Today would have been Edith Ho’s 89th birthday. Everybody had an “Edith Ho” story, and in addition to what I wrote on the day of her passing, “A giant in church music,” not only did Edith send me the obituary she had written several years ago, she also left instructions for her Requiem.
A 22-voice choir is being put in place to sing the service.
I wanted to share what Mark Dwyer, present Organist and Choirmaster of the Church of the Advent, wrote for the Boston Chapter of the American Organists yesterday. Mark, who served as her assistant for many years, probably knew her best, at least in a professional manner.
“You Will Not Have Time to Sit Down” – A Tribute to Friend and Mentor, Edith Ho. –Mark Dwyer, Organist & Choirmaster, The Church of the Advent, Boston.
The daughter of devout Seventh-Day Adventists, Edith June Ho was born in Canton China, on August 16, 1932. One of three children, Edith grew up during the troubled years of the Chinese Civil War and the rise of Communism. Perhaps as a result, Edith rarely spoke of her growing-up years. All three Ho siblings were able to immigrate to the United States. While still a teenager, Edith arrived in the US and studied for her first Bachelor’s, in piano, from Columbia Union College in Takoma Park, Maryland, which she earned in 1958. Immediately afterwards, she began her long-time association with Baltimore’s Peabody Conservatory, earning a second Bachelor’s in organ in 1962, a Master’s in 1966, and additionally, an unfinished DMA, on which she worked until 1969.
As a protégé and prize organ pupil of Arthur Howes, Edith was strongly influenced by the Orgelbewegung. In these early years, Edith was a most persuasive player of Bach, and counted the Art of Fugue amongst her recital repertoire. It was natural that she should study in Germany, both with Helmut Walcha and Heinz Wunderlich, which led to scores of recitals across Europe, particularly in Germany and Holland.
Edith was a member of Arthur Howes’s choir at Mount Calvary Church in Baltimore, where she had her first exposure to renaissance choral music amid a rather severe Anglo-Catholic musical aesthetic. In 1961, Charles Fisk’s Andover Organ Company installed the all-mechanical two manual 36-stop Silbermann-inspired organ, an instrument that became seminal to Edith’s development as a player.
Following a number of church and teaching positions in the early 1970s, in September of 1977 Edith was appointed Organist & Choirmaster at Boston’s Church of the Advent. Edith’s appointment seemed unlikely, to be sure, but the Advent has always attracted larger-than-life characters. In that regard, she was certainly equipped for the job.
Until the 1960s, the Advent had a typical parish boy choir, common for most Episcopal churches of the time. Organist-composer John Cook was hired with the idea that he could “save the boy choir,” but due to changing urban demographics and the demolition of Boston’s residential West End, even Cook couldn’t push that boulder uphill. By the time he left in 1968, Cook had established a new mixed choir, with female sopranos and altos joining the tenor and bass back rows of the by-then-defunct boy choir.
In 1968, Phillip Steinhaus arrived with auspicious plans for the music program. A fine player of both repertoire and service music, Steinhaus was also chorally accomplished, and gradually raised the standards and repertoire of his all-professional choir to new heights. Highlights of his tenure included concert presentations of both the Bach B minor Mass and Matthew Passion.
Perhaps the apex of Steinhaus’ Advent career was conducting Haydn’s Lord Nelson Mass at the 1976 AGO National Convention. Much-beloved but plagued by personal and professional difficulties, Steinhaus departed in 1977. He left a fine legacy, but also a program that had stagnated somewhat. It proved a fertile field for the self-discipline of Edith Ho.
I first attended The Church of the Advent in September of 1981, and was, as so many have been, completely captivated by the place. The purity and discipline of the singing, the magical acoustic, and the cathedral-like tone of the 1936 Aeolian-Skinner, were all meticulously packaged in the transcendent liturgy. On any given “normal” Sunday, one might hear a complete Palestrina mass, motets, and recital-worthy organ repertoire for preludes and postludes. Feast Days were something else yet again! It became a place of pilgrimage during my school years.
In 1989, I was fortunate to be hired by Edith as Associate Organist & Choirmaster. At about the same time, I purchased a beautiful brocaded wing-back chair at an irresistible bargain price.
When telling Edith about it, she quipped: “I do not know why you bought that chair. Now that you are working for me, you will not have time to sit down!”
I soon discovered her to be a wonderful colleague, gentle mentor, and good friend. While Edith surely micromanaged many aspects of the music program, she was also glad to share and delegate. It became easy to trust and respect her, as she was scrupulously honest and completely direct. One always knew where one stood, and there was no passive-aggressive running of agendas. She held herself to the same high standard she expected of others. The respect one yielded to Edith was paid back in kind.
Edith had an old-school frugality in certain things. For example, she routinely saved envelopes and used the backs of them to write memos. One summer, my prankster baritone housemate and I started to save our own envelopes at home. By Christmastime, we had quite a stash, which we bundled up with string and wrapped beautifully in a large gift box. Let us just say that Edith was not amused! I hope she saw it as an act of love. But she did have a dry and most wonderfully sharp wit, as befitted her enormous intellect. One year at an Easter Vigil baptism, one baby in particular would not stop screaming. Edith leaned over and whispered: “Doesn’t that baby realize this is a Baptism, not a Circumcision?”
As time went on, my responsibilities increased, and Edith was able to make my position fulltime. She was always concerned not only for the welfare of musicians in her charge but of parishioners and friends as well. Never parading the fact, she regularly visited parishioners in the hospital. For years she had a student living in her house, who would cook and clean in exchange for room and board. Edith was forever sending checks to charities, arts organizations and others in need.
For all her organization and self-discipline—she meditated three times a day—neither her home nor her office would have been featured in House Beautiful. In the office: worn-out, second-hand furniture, piles of scores, a messy desk. In her small house: basically the same, plus a kitchen. I took no small comfort in the state of her desk when I compared it to my own.
Edith’s tunnel vision was both her great strength and a vulnerability. What concerned her most was the output and quality of the choir. Some questions were better left unasked. The best repertoire for a wedding ? Without skipping a beat, Edith would reply: “A Renaissance mass setting!” Ask what new repertoire she was planning for this year’s Advent Carol Service? “Renaissance motets!” But over the years the choir’s repertoire expanded and became much more eclectic. During a particular rehearsal, she looked at me gleefully and said, “This is my first Sowerby, you know!” If her tastes weren’t exactly catholic, she was nevertheless passionate about the necessity of being exposed to all kinds of music. Edith regularly attended concerts of all sorts and conditions of music, and for almost four decades held a subscription to the Boston Symphony Orchestra. She might have railed against Sibelius or Rachmaninoff, but she stayed and listened.
As a conductor, Edith’s lack of showmanship and ego reflected a willingness to let the notes speak for themselves. She expected fastidious preparation and performance, and drew the best from those of us under her charge. And with age, she herself grew and became even better at her craft. Ultimately, many of us did more than we thought we might, not only because we respected her but because we loved her.
At age 75, Edith retired after 30 years of service. Her intellect and skill were as sharp as ever, but a heart condition forced the issue. Had her body allowed, she would have carried on. In retirement, she reinvented herself as the grande dame of the parish. She was always supportive of the work of the current Advent Choir. She rarely had an unkind or critical word, although we did develop a useful code. Following the Sunday Mass, if she asked me, “Do you like that piece?” I knew instantly that she did not. And only once do I recall a phone conversation in which I closed by saying as usual, “See you in church!” only for her to reply, “No, you will not.” Why? “Because you are singing the Richard Rodney Bennett Missa Brevis, and I hate it!”
Edith’s ashes will be interred in the Crypt chapel beneath the chancel, alongside those of her husband, Paul, former rectors and music directors, parishioners, and friends. While all of us will be consigned to history, and perhaps the stuff of story and legend, the legacy of Edith Ho — as musician and friend, standard-bearer and stalwart, companion and character — will loom large indeed, even at The Church of the Advent.
–Mark Dwyer
And now a few more anecdotes I can share about Edith:
She was a vegetarian and every time we visited Boston we would eat in one of her favorite vegetarian restaurants. But for herself, she would always cook the same food every day— brown rice and steamed vegetables! I asked her if she ever got tired of eating the same food and apparently she didn’t!
When my husband was alive, he always enjoyed cooking for her and even though she was a vegetarian, she would tolerate fish, so that’s what he would cook for her. After cooking in her totally inadequate kitchen one year and having to deal with her ancient dish towels, otherwise known as rags, one Christmas we sent her a set of brand-new dish towels, and she never stopped thanking us for them!
A couple of times I visited her in the winter, and afterwards I thought of Edith as leading an ascetic life. I don’t remember the exact temperature, but to me she kept her house uncomfortably cold. I seem to recall something under 60° F. as what she thought was warm enough! Being used to the year-round summer temperatures in Hawaii, I was absolutely freezing!
[From Ian Capps: Her “heavenly” birthday is the day after that annual “heavenly” Assumption. Quite appropriate!]
Here is Edith Ho’s obituary as written in the Boston Globe.
Thank you for this lovely commentary. jb