The late, great Senator LeRoy Percy used to say that Lucille Strong was the town genius, and she must have been just that because Mr. Percy was inimitable in his judgments of his fellowmen.
Had Lucile lived in one of the great Metropolitan centers of our nation, it is not unlikely she would have gone far in the field of music. For she could make a piano talk, and it didn't matter what pitch or key. She could transpose C natural into five flats, then shift into sharps, and come on back to the original suit. Tin Pan Alley would have been duck-soup for Mrs. Strong but, living there, she would have been just another piano player.
Here, on the Delta scene, she was a genius. Every time we attend any sort of concert or recital in Bass Auditorium, and the artist or accompanist appears on the stage, bows to the audience, and then takes his or her seat at the piano, we know instinctively what the next move will be. For the said artist, or accompanist, will reach down and back, rise a few inches from the stool or chair, and pull the latter a little closer to the piano's keyboard.
Big Lucile Strong didn't waste time with all that maneuvering. She sat down, reached out and grabbed the piano, and pulled it into the required position. Then she lit into that keyboard, and out leapt the Hungarian Rhapsody, Serenade, or You Got to See Mama Everynight, depending on the mood of the genius herself.
She played for dances, benefits, here and everywhere throughout the Delta country.
Long before the town of Greenville had even a twinge of growing pains, and before the river bridge was even a gleam in the visionary's eye, Mrs. Strong and her dance orchestra had put us, on the map.
The big-time stage folk, like Ruth Chatterton, William Faversham, David Warfield, Margaret Islington, and Mme. Schmann- Heinck, who appeared in Greenville, in the good old days, when Greenville was the best show concert town between Memphis and New Orleans, all remembered Miss Lucile," and looked forward to return engagements here so that they might see her, and hear her play again.
And now she is gone from the Delta Scene but, so long as there's music, either classical or ragtime, there will be memories of Lucile Strong.
Speaking of music, the city of Chattanooga, Tennessee has a treat in store. One Sunday morning, in the not-too-distant future, a Baptist congregation in that gateway city is going to some notes, so filled with lilt and melody, that it will cast its eyes towards the rafters to see if a songbird is sitting there.
Relax, Chattanoogans and enjoy yourselves. For the songbird will be Greenville's Judy Young, who will have moved to Chattanooga with her Mother and Dad, Irene and Fulton Young.
East Baptist will miss Judy, and so will Old Stuff. So too, will all her friends in Junior High. The same thing goes for the senior Youngs, who have made a place for themselves in Greenville, and have kept it warm and bright with friendships.
Au Revoir, and happy landings, to the Fulton Youngs and Judy.
Several of our fellow Presbyterians took notice and made mention, of the fact that Old Stuff didn't find his way Into a church pew last Sunday morning, until the plate had been passed. Some even intimated that our timing was deliberate. (What they didn't know was Toots Davis relieved us of our envelope in the vestibule.)
Which reminds us of the story of the little boy who came back from Sunday School with a bag of stick candy.
Asked where he got the candy, the boy replied that he bought it with the nickel his mother had given him when he left home for Sunday School
"But that nickel was for Sunday School", said his mother.
"I know it was, Mom," said the little boy, "but, you see, the preacher was standing at the door of the Sunday School, and he knew me, and let me in free.”
P. S. Thanks for that smile from the choir, Winnie Berryhill, for this eleven-thirty o'clock scholar.
- B.C.
