Chapter Eight
Ethel would often say after hearing a Christian recording artist sing, "They're copying my style. The timing is the way I would do that song." According to Ethel, there were very few Christian singers who were pros.
Bill and Gloria Gaither were probably Ethel's favorite musicians. She didn't often listen to records — in fact, there were many unopened albums in the rack under her old portable stereo — but her two Gaither albums were almost worn out. She would sit by her window and sing along to the tunes of "Get All Excited" and "There's Something about That Name."
This is what Gloria Gaither said about their friendship with Ethel Waters:
Ethel Waters touched countless lives. Bill's and mine were only two of them. There are many people who have talent, there are lots of folks with special skills and abilities. But I am convinced that God doesn't need another good singer. He does
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need great souls who just may happen to also sing. God doesn't need another great doctor or preacher or orator or statesman. He does need some great souls, thoroughly committed to Him who just happen to also be skillful at the healing arts, preaching sermons, moving audiences, or formulating laws.
Ethel Waters was more than a great performer, sensational singer, skillful communicator — she was a great soul. And the compassion of her heart came through her voice, and her words, and her performances to touch people, soul to soul, intimately, because we who heard her somehow knew she had hurt where we hurt; she had known pain and struggle and joy and victory as we knew them. She knew Jesus and it was His ability to touch people at the core of their being that we felt when we heard her.
She had so much to teach us who were young and not nearly so wise. I remember one night she attended one of our concerts in Los Angeles. We talked with her during the intermission as she sat backstage and felt at once elevated by her warmth and compassion, yet dwarfed by her grace and wisdom. During the second half she came out to do a chorus of our song, "He Touched Me" and then sang her famous trademark, "His Eye Is on the Sparrow." The moment her low alto voice began, a hush fell over the audience. In the four minutes it took her to communicate the song, it was as if her great spirit had reached into each seat to lovingly single out each man, woman and child and say to each, "This is for you. God's care is for you."
When she finished, the great crowd stood to their feet. The applause went on and on. They had felt God's love and needed to respond. She knew they needed to. Yet she knew too when that fine line was crossed between responding to a deep gratitude to God and praising the one who only communicated His message. When the crowd's applause turned to her as a human vessel, she graciously left the stage, leaving only Jesus to be praised.
Cliff Barrows, who extended the invitation for Ethel to sing
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at Billy Graham Crusades around the world, has fond memories of one appearance in particular:
In Knoxville, Tennessee, at one service she appeared with President Nixon and Billy. The stadium was filled to overflowing with 25,000 outside the gates, which gave a total of over 100,000 at the service that night. In the crowd there were about 156 people who were there to demonstrate and protest against the President and the war, and of course, there was a "running feud" going on prior to the service beginning with their chanting and the choir responding. We had 6,000 in the choir and although they could be heard easily, it was amazing to me how well the 156 could be heard who were sitting down on the thirty-yard line on the far side of the field. During the earlier part of the service they would interrupt on occasion with their chants, slogans, etc., and several times it reached a point where the ushers and even the Tennessee football team were ready to throw them out.
It was at one of these times that Ethel stood up, and in her very candid, pointed, and yet warm way chided them: "Now you children, listen to Mom. If I was sitting over there I would smack you one, and then put my arms around you and love you real good."
At this the whole place broke up, first in laughter and then applause, and she really got to them as she sang. Interestingly, following her solo, they quieted down considerably; in fact, after Billy started preaching, we didn't hear from them again. Some of them got up and left. Others remained the entire service, and at the invitation a few of them responded to receive Christ.
Ethel really had the audience in the palm of her hand and she could talk to them at any length about any subject. Won't heaven be wonderful, when we can sit and listen to her as long as she wants to talk and sing to us?
If Ethel Waters once touched your life, you never forgot it as
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illustrated by this letter written to the Los Angeles Times by Eugene C. Washington:
As long as I live I'll never forget Ethel Waters and I'll never forget the time I first met her as a child in New York City.
I must have been about 9 years old, and late one night outside of a night spot on Sugar Hill, called the Fat Man, near the Polo Grounds, I was selling the New York Daily News, 2 cents a copy then, and just as I was about to go inside a lady stopped me and said with a smile, "Little boy, you can't come in here, you are too young and besides, why aren't you home in bed?"
I said to her, "I'm selling my newspapers and there is no one out here to buy them. Please let me stand here in the doorway." She then asked me how many papers I had left. I told her only five more. She then said, "Young man, here is 50 cents for the five copies. Now you take this and scat and go straight home to your mother."
That lady, I learned later that night from my mother, was Ethel Waters. Thank you again, Ethel Waters. may you rest in peace.
Jarrell McCracken, president of Word, Inc., shares his memories of the singer who made three albums — His Eye Is on the Sparrow, Ethel Waters Reminisces and Just a Little Talk with Ethel — for his company.
When I first met Ethel Waters I was struck by her captivating presence. she was an obviously happy person. Her zest for life permeated the attitude of everyone within range. To those who knew her and those who didn't, she was a terrific witness to what can happen within a person who has clearly made peace with God.
Beyond spreading joy and happiness, Ethel also imparted wisdom. She was very bright and agile mentally. If you engaged
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in a battle of wits with Ethel you were sure to lose. She once said to a group of us, "I used to be little and cute. Now I'm fat and clever."
In her final days of illness and weakness, her faith was fervent and strong. there was still a beautiful spirit. Like always, I was a better person for having been with her in person or by phone.
Carol Kilpatrick, production manager for Word, recalls Ethel's coming to Waco for the open house of Word's new building in 1969.
My husband Pat went to Dallas to pick Ethel up at the airport. She was coming with Bill Carle, another of our recording artists. When she stepped off the plane, she was carrying a long leather strap — her seat belt extension! Pat put Bill Carle on the left side in the back seat. Although Bill was a pretty good size, when Ethel got in the front, Pat could see the station wagon kind of settle under the strain. For at least half of the ninety miles back to Waco, Bill complained about being in the back while Ethel sat in the front. Finally Ethel couldn't stand it any longer. She turned to Bill and said, "Bill, I've been praying all this time that you'd see the light and shut up. Now hush, child."
When they got to Waco, Ethel sat down on a new chair in the lobby, only to have it break under her. In a kind of prayer she exclaimed, "O Jesus, I done broke this chair too!"
Tedd Smith, pianist for the Billy Graham Crusades, has this to say about Ethel:
She was always her own person, no matter the circumstances. I can remember doing a concert with her one Sunday morning in the White House, Washington, D.C. It was during the Nixon administration, and there were approximately three
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hundred fifty government officials, Supreme Court justices and the presidential family gathered for the program. When I walked into the room, I was aware of the total silence, a sort of tomblike atmosphere. Ethel was introduced and she went to the microphone and immediately said, "Hi." the whole room seemed rather stunned by the informality and they greeted her with silence. Undaunted, Ethel grabbed the microphone, got in close to it and said, "I said hi!" Suddenly, the silence turned to laughter and the audience all shouted back "Hi!" Ethel turned the entire White House into one big family that morning and completely won their hearts.
She obviously grew up with the slogan "The show must go on," no matter how you felt. I can remember going to Ethel's room one night just before we were to do a concert in Montreat, North Carolina. She said, "I'm sick. I just won't be able to do the concert." I told her she would be all right and then went ahead to make certain the arrangements were in order at the auditorium. Fifteen minutes before the concert was to begin, an ambulance pulled up to the door and there was Ethel on a stretcher and an oxygen tank beside her. I thought, "She wasn't kidding. There is no way she can do this program." At eight o'clock, we heard a man say from the stage, "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Ethel Waters." Suddenly she bounded from that stretcher and went on the platform to do an hour and a half program that was tremendous.
I loved Ethel Waters. Here was a woman who knew what human suffering was. Yet, she had also found answers to cope with the misery she had lived with since her birth. It was always a learning experience being with Ethel. She was strong-willed, definite about what she wanted, a thoroughly professional woman whose life influenced numbers of actors and singers and pointed the way to the One she loved so much. My life is sadder without her.
Dave Barr, a representative of World Wide Pictures, traveled
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with Ethel in 1959 promoting The Heart is a Rebel, a film Ethel made for World Wide Pictures. Dave told me about one incident that stands out in his memories:
The many enjoyable hours spent with Ethel as we traveled together for the premieres of The Heart Is a Rebel could be all bottled up in one experience. At the film's premiere in Toronto, Canada, with 3,000 people in Massey Hall, Miss Waters requested an oversized chair for her platform appearance. Since she weighed 350 pounds at the time, this created some real problems. When we walked on stage and I was introducing Ethel to the people, it dawned on me that we had forgotten the oversized chair. She was seated in a normal arm chair. When she stood up, the chair also stood up, sticking firmly to her hips. The crowd was silent, embarrassed for this one they loved so. While two men pulled the chair from Miss Waters, she looked at the crowd and smiled. That was the greatest smile I have ever seen. Three thousand people gave her a standing ovation and she won their hearts.
Ethel Waters was not only a great actress, she was a very real human being who never forgot her roots, thanking God always for all He had done for her.
Mary C. Crowley, president and founder of Home Interiors in Dallas, was immediately adopted into Ethel's "family" upon meeting. It was love at first sight. Here are Mary's memories of a woman she too called Mom.
I had admired Ethel Waters from afar for many years. In the fall of 1971 I became personally acquainted with her — the beginning of a lifelong friendship.
We were preparing for the Billy Graham Greater Southwest Crusade, which would be the very first function to be held in the Dallas Cowboy Stadium. The committee for the crusade was headed by Coach Tom Landry. It was my privilege to be
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the only woman to serve on the committee. I was planning a big rally to be held two weeks before the crusade with Ruth Graham as the speaker and Ethel Waters to sing at the rally.
I was so thrilled when I heard that Ruth had accepted, and I chartered a limousine for her and reserved a suite at the Marriott Hotel.
Ethel Waters also was a speaker at that rally. When she arrived, I reserved a limousine for her, too. I had reserved two identical suites of rooms at the hotel for Ruth and Ethel, and sent baskets of flowers to both suites. But when we walked into Ethel's suite, we found it wasn't a suite — it was one room. I simply picked up the phone and insisted the manager find something better — a suite like the one for Ruth.
I didn't think this was much to do, but to Ethel it was a big thing. After that, we continued to correspond. I came to love her for the dedicated Christian that she was.
During the motorcade, as I was riding in the limousine with Ruth and Ethel with the motorcycle escort, I said with excitement, "Oh, this is fun. I've never been in a motorcade with a motorcycle escort before." Ethel, with a deep chuckle added, "Me, too, honey, I have never had one before either."
In 1974, when I was in Los Angeles for a Home Interiors' rally, I called Ethel. She was in low spirits. "My eyes are so bad with these cataracts that I can't see to cook for myself," she said. "But that doesn't matter. I'm not hungry anyway."
"Then I'm coming right out to visit you," I insisted.
"Oh, honey, you can't take time for that. You've got a meeting there with your people," Ethel protested.
"We'll see about that!" I said. I ordered prime ribs with all the fixings from the hotel. Two of my managers drove out with me to her lovely apartment on the fifteenth floor overlooking Los Angeles, and waited two hours for me to visit with Ethel.
Ethel looked so weak and rundown. She could scarcely hold a fork in her hand. As we talked, I helped her eat. I'll never forget that afterward she went and sat by her window overlooking
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the city that was sparkling with lights. That beautiful, high sweet voice of hers broke out with the Bill and Gloria Gaither song, "I'm going to live the way He wants me to live."
The words of that song still send a thrill up my spine whenever I hear them — and later Ethel was to come to Dallas and sing them at a very special occasion for me and for my family.
How can I ever thank God enough for letting me walk with this spiritual giant?
Kurt Kaiser, vice-president of Word, Inc., as well as an accomplished composer and arranger, had this to say about Ethel:
When I was in the presence of Ethel Waters, I was honored . . . for I was with one of the great artists this country has ever produced. She was smart as a whip, had uncanny insight and her heart reached out to me.
Ethel Waters did not need a rhythm section, for she possessed that wonderful sense of time that few people have. With Reginald Beane at the piano, things absolutely "swung." I will always remember how she totally wrapped herself around a song. When she sang "Mammy," it was out of experience that included glistening cheeks wet with tears. She felt everything very deeply. What she sang deserves many hearings, due to the subtle nuances which were a gift from God.
Our last recording experience, out of which came the album Just a Little Talk with Ethel, was a highlight in my life, and all the people who were associated with me on this project felt a very real sense of history putting the recording together.
I will always feel honored and enriched to have been her friend.
Ernie Chavez, who went beyond the call of duty as a mailman to become a special friend of Ethel's, writes of his loving memories:
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I had the privilege of knowing "Mom Waters" who to me was one of the greatest human beings that I have ever met.
She was mean, tough, strong, sweet and very lovable. When she spoke there was always a purpose; therefore, she chose her words very carefully. Sometimes her words were mean and hard, there were also times when she spoke sweet and soft, but her words were always given with an inner love which she possessed very strongly. Life had given her many experiences which made her very wise in all phases of life. She was a woman who had plenty of love and wisdom and was always willing to share it with anyone who was in need of it.
My greatest experience with Ethel's love was when my own mother died. She knew my great loss and sorrow, and she put her arm on my shoulder and said, "Son, I am now your mom." The tenderness of her words and the love pouring out from within gave me a comfort that I will never forget. You see, she really meant it. I knew these weren't just words, for I could feel her love reaching out towards me.
She was some "mom" and I was proud to be her son.
Julie Harris, whose association with Ethel Waters goes back to 1952 when they both played in The Member of the Wedding in New York, was a "precious baby girl" of Ethel's. Even though they did not see each other very often, there was a deep mutual love. Julie reminisces of her beloved Ethel:
Oh, how I miss Ethel's presence here. I can always see her — and feel her hands and arms. Her skin was so beautiful and I loved to hold her hands.
Our first meeting was at Robert Whitehead's apartment — Ethel had come there so we could meet and leisurely read the play, The Member of the Wedding. She talked about missing her soap operas on the radio! I loved her immediately. I had seen her in Cabin in the Sky and Mamba's Daughters both in
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Detroit and I worshiped her. This was the beginning of our family — Ethel, Brandon DeWilde, Bill Hansen, "Beany" Barker and me.
The year and a half that we did the play was a happy time for me — I belonged — to Ethel, to Brandon. They were the we of me.
