THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 27, 1996 TAG: 9610230047
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K7 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: John-Henry Doucette
LENGTH: 68 lines
THE CHOIR congregates in the small chapel buried inside the steel of the Theodore Roosevelt.
The walls are paneled to look wooden, a break from the ship's decorating scheme of light blue and gray. It is evening, but six self-illuminated stained-glass ``windows'' give the cozy impression that daylight awaits immediately outside the chapel.
This is a refuge where rank and uniform take a breather, where land-bound loved ones seem much closer.
They pray.
``In the name of Jesus,'' says Senior Chief Terry White, 39, of Norfolk.
``Hallelujah,'' a choir member responds.
``Yes, Lord,'' says another.
Lt. Shelton Murphy, a chaplain, dissects the choir into parts. Tenors over there, in the second row of blue chairs. Basses over there. Altos there. Sopranos there. It is a small soprano section. Petty Officer 1st Class Johanna W. Gray, 38, and Seaman Apprentice Wanda J. Mayhew, 21, are the only two.
``Are you a tenor?'' the chaplain asks a warrant officer.
``Depends on the song,'' says Chief Warrant Officer Sammie Robinson, 44, of Virginia Beach. He stays with the tenors.
The choir practices an upbeat number from their arsenal.
They sing to a tape played through a karaoke machine. The machine rests on the deck between the altar and a pulpit with a Casio keyboard placed across the top. A pair of congas stands by the pulpit. The song, ``Show Up,'' is on the agenda because Petty Officer 2nd Class Larry D. Hester, a soloist, is due back at work.
Hester, a 35-year-old sailor, is wearing a red flight deck jersey, In the ship's Weapons Department, Hester keeps ordnance available to the warplanes launching and recovering on Roosevelt's massive flight deck. In the small chapel, his voice explodes as he leads the choir, call-and-response style.
``Sing it, choir,'' orders Hester.
They do, gospel style, and Hester's vocal calls weave like soulful guitar licks around the other singers. The choir sways back and forth in the chairs. Some singers slap their hands to the beat.
But the chaplain hears something he doesn't like in the mix and cuts the song short.
They begin again, but soon Hester must leave. He rises, opens the door at the back of the chapel and steps into a passageway. The metal door shuts behind him.
Hester has been in the Navy nine years. He has been aboard Roosevelt nearly four months. He says the joy of the Lord is his strength, especially when he's away from his loved ones. He motions beyond the metal door and says, ``This is like a family. When you're down and out you can come here and get encouraged.''
Hester navigates down the light blue passage, back to the world of bombs.
In the chapel, they practice by parts.
``Tenors,'' announces Chaplain Murphy, arms waving.
``God is not a man that will tell you a lie,'' the tenors sing.
``Altos only,'' calls Murphy.
``God is not a man that will tell you a lie,'' the altos sing.
``Let's put it together,'' the chaplain suggests.
And everyone sings, the melodies bouncing between the six colorful windows that, for lack of a shining sun deep inside the Theodore Roosevelt, produce their own light. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
TAMARA VONINSKI/The Virginian-Pilot
Senior Chief Petty Officer Terry White, right, and Petty Officer
Johanna Gray direct the choir. by CNB