By Ann Stewart
Class of 1955, B.A. in History

My memories of UofL go back 60 years now, so I have many.

First of all, I remember the beauty of the old campus in the fall. Fast forward a few years, then those memories explode: classes, teachers, friends, sorority sisters, activities—all whirl around in my brain, just like autumn leaves. Most of us have the same memories, and those of us who are truly mature are really grateful for our Thoroughbreds, but I have two very special memories shared by only a few other alumni: the annual Barbershop Quartet Contest, sponsored by the SPEBSQSA (now called the Barbershop Harmony Society).

The contest is long gone, along with the beautiful perpetual trophy, dedicated to the memory of Sam Stumbo, a Lambda Chi who was killed just after the Korean Armistice in 1952. In its heyday, it was one of UofL’s most popular activities. The contest was held in March, but practice began in January at the start of the spring semester. (I quit smoking for the entire time!)

Chi Omega’s quartet, The Mischords, had never won, but there was a second place trophy in the chapter room. Graduation had reduced the quartet to a duo, and I was determined to join. Two good friends, Phi Tau’s Don Romans and Gary Caulfield, convinced me I could do this. Chi O’s Corkie Kirkham and Connie Darms, my friends since high school, welcomed me, and tiny Bonnie Schulz joined us. Connie sang tenor, Bonnie the lead, and I was the baritone. Corkie possessed a booming bass voice, plus the necessary contacts for both music and costumes. The baritone part, by the way, is the filling in the sandwich.

We practiced in the front hall of the Chi O house, standing in each of the four corners, so we could hear our blend. We sang “Doin’ the Raccoon” and “Hello My Baby”—great music, great arrangements, lots of bell chords and other embellishments necessary to a show-stopping performance. Our coaches were the Decker sisters, who had placed third in the international contest to the winners, The Chordettes. They sang “Mr. Sandman,” which became a huge hit. They were terrific! On top of that, Corkie arranged with Mary Snow Ethridge for four incredible raccoon coats! The Decker sisters taught us to aim our voices at the back of the Playhouse, and reminded us that if others could do this, they’d be up on stage, and we’d be in the audience. The youngest of them, 13 at the time, said, “If you get nervous, just picture the whole audience naked as jaybirds.” It took all our composure not to do that, but we sang our hearts out, and walked away with the individual winners’ trophy. I have rarely felt such excitement!

The next year was more difficult. I was the only “survivor,” as well as co-chair of the event. Corkie and Connie had graduated; Bonnie married and moved to Texas. The new members were Irene Glass, tenor, and Martha Cabell, lead. Originally Wini Cook sang bass, but she was so very tall, the blend was off, and she graciously bowed out in favor of Alberta “Dodie” Dobroth, whose bass voice even outdid Corkie’s. Irene came from a musical background (her mother was “The Golden Voice of Radio” on WHAS). Martha had a sparkling personality in addition to her voice. Dodie clued us in on some great music. (Wini went on to become managing director of a famous symphony orchestra. Dodie still sings.)

That year we sang “Sugar Cane Jubilee” and “See You Some Tuesday,” both time-honored barbershop standards. Again, costumes played a big role in our success. We dressed as flappers and I wore originals: my mother’s dress, shoes, even 1920s jewelry. (The clothes and shoes were given to The Filson; the jewelry I still have and wear.) Two of our girls are gone now, and I will never sing again, but in memory we are all still up there on that stage, listening to the applause, and thrilled to be a part of something so very special.