May his Light Shine on Forever: Remembering Dr. Anthony Leach

 Hello dear reader,

I am processing so much today. The fires in my beloved Los Angeles, decimating the neighborhood of the Pacific Palisades where I started my teaching career, reaching the milestone of 90s days of sobriety, casting the show for my first musical back in the director seat since the Pandemic. So much is going on, and my head is swirling. 

But my heart is caught up in one place, with one man. A man I loved dearly who changed my life in a profound way and saved the lives of so many others. Dr. Anthony Leach, beloved mentor, educator, friend, father figure, and conductor of Essence of Joy and Essence of Joy Alumni Singers, passed away and gained his heavenly robe on Wednesday, January 8th. 

The initial feeling I have is one of deep, guttural grief and disbelief. Because sometimes a human soul shines so bright in this world and lives so passionately, that we forget about their mortality. To me, Tony was going to live forever, that is how superhuman he was. That is how big he loved. 

When Dr. Leach entered the room, it was as if a spotlight from heaven turned on - the whole joint lit up. He had that shine in his eyes and a way with people that seemed beyond this world. He just understood us - knew where to meet us - how to hook us into his spiritual message - how to rearrange our insides to find a way to out of the dark. Dr. Leach was touched by the Holy Spirit in a very deep way. So much so that those of us who were lucky enough to sing with him feel as if we were chosen too, that somehow we won the lottery in life. It's hard to believe we will never sing with him again.

I first sang with Dr. Leach in the 8th grade. I had just moved from Jacksonville, FL to State College, PA, after a very difficult custody battle between my parents. I was a fish out of water - new in town - looking for my people and my purpose. Singing and acting had always been my north star, so I found my way into the choir at Mt. Nittany Middle School. There I had the opportunity to sing at the PMEA conference, and by the grace of God, Dr. Leach was the conductor. I remember it feeling like my soul was lost, and the second he took the stage for rehearsal and took command of us as singers - it brought me back into tune. I was found. I was home. I found myself singing from my soul again. I found myself getting excited about life again. That concert was exhilarating and unforgettable.

It wouldn't be the first time he reminded me who I was by simply standing in front of me and showing me by example, what an embodied soul looked like. He directed us with so much presence and passion that he coaxed the full-bodied singer out of us, even little, wayward 14 year olds with no self esteem! He can do this with absolutely anyone. That is one of his many gifts. It wasn't the last time he saved me. 

When I went on to Penn State after high school to become a part of the Musical Theatre BFA program there, I was honored to become one of the few freshman who made it into Essence of Joy that year. I was intimidated by these absolute STAR soloists and the tight-nit group of singers. Everyone who sang with Tony for long enough, became a part of his family. It is a tight bond, that when first encountered can feel like a force to be reckoned with. A impenetratable click. I wasn't sure if I fit in. But I sat down, and I shut up, and I sang and did what I was told. That is what he demanded from us. And thank God he did. 

Because by the time it was my sophomore year of college, I was flailing in my program of study. I wasn't sure I wanted to become a Broadway brand to be marketed. I had no idea who I was anymore. 

And then. September 11th happened. The world seemed to stop. Nothing made sense anymore. We sang as a choir on the steps of Old Main with tears in our eyes, watching our leader before us. Knowing it was all going to be ok if we just followed him. He brought our breaking hearts into tune that day, reminding us to just suit up and show up, to keep moving with uncertainty. 

After that day, I couldn't fathom the selfish, shallow prospect of tap class and auditions anymore. I became despondent and addicted to pot and alcohol. I almost dropped out of college altogether, and left my major and life-long goal of going to Broadway behind. My father, a professor at Penn State, and National Guardsman was called into active service and shipped to Afghanistan, to the front lines. I felt lost and scared. I had nowhere to go, but Essence of Joy. 

Dr. Leach held me tight, told me it was going to be alright, that I was home. That all I needed to do was keep singing and suiting up and showing up. That the group would not let me go. 

After a stint abroad, I came home and we went on tour that year to the southern states.  I can remember crying about my Dad and the state of the world on those stages. The cathartic release that gospel music brings out in us is healing, and sometimes messy. He would just look at me with that glint in his eye, as if to say, "It's alright, babygirl. We are in this together. I've got you."

For a man of many words, it was the unspoken moments that really touched me the most. The times he would look at you as if to silently say, "Well done. " or "I love you, you know." He had that kind of power - that unspoken, generous kind of love for his students. He saw in us what we couldn't see in ourselves, and I think we all thank him for it to this day. When I had lost my way, Dr. Leach still saw me, at my core. And he still demanded the same level of excellence and presence that he always did. 

The third time Dr. Leach swooped in like an angel in heaven was two years ago, when my father died. He traveled with his alumni singers through a snowstorm to show up and sing at my Dad's memorial service in Hershey, PA. I was a wreck. I barely remember that day. But I remember him taking the time afterward to give me a big hug, to look into my eyes, and once again remind me that I'm not alone - that he saw me - that it will be ok, eventually. He knew how sad I was, but a little sadness never scared Dr. Leach. He would lean in and take your hand and say, "let's keep it moving." I will forever be grateful that he was there for my family that day, to sing my Dad to heaven. 

My story of love and connection to Dr. Leach is not unique. Often I feel I didn't know him very intimately, that so many others held him so much tighter and benefitted so much more from his gifts of time and talent. But love is not a finite resource, especially when it comes from the source. Dr, Leach's love for his students came from a deep well of love for God. He had an unlimited resource of generosity and music and message to share, because he was connected to the infinite. And I feel it even more now. The light he gave me and all of us will continue to shine on through music, shared stories, his famous slogans and sass, his conducting style, his humor. This light and love only grows with time, it is his legacy. 

And when any of his former students stand in front of a group or their loved ones or their students, soul in body, light shining from within, and say "I see you. I love you. Stay with me and let's create some magic together," then we are passing on what he gave to us. I see so many of the people he taught passing on this light in bright, bold and beautiful ways - being of service and educating the world about African American spirituals and gospel music, passionately teaching about diversity, sharing music, and mostly loving bravely and boldly. He would be proud. He was so proud of us. 

It makes me deeply sad to know that I won't be able to sing for the master again. I loved to sing for him. I loved to hit a deep alto note and see his eyes widen and look my way. I loved to belt out a solo to the rafters and feel his soul's pleasure at the piano. One time I actually got to see tears in his eyes, and I knew for one song, I had given something back to him. I will be forever grateful for that moment. 

Dr. Leach opened my eyes and called my soul into tune. He showed me what a proud, gay, professional person looks like, and today I'm proud to say I'm one too. He showed me how to be loving and open to people of all cultures and from all walks of life. He showed me how the music is the message, and nothing much else needs to be put into words. He showed me how to be present and passionate even when I want to give up, and how being a part of a community will help save you from the brink, time and time again. 

Thank you, Tony, for everything that you gave me and us. I hope that I can continue your tradition of soul-guided service somehow, in my own way. You gave your light to me, and reminded me that even when it's a flicker, mine will never go out. Yes, even death can't put the light of our soul out. It lives on in the lives we touch and the people we love. And yours will live on in me. Forever. 

I thank you from the bottom of my heart.