It was a Saturday night in Downtown West Plains. February 22.
The dusk sky, rich in its purples and pinks and reds, gave way to a cold darkness that halted the melting of snow. A train echoed in the distance as a jalopy’s tires dragged along the slush-covered pavement.
Muffled sounds came from a corner of the square. I neared 10/40 Coffee, and those sounds turned into harmonies. As members of the Lincoln University Vocal Ensemble (LUVE) warmed up their voices, I quietly opened the door, hoping to enter unobtrusively. But, alas, my efforts failed, and upon my entrance, the voices stopped.
The group, which had traveled nearly three hours from Jefferson City to West Plains, sat quietly in coffee shop air. Inquisitive eyes inspected me thoroughly. I could tell they were nervous. The choir was here to perform as part of a Lincoln School Project event celebrating Black History Month, and 10/40 Coffee was gracious enough to offer a warm-up space.
Clutching my camera, I made my way to an open seat.
“I’m Sam,” I said. “I’m a writer for the Daily Quill, and I was hoping I could speak to your director.”
The tension eased up, and one of the singers (a soprano, I believe) informed me that Ms. Michelle Gamblin-Green was in the back of the building and would be out shortly. Nodding my head, I wiggled into my chair as the choir resumed their warmups.
Halfway through a scale, their leader appeared in a flurry. Diminutive and conservatively dressed, her voice was powerful.
“Now, what should the sopranos be doing here?”
Silence. She hadn’t yet noticed me.
“And the altos?”
More silence. As the director approached, her eyes scanned the room, expecting an answer. I gulped. My massive camera and I must have looked out of place amongst this group of well-dressed warblers.
Ms. Gamblin-Green’s eyes stopped when they landed on me. There were quiet giggles.
I immediately stood up and extended a hand to introduce myself. Her demeanor changed, almost apologetically, but I assured her it was fine — I was once a choir student, and I knew how concert preparation worked.
“You’ve got an interesting town here,” she said.
I laughed. There’s no doubt a 160-mile journey south to the rural Ozarks inspired some sort of caution in these vocalists.
After expressing my excitement about their performance and collecting some basic contact information, I bid Ms. Gamblin-Green and her pupils farewell and headed catty-corner across the square to Dev’s Steakhouse Piano Bar Lounge, where the event was being held.
After narrowly dodging a pile of melting snow, I swung open the glass doors.
Warm hues illuminated the silhouette of a crowd that seemed to be breathing, chattering, laughing in anticipation; a prelude for the music to come.
A host led me upstairs to the historic opera house, where I was greeted by Tonya Oaks, one of the event’s coordinators.
I’d never met her, but I was aware of the important work she and her husband were doing with The Lincoln School Project. Founded by Tonya and her husband, Crockett, its mission is to preserve black history in West Plains and surrounding areas, focusing on The Lincoln School, a one-room schoolhouse opened in 1926 with the education of African-American children in mind.
Mrs. Oaks directed me to my table, and I made a beeline. On the way, I stumbled into none other than Crockett Oaks himself. A tall dignitary with a commanding presence, he bounced around the room, greeting each individual he saw.
He gripped my hand and flashed a smile.
“You must be Sam. We’re so happy to have you here,” he boomed and jetted off to greet incoming guests.
I settled in my assigned seat. As hot steam rose from fresh pasta (catered by Ozark Pizza) and danced into our noses, local musician Bobby Reid serenaded the audience with Ed Sheeran-esque renditions of popular songs.
He was followed by the Missouri State University-West Plains (MSU-WP) Community Band Jazz Ensemble, directed by Rocky Long, who officially kicked off the evening with bouncy, captivating tunes.
Guests refreshed at the cash bar, mingling to and from as Long and his band provided a score of lush instrumentation. As the conversation between guests became intermittent and eventually softened to slow murmurs, Mr. Oaks introduced the Lincoln University Vocal Ensemble (LUVE).
“Lincoln University is a historically black college … many of Lincoln School’s teachers have come from Lincoln University, so it’s a great pairing,” Oaks said, adding that music was the genesis of the collaboration.
“We want to emphasize the value of performing in smaller, rural venues — we, too, appreciate what arts programs do.”
Silence fell upon the room as the choristers entered the room in two rows of single-file lines, slowly marching as they chanted “Dona Nobis Pacem” (Latin for “Grant Us Peace”).
Upon reaching the risers, the choir assembled into formation.
Two young gentlemen positioned themselves adjacent to the group in front of two djembes, hourglass-shaped traditional drums from West Africa. The bespectacled one held in his hands a shekere, another West African percussive instrument fashioned from a dried gourd wrapped in woven beads.
The room was filled with rich voices from the choir; they stratified, creating layers of harmony that rendered the audience silent.
With my camera strap tugging my neck, I weaved through various audience members’ lines of vision.
I was particularly enamored by two solo performances of traditional spirituals, one a tenor and the other a soprano. I know I wasn’t alone in this feeling because I witnessed a grown man furtively wipe his eyes at soprano’s final note.
The denouement was, of course, followed by an encore, with those of us in the audience rising from our seats, clapping and shouting. LUVE delivered one last number and whisked out of the room to return to the big city in the North.
Ms. Gamblin-Green trailed behind her choir but was urged to stay for a moment longer: Mayor Mike Topliff was in attendance to present a proclamation of gratitude to her and LUVE on behalf of the City of West Plains.
“This signifies our thanks for your meaningful performance and what it means to our community,” Topliff said. He and Gamblin-Green shook hands and posed for a picture, after which the esteemed choir director exited the room, concluding the evening.
On my drive home, I couldn’t help but think about the pertinence of the event I had just attended. With its complicated past and rural surroundings, West Plains may not be the most appealing place for a group such as LUVE to visit.
But our lovely little town opened its arms and welcomed the choir, and the choir, in turn, trekked downwards to bless us with song.
And the people! Oh, the people.
Mr. and Mrs. Oaks, Ms. Gamblin-Green and her Choir, The Mayor, The Jazz Band, The Guitarist, The Audience, and me with my camera — all of us aware that February, Black History Month, was coming to an end. But Black History itself never ends, and what better way to celebrate than with music?
