three of nine movements of the Double Concerto were premiered at Messiah University in the spring of 2022. These notes were not published in the program. Commissioned by Trumpeter Dr. William Stowman, Letter from an unknown woman to an unknown people is a work that was created to shine a light on the life of Rachel Flowers, the first black student at Messiah University. These notes aim to rectify, both intellectually and morally my getting involved with the work. In the end, I am deeply glad that I did, and I hope that the entire work will be performed soon.
It was not without hesitation that I sat down to dedicate myself to work on this double concerto. Our historical moment is a moment divided, it is a moment hidden behind the blue glow of screens; we lack the nuance and complexity that nature has attempted to teach us for tens of thousands of years. When attempting to comment, by way of words or music, on any subject that may be considered part of our cultural moment, I find myself more and more prone to editing and reservation. Even in writing this note to give background, I am specifically ruling out the use of any language that could be construed as political in nature, as a great deal of language has in fact been politicized via social media. With this in mind, the following is an attempt to make an understanding of the endeavors of the concerto more whole.
I want to begin by thanking Christina Thomas, Messiah University alumna for her efforts in uncovering the life of Rachel Flowers. I have found Rachel inspiring, energizing, pure of heart and of great veracity during this process. Christina’s scholarship was a lesson in treating humanity as it deserves to be treated: a complex tapestry, impossible to pin down. I am reminded here of the metaphor of the great river, and as ever of James Joyce ‘riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s’ and ‘They will be tuggling foriver’.
On the topic of s‘t(r)uggling’: the notion of reconciliation was the requested centerpiece of this project. It is in fact, the university’s theme for this celebratory year. The definitions of ‘reconciliation’ that I find most pertinent are 1.) the restoration of friendly relations and 2.) the action of making one view or belief compatible with another. In the context of history, this is nearly impossible; and if it seems to be true, I believe we are kidding ourselves. The story of a time is the story of the people who are dead. We cannot know their values, we cannot know their truths, we cannot know their subtle intimations of that which is pre-verbal. We can only know what they leave behind. My life as a musician and composer has been very rich in the uncovering of just how powerful the things that are ‘left behind’ can be. Music can be a form of communication non-verbally. The music that is left behind, can – depending on its intensity – do much to inform the historical understanding of a group of people, or their time and place. Objective flotsam and jetsam include laws and philosophies, novels and poetry. Historical record is the most challenging of that which is left behind. The story of Rachel Flowers is a searing example of this.
I will not here attempt to fill in the blanks of the story of Rachel Flowers, as Christina Thomas has spent much time to do this in the proper manner in her article “The Life of Rachel H. Flowers”. But it is important to know that the way in which the history of Rachel was handled, says more about what was left out of the record. For a period of time, it was unknown that she was indeed the first black student at the university, as a picture of another black student was mislabeled. This took nearly a century to rectify. Beyond this, there was nothing known about the real Rachel Flowers. The scholarship of her life predates our culture’s current obsession with attempting to right any perceived wrong. And for this, I admire it all the more – it enriches the humanity of Rachel.
While sitting down to work, I realized I was wrestling with our cultural moment more than anything. After being raised in our divisions, and watching my generation divide us more under the slogan of ‘bringing people together’, it is impossible for me to escape: everything feels like Reconciliation. The second definition that I quoted above is important to consider: compatibility of views. It is impossible to reconcile the views of 140 years ago with the views of today. Our current knee-jerk reaction to condemn anything but today’s ‘sensibility’ is dangerous and cynical. I liken it to the individual’s experience of shuddering at the thought of their youth. You can either move forward with self-love or -loathing. Cynicism chooses hate over love. And love is an attempt to understand complexity – especially complexity that seems impenetrable and without end. And as for the first definition of Reconciliation – restoring friendly relations – Rachel is dead.
I lay this out simply to show what an interesting crossroads I found myself in composing the work. It was not until I read and re-read the article several times and meditated on Rachel’s writings and letters that I was able to cultivate a direction I could stand behind.
Reconciliation is treating Rachel as her own individual, rather than as a historical first. Rachel was a displaced Floridian who embraced her life as a Pennsylvanian to the fullest extent possible, in the face of the difficulties she had to endure due to the color of her skin. She was an educator, and a fierce one at that. She gave of herself unendingly and was always there for others. She was a voice for education, and a loud one at that. Her articles sing in a key that holds others deeply accountable (“Next, Please”… she intones to write-off an unthinking peer). She could not stand for allowing education to be wrapped up in our cultural passion of racial division and delineation (“On the contrary, the best interest of the American children is served under the efficient teacher, irrespective of race or color.”)
This double concerto, Letters from an unknown woman to and unknown people, seeks to reconcile the unreconcilable: a way of celebrating Rachel’s humanity, while illuminating the complications that surround her story. It is not my attempt to celebrate ourselves (the living), or to celebrate our potentially misguided momentary current cultural fads, but to simply celebrate the fullness of another human being. A human that, based on her actions, deserves to be remembered. The issue with Rachel is that, as a human it is fact that her life was full, but as a historical figure, we can only attempt to complete a full picture. This piece attempts to question the ability to do just that: fill in the blanks of a full life.
The poem that makes up the narration is the clearest effort in this direction. I have long been enamored with ‘found’ material. The narration is made up of Rachel’s words, the music she made and the songs that she sang, her letters, her articles, and the required reading of the Messiah Bible School and Missionary Training Home in the early 20th century. I took a great deal of time choosing the text that I found most powerful and all-encompassing. I then used a variety of systems and techniques including randomization and word mixing to come up with a kind of dream-sequence of humanity. I specifically attempted to keep the lines of knowing blurred to show just how little we know about her, while having so much thanks to the scholarship of Christina.
I began these notes by speaking about the story of ‘a time’ and how much is lost with the death of the living. Music can indeed be one of the few pre-verbal forms of documentation and communications. In those large and cosmic gaps in the story of Rachel Flowers, I hope the music – by way of utilizing her words, interests and the songs that she sang – can in some small and empathetic way, shed light on her dignity, her fullness of life, and her humanity.