Hey y'all. WOW, time goes by fast, especially, apparently, when it's time between posts in this blog. I have to get ready for boxing class (how's that for something Karen never expected to say?), but I wanted to post something I wrote about Jerry the other day.
Last week, Karen Rollins kindly asked me for some information about Jerry and his involvement in Sacred Harp singing for an article she was writing for the Sacred Harp newsletter (http://originalsacredharp.com/newsletter/) - being asked to talk about my favorite person, I was, of course, unable to stick to the original charge and got long-winded. Below is what I wrote. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my sweetie and miss him, miss him, miss him.
Jerry Enright first heard Sacred Harp singing in the late 1980s, when he came across an LP copy of White Spirituals from the Sacred Harp in a bin of sale records, loved it, but figured it was an old form that had disappeared. He liked to tell the story of his first actual singing, in 1989: that he saw a listing for a "concert" of Sacred Harp music in Chicago, that he went expecting to sit and listen, that Marcia Johnson told him he'd enjoy it more if he sang, that someone put a book in his hands... and that he was hooked. Jerry kept a record of every song he led in his songbook, first in his copy of the 1987 update of the 1971 edition, then in the 1991 edition, with the earlier entries transferred to the later book: the earliest entry reads "142 (Stratfield) 3-19-89 St. Paul's." And so it began, shortly after his 46th birthday: Jerry's life in Sacred Harp.
Jerry started out as a bass singer, later switching to singing mainly tenor, although vocally he was naturally more of a baritone. He went to his first southern singing, at Holly Springs, on June 3, 1989, having traveled with a group of Chicago Sacred Harp singers that had had their tickets arranged by Mary Rose O'Leary, who was a travel agent: Kris Richardson, a (female) Chicago singer, was unable to go as planned, and Jerry used the ticket that had been issued in her (luckily useable by both genders) name, in that more innocent time in air travel.
Beginning the very month he sang Sacred Harp for the first time, Jerry began the travels that he kept up until the end of his life: all over the country, in his native Midwest and beyond, and, more and more frequently, as he could afford the time and expense, to Alabama and Georgia. He loved to sit by traditional singers and learn all he could from them, both about their ways of singing (raised 6th's are circled in tenor parts throughout his book) and about their lives, and loved and respected the Sacred Harp singers he met along the way. I believe they knew the sincerity of Jerry's affection, interest and respect, and I believe they loved him in return. He was always doing whatever he could to keep Sacred Harp alive and vital. It might have been mailing out a flyer to every Alabama and Georgia singer listed in the directory to invite them to the 1994 United Convention at Emmaus, which he chaired (Walter Graff, in an essay published on the Sacred Harp website at fasola.org, describes the Convention's opening this way: "With only the briefest warning, Jerry Enright, with movements that look so natural and comfortable, 'calls us to order' by launching us into the first tune."). Or it might have been putting his carpentry skills to work to help build a new roof at State Line (the same weekend he caught bronchitis, and the same weekend he recorded a cherished interview with Barrett Ashley about his life and times). He cooked for many, many singings in Chicago, often making his best approximation of Coy Ivey's barbecue, among other dishes he'd sampled and relished in the south. He traveled all over, often with a cohort of Missouri singers, driving his well-traveled Toyota Camry up and down I-65 year after year, never missing the Lookout Mountain Convention, for which he became cheerleader and PR man, and by which he was adopted as one of their own. He would travel into Chicago after finishing up the workday out in the suburbs to help assemble mailings to promote Sacred Harp singings in Chicago, and assisted every year in organizing and running the Midwest Convention, which he chaired twice.
Jerry even made it onto the small screen several times because of Sacred Harp singing. At his very first southern singing at Holly Springs, his visit happened to coincide with that of a camera crew working on Bill Moyers' documentary about "Amazing Grace" - and in the final film, you see Jerry approaching the table during the dinner hour. My own first visit to Holly Springs, in November 1998, a few months after Jerry and I met at Lookout Mountain, coincided with Matt and Erica Hinton's first attempt at documenting Sacred Harp singing, for Erica's documentary film class, and if you look closely, you'll see Jerry in that as well. He appears in the Sacred Harp-related extra features that were filmed for the DVD release of Cold Mountain, too, up there with Nicole and Jude and David and Rodney on the stage in Hollywood.
Jerry wanted the old singing recordings to be preserved and made available, too: his energy and love resulted in CD releases of singings caught on tape in 1968 on Lookout Mountain and in 1972 in Henagar. Kelly Beard gave Jerry his collection of reel-to-reel tapes, old minute books, and other Sacred Harp memorabilia, knowing they'd be in good hands. The collection has been passed on, now, to other singers who will treasure and preserve it. And Jerry purchased the 1911 James book printing plates for 442, one of his favorite songs, a fact which I discovered when I found the heavy metal plates while going through boxes in our house after his death. If he'd been able, I know he'd have bought the plate for 77t, too - it was, as anyone who sang with him knew, his "Sunday song," the song he loved best.
What did Sacred Harp singing mean to Jerry? I think his actions over the years say it better than I ever could in words. Sacred Harp brought Jerry joy, friendship, comfort, peace, purpose, and, to my eternal gratitude, me. Jerry brought Sacred Harp his energy, dedication, respect and love. The weekend we held a memorial for Jerry at Pine Grove, Bud Oliver told me that Jerry had always parked across the road, up the hill, and Bud had always watched him, "the little bearded fella" he always addressed as "Enright," coming down the hill to the church. We scattered Jerry's ashes up on that hill, in a place we knew meant the world to him. Those that knew him will never forget the little bearded fella who loved Sacred Harp and Sacred Harp singers.
