Three Days Of Music

An Ann Arbor Outing From An Uncritical Standpoint.

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By Wm. H. Maher, in Toledo Blade.

I am well aware that it's a standing joke among my friends when I announce my annual pilgrimage to the May Festival at Ann Arbor. There are a great many subject upon which I could not pass an examination, even to enter the primary class; but in musical matters I profess to know absolutely nothing, except that I like all music, though some kinds rather more than others.

Even if I were not very much in love with music I should want to attend these annual festivals in our neighboring city, for a variety of reasons. The music is a strong attraction but by no means the only one. There is something about a college town that appeals and interests me.

A COLLEGE TOWN

The young men and young women hurrying through the streets, or looking down at you form second story windows where they appear to be studying, or brushing you off the sidewalk as you meet them, are always interesting, and often original.

They represent almost every type of character, and every phase of life. One wonders if he is not meeting the future Chief Justice, or Governor, or Congressman, or Trust Manipulator. One thinks of the sacrifice that many a father and mother (and especially the mothers) have made and are making to keep some of these boys and girls in college, perfectly satisfied if only the children will do their best.

One cannot help attempting to analyze the character of these young people as he watches them.

ANN ARBOR STUDENTS

Here in Ann Arbor are about 4,000 students;--a little world in itself. These have been winnowed in scholarship from the day they entered the A B C  class, through grammar and high schools, until they were permitted to take their places within these college walls. They come form every rank of life; are of every nationality and almost every religion; each with his own dreams and ambitions; with his own character and manners and with the bright, beautiful world before them all.

Here is one coming down the walk with a saucy skull-cap on the back of his head, his trousers folded two inches at the bottom of the leg, his chin raised up and pushed forward, his step that of a conquering hero marching to imaginary fife and drum. My companion nods to him, and I ask: "Is he at the head of his class? He has that manner." "Not he; he cares nothing for classes, if he can only pull through. His father is a man working on a very ordinary salary, and it must be quite a strain on the family purse to keep this boy here."

The faces vary just as they do on the streets of the city. The majority of them are bright, very many are keenly intellectual, and many are also very ordinary: one wonders how these latter ever got into college.

THE FAIR CO-EDS.

The co-educational feature in Ann Arbor is always an interesting one to me, and I scrutinize the young women with (perhaps I ought not to admit it so openly) much more interest than I do the young men.

I don't know if it is true or not, but it always seems to em that young women appreciate the need, benefit and advantages of an education far more than the average young man. Perhaps I form the opinion from what I see and have seen of the women graduates whom I have known.

There has never been a time when I have not felt like protesting vigorously against the gibes, most of them unmanly, about the "co-eds."

The great state of Michigan supports this splendid university. This means that every taxpayer in the state pays his share. Why should not his daughters, as well as his sons, come here and enjoy to the full the advantages the university offers. And where is the distinction to be made between co-education in the high school, and co-education here?
But the high school girls are living at home, you say.  

THE HOME OF THE STUDENTS.

This, I think, is one of the sweetest and most beautiful features of college life in Ann Arbor; it is a little city of homes; clean, pure, refined. There can be no more danger to a young woman in such life as throbs here, surrounded by every religions influence, every incentive to the building of character, than there is in the ordinary social life in any city, even with every parental care and guard surrounding her.

The average young college woman here, as I see her, is a higher type than the average young man. She has character in her face and dignity in her bearing. If she dresses rather plainly she dresses well, and gives one the impression that she is well groomed and respects her appearance. 

A year ago there were a few specimens of female freaks to be seen about the campus: one had to take several observations before he decided which class of beings they belonged. They were not pleasant to meet, for their oddity always seemed to be a matter of choice and not of necessity. But they have either learned the foolishness of their fad, or they have gone out into the world; I did not meet a single specimen of that class this year.

ANN ARBOR A BEAUTY SPOT

Nature has done a great deal for Ann Arbor. It is a beauty spot, and the ride or walk about what is called the Boulevard, discloses as many enchanting pictures as any place I can now recall. It is a long walk, but if rheumatism, or some other ism, has not got into your bones, it will pay you very well indeed to take it. I had to ride this time, but a year ago I made the trip on foot with a genial companion, who knew every inch of the way, every plant and shrub and tree that grew on the river banks, and every vantage point from which to view a new picture.

We go east and west to find beautiful scenery, but Ann Arbor people have it as a part of their daily life, and it may be said to their credit, that they appreciate it.

THE COLLEGE BUILDINGS.

Every year new buildings are in process of erection, yet every year one hears of the great need of more. The campus is not particularly beautiful, except that buildings among handsome forest trees are always pleasing. But Michigan appears to be fairly generous to her university, although slower in making some improvements than some of the impatient are pleased with.

The residence streets are all, without any exception, pleasant, and houses and lawns are kept in perfect order.

It is said that every house in the city will, if necessary, take roomers, if not boarders. The boys say, and it is not much exaggeration, that all that is necessary is to pick out a house you like, and go in and tell the people you are going to live with them.

There are no dormitories, that I ever heard of, and no large boarding houses. This, to my thinking, is as it ought to be. The students do not lose the air of home during their four years of college life.

Indeed, some of the pleasantest things one hears from old students are the appreciative stories of their affection for the good people who made their college life a pleasant home experience. And the home-keepers speak of their boys and their girls, who have gone into the work and life of the world, in a tone that could not be more tender if their "boys and girls" were their own flesh and blood. We are made welcome at one such house, where about one hundred students, year in and year out, gather about the hospitable table, and then go to their work in the wide world. I have heard some of them in later years refer to Mrs. Motley, almost as tenderly as they refer to their mother, which her face glows with pleasure at the slightest message from one of the old students.

ANN ARBOR NOT EXPENSIVE. 

I heard lately of a Toledo man who was decidedly pressed for money, because his boy, who was in an eastern college, was requiring $5,000 per year to pay his expenses. The air of Ann Arbor is not conducive to such idiocy. A man must be a good deal of a "high flyer" here to spend $5,000 during his four years of college life. A good many carry themselves through the course on $1,000-and live well and comfortably. Quite a number work ther way through, and it may be said to the honor of the college that such students are as popular in this little world and as honored as their character entitles them to be, regardless of their empty purses and their daily work.

This is as it should be, but we who are in the college of life, know that the man and woman with grit and courage and perseverance sufficient to push them through college, in spite of a slender purse and untoward circumstances, are the ones who carry off the prizes in later life; they have truly learned "to labor and to wait."

The cost of living in Ann Arbor strikes one as being wonderfully small. Of course prices vary for board and for rooms. Because the rooms in one house are $2, and in another $3, it does not always follow that one is so much less desirable than the other. One landlord asks and gets it, another asks $2 or $2.50, and is satisfied. The same rule applies to the table board.

A student can have a room alone from $2 to $3.50 per week. If two were to take the $2 room it would be made $3.50 for the tow. Table board runs from $2 per week to $5 perhaps, but for the vast majority $2 to $3.50 are the limits. If you figure the cost of the year by these prices you will see that a deep purse is not needed to enable one to attend the University of Michigan. 

This is by the way of preface to my little story of the musical festival; it is rather long, to be sure, but the story will be that much shorter.

THE SCHOOL OF MUSIC. 

Not the least of the many branches taught in Ann Arbor is vocal and instrumental music. Of course to the great mass of students and their friends Commencement week is the event of the year, but only very slightly second in importance to that is the week of music-the May Festival, started ten years ago. To this people come form all parts of Michigan, and from many other states. The bright young woman at my right told me she came from Buffalo to attend this Festival. I have no doubt that many in the audience were likewise pilgrims from a distance.

The concerts are held in University Hall, and the concert hall will seat about 3,000 people. Some put the figures at 2,500; others, 4,000; I think my figures about fair. It is not an up-to-date hall; it is not worthy the large audiences who fill it. There is a very long flight of stairs to reach the main floor and three flights to the balcony, which is the gallery. If one sits under the gallery he wonders when all the cracks in the plaster over his head stand for; and if eh is nervous he wishes he were in another seat or out of doors.

The patronage given so generously by the public should be rewarded by a better music hall; one where no stair-climbing should be needed to reach the main floor, and with seats that were more comfortable. But I do not expect to live to see this accomplished.

The immense organ, the same one that delighted thousands at the Chicago Exposition before it was brought here, is at the rear of the stage, which is of such ample proportions that about 350 people can occupy it.

The enthusiastic, moving, ruling spirit of the festival is Conductor Stanley; an enthusiast in spite of his gray hairs. He is the leader of the Choral Union which gives during the college year a series of ten concerts. Five of these form the May Festival, and are given, one on a Thursday evening; one each on the next afternoon and evening; and also one the Saturday afternoon and evening; the last one in the series generally being the gem of that season.

The Boston Festival Orchestra, fifty instruments, under the direction of Emil Mollenhauer, is engaged to assist and then the best artists in the country are secured for solo work. Tickets for these five concerts, with reserved seats, cost about $5, so it does not need a very large bunch of coupons to enable one to attend. 

This year we had as vocalists-but what's the use? You read all about them in Mr. Campbell's appreciative notes sent daily to The Blade. I was very glad to see that eh found the work of all to be excellent. This was my opinion, and I would not have been shaken in it one iota if he had disagreed with me. I know what I enjoy in music, but I do not pretend to know how to analyze it.

Why, just think a minute about what was offered us!

Here was a chorus of 265 voices; not a mob that you gather in from the streets, like the populace in Ben Hur, but a selected, trained band of musicians. When one of them took a solo part, in due order, you wondered where that clear, pure voice came from, as you noticed that neither Miss Rio nor Mme. Homer was singing. It was Miss caspary of the Choral Union, and was done as easily as anything was rendered that evening.

When Mms. Bouton was applauded for her beautiful singing she clasped the hand of her accompanist ot show the audience that much of the praise was due to her, who proved to be Miss Davis, of Ann Arbor. And the audience willingly testified to the exceeding fine quality of Miss Davis' accompaniment. 

So, I repeat, here was a splendid chorus of 265 voices. Add to this an orchestra of 50 pieces that played with perfection and as if each man was a master. Then have the solo work by--not one star, or two stars, as one might find in an opera, but with five stars, and how could there be anything but magnificent harmony magnificently rendered.

Why, Verdi's opera of Aida, as it was rendered last Saturday night, was an event in the life of every person present, and will be a pleasant memory while life lasts.

I am deeply thankful that I could be there. I invite you to go with me next May.