I could go on for pages detailing all the good times, memories and life lessons learned while singing under Mr. Varney’s instruction. My mind goes to those first awkward sixth grade days in that little McKinley basement classroom. Every Christmas, I remember back to caroling the halls of nursing homes with Fascination, seeing the appreciation in those dear folks’ eyes. I treasure the days and nights spent with friends in that grand old auditorium during practices and performances. To put it all on one page would be impossible. However, when I think of all that Mr. Varney gave me, I suppose three things stand out in my mind.
Mr. Varney showed me that I had a talent that was worth sharing. I’m sure he doesn’t remember the day he came and pulled me out of one of my freshman classes, but I’ll never forget it. I was scared to death of high school, and my only real concern was survival. Vocal music at McKinley was fun, but I felt insignificant in the shadow of the caliber I saw at PHS. Mr. Varney sought me out that day and told me that I had a talent that was worth developing and bringing into the vocal program. Not a big deal at the time? …maybe, but a major point in my life? …definitely!
Mr. Varney also taught me that the show can and will go on without me! (I’m ashamed to say, I’m sure he remembers this.) I did well in PHS choir; my voice strengthened and matured. In my junior year, I auditioned for the part of Bill Sykes in the musical Oliver! and got the part. I inhabited the role very well and my ego grew…. and grew…. and grew. I swaggered around that stage like it was mine and felt the cast should feel graced by my presence. During an afternoon practice, I was goofing around stage right while Mr. Varney worked stage left with the real leads. Despite his shushing and calls for quiet, I incited rowdier and rowdier behavior from the middle school boys. I could say that Mr. Varney weighed the situation carefully, saw my need for discipline and decided to show me some tough love…but… nope…He exploded! After I graduated a year later, I spent nine weeks becoming the finest sailor that the United States Navy could make of me. The company commanders would constantly berate us at the tops of their lungs. Ha! They didn’t know I had been prepared by a pro! Mr. Varney laid into me with a verbal scolding that I have never before or since experienced in my entire life. With a volume that could only come from one who had masterfully trained in the vocal arts for years, he concisely conveyed to me just how unacceptable my actions were, how replaceable I was, and, if I did not work with the program instead of against it, exactly where the doors were. There are many who, no doubt, won’t believe this, but I swear… at one point, our foreheads actually bumped! How I maintained bladder control, I’m not sure, but I stood there, trembling and squeaked out my intention to remain. Even then, I somehow knew I had gotten not only what I deserved, but also exactly what I needed. Now, Mr. Varney was a gentleman, and sincerely apologized to me for his eruption and I somehow mumbled regrets for my disturbance. A lesson was learned amongst the cast about such matters and Oliver was a very good (and fun) success. I hope he has no regrets about that day, because I treasure it dearly. I hold it closely to me. It keeps me grounded.
Lastly, Mr. Varney taught me that music is a language. There was no particular day or incident that led to this revelation. It was perceived gradually through practice, performance and observance. He taught me that song without feeling is just notes and words…. that music is a window into the emotional seat of the soul. I have since seen the hardest hearts melted by a melody and tears drawn from the driest demeanor by a soothing spiritual song. Music speaks to a different part of the mind and I (though I am not fluent) was introduced to that beautiful language by Charles P. Varney.
Thank you for all that you have given me; I am a better person because of you. I treasure you and thank God for you and for the influence you had on my life.
Victor Noel (PHS class of 1988)
Author's Note
I wrote this in 2010 for a surprise reunion honoring Mr. Varney. More than a hundred people gathered in the new high school auditorium while he was led to believe he was simply giving a tour of the building for family.
When he walked into the auditorium, dozens of us former students were waiting for him on the stage to conduct us one more time in Do You Hear What I Hear?, the Christmas song we had sung under his direction for more than thirty years.
Mr. Varney passed away on April 10, just 32 days after our reunion.
I'm grateful we had that day together.