Heil, Lillian Harmon--Memories of the Manhattan Wards
MEMORIES OF THE MANHATTAN WARDS FROM 1961-1969
Lillian Harmon Heil
September 1996
I will begin with scattered memories of people in the Manhattan Ward. I have not tried to organize them chronologically or in any other way -- but simply describe moments with some memorable people.
In a leadership position, I remember Bishop Grant Bethers, the only bishop I had ever known who wasn't married. He was a gentle but firm leader for a sometimes exuberant young ward. Earl Tingey was the bishop I went to when I needed a temple recommend to be married to Gene Heil. Bishop Tingey was then a young lawyer with a young family; he is now in the presidency of the Seventy under L. Aldin Porter. Our stake president, G. Stanley McAllister, and his wife, Adelaide, provided us with many firesides and festive celebrations at their lovely Fifth Avenue apartment.
Grace Bowman (later Collins) was well known for her countless skills -- cook, seamstress, hat maker, executive secretary -- you name it, she could do it! She provided dinners, housing, and encouragement to members arriving for further education and new converts to the church. Winnifred Bowers gave help and support to members interested in doing professional writing.
Among those coming to New York for schooling or careers were doctors like Del Ryrie and Gary Hadfield; lawyers like Neil Thompson; talented artists like Gordon Olson, Gary Rosine, and Sandra Wilson; musicians such as soprano Lucretia Ferre, pianist and organist Michael Cannon, and organist Joyce Gibson, who improvised on themes from movies when she felt the occasion warranted it. We had a gifted conductor in Dee Anderson, and his wife, Lila, had a wonderful contralto voice. Robert Peterson provided our bass solos for the yearly production of the Messiah, plus solos for other choir numbers during the year.
David Seegmiller became the bishop when the Manhattan Ward was divided in about 1965; his wife was our expert genealogist and just all-around good organizer. The Allan family provided stability to the ward because they didn't move out. Don, an artist, made frequent trips to Florida for art shows; his wife, Thora, ran the music programs in her neighborhood elementary school and helped her children get into performances of the Metropolitan Opera when children were required. Kenneth Beesley was an administrator at Columbia Teachers College; he provided encouragement for those of us enrolled at the college. These included my brother, Frank, (with his wife, Ruth, and four children) and my brother Duane, who later married another TC graduate in the nursing program, Lynette Dorgan. Having my brothers in New York made me feel that my family had moved to New York City.
Marin Mouritsen was a student and an administrator at TC before going to Utah to work at BYU. I met Bill and Anna Demos after his serious illness; she was his constant help and support. Jack Laney entertained us in his penthouse apartment; actually he didn't have to entertain us -- his spectacular view of Manhattan did that. The Woodhouse apartment provided a view from the north end of Manhattan (near the George Washington Bridge). I enjoyed parties (particularly one birthday celebration) at the apartment of Kathy Halvorsen (now Hadfield) and her sister Adrienne. I enjoyed Lilia Seegmiller's sister, Anne, who later married a new convert, Hans Klarer. My roommates, Renae Russon (now Williams), Marilyn Whiting (now Mrs. Don Alston), and Eleanor Knowles (who has made a name for herself as the author of a biography of Howard W. Hunter) were a pleasant, supportive part of my life, while I lived at 180 West 93rd Street (famous as the one-time apartment of Robert Redford and his wife, Lola), before I married Gene Heil in June 1967.
Many members I cannot put names to, but I remember faces and activities in which they played a part. One was an actor whose first name was Jerry. He did a hilarious pantomime to a reading of Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky", with musical accompaniment provided by a small troubadour harp.
I was in one of the church plays sometime during the 1967-1968 mutual year. We had a director who refused to let anyone prompt us during the performance. On the night of the show, we had to improvise dialogue for anyone who forgot his lines or never learned them. My husband, Gene, was one who learned a few of his lines, but not where they went in the play. So we had to respond to whatever he said, and make it fit into where we were in the play at the moment. One of our young actors suddenly went blank when he was supposed to be excitedly telling me (his mother) that he was going on a mission. I looked at his scared, blank stare and said, "You look as if you have something to tell me." That brought the line back to him, but his look of relief and memory recall was so obvious that the whole audience, recognizing his plight, burst into laughter. One of the directors from another ward (who saw our production) said she almost didn't recognize it as the same play, because our improvisations were so numerous. She did pay us the compliment of saying she wasn't quite sure when our created dialogue started and stopped. So the play went on.
Somewhere in my nine-year stay in Manhattan, between 1960 and 1967, there was a power blackout. Everyone had a story to tell about where he or she was at the time of the outage. I think mine was probably the least interesting. I was in my apartment on West 93rd Street, working on my doctoral dissertation. It always frustrated me that my friend, Gene Heil (this was before June 1967, because we weren't married), was at a friend's apartment, and they organized at instant party. I was glad, however, not to be caught in the subway where it would have been a long wait to make it home.
In the natural disaster category, we also had a blizzard that brought the city of eight million plus to a halt. The personal response of people who couldn't get to work or any place beyond walking distance was to suddenly act as if every other human being was a friend and neighbor. We talked to each other, talked about the storm, and in general took time for every human being we met on the street. I am sure the people clearing snow and fixing power lines didn't have the same kind of memories, but mine are pleasant, neighborly feelings about a relaxed day in a big city.
I have fond memories of the chapel on 81st Street. The lofty wooden ceiling provided marvelous acoustics for an organ and a choir. As a member of that choir, led by Dee Anderson, I began to learn to sing parts unaccompanied, because that's the way we practiced. I was inspired by the voices of singers who came to NYC to study, and attended the Manhattan ward. I sang beyond my ability because our conductor was so gifted at explaining what he wanted us to do. The performance of the Messiah was a yearly high point.
The choir president, Gene Heil, a convert, decided to have a refreshment break to get us through the long rehearsals required to perform the Messiah. In this informal social setting, I began to get acquainted with Gene, whom I later married. So I have the choir in the Manhattan Ward to thank for both an incredible muscial experience and a husband.
I also remember a sacrament meeting when the organ refused to operate. We sang "God Be With You" and, helped by the acoustics of that great old church, sounded great. We had no organ to follow and so everyone watched our conductor with unusual attention. It was incredibly beautiful four-part harmony, with all of us listening to each other, harmonizing, and following a gifted conductor who led us like a choir.
The activities available to the MIA young people covered a wide variety. I remember ice skating at Central Park until my ankles gave out completely. We went to the Cloisters Museum at the upper end of Manhattan Island and had a guided tour through that medieval art collection by some of the knowledgeable members. We attended Shakespeare plays in Central Park, and went on Circle Line Tours around Manhattan. We went to Jones Beach and had campfire programs around a blazing bonfire. When Grant Johannsen came to Lincoln Center, the whole ward turned out for the concert. We probably went to other museums and plays as a group, but after this many years I can't separate what I did personally and what I did as part of a church activity.
When the Manhattan Second Ward decided to celebrate its two years as a ward, Bishop Seegmiller asked Gene Heil, a convert of five years, to be in charge of the program. Gene convinced us skeptics that we could stage Cole Porter's musical, "Out of This World." I expect it would have been impossible without Gene. His expertise at big productions stemmed back to his grandmother's house in St. Louis. As an only child, he had the whole top floor for building stages, puppet theaters, and putting on operatic productions for the neighborhood. No production problem was unsolvable for him. So we did it, complete with elaborate costumes for all those gods and goddesses, and orchestral accompaniment directed by our musical bishop, David Seegmiller. It was, in a sense. a final production for Gene. He was killed in a car accident a month after the "Big Two" celebration.
I stayed one more year in Manhattan and then moved in the summer of 1969 to Laie, Hawaii, to teach at the Church College there.
Looking back on those busy years in a big city, it seems to me that we tended to be a bit arrogant about the intellectual and artistic accomplishments of church members in Manhattan. We felt we had many above-average artists, doctors, teachers, lawyers, business leaders, etc. We knew we were a bit more adventurous, just because we were willing to move to a new place, with a culture quite different from the west, to pursue our careers in a chosen field. We enjoyed our above-average choir, with its nucleus of near-professional or already professional singers. We felt as good as the Tabernacle Choir, and enjoyed that feeling of expertise. We liked our lively gospel discussions, and enjoyed the interchange of ideas that came from people of varied backgrounds. We liked the plentiful variety of cultural opportunites offered by a large city. It was a joyous time to pursue education and/or careers, and enjoy the association of other church members doing the same.
