FOUR FLATS AND A PITCH PIPE

It was a solemn occasion, sitting at the breakfast table of the President of the Philippines.  It was 1957 and we had been invited as part of the evangelistic team of a crusade being held at the famous Sunken Gardens in downtown Manila.  Evangelist Dr. Bob Pierce was the speaker and the Four Flats Quartet the featured music.

But the solemn occasion was not solemn for long.  As usual, and as was expected of this musical foursome, we began singing our trademark “sugar stick” - De Animals A’comin’, a hilarious story of how Noah put the animals into the Ark.  President Magsaysay cracked up, as did the other invited guests, waiters and more servants.  We sang a number of other songs, but entertainment just seemed to come to us naturally. 

 “What am I doing here?” I asked myself “Is this some kind of omen?” How could I possibly know that in a few short years I would come back for the next 32 years of my life in this country, living among the people, having breakfast with several more presidents? But that’s another story.

The Four Flats Quartet started in a peculiar manner.  Not many people believe this, probably because it is so unbelievable.  We were all students in 1946 at Pacific College (later to be renamed George Fox College) in Newberg, Oregon.  At that time the college was small with about 100 students, and fervently evangelical.  Under the leadership of Professor Roy Knight, whom we affectionately called “Pop,” the college sent out musical groups to represent the school in various churches around the Pacific Northwest.  We were not sure just what Pop’s job was.  He usually picked up whatever needed to be done, such as ordering food for the dining hall or building new buildings, but his main role was being “Pop” to the men of the male dorm.  One day Pop announced that all who were interested in singing in a quartet should gather at Woodmar Hall that night.

He was probably as surprised as I was when about 40 or more fellows showed up.  My first observation was that it wasn’t organized very well.  Pop suggested that we all get together in groups of four.  He didn’t seem to care much whether one could sing or not, nor whether there might be the four distinctive parts that are needed to make a musical foursome.  At any rate, everyone seemed to find three other male species with whom to harmonize.  I began to see that this was turning into something like choosing up sides in a baseball sandlot with eventually that unwanted guy left in last place.  And that’s just how it turned out.  There were four guys left over that nobody seemed to want.  You guessed it; they were destined to become “The Four Flats.”

As with all quartets, the personnel changed from time to time.  I don’t really remember who was in that original group.  I’m not even sure that I was one of them.  At any rate, after a few weeks it shuffled down to what became a fairly permanent quartet.  We named ourselves “The Four Flats.”  We have often been asked why we chose that name.  Our usual response is, “It refers to our billfolds.”

Ron Crecelius was the second tenor (usually singing the melody) and had a cultured and beautiful voice.  He came to Pacific from the military service, having spent the war years in the Air Force.  It was immediately following the close of World War II, so our campus was overflowing with veterans.  His gregarious personality and his hilarious sense of humor made him extremely popular on campus.  He would prove to be one of the quartet’s great assets that branded us as not only singers, but performers as well.

Norval Hadley sang first tenor and came from Albany, Oregon.  Norval had a great sense of humor too, as we all did, but he had leadership qualities and was a good student.  He was too young to have been in the military.  Norval became student body president in his junior year and I was his vice president.  He distinguished himself in many ways, particularly by winning the Oregon State After-Dinner Speaking contest.

Many a night in Hoover Hall (the men’s dormitory) you could hear us practicing.  As young college students, we were most interested in how much fun it was to hear close harmony coming out of our vocal chords.  To grab hold of a juicy barbershop chord was actually exhilarating.  The crazier the song the more we were attracted to it.  Norval had been to several Methodist summer camps and he always had an abundance of hilarious, if not slightly odd ball, renditions of “camp songs.”  One song was called Beans.  We put together our own arrangement and it stayed in our repertoire all through the years of our association.

Harlow Ankeny came to the group a little later with a smooth lyrical voice.  He had an uncanny ability to pick out the baritone part with ease.  We seldom used any m