There comes a time in the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” when my eyes begin to mist and the tears begin to flow.
There has been a hint of this in the earlier “And the glory of the Lord” passage, when the force of the music and my memory’s own images have set off an awakening emotional response.
But in the second half of George Frideric Handel’s oratorio, when my weak tenor is unleashed along with 2,500 other voices in Orchestra Hall while we sing the praises of the Lord God Omnipotent in the “Hallelujah” chorus, the dam bursts and I can barely see the notes on the borrowed score I hold in my hands.
The first time this happened, on my first attendance, I was surprised and embarrassed by the reaction; I kept my head low. But as the years have gone by, I’ve discovered that this is the norm for the “Hallelujah” chorus. It has been especially reassuring, in “Messiahs” past, to see conductor Susan Davenny Wyner standing on stage in front of everyone, tears streaming down her cheeks as the last note of the triumphant chorus is sounded.
Al Booth, the man who founded the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah,” sees nothing unusual in this. “It’s the `Hallelujah’ chorus,” he says, “What do you expect? There isn’t a dry eye in the house.”
Most assuredly, the power of the words and Handel’s music have something to do with it. And, in my own case, memories of singing selections from the “Messiah” in our grade-school choir and Christmas Eve services also come into play.
Similar memories float above Orchestra Hall from the hundreds of amateur singers and musicians who take part in this annual rite. Presented with professionalism and fleshed out with outstanding soloists, this is nonetheless a night above all nights for amateurs, the ones who love the work and have grabbed this rare chance to take part in one of the masterpieces of choral music.
Music scholars may point out that the “Messiah” was written for a small chorus and orchestra and that, before it became a Christmas staple, it was sung in the lenten period. But history, however correct, is swept aside in the thrill of hearing and taking part in the grand chorale that has become the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah.”
Booth himself, though far from being unschooled in music, is a passionate amateur. He was a music major in college and wanted to be a musician, but then, he says, “The Depression came and that was the end of that.” Whatever his day jobs in the years that followed, most of them in the real estate field, he kept up his interest in music.
A fierce populist who believes that the classics should be made available to all people and an inspired promoter who has been able to spin ideas into reality through a common touch and a gift for capturing public attention, Booth reached a peak of activity in the mid-1970s, when he founded, in 1976, the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” and, in 1977, the Dame Myra Hess memorial concerts, a weekly series of free recitals in the Chicago Cultural Center that continue to this day.
The idea for Chicago’s “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” came to Booth in 1975, when, while living in England for a year, he attended a “Messiah from Scratch” church performance in Bromley, Kent, England. He loved the notion of opening up the music to a wide sing-along audience, and, in typical Booth style, he wanted to do it up grand when he got back to Chicago.
He secured the revered conductor of the Chicago Symphony Chorus, Margaret Hillis (to whom the 22nd annual performances this weekend at 3 p.m. Saturday and 7:30 p.m. Sunday are dedicated). And for the performance space, he landed the holiest of holy places in Chicago’s classical music scene, Orchestra Hall.
At first, there was only one performance each year, and when the “Messiah’s” popularity mushroomed, there were three; but two per season appears to be the ideal choice. That accommodates about 5,000 singers, without taxing the musical or administrative ends of the concerts too much.
Booth was confident, from the start, that the “Messiah” project would take off. “There was the natural interest in the music,” he recalls, “and the idea of singing it on a do-it-yourself basis was so novel then that a lot of people wanted to see and hear what it would be like.” Indeed, as far as Booth or anyone else can tell, Chicago’s “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” was the first of the many hundreds of similar concerts now held annually throughout the U.S.
Caroline Cracraft, cultural attache of the British consulate in Chicago, attended that first “Do-It-Yourself Messiah,” and her recollection of the occasion is, “We were all scared to death at the idea of singing under Margaret Hillis. She was so imposing.”
Once the music started, however, Cracraft pitched in with an enthusiasm that has never diminished. She is one of several “Messiah” veterans who have not missed a year.
In the beginning, Booth took care of all business and artistic matters. For the first concert, he raised individual and institutional donations to cover the cost; and when the ticket orders poured in, he and his wife sat at their dining room table, carefully sorting requests and sending out the tickets.
By the third year, however, he had attracted sponsorship from Talman Federal Savings and Loan Association, which became LaSalle Talman and, later, LaSalle Banks. In recognition of this long relationship, the event is now called “LaSalle’s Do-It-Yourself Messiah.” Ticket requests are funneled through LaSalle, with special arrangements made for church choirs and glee clubs that want more than the usual maximum allotment of two tickets per customer. Requests posted Nov. 15 or later are handled on a first-come, first-served basis; though the concerts are usually sold out, a few tickets are available at the door because of cancellations and no-shows.
In their 22 annual outings, the concerts have been held almost always in Orchestra Hall, though in years past, for a number of reasons, the scene occasionally has had to shift to other venues.
Last year, much to Booth’s displeasure, he was forced to move the concert to the Medinah Temple because Orchestra Hall management could find no room on the schedule for the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah.”
This season, however, with some maneuverings in the months between, the concerts return to Orchestra Hall, a fact Booth notes in his prepared opening remarks by greeting the crowd with “Welcome home.”
Once more, in the newly renovated Orchestra Hall, the audience will be divided into four sections: alto, soprano, tenor and bass. Once more, regulars such as retired Sen. Paul Simon (a bass, naturally) will file into their seats with their dogeared scores in hand. Once more, skilled amateur musicians such as television journalist (and violinist) Harry Porterfield will take their places in the on-stage orchestra. And once more, the members of the chorus/audience will be carefully instructed on how to rise oh-so-quietly from their seats when their turn to sing comes along.
Wyner, whose fervent conducting always added to the event’s impact, is engaged elsewhere this year; but another popular do-it-yourself veteran, Stanley Sperber, conductor of the Haifa (Israel) Symphony Orchestra, will be in charge.
And, of course, Booth will be there. He will note the perennial “exhilaration and camaraderie” of the occasion in his introductory remarks. He will hand out the floral tributes to the conductor and soloists at the end of the concert. And, like the rest of us, when the “Messiah” is finished, he will join in one final encore of the “Hallelujah” chorus.
For him, and for me, it will be close to heaven.
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Richard Christiansen, the Tribune’s chief critic, is singing for the seventh year in the tenor section of the “Do-It-Yourself Messiah.”
