Peter Howard McBride-Musical Life

Musical Life History of Peter H. McBride
By his youngest son, Clyde McBride – 1988

The history of my Father’s earlier life has mostly gone down in the McBride annals. But much of the musical part of his life I am quite sure has never been told - especially my personal experiences beside him.

THIS IS JUST A ‘PRELUDE’

Peter was born in Scotland. There his family joined the Church - then migrated to America. While crossing the plains to the Salt Lake Valley, Peter’s father, Robert McBride, died from exposure. Just a few years after they arrived at Salt Lake Valley, his mother ‘Margaret’ remarried - this time to a prosperous farmer. He was a widower who was left with a small family (Samuel Ferrin).

This dad told me: His stepfather gave him the task of digging two rods of ditch a day. Then what was left of that day he was free to use studying music. That could have been the beginning of his musical career.

Other members of the family have told of Dad’s association with Evan Stephens, Composer of Church songs. They used to herd sheep together and often sat on the hillside and composed music together - sang duets, etc.

Now to continue this Prelude, just a few years after Dad was married, he was called on a mission by President Brigham Young. His mission was to go to Southeastern Arizona and help colonize that part of the territory and assist in building up the Church in that part of the Lord’s vineyard. Teaching music was also part of that mission call - so I was told.

His journey from Utah to Arizona is also history now. He finally arrived at the place along the south side of the Gila River that was later called Smithville and then Pima. There, about the first thing he did was homestead a quarter section (or 160 acres of land) of almost solid mesquite, except for a cottonwood grove along the river’s edge. This homestead was about two miles west of the town of Smithville and was later called Matthewsville and now Glenbar on the map.

Again - this, dad told me: When he first settled on the Homestead, he grubbed 4 or 5 mesquite stumps every morning before breakfast.

As far as I know, he never had any musical training or schooling. He did have volumes of books of instructions for studying music which I am sure was a great help. But he was born with a gift for music such as few people are blessed with.

He was a self-made musician. By study and taking advantage of his many gifts and talents, he became a professional teacher in both music and poetry.

In my youth, and on through my young manhood, I was usually with him and often given a part in many of his productions and presentations. He confided in me many of his accomplishments and also his disappointments. Not because of me, but I think mainly because of my inherited love of music which he seemed to recognize. So I am ‘listing a few that are still very clear in my memory.

First, he taught music in all the wards in the valley. He organized male quartets mixed quartets, ladies Chorus’ and ladies Trios. He organized choirs in all the wards in that part of the St. Joseph Stake. He wrote words and music for love songs, comic songs, sacred songs, political songs and western songs.. songs for every occasion. All he needed was just a few hours notice and he would compose music and words for that occasion.

Each time he always received a standing ovation. I remember attending church socials, ward parties, and political rallies. Someone would call for a song by ‘Uncle Peter’. He always obliged and always sang his own compositions. The applause was so great he was often called back for a second and third and sometimes a fourth performance. Many times I have seen him take his seat and leave the audience still applauding.

Dad didn’t have what was called a ‘Grand Opera’ - ‘Bing’ or ‘Mario Lanzo’ voice - nor a tenor or bass voice - but just a plain true, cheerful, attractive, and forceful baritone voice that could be heard and understood by large audiences in most any size building built at that time.

He organized and produced Christmas cantatas, operettas, comedy and western shows, tragedy shows and a real ‘shoot-out’ occasionally.

In one Christmas cantata, I believe every kid in the ward was given a part that night. Several little boys sang, and of course, all the little girls were given parts, too. But none of them ‘registered’. There was one part on the show that night that did ‘register’ and is very clear in my memory. As the curtains opened, my two little sisters, Bessie and Flo, came on the stage each holding their own ‘Great Big Beautiful Doll’. Then in song - described their dolly’s apparel and related many of their qualifications thus:

BESSIE-FLO

I have a dolly-So have I

Mine has blue eyes-Mine can cry,

Mine I call Bessie-Mine I call Flo,

See Bessie’s gown-Look at Flo’s shoe,

See her feet-Isn’t she sweet?

Dollies we love you-We love you so well

Now she cries-Close her eyes

Beautiful stories our dollies can tell.

There could have been other verses, but this is the only one that ‘registered’ that night. I never knew the author. It sounds much like dad - but I am not sure.

There’s another little child’s song that is still clear in my memory, both words and melody. I never knew the author and I’m not sure where or by whom it was written. I have often wished I could hear two of my little great granddaughters sing it as a duet. I still remember every note of both parts. Maybe some of the older members of the family remember it. I believe it was from an old Primary Song Book.

Oh, I had such a pretty dream, mama

Such pleasant and beautiful things

Of a dear little nest, in the meadows of rest

Where the birdie her lullaby sings

A dear little stream full of lilies

Crept over the green mossy stones

And just where I lay, its thin sparkling spray

Sang sweetly in delicate tones

And as it flowed on toward the ocean

Thru shadows and pretty sunbeams

Each note grew more deep, and I soon fell asleep

And was off to the island of dreams

I saw there a beautiful angel

With crown all bespangled with dew

She touched me and spoke, and I quickly awoke

And found there, dear mamma, ‘twas you

In my youth and later, it seemed that Dad, with his choir nearly always furnished music for Stake Conference. At times, it was the home ward choir, but on special occasions, when General Authorities were called to attend conference at St. Joseph Stake, Dad organized a combined Stake Choir with a few voices from several wards throughout the Stake. After one or two choir practices they would furnish music for the next Stake Conference.

In those early days of the church a General Authority always attended conference, and on several occasions a Church President visited conference in Thatcher. In my youth it was a custom that everyone who wished would line up and shake hands with the General Authority in attendance at that time. Later that custom was abandoned and that ended the hand shaking line. Before, that, I had the privilege of shaking hands with at least three Church Presidents: Heber J. Grant, George Albert Smith and David O. McKay. But that’s a bit off the subject. However, during my lifetime I have outlived all the Church Presidents since Wilford Woodruff. I was just under two years old when he died, making ten in all, including President Ezra Taft Benson. I have had the privilege of shaking hands several times with President Spencer W. Kimball but not in the line-up.

A LITTLE OFF-BEAT!

Lines Hall was a large dance hall, skating rink, show house or play house with a modern stage, change rooms, sliding curtains a roll curtain and all built over the original Lines Bros. Mercantile Co. Store. Uncle Joe Lines was in charge at this time. He had a large supply of Roller Skates. If you had 25¢ you could rent a pair for the evening. This one evening I happened to have 25¢ and it was there I took my first great fall. Apparently one skater tried to skate ‘upside down’ causing a big ‘pile-up’ and I was caught right in the middle of it. As a result, I came out with an injured knee that gave me trouble for several months.

Many traveling troupes and magic shows chartered that old hall. In one magic show I remember they were having a weight lifting contest. A steel plate was placed in the middle of the stage. A big husky man walked over and tried to lift it. He pulled, yanked, jerked and struggled. No Luck! He waited a minute and then tried again - then walked off the stage, defiant. Then a young lady came out on the stage, picked up the weight and carried it away with ease and grace. Then for that small lady, the applause was great. Later, El Norton and I became curious and our curiosity got the best of us. We went out and crawled up under the stage and there, fastened to the bottom of the stage floor, was a high powered electric magnet operated by an on-off switch. That solved the whole magical mystery.

IN TUNE AGAIN!

In the early days of Dad’s musical career, and before my time, he organized a dramatic company. The members at that time were Joseph Foster Sr., Will Webb, Tom East and of course Dad and others. They produced western, comedy, dramatic, tragic, and other shows depending on the script. Occasionally a sheriff and an outlaw staged a bloody demonstration. Dad wrote a theme song for the group but I can only remember the last two lines.

Thus: "We are here and we’re going to stay

We’re the Pima Dramatic and Comedy."

This show was very similar to those old traveling shows that oft-times came through the valley - except they didn’t try to peddle their cure-all medicine and I don’t remember them ever ‘traveling’ outside of the valley. I don’t believe I ever missed one of dad’s shows and I know I never bought a ticket. So, did they or didn’t they ever sell tickets?

SOUND YOUR A

At one time, other musical professors began coming into the valley and invading Dad’s territory and it didn’t set too well with him, but he went along with them. The four I remember were: Professor Claydon, Professor Bond, Professor Snodgrass and Professor Jones. Later Professor Snodgrass became the laughing stock (or a ‘hiss’ and a ‘by-word’) among the younger set, with comments such as "Does Snodgrass look like Johnson grass" or "Will donkeys and billy goats eat Snodgrass," etc. etc.

Later, all those ‘Profs’ got together and planned to give a concert and demonstrate their ‘wares’ or ‘peddle their apples’. Then, of course, Dad was invited to participate. The concert was held in the old Lines Hall. The participants, actors, or maybe ‘Stars’ were stationed at the front of the hall, but not on the stage. Prof. Claydon was first on the program. He told of his many accomplishments, his abilities and talents, etc. then sang a few English songs. Then Prof. Bond carried on in about the same manner then gave a few renditions on the piano. Now, Prof. Snodgrass and dad never did hit it off too well. It seemed they were always at odds with each other. On this night, Claude and I were sitting on the front bench (about the middle of the hall) when Prof. Snodgrass began his part of the show. Claude and I started giggling, laughing and doing a little hooting. I guess we thought we were doing dad a favor, but I remember dad marched right down in front of us and shook his finger in our faces and said in no uncertain words that if we didn’t be quiet, we would have to leave the show. So, WE BE’D QUIET! Then, like the others, Snodgrass gave his life’s musical history and then gave two or three beautiful and professional renditions on the violin. Now, Prof. Jones was also a great pianist. He filled the entire hall with much professional noise.

Now Dad was the last on the program and I believe he had planned it that way. As usual, he had composed a song especially for that occasion. I can’t remember all the words, but he started in song by telling all the things that happened -

"When ‘Claydon’ with his ‘hay-ton’ leads the Band.

Then it was:

"When ‘Bond’ with his ‘wand’ leads the Band."

Then he really poured it on Professor Snodgrass. He told of the awful things that happened –

"When ‘Snodgrass’ like a ‘jackass’ leads the Band."

Next He let Prof’ Jones have it on the chin - Thus:

"By the motion of his chin all the players will begin. When ‘Jones’ with his ‘bones’ leads the Band."

Then he told how the band members enjoyed ‘tooting it up’

"When ‘Peter’ with his ‘beater’ leads the Band!"

Again, as usual, Dad received a standing ovation - long and loud.

Now Professor Claydon was a very close friend of dad’s and remained here in the valley for many years. He used to walk all the way from Thatcher and stay all night - just to visit dad and talk music. But more about him later. I know nothing more about the other two professors but I am of the opinion - their pastures became over-grazed and went in search of greener pastures.

If there is any member of the family who has the original fore-mentioned song, I would really love to have a copy of it.

Years later, Lines Store, Hall, Warehouse, and all was destroyed by fire.

B SHARP and B FLAT

After attending a stake conference in Thatcher - for some unknown reason, Dad drove on to Safford (of course, with the horse and buggy!) For another unknown reason, when he left home that morning, he had placed his briefcase in the back of the buggy. As he left Safford it began to rain and then turned into a regular cloudburst. He told me later the wind blew so hard it almost blew him, horse, buggy and all off the road. Then before he reached Thatcher the storm cleared up enough that he reached home safely, but his brief case was gone.

The next day he took Claude and I to Thatcher. From there Dad rode the buggy and we each walked along a barpit searching for papers. We made two or three round trips from Thatcher to Safford but never found as much as one paper or the brief case. It seemed very unlikely to me that this could happen without leaving a single clue or trace of evidence. I have always had in mind that some prankster or older kid snitched the case while the buggy was parked and unattended - hoping it contained valuables. Then finding nothing but papers, kept the case and destroyed the papers. Of course, this is only my personal opinion.

But whatever happened, Dad was a broken-hearted man. He told" me later that the briefcase contained about 75 compositions - most of his life’s works. Then it seemed I detected a lump in his throat and with an unsteady voice he made this statement to me: "If all those papers are lost and never found, I will never write another song." Then later he said he could remember a few of his works and could rewrite a few more - but most of them were lost and gone. Now, I am sure that his God-given talents were too large to hide under a bushel and his love for music outweighed his disappointments, for be was soon leading choirs, teaching music, and producing shows just as before. He didn’t quit! He couldn’t quit! To him there was no such word. He didn’t know the meaning of quit. Dad placed an ad in the local newspaper and offered a reward for the return of the briefcase and its contents or any information leading to their whereabouts. But no leads were ever found and no one ever claimed the reward.

PAVILLION

I believe this building was constructed after the Lines Bros. Store was burned down. It had a stage and a large Dance Hall, very similar to the old Lines Hall. It was built just north and a little east of the present Pima Ward Chapel and on the same lot. It was called the Pima Ward Pavillion. It was used for all ward activities. Dad also took advantage of it and presented many musical and religious programs, cantatas, operettas and many similar fore-mentioned presentations.

In one of his dramatic shows, the Hall was filled and he had the west side of the stage decorated with flowers and a few baskets of apples and oranges. I remember wondering where dad got enough money to buy all that fruit, it must have had something to do with the show but it didn’t ‘record’ with me. Hugh Foster’s act is about all I can remember. It seemed he played the part of a demented tragedian. He yelled and waved is arms and walked back and forth across the stage and recited several weird and haunting Poems.

Now, I had a part in the show that night but it also didn’t ‘register’. But after I finished my act I slipped over and grabbed an orange and ran off the stage. Later Dad scolded and said I almost ruined the show. But it brought the only laughter and applause I remember hearing that night.

WAY OFF-BEAT THIS TIME

Now, besides all Church activities (dance, family socials & weddings) and similar to the old Lines Hall, this Pima Ward Pavilion occasionally was chartered by those old traveling dramatic, comic and magic shows. This night was no exception. The Hall was filled and just waiting for the show to commence. An elderly couple was sitting just about the middle of the Hall. For now, we’ll just call them ‘Pa and Ma’. Now this was before Hearing Aids were born and Ma’s hearing registered almost zero. Ma leaned over and asked "How much was the ticket?" Pa whispered in her ear and said "fifty cents." Then a few minutes later Ma again asked and said "Pa, how much was the ticket?" This time Pa placed one hand over her ear and with a little more accent exclaimed "fifty cents!" Then apparently Ma still hadn’t got the message. This time, with a little more emphasis, she said "How much was the ticket. Pa?" By this time Pa seemed to be getting a little vexed and he placed both hands over Ma’s ear and yelled as loud as he could yell, "fifty cents!" Then due to that explosion by Pa, it seemed nearly every person in the Hall issued a little chuckle or giggle and I think some of the customers got their money’s worth before the show even commenced.

When the show was about half over - a man came on the stage, interrupted the show and announced: "Henry Ford is in the audience tonight!" Everyone in the Hall craned their necks trying to get a glimpse of that national and internationally famous auto builder. Apparently, Henry chose not to be recognized. Soon the announcer called again, "Will Mr. Ford please stand up?" No response. Then the announcer called and pleaded "Will Mr. Henry Ford please stand and be recognized!" Still, there was no response. Then with a little apologetic voice the announcer said "I was sure Mr. Henry Ford was in the audience tonight, I saw his Model T parked in front of the building!"

As I mentioned before, Brother William M. Claydon and dad were very close friends, maybe because of their common interest in life - music. Claydon was a convert from England and brought along many of the English customs in both poetry and song. When I was just a kid, Brother Claydon was St. Joseph Stake Sunday School Superintendent. I remember him visiting the old Matthews ward many times. He taught the Sunday School classes English, music, both sacred and classic. He always stressed promptness and punctuality. That seemed to be part of his religion.

At one time the Globe ward, St. David, El Paso and the Duncan wards were all members of the St. Joseph Stake. My dad tells this story: "On this one Sunday Brother Claydon had an appointment to attend the Matthews Ward Sunday School. He walked and ran all the way from Ft. Grant. He arrived five minutes late. He turned and walked away." Those were Dad’s exact words!

HARMONY PLUS

We’ll just call this man ‘Bill’. At this time, Bill and his Wife were living up at Bear Springs Flat, a flowing well district near the foot of Graham Mountain. Now Bill’s wife was a well educated woman and a poet in her own right. Bill told Dad later that his wife had volumes of poems written by her own hand. I believe this woman came out West due to her poor health, but after suffering with cancer for several years she finally passed away. Now here is where dad played his part.

Bill contacted the Bishop and the funeral was held in the old Glenbar Church building. The day before the funeral, Bill came to dad with one of his wife’s favorite poems and asked him if he would recite it at her services. But instead, he sat down and wrote the music for it - all four parts. Then he called the choir together for one evening’s rehearsal. Then we sang this lady’s own poem at her own funeral services. Dad told me later that this man Bill, came to him and thanked him over and over for such a beautiful rendition in honor of his ‘Dear Deceased Wife’ and ‘Life’s Companion.’ I had occasion to meet Bill at times for many years and as far as I know, he never did remarry.

My father, Peter H. McBride, was ward and stake chorister for 40 years. When he was released from his stake responsibility without notice or without thanks or even one word of appreciation for the many years he had spent serving in that position, he wasn’t resentful. But he felt ‘cut to the quick’ and his feelings were very badly hurt. From that blow I don’t believe he ever did completely recover. I never did hear of his release as ward chorister.

I found a few pages of dad’s diary, written on Sept. 1882. Quote: "Enroute for St. George, Utah, to marry Laura Lewis, we left Smithville on the 21st of September 1882. The Smithville choir is going along as far as Snowflake to attend conference." On another page: "30th - Sat. - Conference commences today. Our choir, the Smithville, did the singing in the forenoon and joined with the Snowflake choir in the afternoon. Then on Oct 1st - Sun- Attended conference and was in charge of all the singing." The Snowflake Ward must have been a member of the St. Joseph Stake at that time. My oldest sister, Laura, told about the time Dad took the Pima choir to St. David for conference. She told of meeting many new faces and how well they were received and how much every one enjoyed their music and complimented them on their presentation. She said they sang on most of the trip and even the horses seemed to enjoy the music, Laura must have been about 16 at that time. She had 12 years start on me so that would leave me about four years old - too young to join the choir.

The road map shows St. David a little over 80 miles from Pima - a one-lane dirt road at that time. Now I am inclined to believe they must have had at least two wagons to accommodate an average size choir and all the necessary equipment. No team of horses could make that trip in one day, so they must have camped at least twice both ways. Where and how many times was never mentioned as far as I know and I never asked.

JUST DAD

At one time, Dad had a song book titled ‘The Psalmady’. I believe every song in it was a verse set to music from the Book of Psalms in the Bible. He also had a Hymn Book called ‘The Hymnal.’

Dad claimed he never had a headache in his life. He also said he never shed his ‘baby teeth’. In my youth I remember dad telling of his association with Karl G. Maeser. In dad’s younger days, Brother Maeser was Church General Sunday School Superintendant and I believe that Church history will show he is the originator of the Church Sunday School system.

At one time Dad was Sunday School Superintendant of the Matthews Ward. He told many stories and sang many songs about Karl G. Maeser. One song he sang many times to the Sunday School class (and I can only remember the last two lines) went thus:

We met Brother Maeser at Sunday School--

Twas there he taught us the Golden Rule!

My brother, Howard, told of this incident - then of course, dad told him: When the Handcart company arrived at the Platte River, it was running high and with floating ice-packs. Now there must have been some wagons with the company. He said the water was so deep no one was permitted to ride the wagons across the river except the teamsters. He also said that Peter’s father, Robert McBride, waded and carried 65 women and children across the river - dodging ice-packs both ways. He didn’t say how many days it took or how many men were involved but, as a consequence, his father, Robert, died from exposure (likely pneumonia) and was buried with 14 others in a common grave. Now Howard also told this. Little Peter was standing on the brink of the grave sobbing and with tears running down his cheeks. A lady put her arms around him and tried to Console him - then, between sobs, he said "My fish hook was in my father’s pocket!"

My sister Della was an accomplished pianist in her own right. She could have been called an artist or genius at the organ or piano. As far as I can remember she was the only piano accompanist her father ever employed during her active lifetime. She began her musical career by taking piano lessons from Prof. Jones.

The names, ‘Peter H. McBride’ and ‘Della McBride Larson’ should go down in history in the musical section of the ‘Hall of Fame’. For in my opinion, they were the great artists of their time. My father, Peter H. McBride, died at the age of 84 and my mother, Laura Lewis McBride, died on Christmas day 1954 - just a few days before her 90th birthday. Both of their funerals were held in the present Pima Ward Chapel and both were buried in the Pima Cemetery. At each service, the building was filled to capacity, with standing room only.

Immediately after Mother’s services, my sister Flo came to me and with a rather serious and a slightly excited voice asked, "Did you see Dad leading the choir? I hadn’t and was a little dubious at first, but she said, "He stood right in front of the choir and with both hands kept perfect time with the music and led the choir just as he did throughout his whole life here on earth.". Now Flo was the only member of the family or otherwise, that was permitted to view this Heavenly demonstration. She said Dad stood there just as natural as life and led the choir about 15 or 20 seconds then suddenly he just wasn’t there. I believe Flo is now over there singing in her father’s choir as always.

In my youth, it seemed Dad often had a theme song. I wouldn’t be too far off to say I have heard him sing it fifty times or more. He would often ‘sign off’ by singing it at the close of family gatherings, birthday parties, Church socials, and others. Maybe I will too - with just a chorus. Thus:

"Well, its Home - dearest Home,

And its Home you’d better be.

Over on the Gila

In the white man’s count-ter-ree,

Where the Cottonwood and Ash

And mesquite will ever be,

Growing green upon the river,

There’s a Home for you and me."