Were
there tears, and a passionate embrace? With just a few words of the story, the
audience of this narrative might plausibly imagine that Charles Hutchinson
Gabriel and his son did experience these things in their shared poignant moment
around 1917 in a New York harbor, when the younger uttered the words “Where the
Gates Swing Outward Never” to the older man. (See this shot of 1919 New York
harbor, very much like what the Gabriels might have seen.) How would we
typically cope with such a bitter occasion, a tearful and anxiety-ridden
good-bye? Can we presume that the emotions are always fretful in all situations
like this, particularly if both people expect to see one another again in a
much happier future circumstance? Maybe that’s what the father in this song’s
story tried to accomplish, in focusing his emotional energy beyond the moment,
and into a time and place where apprehension is overpowered.
By the
time he reached the age of 61, Charles Gabriel had written many dozens of
songs, including both the words and music, and had traveled a somewhat circular
route from the Iowa farm where he grew up, out to the American west coast, and
later back to the Midwest. So what was he doing along the other coastline by
1917? Doing what many other thousands of families were also doing, as war drew
young men into its grip. It’s said that the father had brought his son (also
Charles) to the place of departure along the east coast, where ship after ship
boarded soldiers headed for Europe and the Great War (World War I). Many a
scene of loved ones bidding each other God’s speed must have been recurring as
the Gabriels looked into each other’s face that day. They were both believers
in the great hereafter, and indeed it’s often said there are no atheists in
foxholes on the battle front. The son evidently leaned upon their great hope of
life in the beyond to say something his dad couldn’t forget: ‘See you up
there…’, and then concluded this thought with the song’s title. Our
contemporary vernacular probably would have recorded the words as ‘Seeya later’,
but that would not have captured the moment like this son did for his father.
This songwriter, the elder Gabriel, had no doubt spent much of his life to this
point concocting songs in various circumstances, but had any of them ever been
quite this personal? Had his own flesh and blood been in danger with any of the
other episodes? If it was a heartrending moment for the two, Charles Sr. must
have wanted to remake it, emotionally injecting it with reunion-born energy in
which he trusted.
Charles’
verses alternate between the ecstasy he awaited and the troubles he endured as
a mortal. He had both at once, tugging him to and fro --- ‘…in Glory’ (v.1)
versus ‘burden’ (refrain); toil and tears alongside ‘…be (ing) with Him’ (v.2);
‘steep hills’, ‘deep valleys’, ‘no flowers’, ‘lone(ly) nights’, and stones for
pillows were the impediments toward the ultimate ‘joy’ (v.3); until joy
triumphs and obscures sighing and dying (v.4). It’s almost as if Charles was watching
his son go off to fight in ‘the war to end all wars’, while fighting his own war
on a different plane. Would his son survive (Charles Jr. did indeed survive the
war)? But, perhaps Charles Sr. was more focused on the broader war, instead of
the earthly, urgent one, though the latter must be credited with sparking his
musical epiphany. The way the two Gabriels saw things,
once heaven was achieved, you don’t have to keep fighting to stay. The doors
don’t reverse themselves. Once God has me home, He’ll not toss me out. As I
heard others say just today, friends and loved ones are there already, planning
the grand reunion. Let’s go already! What do you suppose Charles Gabriel would
say?
Brief story of the song is here: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/w/h/e/r/wheregat.htm
Site of the composer’s son’ history: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/bio/g/a/b/gabriel_ch_jr.htm
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