From Lon Smith,
Railroad Commissioner of Texas
To Mr. W. T. Coston, Dallas, Texas:
Your communication inviting me to
contribute an article to the Music Journal to be sponsored by the votaries of
Sacred Harp Music has awakened in my soul reflections pleasing, entertaining,
inspiring, sacred, and solemn. I see a picture, vivid, abiding as it hangs in
the choicest nook of memory’s cloister.
It is Sunday afternoon, my father
and mother seated on the spacious veranda of our humble country home, both with
cadences of sweetest note singing from the Sacred Harp. How my heart swells
now, and tears come unbidden to my cheek as I hear their music, sweet as that
of angel choir entertaining the Celestial Courts. My mother sang treble. There
was enough volume in her dear voice to carry the part in music, for a large
class. We did not call them choirs then. My father sang bass in a tone
resonant, uplifting. Not for any earthly consideration would I have this
picture removed from its abiding place.
The scene changes. Another
picture in kaleidoscope procession comes to enchant. The people have come from
a dozen different counties for a three days convention of singers—Friday,
Saturday, Sunday. The leader stands before his class, tuning fork in hand. He
strikes a table, pulpit, or post with this simple instrument, places it to his
ear, and calls to his class to “sound your parts.” Proper volume is given to
the three major parts; bass, treble, tenor, according to the Sacred Harp, and
the class of singers proceed. Me thinks I hear the reviberations of these soul
inspiring songs floating among the top-most boughs of the tall pines as notes
of harmony play in the breezes. The notes fa, me, sol, la are sung first and
then the “poetry”. The very quintessence of the gospel of the Son of Peace
reposes in these songs of assurance, comfort, atonement, faith, consecration,
confession, grace, love and repentance; Antioch; Broad is the Road, Midleton,
David’s Lamentation, Murello’s Lesson, Prospect, Coronation, Portuguese Hymn,
Holy Manna, Pisgah, Happy Day, Zion, Windham, Pleyel’s Hymn. I pen them from
memory. The leader holds the class for a half dozen selections, perhaps, when
the class follows for thirty minutes a new leader. For three days, the
Convention lasts. Voices never grow hoarse; provisions never give out.
Church[es], as a rule in East Texas, were located near a gurgling spring of
crystal clear water where man and horse could drink. The culinary art reached
its highest perfection in the countryside. No recipe, formula, cook book or
demonstrators were ever referred to by an East Texas housewife, and no
dietition was consulted by those who ate the wholesome food. Spoonfuls,
cupfuls, handfuls, were the measure for sugar, lard, flour, butter, eggs and
other ingredients that went most unstintingly into the viands spread for these “dinner
on the ground” occasions.
These reflections, Friend Coston,
are my contribution to the first issue of the Music Journal. I trust the
publication will be received by generous music loving spirits, and that the Old
Sacred Harp will take her proud place again in the musical program of our
state.
Sincerely,
LON A. SMITH.
Commissioner.
-- Smith, Lon A. “From Lon Smith, Railroad Commissioner of Texas”, Sacred Harp Journal, Vol. 1, No. 1, August 1931,
reprinted in the National Sacred Harp Newsletter, October 1987, p. 2. Lon A. Smith was from the New Prospect/Oak Hill area northeast of Henderson, Rusk County, the son of Mr. & Mrs. J. A. Smith. He served in several aspects of political life, including County Clerk, Rusk County 1902-1914; Texas State Senator 1914-1920; Comptroller 1920-1924; and Railroad Commissioner 1924-1940. He was a school teacher in Rusk County circa 1886-1902, a Baptist Deacon 1900-1947, and the clerk of the Mt. Zion Baptist Association, 1894-1900.
