Tony Cunnane's West Riding Diary

From the age of about eight I started attending the 10.30am Sunday morning service at Christ Church on Mark Street, off Thornes Lane, Wakefield. I can't remember how I came to start, but thereafter I very rarely missed Matins until we left Wakefield in 1948. Looking back, I have to admit that I probably attended church services more out of interest for the music than any religious conviction.

A choir was essential because Morning Prayer was always sung. There was, in fact, a small but reasonably competent choir consisting, as you would expect in wartime, mainly of female voices. There were just three or four regular men, including the choir master, all of them elderly. They split the tenor and bass lines between them and made up for their lack of numbers by the enthusiasm and fortissimo of their singing. Not to be outdone, the sopranos and contraltos responded in kind so most hymns were sung at a volume which rattled the beautiful stained glass windows – but it was always four-part harmony except for the occasional verse sung in unison.

The regular congregation was also small, consisting almost entirely of elderly ladies who used to occupy their own special seats scattered amongst the aisles either side of the long nave. Several of the regular parishioners also sang the individual harmony parts, producing a very odd surround sound musical effect. Since the congregation was so small and so widely dispersed, the Vicar always had to talk, pray, and preach in a stentorian voice to make himself heard in all parts. What with one thing and another, church services were loud and there was no danger of anyone falling asleep.

I always walked to church on my own, smartly turned out in polished shoes, shirt, tie and jacket. The streets were usually deserted because there was little reason for anyone to rise early on wartime Sundays since all the shops were closed. I always sat on my own on the front row on the right hand side, where bridegroom and best man traditionally sit. From there I had a good view of the organist’s back but an excellent view of the three organ consoles. I marvelled at the way he could use both hands on the keys, both feet on the pedals, and still have time to turn the sheets of music over and push and pull the organ’s many stops. I noticed that sometimes the stops seemed to move in groups without any obvious intervention by the organist. It was only much later that a different organist explained to me the basic mechanics of the organ.

I lustily joined in not only the hymns but also the psalms and canticles. Prior to the start of the services, the choirmaster used to write on a small blackboard details of the chants that were to be used for the psalms, the canticles, and the versicles and responses. I used my Dad’s hymn book, Ancient and Modern; it had the music in and I could sing any of the four voices in my squeaky treble, learning about harmony and modulation as I did so. I had no access to a book containing the music for the chants but the Prayer Book did indicate the Plainchant notation. I eventually not only learned all the chants off by heart but could recognise in advance which chant was to be used from the brief details scribbled on the board by the choir master. I had my favourites. Best of all I liked one particular setting of the Te Deum.

Because the Te Deum is quite long it was, and probably still is, traditional to change tunes twice during its singing. The version that was my real favourite (see image right) was made up of chants composed by three different composers: Woodward, Smart and Turle. It appeared on the choirmasters’ blackboard as ‘WST in D’. The first 13 verses were in the key of D Major. Then, on the words ‘Thou art the King of Glory’, there was a sudden change to the sub-dominant G Major. The final chant, starting with the words ‘O Lord Save Thy People’, started back in D Major but modulated to A Major in the second bar, then dramatically to B Minor in the third, before returning triumphantly to the home key of D Major.

I was fascinated by these changing harmonies. It was how I first learned that pieces of classical music, however long, sound most satisfactory when they start and finish in the same key.

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Since the congregation was so small and so widely dispersed, the Vicar always had to talk, pray, and preach in a stentorian voice to make himself heard in all parts

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