Remembering Bruce Morrison

The change in the Patterson Chapter's May feature summarizes the bad news. We had looked forward to an evening of "Bruce Morrison and Friends." Now we would celebrate our memory of Bruce, with an evening of "Friends Remember Bruce Morrison." Here is an image of Bruce that might make you smile.

Picture Bruce scrambling up and down, and teetering from fully-extended step ladders, most of a long winter afternoon, to adjust the spotlights in the high corners of the Patterson Presbyterian Church Fellowship Hall (with Brian Sullivan on the ground to assist and call the ambulance, if necessary). Bruce had many talents, but high-wire tech support was not among them. But this was so typical of Bruce - his willingness to do everything necessary to make the operation of the Patterson Chapter smooth and successful. He was one of the founders of the Patterson Chapter, and he never stopped nurturing his creation.

Under the glare of those spotlights and in front of the microphone on the stage of the Fellowship Hall there is a special place that Bruce created. There, many of us have grown and matured as performers, creating music in front of a live audience. Can any experience be more exhilarating?

Many of us also know how terrifying that place can be. Bruce always tried to soften the rite of passage for fledgling performers, offering encouragement and a kind word. Though he was a talented performer, Bruce never lost empathy for those with less experience. He personified the ideal of our Guild - to provide a supportive environment for musicians to create and perform.

On one fateful Saturday evening in Patterson, I received a needed dose of this endearing quality. It was one of my first open mikes in Patterson, or for that matter, anywhere. Bruce and Brandi and Bill Hayden preceded me on the open mike card, and, of course, sang like angels. Thunderous applause followed, and then my turn came. I commented that this was a fine way to treat the new guy, making him try to follow THAT. Then my hands turned to concrete, I blundered through my two songs, and found a dark corner to lick my wounds. Like I said, that place that Bruce created can be terrifying.

Bruce ambled over and said something like, "Wow. You said that we were a hard act to follow." At that moment, I wasn't putting a great deal of weight in my own musical opinion. But Bruce did, and in his own manner lightened my load considerably that evening.

Bruce was an enigmatic sort. You couldn't quite classify him. He had a quirky and amusing sideways manner of communication that required your energy but rewarded you with intimacy. He was a storyteller, and could recall the details of personal experiences decades past. He was a limitless and sometimes relentless source of 50's and 60's pop culture and music trivia. For example, he could sing all the verses of the theme song to the 'Zorro' TV series.

And, of course, there was that enormous musical talent. Bruce's voice had a quiet strength and warmth that could not help but draw you in. He wrote songs that were stories, and his voice could evoke the wide range of moods of these stories - pleasant and light, as when he sang "Uncle Bill," or dark and urgent, as when he sang "'Twas Christmas Eve."

Bruce's guitar playing was the third corner of this mighty triangle of songwriting, voice and musicianship. He met the gold standard for children and musicians - he could play well by himself or with others. The riffs he created for his own songs were always spare, artistic and memorable, such as that wonderful refrain from "'Twas Christmas Eve." With the Hayden-Morrison Trio, his lead guitar filled the small empty spaces exquisitely. In jam sessions, Bruce always found the way to make the music a pleasing collaboration, never a competition. That was Bruce's way.

What a terrible irony that Bruce's illness stifled that wonderful talent by limiting his use of his hands. Admirably, he persevered, never missing a second Saturday, always there to support and sustain the Patterson Chapter in any way he could. He also somehow managed to continue repairing guitars, not wanting to leave his clients in the lurch. But the inability to play music was driving Bruce away from music. He had stopped writing songs. He had stopped performing.

But there is light even in this sad story about Bruce's passing. Denise Finley coaxed Bruce out of this involuntary retirement through her charm, resourcefulness and pestilential stubbornness. We can picture Bruce agreeing, perhaps out of resignation, to resume singing, thinking, "What will it take to get RID of this woman?"

The rest, as they say, is (recent) history. Perhaps some of you were fortunate enough to see Bruce perform in the final year of his life. I've heard Bruce sing my personal favorite of his songs, "Twas Christmas Eve," many times (as often as I could get him to do it), but his performance of the song last November, with Denise's accompaniment, was magic. The old spark was back. Bruce had rediscovered his music. At the end, he was going strong, rehearsing, performing, planning his next gig.

What a fine deed you did, Denise. Let us each hope that in our time of need, we will receive just such a stubborn act of grace. Let us each hope that in our time here on earth, we will each have the chance to perform such a righteous act, and that we will rise to the occasion. It is what defines us as human.

We should be sad for ourselves that Bruce is no longer among us, but we should not be sad for Bruce. He ended his days in the light, and with song. He was back to doing some of the things he liked best. Can any among us hope for a better end, when our time comes?

(Martin regrets that, because of time and length constraints, he was not able to obtain more input from Bruce's many friends and fans. -C. Rice)

Memories from the Executive Director

by Linda Breithaupt

Bruce Morrison had many gifts and he graced many people with them. When he touched a guitar he became one with it - his fingers danced and the guitar sang. His gift was extraordinary and he shared it with us all, and when his fingers could dance no more (no small sadness for those hands; everyone felt it) he maintained his presence and support. Bruce was still glad to share a song and was delighted by his friends' requests to do so. His feature in Patterson in May was to be an example of this spirit.

A little piece of of us went with Bruce on April 11th, but we are comforted by the parts of Bruce that will remain with us because he shared so many things with his friends. If you can put your guitar in its case without thinking of a Bruce-ism, perhaps you weren't listening.

There are so few people who call you up with a story or a joke that offends no one in the retelling. And so we miss you Bruce and we love you.

-Thanks, Linda

Bruce Morrison, Founder of the Patterson Chapter

By Les Herring

Bruce Morrison died on April 11, 2001. He was an early and active member of the Hudson Valley Folk Guild and founder of our Patterson chapter. A skilled guitarist, singer, and songwriter, Bruce performed at one time or another with almost every musician in the Guild. He also repaired instruments and offered advice on their maintenance through articles in this and several other publications.

But the bare facts of his life do not capture the man. One needed to know Bruce for only a short time to discover his kindness, generosity, and decency. One only needed to know him a short while to know his great passion for music--it was his life, his heart, and his soul. He was meticulous in the care of his instruments, in the preparation of his performances and recordings, and in the quality of assistance he gave to others--for his was not a selfish passion. Money and attention were not why Bruce made music. He happily shared his knowledge and skill with everyone. His musical gift was to be cared for and shared freely.

"The good die young" the saying goes. I'm sure it's not true, but because there are too few good people in this world and their presence gives all around them so much joy, their leaving leaves the rest of us feeling cheated. Had Bruce Morrison lived a thousand years, today we would still be saying, "He died too young".

And if his death has robbed us of an admired friend, we are still the richer for having had the friendship of Bruce Morrison. So is the world of music. So is all the family of man.

               
   We are the music makers,
   We are the dreamers of dreams,
   Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
   And sitting by desolate streams;
   World-losers and world-forsakers,       
   On whom the pale moon gleams:
   We are the movers and shakers
   Of  the world for ever, it seems.

	 --Arthur O'Shaughnessy

HVFG 2001 Membership Drive: 406 members, A New Record!

Patrons/Sustaining/Angels

Patrons ($25) Helen Avakian Linda Breithaupt Frank Collin Donn & Sue Critchell Al & Marge Hendrickson Rich & Irene Keyes Walter & Lorraine Klara Ed Leaver Bruce Morrison Janet & George Peters Barbara Post Bob Post Joan Prentice Howard Slocum Susan Sommerfield Carol Surico Jon Sweet Bevery Tas Elliott Zucker

Sustaining: ($50) Becca Anderson Christine Archambault Mary Alice Scully Lori Cassels Bob & Penny Lusk Steve & Debbie Otlowski Cheryl A. Rice Bonnie Richardson Angels: ($100 or more) Kevin & Carol Becker Ken & Betty Folster John & Rebekah Martucci Scott Morrison