I recently heard about the passing of Margaret Ann Voirol, long-time Choir Director at WCHS.
I no longer live in Warsaw, but every Christmas my large Congregationalist Church in Berkeley, California ends the service with Handel's Hallelujah Chorus. Congregants are invited to join in and I run down to the front with many others to sing the tenor part, proudly refusing the written music. One of the long-lasting gifts Miss Voirol gave me was the ability to sing the Chorus by heart. It always brings back a dear memory of singing it on a crowded school bus in the dead of winter returning home to Warsaw from music contests in Fort Wayne, probably around 1979. "Contest" was always a big deal and Miss Voirol made us rehearse, rehearse, rehearse all winter the many large choir, small ensemble, and solo classical songs in preparation for competing with other local high school singers. It was the end of a long day. We were proud - Warsaw kids always placed well, and it was a long stretch of road 30. Well, for something to do someone started the Hallelujah chorus. We went through it, joyfully, loudly, the basses bellowing and the sopranos letting loose at the tops of their lungs. All a'capella. It was beautiful, and everyone knew it by memory and everyone joined in. Miss Voirol sat quietly in the front of the bus with a sort of ìoh, not againî look on her face but did effectively raise her hand to help us remember a slight timing change at the end that always threw us off. It was kind of a remarkable thing for 50 or so kids to do, but at the time it seemed like just another song we sang that day. Only for fun, not for medals.
When I think back about Miss Voirol's contributions to our lives and to the Warsaw community, one thing stands out to me most strongly: she brought culture to our small, basketball- obsessed town. She wasn't the only one, certainly the band and theater programs did as well as many WCHS teachers over the years. But because of Miss Voirol, to this day I don't just have the Hallelujah Chorus memorized, I have an understanding of why it was written, how it is structured as part of a much larger piece, and the guy who wrote it. Miss Voirol taught me how a fugue is structured, how a good singer breathes from the diaphragm, how Italian is the best language for an Opera. I still remember when I had a role in the WCHS production of "No No Nanette" where I had to (in reference to Atlantic City in the 1920s) sing the line "high steppin' swells, fill the hotels" It was always important to Miss V that we understood what we were singing and she asked me what a ëhigh stepping swell' was. I guessed a wave. She laughed loudly and said it was a prostitute, like everyone knows that. How was I supposed to know, as a 17-year-old in a small town in Indiana that that antiquated term referred to a hooker? She always seemed to be a musical, cultural encyclopedia of the world.
Miss Voirol certainly had her quirks and was not often understood in our young minds. We once had a visiting high school perform a slow, soulful rendition of the Pointer Sisters' cover of Springsteen's "Fire" and we all dreamed of singing in a high school swing choir that actually did rock songs, not endless renditions of "For Me and My Gal." But from her I learned about the traditions of Broadway and Tin Pan alley, and the great composers of the classical world - or as she would say - "serious music." God certainly waited a long time to bring Miss Voirol up to direct choirs in heaven. But I bet they sound fantastic. I think I heard what they sound like once on a bus back from Fort Wayne.
