Singing in the boy choir meant being excused from class in order to sing funerals, special masses, and to occasionally travel to other events throughout the diocese. The choir would, for example, sing at graduations, installations, confirmations, holy communion, and even appear as the guest ensemble once a year on the weekly televised Mass. Jim was a good manager as well as a fine musician and director, and he promoted the ensemble heavily throughout the Boston Archdiocese. We were one of a number of boy choirs in the area, although the heyday of these choirs was quickly coming to an end by the late 1970s. With the growing sensitivity to equality and inclusivity, it became tough to justify an organization that was so steeped in a tradition that was seen as antiquated, elite, discriminatory (principally because girls were not accepted into the organization), and sang music of an ancient tradition that was relinquishing its place in the liturgy to music that was more modern and in touch with the Zeitgeist of the post Vatican II spirit.

Of the few remaining boy choirs in the Boston area, our chief competition came from the only official boy choir school of St. Paul’s Church in Cambridge. This was truly a boy choir school in the tradition of the old English model, and so a good number of the boys who went to this school continued on in music at college and professionally in some way, shape or form. St. Paul’s was the gold standard for boy choirs, and Jim often invoked them as the example that our choir should try to emulate. I heard them sing on a number of occasions, and they were indeed, a very fine group, and certainly deserved the accolades accorded them.

Even though, as part of a standard parochial school, and not primarily a “choir” school, we practiced far less than the kids at St. Paul. But within our own school, we were often viewed as taking too much time from the daily school routine in order to practice and perform. I know that there were complaints from some of the teachers, that we were spending too much time out of class practicing and singing at religious services. But somehow Jim persevered, primarily because the choir brought attention to the school, as well as some cache. This was borne out in the fact that we were often engaged to perform not only at other churches around the area, but also caught the attention of community music ensembles, conductors, and other musical organizations that sometimes needed kids as soloists or as a small group who could sing well, and perform difficult music.

I worked very hard and took a great deal of pride, as well as formed my early musical identity around my participation in the choir. Clearly, looking back, it paid off, as I doubt the at I would be the success that I am today musically without this life-altering experience. But it was not all positive, as the choir also afforded an escape from other issues that i dealt with as a youngster; mainly my need for attention and for reassurance that I was, indeed, worthy of being in the ensemble, and that I did have talent. The attention I received, particularly as I auditioned for solos, drove my ego, and led to a false sense of humility. This paradox in my life only grew with additional musical successes, and thus made failures all the more difficult to deal with rationally, and the recognition that they were also a part of the “normal” experience of everybody. What I lacked was perspective, and this created problems for me beginning in high school, and continuing all the way through my completion of the Doctorate many years later.

This need for attention would continue to dog me throughout out my college education, and only become more and more acute, as I struggled to establish myself as a conductor, and to make a career and, most importantly, to make this career financially viable, and not just a hobby.