William Douglas Carleton, Jr.
December 3, 1942–September 18, 2023
I delivered the following remarks at Doug’s memorial service in St. Stephen’s Church, Richmond, Va., on Saturday, October 7, 2023:
Introduction
Doug completed fifty years in St. Stephen’s Choir back in the spring . . . and he attended the first Thursday evening rehearsal of the next season, before falling ill the very next day. When I met him in 1985 he was just completing his 12th year.
His intense love of the church and its music was immediately obvious, and he came by it naturally—his maternal grandmother (Sara DeHart Dickinson) was for 50 years the organist of St. Andrew’s Church on Oregon Hill. This was the church his parents attended and where Doug was baptized.
His was a cultured and artistic family, if not overtly musical. His father was a local representative of the RCA corporation who often entertained various of their artists who came through town, including celebrities such as Arthur Fiedler—just this morning Mary Lane sent me a picture of Doug when he was about ten years old with Arthur Fiedler which I have on my phone, and will show it to you after the service!
At St. Christopher’s School Doug sang in the glee club under the direction of my predecessor, Granville Munson. They sang many of their services and concerts here in the church. So it was natural that Doug gravitated back to St. Stephen’s when he returned to Richmond after college and his early professional life in Atlanta.
My time with Doug at St. Stephen’s
It was immediately obvious to me as the new choirmaster that Doug was the sort of choirmember that I needed, and needed to cultivate. He was engaged, energetic, curious, and knowledgeable—an amateur in the truest and best sense of the word. He claimed not to read music, but I think he did instinctively. At any rate, he had a very good ear, and it didn’t take himlong to pick up the repertoire. From day one he was intensely loyal and very friendly, often initiating lunch visits as we got acquainted . . . and it was an added bonus that his daughter, Mary Lane, sang in my youth choir. We became good friends almost immediately and remained so until his death.
He went to the University of Virginia in its all-male era. He was proud of his Virginia heritage but was not obsessive or fussy about it . . . as evidenced by the first time I went to a UVA football game with him . . . and expressed absolute bewilderment that he had on a shirt and tie for the game! His rebuke and explanation of the tradition was gentle, but I knew that the next time that I needed to do likewise.
After St. Stephen’s
After I moved away from Richmond, we kept in touch regularly, and he even joined my choir in Connecticut on tour in England in 2010. But he remained totally committed and loyal to St. Stephen’s. This was particularly obvious as he described the various musician searches in which he participated. His ultimate loyalty was always to the church and the choir . . . not to me, not to Granville, and not to the past.
He was always positive, despite setbacks, and he was particularly glowing about St. Stephen’s present and future, and he reveled in what he described as “a new golden era” now unfolding. Even if intervals were long between our visits, when we did connect it was as if we picked up the conversation from the previous day. This continued for the entirety of the 17 years since I left Richmond.
Growing up he lived in The Fan and he liked to say that he played in the “concrete jungle” and he did love urban life and often talked about and enjoyed visiting various gritty city sites in Washington or Baltimore, in addition to Richmond. And occasionally we connected in New York where he was involved in some urban reconnaissance trip or an architectural exhibit.
Conclusion
In retrospect, it was a happy circumstance that this past summer I spent time in Richmond and in rural North Carolina on family matters and had the occasion to visit with Doug several times, including Sunday services, Brent’s trial run recital as he prepared for his performance at an AGO convention in Tulsa, and a memorable breakfast at a favorite place of his in Scott’s Addition—where everyone quite literally knew his name (though they were amazed that he was there at that early hour; he was a regular at lunch). I’ll treasure these visits.
In conversations recently I’ve been asked if I thought he had a favorite hymn or anthem, and I really can’t recall anything specific—he truly loved them all. And he certainly would have loved the offerings of organ and choral music at this service. But the hymn Come Labor On always held pride of place at St. Stephen’s and we did it often at services and funerals—the vivid text by Jane Borthwick and the stirring, soaring tune by T. Tertius Noble, one of Granville’s teachers—has sent many of the faithful on their way with the concluding stanza, and it is most appropriate for our friend and brother:
“Come labor on. No time for rest, till glows the western sky,
Till the long shadows o’er our pathway lie.
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun,
Servant (s), well done!”
Neal Campbell--Words and Pictures. 
Thank you, Neal
Doug was part of my sister Alice and George Flowers’ generation of long standing members of St. Stephen’s who loved the music at that church, and their good friend.
Thank you, Laura. I remember Alice and George, and their children Rob and Beth . . . and you! with great affection from my years at St Stephen’s. Good memories.