I can still smell the diesel as it hung thick in the air. People were laughing and talking, almost yelling to be heard over the roar of five private coaches - home away from home for weary traveling singers. There was an excitement in the air that was almost electric. We had waited for this night all year long. As I recall, we had dresses specially made for this night, my sister and I. It was a dress-up affair to say the least. Men and women alike donned their finest for this evening. It was New Year's Eve at the old Kingsland Theatre.
In retrospect, it really didn't look like much. It was old. The seats were not particularly comfortable. The concrete floor had a rather severe slope that made you walk a little faster than you intended. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The bathrooms were cramped and tiny with no amenities other than the bare essentials and one wavy mirror.
There was a small concessions area where faithful volunteers worked elbow to elbow trading Cokes for coins and dishing up "nanner puddin'" for those who couldn't resist. (That's banana pudding, in case you're curious). The place always smelled of hot buttered popcorn and too much cologne - a decidedly odd combination.
Herschel was always out front teasing with fans or talking business, booking a group for next year's event. His broad smile and hearty laugh was evidence that he loved this --all of it, the people, the groups, the music, the whole idea that he could bring people of all walks of life together under one roof to hear the Gospel message in song. It was, I'm sure, a dream first birthed in the hearts of Mom and Pop Lester and passed on down to Herschel, who no doubt passed it on to his children.
The auditorium was jam-packed with folks chattering and waiting for Pop Lester to walk on stage and ask God's blessings before bringing on the first group of the evening - his family - accordion, stand-up bass, and all. Group after group made the walls pulse with rhythm. Heels pounded on the wooden stage as one player after another banged out accompaniment on the old upright piano with the front cover missing. The tenors screeched higher and higher, changed keys and went higher still while the bass vibrated the floor beneath our feet. Four part harmony - the way gospel music was intended to be heard as far as I'm concerned. Beautiful chords and tricky inversions. Tight harmonies. Just great, great music. And even though it was a production of sorts, the Lord met with us, and we always left feeling a bit lighter - like a burden had been lifted, or like we were not alone in our situation or in our service to the Lord. It truly made a difference.
I remember one year braving the worst ice storm in a decade to make the 25 mile trip, and I'd do it again. It was worth every slip and slide. Year after year we sang out the old year and the new in. I wouldn't take anything for those memories. Strangely enough, I still have a couple of those New Year's Eve dresses, thirty some years later. I can't bring myself to part with them. Somehow it would be like throwing in the towel on the hope that I could revisit those feelings and those times.
No, it wasn't fancy, and the rest of the world had most likely never heard of the headlining groups, but ask anyone in St. Louis who attended the event how much they enjoyed it and how much they long for a return to those simple times.
As I write this now in my home on New Year's Eve, I can't help but feel like there's someplace else I should be on this night. It's painful knowing that the old Kingsland is gone and such people of vision with it.
I fear that many of gospel music's visionaries have been replaced with mercenaries, and they would have us believe that unless a group moves tons of product or draws tremendous crowds they are not pros, they are not skilled, they are not worthy. Apparently these self-proclaimed experts have standards higher than God Almighty who requires only a joyful noise. They seek to be called "elite" in the service of the Lord when Jesus, scripture tells us, made Himself of no reputation.
Gospel music is changing and will continue to change, but my hope is that we will remember the old landmarks and the pioneers who have blazed the Gospel trail before us. The Bible talks much about the old paths, and I believe it's important not to stray too far from our heritage. I pray that Gospel music will remain just that - Gospel - and not just rhythms with veiled references to a higher power for more airplay.
So at the dawn of this new year, I would like to take this opportunity to thank every artist, whether part-time weekend warriors or full-timers, who have left behind family, church, and friends to answer God's call. Thank you for dealing with flat bus tires at 2:00 a.m. to come on down the road to my little town. Thank you for every mile you've driven down dark, icy mountain roads. Thank you to the sleepy bus driver whose weary head bobs and to the one who sits up front to keep him awake. Thank you for continuing on when you have 35 people to sing to and come away with little more than hamburger money. You've missed first words and first steps, birthdays and ball games. God is aware of your sacrifice. He sees, He knows, and He will decide who's "elite". Aren't you glad?
Have a wonderful, blessed and safe New Year.
Janice
Author: AGM
| Author's Website: http://absolutelygospel.com/
Written: 01/01/2007
| 
Category: Janice Crow
Comments: 1
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What a message, Janice! I heard a preacher say the other day, that it's not about if you're on the right note every time, but Who the note is about! It's all about HIM! I would like to say, "Thank You", to all that have sacrificed to the call on your life, to minister in music. May the Lord bless you. Thank you, Janice, for your heart touching words.
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