Tim Seelig
Momentum to Live

The purpose of this project is to provide a collection of transcriptions from the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020. This project seeks to give a platform to all parts of the vocal performing arts to better understand the lived experiences and mentality of those professionals. In collecting stories from the COVID-19 pandemic Tim Seelig, Artistic Director and Conductor of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus, spoke about the pandemic’s impact on the chorus. Interestingly, he drew on his experience with the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s and on how music played a role in providing comfort and motivation then.

Tim Seelig, Artistic Director and Conductor of the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus
Interviewed May 21, 2020

TB: First, what is the best thing that has happened to you in the last week?

TS: We do a round-robin in our weekly staff meeting of 14. But the theme is that when you tell the truth and are transparent, there is freedom and lightness. These days lightness doesn't come easily.
      On the following Monday night, we told the chorus what our plans were and our contingencies. We have 300 singers. Once I told them, I breathed a sigh of relief because [there] is now some certainty. One of my favorite memes is, "We had become addicted to the myth of certainty." And, oh boy, had we. Certainty is a myth. We get all our little ducks in a row and spend our lives doing that. Then someone comes in and shuffles the deck right in front of us. Certainty goes away. It was never really there, it was a myth, and that addiction to it is now gone.

TB: Could you talk about your background and the work that you are doing currently?

TS: I went to college to be an opera singer and was a member of NATS for decades. I earned four degrees in vocal performance, and, lucky for me, my minor was choral conducting. After studying in Salzburg and landing a full-time opera job in St. Gallen, Switzerland, I had achieved that operatic dream. Once there, I had realized that I wasn't cut out to be an opera singer. Not because of my voice, talent, or aptitude at languages—it was that my personality profile didn't fit. So, I came home and started teaching at the university level.
     In 1986, at the age of 35, I came out turning every certainty upside down. After a year, I found out there was a gay chorus in Dallas looking for a conductor. Here we are 34 years later and I have been conducting LGBTQ choruses since then. It has been amazing. I also taught voice and vocal pedagogy at Southern Methodist University. In June [2021], my autobiographical memoir is coming out!

 TB: Talking about the pandemic, could you describe where you were and how you realized your life would be affected by this?

TS: For all of us, it just came on so quickly. We obviously had no preparation. The first we heard of the coronavirus was sometime in February, and by March, we were shut down, especially here in San Francisco. The order came down on Friday, March 13, and we were completely sheltered in place by March 17. At that time, we were planning our big spring concert. We had a world premiere to present at the Symphony Hall, and we were very excited about it. All of a sudden, this blew up, and our mayor was one of the very first to say, "we have to go home," and so we did. We thought it would be two weeks, though. So, we had to cancel that concert because it was within those two weeks, but we assumed we would be back in April. We actually said that we would be back in rehearsals on April 1 for the June show.  
      The San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus is the granddaddy of the movement and is a huge organization with 300 singers and 14 staff people. We just bought a building a year and a half ago. It is a four-story art deco building right in the middle of San Francisco, and our dream was to create the national LGBTQ Center for the Arts. The facility launched in January and was shut down in March. It lived for two months. This is horrifying for all of us. Adjusting to the new life with COVID is more than some people can take. One of the pillars that we build a gay or LGBTQ chorus on is providing a safe space. Before this, providing a safe space meant you wouldn't be made fun of, abused, bullied, or belittled. Basically, we were this emotional or psychological safe space, and now it was physical. We never imagined we would be responsible for the physical health of our chorus.
      I also conducted a gay chorus in the middle of the AIDS crisis. I am happy to contrast and compare if you would like.

TB: Absolutely. I am very interested in your experience with the two health crises.

TS: In 1986, when I came out, I was the Associate Minister of Music of the First Baptist Church of Houston. It was a small mega-church of 22,000 members when I came out. I was married with two children and had no idea there was such thing as a gay chorus.
      A year after coming out, I found out there was a gay chorus in Dallas. They were dysfunctional, broke, and needy. We were a match made in heaven. So, I moved from Houston to Dallas and started working for the Turtle Creek Chorale, which was the gay men's chorus. I thought I would stay a year to help pay child support. I stayed 20 years at that job.
      On the first night of rehearsal, I came in, and there were 35 to 40 guys. But in the front row was a man covered in sores. I had no idea, but this was 1987. A friend said, "He is here because it keeps him alive. He needs something to do on Monday." I caught up really quickly that was obviously KS [Kaposi Sarcoma], the result of full-blown AIDS. It was a moment in my life where I changed.
      In the following years, many were the days when I would talk to my colleagues during the AIDS epidemic, and we all assumed that we would not have a choir within X-number of years. Our members were dying at a rate that we couldn't keep up [with]: we wouldn't replenish the pews with singers fast enough to make up for the losses we were experiencing. In those days, people were afraid that they could catch [HIV] by touching someone.
      In the mid-1980s and 90s, there was talk about a vaccine [for HIV or AIDS]. But there was no urgency, certainly not on the part of the government. So, the interesting thing now is the demand for a [COVID-19] vaccine, but we are still without a vaccine [for HIV].
      One difference is the shame that went along with a diagnosis of HIV. I am HIV positive, and I say that at every turn to everyone that will listen because I have the disease, but you can't tell. So, basically, what I have disappears to the world, and my life and needs don't really matter because I don't look sick. However, people with full-blown AIDS had a look [about them in the 1980s]. But really, there is no shame with contracting COVID-19, and that is very different from what we had before. Another difference is that in 1987 and 1988, we did not think we would survive. Today, one of the papers was questioning whether we would have a choir for two years. Guess what? If we don't have a choir for two years, we are going to survive.
      There is also a fear from some of my friends who have contracted COVID-19, thinking, "where did I get it?" That is so much like what happened with HIV and AIDS. I have thought the same thing [about HIV], "I wonder where I got it?" I don't want to know, though I had a suspicion. I don't want contact tracing because it is what it is, and I feel the same way about COVID-19. If I contract it at some point, I don't really want to know [from whom I got it].

TB: Could you tell me why that is?

TS: Sure. I think that tracing is one of the apparent pillars that will get us past this. And if I were to contract COVID-19, I would allow contact tracing for people I have been around or where I had gone. But do I want to know? Not particularly. If my partner went to Target yesterday and did all the right things but touched the ATM keypad and brought it home, there is a guilt issue. A couple in the chorus contracted the virus, but they don't know which one of them brought it into the family. They are fine with not knowing.

TB: That is very interesting from your experience of living through the 1980s because it was also outing many people.

TS: In 1989 the local ABC affiliate in Dallas called us and asked if they could do a short news segment on the Turtle Creek Chorale, the gay men's chorus, and how AIDS affected us. We took their proposal to the board, and the board actually was split half-and-half. The side that said, "we can't do that," said that we would become known as the "AIDS Choir." But calmer minds prevailed, and I said, "This is our calling. We have to do this." Originally, it would be a 2-3 minute segment, but it ended up being a beautiful eight minutes.
      Fortunately, we never became the AIDS Choir; in 1991, we commissioned a song cycle based on Elizabeth Kübler-Ross' stages of grief, called When We No Longer Touch. The world premiere was at the Symphony Hall in Dallas, and PBS decided to make a documentary titled After Goodbye: An AIDS Story. They ended up winning the national Emmy for Best Documentary in 1994. But we never became the AIDS Choir, and no one assumed that everybody in the Turtle Creek Chorale had AIDS or was HIV positive.  
      But yes, the fear of coming out as the place where you can get AIDS was very real. When we had news media or people come, we allowed people to step off the stage if they didn't want their picture taken because of the stigma attached—not just because of being gay but also because of being the "AIDS Choir." What we needed then was that emotional release that music provided us. It gave us a home, emotional support, and release. We are missing that right now.

TB: Thank you for giving that comparison. I want to come back to COVID-19. Would you mind discussing the next concert that you had in March?

TS: It was on March 26 and was our spring subscription concert at the Davies Symphony Hall. There was to be a world premiere by a young phenomenon named Julian Hornik for a 60-minute work based on the stories of LGBTQ youth that we had commissioned. It is titled @QueerZ because it is about Generation Z. It is unbelievable that a 24-year-old is writing this. It is stories I would never think of to sing, but that was cancelled. We felt that we would do it at our June concert because it is also perfect for Pride, then that didn't happen. Then we thought we could Livestream it since we can't go to Symphony Hall, and that didn't happen.
      Another item I want to make sure to talk about is that I am a writer. I wrote my autobiography and had a monthly column in the gay rag here. Throughout my book, there is a struggle between “what I do” versus “who I am.” We all struggle with things within our lives, but sometimes what I do and who I am merge as they did in 1987 when I started conducting gay/lesbian choruses because that is who I am. An opera singer was not who I am. So, I have been thinking a lot about COVID-19. It has taken away a large part of what we do, but it hasn't changed who we are. We are the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus. We are still a family. We are still a force that is active in the community. We are all of those things, we just don't get to sing together right now, and I know some groups think removing that may be the end. It won't be.  
      One of the board members asked me the other night, "Are you afraid that when we come back, there won't be a chorus?" He is a businessman and has that type of mentality. But I said, "When we come back—whether it is in six, nine, or eighteen months—we will have more singers than we ever had. We will have a hard time limiting it to our 300. Everybody will be so ready to sing when it is completely safe. I have no fear that the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus and LGBTQ choruses worldwide will not only survive but thrive. We are going to appreciate what we have so much more.

TB: Let's talk about the financial impact of the pandemic on your organization. One issue that you mentioned was purchasing a building and two months later shutting it down. Could you talk about how the pandemic affects your organization's financial aspects, both in music and logistics?

TS: The San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus is the oldest in the worldwide movement. And as such, it has been a role model for other choruses, both gay and straight. The chorus has been thriving and growing for the last 43 years. A year ago, we actually bought the building, and then, this January, we launched the National LGBTQ Center for the Arts. Our first program was presenting the entire cast of Hamilton on our stage, and from there, we had a lot planned. That has all morphed now into the SFGMC [San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus] TV. Interestingly enough, the content on there is far greater than we could have ever done from our building.
      We had planned for our building to be a center, and we would then bring people in and film interviews. We were hoping to do this once a month and call it Behind the Curtain. Now we are doing those via Zoom, and we've had Kristin Chenoweth and Billy Porter and many others we would never have been able to meet if we had waited for them to come to San Francisco. That is one of the blessings for us, though.
      Additionally, we had grown our staff specifically over the last year to launch this National Center for the Arts. We had grown to where we are now with 14 staff members, which is really big for a community chorus. We have a lot of assets and programs. In one of [our programs], our chorus goes out to schools in the bay area and does a presentation called Rhythm: Reaching Youth Through Music, and that will also continue on SFGMC TV. We are already creating content for schools, which is available now. There are some lessons and anti-bullying information for teachers who need something to teach.
      Financially, we were all blessed with the forgivable PPP loans immediately. That is when it really dawned on us that we would be shutting down for an indeterminate period of time. The PPP loans allowed us to keep the full staff on for two and a half months to reconfigure and cross-train everyone. That will last until the end of June, and on July 1, we will be forced to make some staff changes. At that point, we will determine what our path looks like. Michael Kaiser of the DeVos Institute did our five-year strategic plan, and he is an amazing guide. We are in the middle of that five-year plan, so we can still get him on the phone. The term he used was if small-to-medium-sized arts organizations expect to survive COVID-19, they will hibernate. They have to figure out how to last through this as you cannot do the thing that is most prominent to your organization. So, between now and July, we are deciding what hibernation looks like and how we come out of a 6-18 month hibernation with enough fat on our [organizational] bodies to survive?
      In January, we launched the National Center and were looking forward to rental income because it is a beautiful building. It has one hall that seats 350 people and two rehearsal rooms that seat 120, which are very hard to come by in San Francisco. We had already done the projects and were certainly reaching out to LGBTQ arts organizations specifically to use the building because that is our mission. That shut down, and the building will be completely closed until January 2021, though we will be playing that by ear. There are many reasons for the closure, not the least of which is that you can't guarantee each group's safety if you rent the building. The center is an old building, and the ventilation is not very good.
      The impact of that closure from a budget standpoint is massive. It is hundreds of thousands of dollars. The three big arts organizations in San Francisco are the San Francisco Opera, Symphony, and Ballet, and they are losing millions if not tens of millions. But to us, losing $800,000 is huge, so it is all relative. I communicate with many of the LGBTQ choruses because we meet twice a week, and the pain is spread out equally. Our pain is no greater than a small chorus told by the church where it meets that they have to be 17 feet apart. That is not a choir. Many of my friends in other cities have had performing arts centers shut down, and universities are not coming back in the fall; it is a cascade of dominoes that one-by-one fall. When we get out of our hibernation as an arts organization, we will be very thin.

TB: Can you tell me a bit about how this has impacted your creative process?

TS: If people are not familiar with LGBTQ choruses, they are one of the aspects of choral singing that has been growing. In almost every city, audiences are going [to see the chorus]. And it is mostly sold out [events], even if it is a small venue. There is a hunger for what we do, even more so than in any other choral art I know of, and we are very proud of that.
      So, as I talked with my colleagues via Zoom across the country, we finally figured out that we would not sing in June, which is the national gay holiday. Our cash cows are holidays and Pride. Everybody has to sing for Pride! But once we figured out we were not performing in June, we started talking about programming for our holiday concerts. My colleagues asked, "What are you planning for the holiday concert?" Usually, when we do those questions, it is chaos with dancing reindeer and flying trees. But then we sat and stared at Zoom—there is no impetus for planning or programming. There is no energy for it right now. Then we were told that we could have a holiday concert, as long as the audience is six feet apart and they stay [socially] distanced. But wait! That means the chorus on stage also has to be distanced, meaning the rows have to be six feet apart. So what space can hold us? And some studies show choruses sound better when there is some space around the singer acoustically, but no one ever envisioned a six-foot bubble around a person. We can't get to the stage then.

TB: What would you say is the hardest lesson that you learned in this situation then?

TS: The hardest lesson, for me, is twofold. First is managing my expectations about my life and career. January started my 10th anniversary with the chorus, and I will not conduct a single concert [during] my 10th anniversary. There is a possibility that I won't conduct for 18 months. It makes you sit and wonder about your musical career. I have not been able to deal with that yet.
      The other part that is the hardest for me is that we have built this family, of which I'm the head – with incredible help. But I set this up, and we do this a lot, especially in community choruses, where one of the 300 chorus members requires something different from me aside from being the conductor. (That happens in university and school choirs as well.) But now, I suddenly feel not just responsible for them singing together, but for their health and well-being. Mostly, I am concerned for their emotional well-being now.
      We still meet on Zoom. We had 175 people on a Zoom call this very Monday. We are learning that is what we have right now. But the hardest thing for me is, how do I continue to shepherd this flock and help them? Those are the two most challenging things for me: facing my career and being who I can be for my choir.

TB: One of the things you mentioned that we hadn't discussed yet is the task force you set up to advise the choir. Do you want to talk about that?

TS: Yes, our board of directors is set up with both community and singing members to help guide the business of the chorus. As we were moving through COVID-19, the executive director and I decided we needed a separate task force from the board and would only study COVID-19 and the ramifications. (The board didn't need to be spending hours listening to the NATS webinar and getting depressed.)
      In our task force, there are 15 people: four are doctors who sing in the chorus, and two are infectious disease specialists. It was great because they were able to say, "If I am going to feel safe coming back to rehearsal, as a physician dealing with COVID, this is what it would mean to me." We also have board members, singers, and two community members. We sent them all the research and gave them five days to get up to speed before we meet. Their recommendations have been brilliant, and when we sent out their names to the chorus, everyone relaxed. The chorus' question had been if myself and the executive director were making the decisions independently. That was one of the most significant moves that we made to develop their confidence and trust. Our current decision is not to resume rehearsals or performances until there is a vaccine or proven treatment. Our statement is based on science only, not on feelings or opinions. The task force will continue to meet and monitor when we can come back in small groups or the entire chorus.

TB: That makes me feel better just hearing it. Can you take me back to pre-shutdown? What was a day in your life like?

TS: On March 9, we were three weeks away from this really colossal world premiere. We perform memorized and do staging, or "choralography." At three weeks out, I require them to be off book because we memorize our music. And we were putting this all together with the orchestra. On Monday before we shut down, we sang the entire concert off-book, which was great. At that time, my artistic staff was planning the June concert, which was Forbidden Broadway. The Off-Broadway show has allowed the chorus to rewrite their parodies for men's chorus. It is the funniest thing on the planet, and we will do it someday. In the middle of that, we were also launching the National Center for the Arts with lots of programming.
      One of the questions I like to ask choral directors is, "What percentage of the time do you actually spend waving your arms at a chorus?" 10% is about the average, though some are 5%, and then some actually have an accompanist and resources, so they get to conduct 20% of the time. Of course, 90% of my time is not standing in front and conducting, though it is my favorite 10%. Unfortunately for us, rehearsals—my favorite part—have been taken away. Performances are fine, but when I ask people, "when did you decide that music is what you wanted to do?" It was never the time when you got on the plane or bus and sang at Carnegie Hall. It was the daily practice. Whether that was a choir rehearsal, voice lesson, or a church choir rehearsal, the passion of the person at the piano, the voice teacher, or whoever, their passion rubbed off on you, and you said, "I want to do that."

TB: How do you think that this will affect the next generation of musicians? What advice would you give them?

TS: It is all about perspective. We will survive, and we will be singing in groups together before we know it. I have lived through worse, but not everybody has. When you are young, this job looked easy, and it became your dream. Voice teachers come into a studio class looking fabulous, and students want to be that. But it is not easy, and it is going to be harder. Even though we thought it was hard, we will realize we were living in a golden era of choral singing.
      The pandemic will be a weeding-out process for those organizations that won't make it, and the landscape will be very different. It is going to be thinner but stronger. I believe jobs will be harder to find for quite some time. Many of us will lose our jobs due to closings or furloughs. Public schools and universities may decide choirs or one-on-one voice lessons are too dangerous. Bringing all of that back will be harder than we know.

TB: What is your advice to the musical community right now?

TS: As I mentioned, we were living in a heyday of music. People were enjoying the arts and joining them more than they ever had. All of that has really changed and shifted to other types of creativity.
      We realized that we would probably not teach private voice or have choir rehearsal in the fall because no one trusts that. So, we have to shift, and the ones that make it through this will be the people who are willing to let that piece go and replace it. But that passion can't be replaced because what we love cannot be replaced. For now, we will have to find a substitute for what it was.
      One thing that frustrates me the most is people who pretend that it will be okay in the next three months. I'm very proud of my organization's response, which is long-term. What if we don't sing together until September 2021? That is our current goal. How do we survive? We're not going to look the same at all.
      My big advice is to be creative. Everybody is giving this a lot of thought, but be willing to punt. I know, a sports analogy gets lost on music people. But I lived the first 33 years of my life devoted to being an opera singer, and then that all changed. I made the choice to end that operatic career and came home. I began teaching and conducting. I was incredibly sad and depressed because my singing was diminishing, and I did not want to let go of being a singer. But conducting was taking over, and now I've spent 34 years as a choral conductor, and I want to do that. Well, now, I am not going to be able to do that. But part of being a human is being resilient and creative. My advice would be: if you are sitting around waiting for the choral art to return, you will be miserable. Give up that part and know that it will come back.

TB: Is there anything else that you would like to add to our conversation today?

TS: One of the greatest gifts of any leader or teacher is empathy. While we are here licking our own wounds, there is that tenor or that alto who sits in the back of the rehearsal hall. They may be an introvert and can't reach out. They may not have many friends, but they come to choir because it fills their soul. They have had far more taken away from them than I have, like the first man I encountered who had full-blown AIDS. He used rehearsal as his momentum to live another week. We can never discount how many of our singers feel that momentum, so we have to realize what they have lost in this time.

TB: First, I want to thank you for sharing your experience and for your incredible nuance in this situation. Lastly, what is your video binge recommendation for the pandemic?

TS: It has been insane to be home overnight. Before, TV was not even on my list. Right now, I am in the middle of a series called Gotham, which is the becoming [story] of Batman. We are also watching Unorthodox. That show is just incredible. I can't recommend it enough.

TB: It has been such a pleasure; thank you again.  

September 9, 2021
TS: Reading my interview from May 2020 is like pulling something out of a time capsule. You don’t know what you don’t know. Here we are 16 months later and we still don’t know. These many months have definitely been a lesson in patience, regrouping, altering plans and then altering them again. To say it has been difficult is a gross understatement. There is light at the end of the COVID tunnel (knocking on wood as I speak). Rehearsals are beginning to start across the land. People are returning to live events albeit vaccinated, masked and, sometimes, distanced. It is a new world.
      My chorus made it swimmingly in many regards. We did have to reduce our staff from 14 down to 5, but are now rehiring and rebuilding. Most of those were on the artistic side since we were not doing live concerts. We ended up having a massive presence online through SFGMC TV and produced a mind-boggling number of virtual choir videos and full concerts. It was incredibly difficult on us and on our singers. We are very happy to close that chapter.
      This week, we begin rehearsals. There is a great deal of trepidation. All singers are required to provide proof of vaccination, of course. Everyone – including the conductor – will be masked. It is our hope that the predictions of Delta’s demise are true and that no other variant will arise to take its place. If that works, we are going full-steam ahead with 8 holiday concerts in 4 different venues across the bay area. That would make our holidays sparkle!
      We did have a group of 36 who joined for a Prequel Rehearsal this last week to try things out. To say they are rusty vocally is kind. Oh boy. There will be a period of rebuilding the basic blocks of vocal technique all of us depend on. Singing alone in your apartment sitting in front of a zoom screen is not maintaining or building vocal technique. We have our jobs cut out for us. The good news is “they need us”? The really really need us.
      We will all look back at this very strange and difficult time as one of refining. When the “thing you do” is taken away for the most part, “the who I am” comes to the fore. I, for one, enter my final season of teaching and conducting with a new depth of gratitude and excitement.