Like Paula Jardine’s A Night of All Souls, Mark Haney’s “11’ for brass ensemble, about the Renfrew Heights Veterans Housing Project, brings people together in open dialogue about death and through it a renewed respect for the courage of life.
Remember, remember
It was a dark and stormy night…but that wasn’t enough to stop Mark Haney’s brass players from strapping on their rain gear and heading into Mountain View Cemetery for this year’s A Night of All Souls ceremony.
Mark was following a thread similar to Paula Jardine (creator of A Night of All Souls), which is to bring people together in open respect and dialogue about death and the dead. And with this being the centenary of the First World War, Mark Haney’s “11” is also helping to shed light onto a Vancouver neighbourhood touched by war—and maybe even heal some ancient wounds.
11 Questions
When I asked Mark, a professional double bass player by trade, how he came to be writing music in a field so far removed from his occupation, he started by describing his years as a commercial musician “just gigging and trying to make a living”. He alluded to a few professional disappointments that prompted him to question his core purpose as a musician. He concluded that what he needed to do the kind of projects that he loves—the ones that fascinate him most—even if the money wasn’t there. Then one night in 2000 at the bar at the Banff Centre for the Arts, the famed double bassist Edgar Meyer bottom lined it for him: “If you wanna write, you gotta play; if you wanna play, you gotta write”. Mark knew he had to start creating his own music.
Photo courtesy Tim Matheson
Two years ago, Mark approached the Parks Board for an artist studio residency at the former caretaker’s suite in East Vancouver’s Falaise Park. The field house stands not far from the Renfrew Heights Veterans Housing Project, a neighbourhood with a unique history that would become his focus for writing and telling important community stories.
Photo courtesy Library and Archives Canada.
The Greatest Generation
As Mark began his research, he was shocked to discover how much he didn’t know about the Second World War. “It’s not like the Hollywood war films at all”, he said, “There were no tours of duty—most men were in the war for four or five years.” He described the scene of D-Day in which they “turned people into cannonballs” driving them up onto the beaches of Normandy even as their comrades around them were mowed down. In preparation, soldiers trained for months on the beaches of England to “head inland no matter what.” “You can’t fail”, was the drill and “You don’t help anyone. Period. Get inland.”
Edge of darkness
After the war, many veterans returned to Vancouver suffering from what today would be diagnosed as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They bought homes in the Renfrew Heights Veterans Housing Project, but with no support other than similarly traumatised veterans, problems began. “It was a tough neighbourhood”, said Mark describing the problems, which included physical abuse and alcohol, as the veterans tried to lead normal lives. But, feeling more and more isolated from mainstream society, the veterans retreated into their homes and the local Legion Hall. Many of their children bear the scars of a war fought before they were born.
Photo courtesy Library and Archives Canada
Mark realised that the stories of these veterans and their families needed to be told. “It’s a living history we’re about to lose”, speaking of the veterans but also the Project kids, now in their 60’s. But to tell their stories, he first had to earn their trust.
What is your name?
As a gigging musician Mark knew how to put on a show, but the last thing the veterans needed was a showman. The veterans had had a lifetime of training at being shut down, so their first inclination was to close ranks. “What’s your agenda?”, they’d ask, “Who are you?” and “What do you want?”, they’d demand.
Photo courtesy Library and Archive of Canada
Who among you lived in the Project?
As a tough community that’s been together for years, there’s a lot of pride too, but Mark added, “Along with the pride and the community, there’s an edge of sadness—always”. He’d have to prove through his music that he was interested in them as individuals, and that his project wasn’t a flash in the pan—he would see it through to completion. “My piece is about eleven individuals in the war”, said Mark, “I composed it to put a human face on the wars.”
Even so, he learned that some veterans couldn’t go to Remembrance Day events. “They’d stay home and cry”, he said. Often they’d go to the Legion and drink, but it was more wallowing than release from the pain, “All they did was re-live the war”.
Not all the veterans represented in “11” have passed away. Diane Park, a videographer who’s working with Mark on “11” mentioned 99-year-old Edmond Champoux. “He’s very much alive and a big supporter of ‘11’. He has shared stories with us of surviving the horrors of D-Day (as an Engineer he was one of the first on the beaches at Dieppe), as well as the Battle of Falaise Gap”, she said adding, “He lived in Renfrew Heights from the early 1950’s until moving to Burnaby two years ago.”
When were you born?
Mark found ways to help make people feel comfortable and open up. Last summer, he put up a display about their story at his field house. “It was very touching”, he said, “I learned so much in so many ways, by communicating and working with people who grew up in the Project.” Gradually, people began warming up to him. They still needed somebody to talk to, and as they began to open up to him, the stories increased.
Photo courtesy Tim Matheson
To put humanity into the story, Mark developed a system of numbering in which each of the 11 brass instruments would spell out the name of an individual veteran (using only the letters from the veteran’s name that corresponded with musical notes). At Mountain View on Saturday night, some of the players actually played at the gravesite of the deceased veteran whose name they represented.
When did you die?
Although Mark scored “11” for brass instruments, he was sensitive to avoid any direct military references. In the drizzle on Saturday night, the brass players sounded sombre and perhaps a little amphibious too as they called out to each other from around the cemetery. “The last section I wrote follows the solo trumpet asking ‘When did you die?’” Mark said, “As each of the 11 musicians said their date, it was more like writing dialogue than music.” Huddled under umbrellas around the smouldering Swedish torch (a burning log set on end), we listened to waves of brass polyphony waft through the cemetery and occasionally letter/notes would well up in great wet chords.
Photo courtesy Tim Matheson
Falaise Park
Mark’s been getting reports of friends and relatives of the veterans who are planning trips (from as far away as Edmonton, Calgary, and Nelson) to attend this special Remembrance Day concert in Falaise Park. He hopes for perhaps less rain than at Mountain View, but then laughs, “We now know we can do it in the rain if we have to”.
Together with Diane and the 11 musicians, they plan to accommodate all sorts of groups by providing wheelchair accessibility, an opportunity for nearby school children to sing a new song-version of “Flanders’ Fields”, and Linda Jones, a veterans’ entertainer (and Project alumnus) will sing once again. Afterward, everyone will gather in the gym at nearby Vancouver Christian School for coffee and snacks, where the display materials will put a human face on courage in the face of war and tragedy.