I thought I was a bit busy to take it on at that point, but she started sending me articles and books, and I became intrigued. Not long after I wrote a song, then produced a half hour radio special for public radio, then a play, and then produced an hour long documentary for public television. We have recently remastered the show with a new name, How Southern Women Won the Vote.

At one point in the evolution of this project,my good friend Wanda Sobieski started collecting suffrage memorabilia. This included a collection of sheet music from the suffrage movement. She asked me to put a small CD together for a museum exhibit, using her collection.

When Janne Henshaw and I started into the project, we soon realized that the songs were written in keys that only a true soprano could sing. After some transposing of the original manuscript to singable keys, we recorded the collection.

Today, in honor of the 90th anniversary of the birth of the League of Women Voters I am publishing this collection of Songs for the Cause. Below is a link to a PDF of the music manuscript as well as links to the recorded songs, featuring myself, Janne Henshaw and Carol Levack.

Some of the songs are amusing, some are inspiring, all are entertaining.
I hope that you enjoy them.

Songs for the Cause Music Manuscript PDF file

The Songs:

Winning the Vote
Processionals
She’s Good Enough to be your Baby’s Mother
Hallelujah Song
I’m a Suffragette
Suffrage Song
Going to the Polls
The New America
That Suffragette

We are very proud of our young writer, Aisya Nesmith, who decided to write about her feelings about segregation and the civil rights movement. Astounding what a 4th grader can come up with.

Back in February, we were asked to participate in Chadwell Elementary School’s Unity Day program. We were so impressed with the program, we decided to make a video of the 4th grade class performance.

Gene Smith of Smith Films volunteered the videography, Al Goll helped us out with the dobro, and Rich Jegen edited the video. We were able to get permission to use some photos from the archives of the Highlander Education and Research Center, as well as some photos from the Library of Congress.

You can watch the video on youtube, or at the bottom of this post.

Don’t hesitate to comment on the site. I think it turned out great. The kids are charming, the performance touching. Many thanks to Chadwell’s music teacher, Marsha Brewer as well as the principal, Ms. Renita Perkins. They have a school full of beautiful children, and dedicated teachers. It was a joy to get to work with them on this creative project.
I hope you enjoy it.

I have an afternoon fire in the fireplace next to my desk, having come in from our promised afternoon snow. 3,000 miles away to the Northwest, young athletes are skating, skiing, luging in the snow. 1,000 miles away to the East, the people of Washington DC are attempting to dig out out from this week’s snowstorm. Where I grew up on a Michigan farm, snow often began in October and lasted until April. A lot of snow. My dad once braved a wild snow storm to get me a package of valentines to give to my school mates. I can still see those curious little cards, with hearts and messages like “Won’t you be my valentine” and “You’re swell”, on them. And I also can imagine the little white envelopes, and addressing each name in my class in my practiced cursive, as well as the anticipation of getting a special Valentine from some 4th grade boy, who, I was certain, liked me best. Ahhh, the tumult of a young crush. So, for this year’s holiday honoring love, here is a little song that I wrote this week, helped along by Doc West’s great guitar work. Thanks Doc.

Our House This Week

Happy Valentines to all, wherever you may be.

On Friday, Janne Henshaw and Al Goll and I participated in another Words and Music session at the Country Music Hall of Fame. This time we had three classes of 4th graders, and we presented 15 songs… the most we have ever written for one session.

We want to compliment all of the students and their teachers for a great batch of lyrics. When I have played some of the songs for musician friends of mine, they have remarked…”This was written by a 4th grader!?” As one said…” When I was in 4th grade I was playing with sticks in the mud, not concerned about the effects of segregation or the activities of Mother Theresa.”

I said ” I know… Kids these days”.

Here are the 15 songs . I hope you enjoy them as much as we do.
Janne Henshaw
Candace Corrigan

Al Goll

1. Burnin’ words by T. Coleman, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

2. My Guitar words by J. Curry, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

3. Me and My Friend words by C. Reyna, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

4. Dance in the Dark words by T. Carne, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

5. The Dog words by J. Colin, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

6. The Grouch Man words by L. Howell, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

7. The Unity Song words by A. Nesmith, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

8. My Little Brother words by A. Cunningham, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

9. I Don’t Love Frogs words by W. Young, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

10. On Prom Night words by T. Ellison, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

11. The Teacher Song words by D. Buchanan, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

12. Helping Charity words by A. Workman, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

13. Mom and Me words by A. Dehne, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

14. The Butterfly Song words by P. Hernandez, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

15. Candy, Candy words by A. Guerrero, songwriters, Janne Henshaw & Candace Corrigan

About two years ago, one of my dearest friends, Kathleen Wolff, and I began getting together to play O’Carolan tunes… songs written by an Irish blind harper in the late 17th and early 18th century. Our goal was to be together, playing music we loved. At a recent rehearsal, Kathleen played me the English country dance tune “Childgrove”. It sounded like a Christmas carol to me.

I told her that by the next week’s rehearsal, I would put some words to the tune. I had a vague collection of medieval nativity poems, translated from early English by Brian Stone for the Penguin Classic series. I found one poem that I thought would work, though I had to change some of the lyric to fit the tune. I collected some musicians that I have been working with, we descended upon a very important member of the band, the engineer, Jordan Shirks, and we recorded the song.

Janne Henshaw, one of the collaborators on the O’Carolan project came in, and finished the song with a beautiful harmony vocal.

I hope that you enjoy it as much as Kathleen and I, and everyone, did, and do.

Merry Christmas, Happy holidays, and the happiest of Holidays for all that are close to you.

Harp Kathleen Wolff
Violin Sarah Wilfong
Guitar Donovan Dailey
Bass Rick Diamond
Engineer Jordan Shirks

Vocals Candace Corrigan, Janne Henshaw

Here is the song:

The Christmas Rose

It is Christmas Eve Day. I have just put up the Christmas card on my website, but I want to add to it. Last year, on the night I trimmed the Christmas tree, I starting writing a song. I didn’t finish it until this year, and two nights ago, Doc West and I recorded it with Jordan Shirks doing the engineering. To me, it is Doc at his finest. I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas.

The night I trim the Christmas tree
I gather ornaments and the lights
A kind of calm comes over me
And I think of this returning night

What will I dream,
What will I find
Will I be kind as I can be
These are the things that cross my mind
The night I trim the Christmas tree

Click here to listen to this week’s song, A Woman’s Prayer for Thanksgiving.

My friend Janne Henshaw and I were talking late one night last week about Thanksgiving songs. We were going to present some to our friends at the St.Clair senior center, and we were going over some titles and possibilities, and chatting about the origins of the Thanksgiving holiday.

Later, I looked online for information on Thanksgiving, and found a remarkable editorial, urging the establishment of a national Thanksgiving holiday, written in 1850 by Sarah Josepha Hale. The daughter of a revolutionary war captain, she became a popular novelist and poet and then became the editor of Godeys Lady Book.

(1788-1879) Sarah Josepha Hale
painted by James Reid Lambdin in 1831

Here is a paragraph I found:

Godey’s Lady’s Book appeared under seven different titles during its sixty-eight year history (1830-1898). Sarah Hale was its editor for forty of those years (1837-1877) and is credited with having a great influence over the reading, learning, and even political consciousness of women across America. Godey’s was the highest circulating and most popular women’s magazine of the era. Between 1839 and 1860, circulation rose from 25,000 to 150,000. The editorials wielded considerable influence over a large readership; Hale used Godey’s to campaign for Thanksgiving as a national holiday until Lincoln made it official in 1863.

Looking over the editorial, which included a lovely poem/prayer, I picked up my guitar and the words fell into place. I called my friend Doc West, went over and recorded this song with a simple guitar track, and he added some guitar and drums. As usual I hope you enjoy it. Happy Thanksgiving.

I once took eight years of voice training from a professor who taught voice to opera students. Although I did not sing opera, he worked with me, improving my range, and control. I remember asking him about opera, as it seemed a distant art form to me at the time.

Surprised at my statement, he told me, that in his opinion, opera was anything but distant. Opera is being surrounded by sound, image, words, and emotion. If you are lucky enough to go to the opera in Europe, he said, where the halls are small with many balconies, you will experience opera as being in the middle of that sound. The soaring notes of a soprano are sung to your heart, and the tenor sings from your soul, and the baritone rocks the core of your being. It is a stunning display of art, and talent.  It will take hold of you, bring you in, and never leave your memory.

This week, I was lucky enough to have that experience, not in a quaint Italian hall, but at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center in Nashville, Tennessee.

My husband and I attended the Nashville Opera Company’s production of The Fall of the House of Usher based on the famous Edgar Allen Poe short stort, adapted by Phillip Glass with libretto by Arthur Yorinks.

If I had read Edgar Allen Poe’s short story The Fall of the House of Usher, it had long been misplaced from my memory. And yet, in searching YouTube, I looked through dozens of different videos of productions of The Fall of the House of Usher, some going back as far as a silent film made in Paris in 1929. I found it fascinating that this short story has such a timeless hold on the imagination of the theatrical world.

The idea of the maverick genius Philip Glass writing an opera was intriguing enough, and having seen some of his work, it seemed to make perfect sense to me. So, we dressed for the occasion and arrived in time for the pre-opera talk given by the artistic director, John Hoomes, who was clearly excited about this production. Mr. Hoomes explained that the production designer had taken video images of the rehearsal and was projecting them, both from a rear projection screen and from a front projection screen, with the cast in the middle. I am a playwright myself, and I have used both rear projection and front projection, but never both at the same time. Apparently the stage directions that accompanied the libretto were very minimal, except for one: all sound was to be amplified, at the request of the writer, Philip Glass. Interesting.

The opera’s orchestra was small and extremely talented. In fact the cast is small, by opera standards.

The opera begins with the reading of a strange letter, a letter beseeching a young man, William, to come to the aid of a boyhood friend from school, Roderick Usher. The letter tells of sadness and unbearable melancholy, of some inexplicable malady that has come over Roderick, and which begs William to visit. So sure is he that William will come, Roderick admonishes him not to bother to replying, as he knows William will leave immediately, which William does. To me, this letter was intimate, almost one that a lover would write. We learn soon enough that William never even really knew Rodrick that well.

And so begins a tale of mystery and madness, all set to the relentless beauty of recurring music, in the most inventive setting I have ever seen. The production designer, Barry Steel, was a most important player here, enveloping the cast with ghostly gothic images, ethereal and dread-inspiring, working seamlessly with the score. This led me at points to whisper to myself and my companion the word, “brilliant “. I had the feeling that if any of the first creators of classic opera productions had had these tools at their disposal, they would have used them in an instant.

That said, madness is not an easy place to visit.

The house itself is gloomy, foreboding. There are questions upon questions. Did the brother really assault his twin sister, driving her mad?  Is the malady that both Usher descendants suffer from brought on by a sinister aspect in the house itself? Who is the resident doctor and what is his diagnosis of the the malady afflicting brother and sister? Is this unhappiness a judgement on the brother and sister who have no “earthly thing to do”? Was the sister really buried alive?  Is there any way to figure out what really happened?

In my reading afterward, I found a short story of Edgar Allen Poe’s where he describes the horror of being buried alive. Apparently it was a common fear in the early 19th century that was finally dispelled after the American Civil War with the advent of embalming.

The House of Usher is out of balance. It is falling. Yet, I was struck by the balance of the fine performances.

The costumes were perfect. The direction was great, though I thought the use of a doll to imply that the twin sister is a little girl, when the possible crime of incest happened, was a bit heavy handed. A minor point.

It was a brave and stunning production. It all fit together.

In the end, as one of the opera enthusiasts next to me said, “It is really like all tragic operas. Everybody dies, or goes mad.”

The soaring notes of the soprano, the tenor, and the baritone, along with the brilliant display of visual art and dramatic talent, took hold of me, brought me in, and will never leave my memory.

Bravo, cast and crew. Well done.

Thank you.

The Internet is a marvelous thing.

A few months ago, someone found me, and a song I wrote, because I had featured the song on my blog. Lisa Ferguson, a musician and newly crowned National Hammer Dulcimer Champion at last month’s prestigious Walnut Valley Music Festival in Winfield Kansas, wrote me an email after reading and listening to my song Spirit Of The Mountains- the Ballad of Emma Bell Miles.

She and some of her friends were putting on a special celebration of Emma’s life October 19th up on Signal Mountain, near Chattanooga. She asked me if I would like to be part of it. She also asked me how I ever found out about Emma Bell Miles in the first place.

A number of years ago, I received a grant from the Tennessee Humanities Council to research some Tennessee women’s writings, and write songs from their words. The program Through A Woman’s Voice was later made into a 4 part series for public radio.

Now it is a 4 CD set: Disks 1 & 2 are the radio programs, with humanities scholar interviews, radio theatre and the ballads, Disk 3 is the ballads only, and Disk 4 is a set of curriculum guides written for grades 4- 12 by Dr. Carole Bucy. I have recently made it a priority to get a copy of this 4 CD set into every school library in Tennessee.

Emma Bell Miles was one of the women that I chose for this project, much due to the kind insistence of Dr. Anita Goodstein, one of my advisors for Through A Woman’s Voice. She was well aware of the available diaries in the Tennessee Archives, and did not consider herself a sentimental historian. She recalled reading the 1914-1915 diary in the archives one dreary winter afternoon, and was amazed to find herself in tears reading Emma’s words.

After reading them myself, I was not surprised. Emma Bell Miles was quite a writer, and as she was confiding in her diary, she illuminated her difficult life in such a way that you wanted to turn back the years and help her if you could. The song resulting from her words is haunting, and yes, beautiful.

So I agreed to come to Signal Mountain this last weekend. Lisa Ferguson even had a dinner on Saturday night, where I met so many fine musicians, as well as the artist who conceived of this celebration, Anne Davis. Everyone was so kind and welcoming, I felt as though I were meeting old friends.

The celebration took place on Sunday afternoon, on Signal Mountain next to where Emma bell once lived. Emma is known as a naturalist, and an eco-feminist. She would have been proud to see the booths of lovely art, music, national parks, and ecology. There were quilters and spinners, and girl scouts selling hot cider. And one of the event organizers took my husband and I to see a rock bridge behind her house where Emma once gave art lessons and where she carved a small bird and her initials in a rock.
Stone bridge and waterfall where Emma taught art

Bird carving by Emma Bell Miles

John Boulware, fiddle, James Kee, mandolin, Joseph Decosimo, banjo

Bob Fulcher, banjo, Joseph Decosimo, fiddle

Celebrating Emma Bell Miles

Late in the brisk afternoon, I presented the song with local musicians who were perfect. Kay Gaston, a biographer of Emma bell Miles spoke directly after the song, and gave us a lovely synopsis of why we should be celebrating Emma and her life.

I was struck by the sweetness of the event and the legacy of care. Emma once had patrons who bought her paintings and postcards. Here, once again, 90 years after her death, people who care about the mountain she held so dear, gather to celebrate life.

Note: Please feel free to contact me about performances of Through A Woman’s Voice. I will do performances in trade for the purchase of copies of the 4 CD set to be placed in the schools of your choice.

On Friday, April 11, we had a tornado here that tragically killed a young mother and baby, injured many others and left a lot of people without homes. My husband and I were just leaving the Murfreesboro Sportscom where we swim, when the television in the lobby issued a tornado warning, with severe storms headed our way. We drove home under threatening skies, with a pelting thunderstorm hitting as we came in through the door. The warning sirens started and about three miles from our house a tornado touched down with winds reported at 165 miles an hour. The aftermath of one of these things is the true meaning of the word devastation. Trees snapped in half, buildings flattened as if by a bomb, twisted power line poles, metal roofs that resemble discarded aluminum foil. And, after the weather cleared, came the abundance of friends and church members, ready to help; looking for scattered pictures, saving any and all possible treasures and picking up the crazy abundance of bits of insulation that seemed to be everywhere.

At our house, calls came in from around the country, making sure we had escaped the damage, which, thankfully, we had. In talking to my friend, the editor of the Macon County Times, we recalled his experience a couple of years ago when Macon County was hit by a much more destructive storm. We both remarked how similar it must feel to surviving a battle.

About a month ago I posted a blog about working with the Words and Music program at The Country Music Hall of Fame. Words and Music works with teachers and students, pairing the students’ writings with songwriters, resulting in songs that the songwriters then present to the class. My friend Janne Henshaw and I have been working with this program for a number of years, and this year we participated in both the fall semester and the spring session. Our friend Al Goll came along with his dobro to give the songs we presented a little more polish. One of the songs this year that caught my attention was entitled The Civil War Song.
After The Storm

Ulysses S. Grant

Captured Confederates

Two fifth grade boys, Jeremy McConville and Jarrell Reeves, chose the war as the topic for their song. The town that they live in was once rocked by a terrible battle there, literally in their backyard. This week, 148 years ago, the South fired on Fort Sumter, effectively starting the American Civil War. Jeremy and Jarrel’s lyrics talked about Fort Sumter, as well as battles throughout the South. The resulting finished song is, I think, honest and profound.

This week, I took the live performance recording of the Civil War Song and downloaded some Civil War photographs. I put them together in iMovie. Nothing fancy, just some images of the war, including a defiant 67 year old white-haired Edmund Ruffin, who claimed to have fired the first shot at Fort Sumter, as well as a war weary General Ulysses S. Grant whose eyes saw all the horror that Shiloh had to offer.