By Bob Krauss
Advertiser Staff Writer
This is a Valentine story that happened before Valentine’s Day. But what’s 24 hours when the sentiment is there? Besides, Dr. Linda Chiu has a busy schedule today.
Promptly at 11 a.m. yesterday a barbershop quartet showed up at her office on Uluniu Street and sang "Let Me Call You Sweetheart." This was followed by a tender rendition of "Heart of My Heart."
The fellow singing bass, Bud Thompson, a burly yachting type, performed with particular fervor because Dr. Chiu has changed the course of his life.
Yet this is no ordinary Valentine relationship. To understand what happened between Thompson and Chiu, we must delve into the psychology of barbershop quartet singing.
Thompson’s mother played the piano and had perfect pitch. All of her five children played musical instruments. Thompson played the e-flat tuba, anticipating his career as a bass in barbershop quartets.
Later he became an insurance salesman.
He was born again at age 24 when he saw a picture of Bill Quinn (later governor) and Peter Chang singing in a barbershop quartet. Both were founders in 1938 of the Hawaii chapter of SPEBSQSA Inc.
That stands for the Society for the Preservation & Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America — and if you haven’t heard Quinn’s tenor in "My Wild Irish Rose" you’re not a real kama‘aina.
Thompson was hooked. He joined a barbershop quartet. He sang bass. He sang tenor. He sang all four parts.
One peculiarity of barbershop quartet singers is that they are convinced that the rest of the world is just as enthusiastic about barbershop quartet singing as they are.
An invitation to sing along is extended as a favor to mankind. Nobody has a tin ear. All you need is practice.
"When four guys get together and sing their notes properly, the chord rings," he explained with evangelic sincerity. "You can hear overtones not actually sung."
Thompson barbershopped his way through life. His children grew up and he followed them to the Mainland. After his wife died in 1983, he spent five months of each year in Hawai‘i.
But in 1997, tragedy had struck. His voice grew weaker. By 1998 he could hardly talk, much less sing bass. One doctor said he was regurgitating stomach fluids. Another gave him pills. It didn’t help.
When his friend Eileen Phillips picked him up at the Honolulu airport, he couldn’t talk. The next day she had him in Dr. Chiu’s office. The doctor pulled down his tongue and said he had polyps on his vocal chords.
Three months and two operations later, he was singing bass again. "I think I’m singing better," he said. Anyway, that’s why Thompson serenaded Dr. Chiu yesterday from the bottom of his heart.
Call Bob Krauss at 525-8073 with your story.
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