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Published 12/12/2009 in History Page
Musician just
can't share it
like he used to
By TIM UNRUH
Staff Writer
Beautiful melodies dance in the memory of Carol Anderson as he whiles away each quiet day.
For decades, he was a brash and determined educator who commanded performances as a singer and director.
"I was the premier bass baritone in Kansas," said Anderson. "I really was a singer."
He was stricken by silence two years ago. Medicine needed to control a liver dysfunction rendered him profoundly deaf. Now, at 69, the man whose strong, deep voice shook the rafters of many music halls, can no longer perform as a singer or director.
"I can pick up a piece of music and hear it in my head. It's like reading aloud, or reading to yourself," Anderson said. "That's the only way I enjoy it anymore."
He still sings to his wife, Faye Ellen, or by himself on fishing trips. The same passion and joy for music is there, but never again for public consumption.
"I have it in my heart. I just can't share it like I used to," Anderson said. "To go from the top of the list to never performing is a little tough to take."
He grew up in a farming family north of Clyde in north central Kansas. Agenda Rural High School had a strong choir and so did the local country church.
Anderson dropped out of high school. He enlisted in the Air Force in November 1943 and left for overseas a year later. A gunner on a B-24 bomber, he flew missions over Germany, Yugoslavia and the Spanish coast.
He returned to Kansas after the war and enrolled at Bethany College, Linsborg.
"After a semester of aimless studies, I decided to become a music major," Anderson said. "Even then, music was speaking to me."
He began educating youngers in Simpson. Other stints followed in Natoma, Atchison County and Russell, before he came to Garden City Community College. Passion for music and life in general was one of his many attributes, said Mrs. Anderson, who was living in Natoma when they met.
"Carol had a rather overpowering personality," she said. "I think it was on our third date when he said, 'When are going to marry me?'"
Friends prefer to remember the boisterous, rotund bundle of song who could take over a rehearsal, show or any public gathering. Max Goldsberry, who was Anderson's division director at the college, said the challenge of working with the intimidating director was worth it.
"He was the real stuff," Goldsberry recalled. "He called a spade a shovel, and if you didn't like shovels, you were in trouble."
Educating young people was his love, but politics within the profession sometimes got in the way.
"He loved teaching, but hated the paperwork," Goldsberry said. "I felt the same way."
Anderson is a professed expert on everything from pipe smoking to hunting and angling, along with a penchant for the kitchen. He still prepares most every evening meal in the Anderson home.
"Carol would cook up these wonderful Swedish dishes and bring them to school for instructors, students and everyone," said Goldsberry's wife, Betty. "There would be Christmas parties at their house. He'd have this wonderful soup prepared, but before we could eat, everyone had to go caroling."
Deafness was a tragedy to his fans. To Goldsberry and his wife, Betty, there is no justice. While the big voice has faded from the public, Anderson's charm and wit have remained.
"We speak as though he's dead, but he's not," Goldsberry said. "We're happy he's adjusted so well, considering how aggressive and powerful a driver he was."
Now in his eighth year of retirement, Anderson will chuckle at his loss of hearing, which he said pales in relation to other afflictions. Life in silence is better than none at all.
"I'm so much better off than a blind person or someone confined to a wheelchair," he said. "I still have a reasonably decent lifestyle."
But the sentimental side of this old "Scandinavian" comes through from time to time. Certain concerts, singers or songs can bring on emotions.
"What goes over everybody's head might move me to tears," Anderson said. "It gets to me, but it isn't depression."
He credits the support from his family, especially his wife of 40 years, who is a clerk at the Garden City Post Office.
Andersons have five children -- Mark, Chuck, Nils, Jerry and Kristin -- and two grandchildren. Plus a dog aptly called "Maestro."
The hearing loss was a shock, Mrs. Anderson said, but there really was no choice.
"If it's a medication you have to take, you take it," Mrs. Anderson said. "You have to take life as it's dished out to you."
... Life has changed, but Anderson really hasn't. Music is personal, and his standards are high.
"We went to a Christmas show once. They did sign language to 'Away in a Manger.' I just shook my head," Anderson said. "That isn't the way music sounds."
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