates and even historical research at large.

The principle? The first fruits of retrospective scholarship tend to miss the mark— and moreover, they often stick.

The axiomatic goal of historical research is to bring forth knowledge which can elevate and refine our present practices (most certainly for those which claim a historical flavor!) But what happens when misunderstandings, hasty conclusions or even flagrant disregard for sources leave us more Greek than the Greeks or “more Medieval than the Medievals?” (to borrow a line from Fr. Ruff). In other words, is there value to our imitation of historical styles if they are not, in fact, historical? The short answer (which I suspected and Fr. Ruff confirmed) is yes…but only through what I daresay is a modern concept of art criticism: judge it on its own terms— the “ars gratis artia.” This is nothing new in most circles but it may be tough medicine in some Catholic subgroups which see this pluralism as nothing more than applied moral relativism.

Fr. Ruff put it this way, “I grew up with the Solesmes Chant. The smooth, equalist flow has its own beauty and appeal [albeit a-historical]. I can appreciate that.” In fact, he went on to add that some of the most rigorous historically informed German renditions of chant are indeed a bit laborious! So where does this leave us? I don’t think there is a clear answer. We will always experience tension between historic authenticity and art for its own sake. Is St. Patrick’s in New York good Gothic architecture? No, it’s a wonderful neo-Gothic church. Do nineteenth-century tales of chivalry give us useful insights into medieval culture? No, they’re good Romantic literature.

We can’t ever recreate the past and even if we could it would never affect us the same way. Mozart will not sound the same to ears which have heard Bruckner and the Beatles. The power of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony escapes us thanks to a million TV commercials and an overused hymn. Nikolaus Harnoncourt put this well, “a deceptive cadence that one already knows no longer deceives, [it] no longer is a deceptive cadence.”

Therefore, Chanters beware! If you think that sixth of the hexachord in Ave Maria is a veritable transport to a 10^th century monastery, think again. Hartker, Notker, and John of St. Gall just might hear you with perplexed and furrowed brows.