American Magazine Fall 05

American Magazine | Fall 2005

http://www.american.edu/american/fall05_shanken.html

Long time professor and founder of AU´s Department of Music James McLain died in September 2004. The winter 2005 issue of American magazine noted his death. An alum wrote in asking to read more about McLain and his career. Posted below is a story American magazine published in summer 2002.

Lifetime Notes

By Shaunna Bennett

It is May, commencement week, in fact. Time to call in the musicians, roll out the traditions, pull out the stops, all to honor the class of 2002. Nonagenarian James McLain, AU professor emeritus and founder of AU’s music department, is one of those musicians who has helped AU do just that since 1934. McLain, who played at 30 AU commencements from 1934 to 1974, has, since retiring in ’74, lent his musical ear and hands to numerous honors convocations.

Behind the scene, on Saturday, May 11, he is about to do it again. When McLain lays out his selections on the organ’s music stand at Washington’s Metropolitan Memorial United Methodist Church—a Bach chorale prelude, a Handel concerto, a march—the honored guests filling the pews don’t see the elegant long fingers that will soon call this honors convocation to order. Seated at the organ in the front of the church and hidden from the congregation by a wooden enclosure, McLain’s sonorous chords begin to fill the nave with ceremonial music.

In a life built around Washington, D.C., and music, McLain’s love of music is infectious when he talks about his start in the business, vividly recalling his first recital at age three. It was in the church in Baltimore where his father was minister, and the congregation sang “America the Beautiful” to his piano accompaniment. “I loved to show off,” he laughs.

Born March 31, 1906, McLain frequently moved around the Washington area, as his father, a Methodist minister, accepted new assignments. But, “The parsonage was always right next to the church, and I’d run over and play the piano,” McLain recalls. “It was something I had to do,” despite the questions from his family, who wondered, “Where in the world did Jimmy get his music?”

He tried to convince his father to allow him to attend Baltimore’s Peabody Conservatory of Music. To no avail. “My father thought the morals of musicians were not equal to others,’” McLain says. “He said he would help me out if I got a ‘legitimate’ degree.” So, after acquiring a degree in literature from George Washington University, McLain enrolled at the Peabody Conservatory to study music.

Though McLain did not receive encouragement in his own musical studies, he lavished it on his students. He was hired by AU to direct its choral group in 1934, and “students asked me—couldn’t I teach a course?” He saw that course evolve into AU’s music department, which McLain then chaired for 25 of his 40 years at AU.

Today, he unfolds a letter he received just last year from Carolyn Owens Reeder ’59, ’71—some 28 years after he retired and 40 plus years after she was his student.

“Even though I never did anything with music, you were a great influence on my career as a teacher,” Reeder writes. “What I learned from your example was to treat every student with respect, no matter what their ability.”

“Music theory and music appreciation are good courses for everybody,” he says. McLain continues to serve those who appreciate music. For the past 14 years he has been both director of music and organist at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Bethesda, Maryland, where on Thursdays he directs the choir, and on Sundays he’s at the organ. This gig follows a 28-year stint as organist and choirmaster at Metropolitan Memorial United Methodist Church.

He concedes that these days his fingers, or more often his thumbs, refuse on occasion to cooperate. “Sometimes my fingers and my mind don’t go together, so, I talk to them,” he says, and he changes the scale or chooses another piece. And in addition to his two jobs at Trinity Presbyterian, McLain, at 95, is organizing his papers and memorabilia, and he practices daily at the piano.

“I just like to play for myself. I often get started and go on and on . . . Sometimes I say under my breath, ‘I’m making beautiful music.’”

“I’m very content. I do what I can and don’t get too agitated about what I can’t. I enjoy life. I go on.”