Dispatch From the Deep South – #102 – Miss Huxsie Scott
From below the gnat line…
Ted Eldridge, reporting
It comes from way down deep. It’s crystal clear, no matter whether a sustained whisper or a gloriously long held outburst. Its pure ascent doesn’t bubble up – it’s way too smooth for that. It’s more like the velvet look of water falling over and around rocks and pebbles of a mountain brook in a still photograph; there’s motion there; but, no hurried tumbling, no negotiating obstacles – just the natural flow that draws your attention in its lack of distraction; in its range from calm to hurricane force – so much a part of her spirit that there is no sense of control or lack of it; it just seems to happen – like breathing and blinking and putting one foot in front of the other to take a step. And it rivets you to your seat; it turns all heads in the room. It empties your mind of the day’s crises, the burdens you’ve carried, the decisions you’ve questioned. It grabs your hands and makes them clap. It electrifies your tense and tired body, gets you up out of your seat and on your feet. It draws tears down your cheeks and smiles across your face – and, you can’t do anything about it.
It’s Miss Huxsie Scott. It’s Miss Huxsie’s voice when she plays her instrument, shares her gift.
For whatever reasons, she has stayed in Savannah through what she claimed last night to be her 51 years. (She couldn’t be more than half that, I thought … until she introduced one of her grown twin daughters.) She could sing ‘em off any stage in the country; but, she’s chosen to sing three show-stoppers in Savannah’s long-running musical revue, Jukebox Journey, from the stage of the Savannah Theater, the oldest continuously operating theater in America. She could be headlining on tour cross-country and abroad; but, she’s chosen to stay here – with her children. She could cinch the “American Idol” title from the first audition; but, she has chosen to sing in her church choir on the Southside of Savannah.
That’s the Huxsie Scott I had known. Oh, I’ve only known her as one of her admirers (well, got a memorable hug from her after a performance in the cast’s receiving line), captivated by her uniquely humble, commanding presence on stage and through bits and pieces of lore shared around town whenever the treasures of Savannah were being listed. That’s the Huxsie Scott who is known for sharing her warmth, her deep religious beliefs, her Deep South gospel roots.
People arrived for dinner at 7:00 p.m. at the Bethesda Home for Boys, the first orphanage in America. Founded in 1740 by George Whitefield, fourth rector of Christ Church, the Bethesda staff still tends to the physical, emotional, educational, spiritual needs of young boys. It sits yet today on its original site down a winding, tree-lined and shaded lane, well back under a tent of ancient live oaks, out in what is called here “the country,” on Johnny Mercer’s Moon River.
I was looking forward to hearing Huxsie Scott, who was scheduled to sing following the dinner.
It was a fine dinner. And, afterward… she sang… Oh! Did she sing!
.
And, then, last night at this small gathering, Huxsie told her story.
It was as much a surprise as it was gripping and memorable; just as when I first heard her sing on stage almost four years ago. She was as open, articulate and expressive with words as she is when she sings. Those of us present were mesmerized; we leaned forward to miss not a word – held captive by her straightforward eloquence and grace. The standing ovation was ignited by spontaneous combustion when she finished.
Miss Huxsie Scott’s story is hers to tell. But, I can guarantee this: not a person left Bethesda Boys’ School last night without carrying home an unexpected and special gift. Stuck deep within us is Huxsie Scott’s testimony to all of us falling on hard times when we need help, of all of us helping one another – being there for one another, all of us rarely knowing the whole story of what another has gone through or is currently experiencing. And, not a person there last night left without taking with them a cherished memory - a personal glimpse of another side of the life of Miss Huxsie Scott.
Yes, her story is Huxsie’s to tell. But, I can now give first-hand testimony that this is a woman with a depth of life experience that matches the rich layers of her voice, a woman with a faith as strong as the old live oaks on Savannah’s Squares, a woman with a heart as big as the Ocean that tempers Savannah’s winters… down here below the gnat line.
Ted Eldridge - Dispatch From The Deep South#102