Photo from the 1972 Atlanta Treemonisha pre-performance. (Sedalia Ragtime Archive)
Larry Melton
March 29, 2019
Goin’ Around with Treemonisha
Imagine the privilege of sitting a few rows behind Eubie Blake
on the night of January 28, 1972, and watching his whole body move to
the music of Scott Joplin at the Atlanta premiere of Treemonisha,
orchestrated by T.J. Anderson. Eubie was kind enough to autograph my
program that night and again at a reprised performance with William
Bolcom’s orchestration on August 15, 1972, at the first Wolf Trap Farm’s
Filene Center. (Yes, the Center that burned in 1982.)
The story of Treemonisha encapsulates Joplin’s own story in a way and is the great drama of ragtime lore. Readers of TST
undoubtedly know the story well or at the very least a Wikipedia
version. Therefore, I won’t detail too much about the opera itself but
rather, I’ll blow off the dust and share some of my experiences with
Joplin’s opera and how my wife and I with 5-year-old son John happened
to be in those seats for the Atlanta premiere.
Karen and I moved to Sedalia in 1965 right after we were married. She
was just finishing her nursing program and was ready to begin her
career. With her diploma securely in hand, I was about to return to
college to complete my teaching degree having dropped out when my mother
died and to get married. As I wrapped up my bachelor’s degree, I
simultaneously began work on a master’s in history and fate decreed that
I would be Dr. Alfred E. Twomey’s graduate assistant. An avocational
interest of Dr. Twomey was grand opera. When it came time to select a
thesis topic, he suggested that since I was from Sedalia, I should write
about Joplin’s lost opera or his known opera, Treemonisha. I
look back on that moment in 1968 and realize now how much that question
attested to Dr. Twomey’s depth of knowledge about American opera and
composers. And so, began my interest in Sedalia ragtime and Joplin’s
operatic works.
By the time I finished my graduate work in 1971 I was so involved in the dream of a great ragtime event in Sedalia
that the paper my adviser suggested had gone by the wayside and I wrote
(rather poorly) on an easier topic, “The Impact of Darwin’s Theory of
Biological Evolution on Nineteenth Century Anglican Theology.” (Stay
with me, as I’m prone to this type of digression.)
With degree in
hand I began teaching in the still segregated African-American Hubbard
Elementary School in Sedalia. In the midst of my ragtime research I read
of the upcoming New York Public Library publication of Joplin’s
collected works and the January 1972 premiere of Treemonisha in
Atlanta. My sainted principal, Mrs. Dorothy Kitchen, arranged for me to
have two personal days and my family was blessed to be able to attend
the premiere.
Morehouse College was one of the sponsors of the event and they held a
workshop and lecture the afternoon before the concert. I arrived just in
time to hear a most distinguished panel discuss the opera and then to
hear Rudi Blesh describe the life of Scott Joplin.
The panel was a gathering of ragtime authorities. Carman Moore lead
the discussion and was just beginning his distinguished career there at
Morehouse. Max Morath,
Eubie Blake, T.J. Anderson, Vera Lawrence, and William Bolcom set forth
on a lively discussion about Joplin’s opera and the significance of the
premiere. Anderson and Bolcom, I have always felt, were to become
victims in what I fear was another unfortunate tale of the opera. But
that’s story for another time.
I want to share some thoughts about
attending the premiere Joplin had dreamed would occur in his lifetime. I
was so excited to be at the hall that night and when I discovered a
door to the house untended an hour before the doors were to be opened, I
took the liberty of going in. I found the cast on stage for final notes
and recognized Katherine Dunham from seeing her at East Saint Louis
appearances. She was giving last minute suggestions in her role as Stage
Director and Choreographer. Dr. Wendell Whalum was addressing the
chorus as the opera’s Music Director. I tried to act like I was supposed
to be there as a photographer. However, my little Instamatic camera
gave me away and I was gently asked to leave by a remarkably kind usher
who seemed to sense my near manic excitement and awe at simply being
there.
Someday I would like to get the question of the three
dueling orchestrations straightened out in my head. But that aside
(along with the awful copyright issues that intruded on the opera’s
triumphant appearance) my total lack of musical acumen, allowed me to
find all three of the instrumental versions delightful. The three
“premieres” were most memorable. Watching Eubie and buoyed by the
additional enthusiasm of the audience at the first Atlanta production,
made the experience unforgettable. I nearly lost the story as I was
caught up humming the previous musical pieces in my head as it went
along. I wasn’t disappointed that there were no discernable ragtime
pieces. It was all just so filled with joy. When the mood was dark there
was always the reemergence of that joy and I’ll always hear Aunt
Dinah’s horn and feel the dancing that ended Act Two.
I had met Eubie Blake after the Morehouse panel the day before and
had asked him and others about coming to Sedalia if we were to have a Joplin ragtime festival.
Amazingly, when I went to him at intermission, he recalled our
conversation the day before and repeated that he had performed all over
the world, but he had never played Sedalia.
By the last number,
the audience, after thunderous applause, joined Robert Shaw’s orchestra
humming “A Real Slow Drag” as we left the Great Hall. We drove through
the night to get back home but all I remember about that drive was
replaying the music in my head and lamenting that Joplin hadn’t known
the feeling I had experienced that evening.
I discovered that
another version of the opera was to be presented at Wolf Trap Farm in
Washington, D.C. in August 1972, so the first thing I did when we
returned to Sedalia was order tickets. I had used all of our disposable
income on the Atlanta trip, so I also had to begin figuring out how to
fund a pilgrimage to D.C. at the height of tourist season. We paid for
that one for several years.
The rest of the 1971-1972 year at
Hubbard Elementary School went quickly for me. When I shared my dream of
a Sedalia ragtime festival with my 8th grade students, I spotted
Melinda Poole sketching my picture with a light bulb over my head.
I had purchased inexpensive tickets for seating on the grass at Wolf
Trap. We were fortunate to have nice weather since we weren’t to be
under the Filene Center canape. There was something different and
exhilarating about listening to the opera outside under the stars. The
music was more familiar the second time and I picked up a lot more of
the story.
(And speaking of Joplin’s story, Susan Atilla is
writing a thoroughly researched blog on the influence of Booker T.
Washington’s Tuskegee Philosophy on Joplin and his opera. I should think
from what I have read, it should easily qualify for a Ph.D. should she
be in a University program. The well documented and researched paper is
at www.sueattalla.com/blog/category/treemonisha)
After
a great confusion over hotel reservations we did the usual tours
tourists endure in the nation’s capital. (The next time I was in D.C. in
2015, I was astonished to recall how much freedom we had had on our
first visit compared to the constant queues, checkpoints and searches in
the post 9/11 era.)
But then we delighted in seeing Treemonisha
again and appreciated being more familiar with the story. There was
such a party-like atmosphere about the pre-concert picnics on the lawn
and everyone near us seemed quite well informed about Joplin’s music. I
wish I had taken names that evening but I never imagined I’d be writing
an article about the experience, nearly fifty years later.
At an
intermission I found Eubie Blake again seated among some very
distinguished friends. Mrs. Jouette Filene Shouse, the benefactor of
Wolf Trap’s Filene enter, was hosting Eubie in the Presidential Box. A
number of Nixon cabinet members were also there with him.
