[editor note - The following article appeared 12/17/04 in the Long Island (NY) "Newsday" under the heading "Entertainment News." It was authored by Peter Goodman, Staff Writer of that publication. I thought it would make good reading as it is applicable to Greater Pittsburgh and many other barbershop chapters and illustrates a situation and problem that exists throughout our Society.]

One bright Sunday afternoon recently, a platoon of men wearing maroon jackets, dark slacks and white shirts filed onto the stage at the Bethpage Public Library. Everything about them said "retired"; white hair, careful steps, thickened bodies, a cane or two. Then they started to sing, the basses pumping "dumba dumba dumba dumba" as a foundation, the lead tenors just "Sittin' on Top of the World." The vigor of their voices, the richness of their harmony, the swing of their movements swept the years away.

One school-day evening recently, a cluster of boys gathered on risers in the Syosset High School auditorium. Everything about them said "teenager"; the back-facing baseball caps, baggy pants, hands in pockets, nonstop jiggling and jerking. Then they started to sing "Coney Island Baby," and suddenly they sounded as mature, as resonant and as solid as their elders sounded youthful.

One heard in the two ensembles the warmth and enjoyment that make crowd-pleasers of such annual events as the Big Apple Chorus ongoing holiday "Chorus Tree" performances, Fridays through Sundays through Dec. 26 at the South Street Seaport in Manhattan. (pictures misleading) Between the showmanship of the Tree, the strength of the veteran Chorus of the Mid-Islander's program in Bethpage and the energy of the youthful Syosset Choral Pride's rehearsal, you'd think that barbershop singing in America was thriving. But you'd be wrong.

The a cappella style that calls up visions of red-striped shirts, handlebar mustaches and concerts in the town square is starting to fade. Membership in the worldwide Barbershop Harmony Society (legally known by the lumbering name Society for the Preservation & Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America, or SPEBSQSA) is slowly dwindling and its participants aging. There are now about 31,000 men in the more than 800 chapters in the United States and Canada, president Rob Hopkins said, down from a peak of 38,000 in the 1980s. "The members are kind of going down the tubes," said semiretired publicist and Mid-Island Chorus tenor Bob Hem of Wantagh. "The older guys are dying."

That's the problem groups such as Choral Pride may ultimately address. "We want it to still be around, not just 70-year-old men," said Syosset choral director Kristin Howell. The group was founded three years ago at the instigation of the boys themselves, who were envious of the Adelettes, the school's long standing girls' barbershop ensemble. "The guys enjoyed singing, and the girls always had a group." Senior John Roth, 17, said. "Everyone enjoys listening to it. It's fun."

Which was the whole idea from the beginning.

Barbershop singing, as distinct from classical or pop vocal music, has been seen as a hobby at least since the SPEBSQSA was founded in 1938 by a group of Tulsa businessmen. The enduring Norman Rockwell image of four men harmonizing in a barbershop had appeared on a Saturday Evening Post cover in 1936. And decades before that, African-American men sang in quartets to serenade their girls.

(Singers' gratification) The famous black comedian Bert Williams had a hit in 1910 with "Play That Barber Shop Chord." (Mid-Island Chorus director Maurice Debar says it's the dominant seventh, which leads the ear to expect a satisfying major key conclusion, as in the final "a-men" of a hymn.)

Whether at its African-American roots or its contemporary image primarily as a province of the white male, barbershopping is something its fans do mostly for their own enjoyment. Society members often sing in large choruses, such as the Mid-Island group, as well as quartets. At one point during a rehearsal before the Bethpage concert, the chorus took a break and the men split into groups of quartets singing in different corners of the room. "That's probably what makes it so enjoyable," said conductor Paul Huppert, 69, of Point Lookout, a former auto-parts salesman. "You can take four guys and sing something."

(An evolving society) The biggest problem, as society president Hopkins sees it, is the ongoing change in American society from a culture of participants - volunteers and club joiners - to one of observers - audiences and TV viewers. "We've become a society more apt to be a listener than a performer," Hopkins said, "whereas, community singing used to be big. We don't have that kind of culture right now. And yet, there are many, many men who enjoy singing and would like to do it."

(continued on page 10- see 'As enrollment fades)