Choirmaster to an unwashed horde

>> Why would anyone want to befriend a bunch of smelly vagrants? Pierre Anthian explains

by PHILIP PREVILLE

Mormons, as a general rule, are among the most dreadfully bland people to walk the face of the earth. Aside from a few bizarre quirks--they store a year's worth of food in their basements, they used to practise polygamy--Mormons seem to go to great lengths to make themselves perfectly nondescript.

They are clean-cut. They rarely sport tattoos or body piercings. They don't drink alcohol, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't drink coffee. Their lack of vices makes them annoyingly punctual. They tend to seek careers in accredited professions, as doctors, lawyers, dentists, accountants and so on. They prefer traditional family structures. They earn good money, which they dutifully invest in anticipation of their retirement. And they read the Bible every day.

These terrifyingly earnest traits are the primary reason why many people are disdainful of all good churchgoers: they are either dull conformists or possessed zealots. They don't have a single rebellious bone in their body. They embody all of the worst things that "conservatism" has to offer. They are the enemy of progressive social change.

Or are they?

Pierre Anthian is Mormon. He is also the choirmaster for the Chorale de l'Accueil Bonneau, Montreal's choir of 20 homeless men. It seems like a quaint idea, a homeless men's choir, and they even look quaint when they perform: leather-faced, rotting-toothed men singing in unison for spare change in the street. But there's really nothing quaint about it: Anthian's choir brings together 20 men, once among the most destitute men Montreal had to offer.

"Some are former criminals, and I know about their records," Anthian says. "Let's just say thievery and attempted murder are not the worst offenses on the list. And they are my friends."

Broken engagement

Born and raised in France, Anthian came to Montreal frequently in the early '90s to visit his brother and sister and their families. He soon became engaged to a Québécoise of the same faith and moved to Montreal permanently in 1995 to get married. The engagement didn't work out, but Anthian, a denturologist, decided to stick around. He set up a successful dental clinic.

On his second day in Montreal, he volunteered at the Accueil Bonneau, the homeless men's shelter located on de la Commune. With few exceptions, the Bonneau's tenants are old men with no skills, who have spent decades on the street and in jail. They are beyond help: it's too late to teach these old dogs a new trick, and even if they did learn to sit and speak when told, no one would hire them anyway.

Except for Anthian. "I wanted to take exceedingly ordinary people, people who sleep in the street, but with some talent--and everyone has some talent--and turn them into extraordinary people, singing stars." He cut his denturologist's work in half, and took a considerable pay cut, to devote his time to the choir.

It's been worth the effort. The Chorale de l'Accueil Bonneau has become something of a phenomenon: they now have two albums to their credit, with a third planned for this Christmas. Next month they travel to Paris.

And after almost two years of hard work, the singers have transformed themselves. They all participate in managing the money they earn. They all have day planners and they keep appointments.

Why bother?

But the question remains: why seek out people who would seem to be beyond help? Anthian could have devoted his time to any number of charities, many of which are more suitable to a clean-fingernailed professional such as himself. He could raise funds for the United Way. He could join Big Brothers. Why bother with this line of work?

Anthian's answer: "Jesus Christ is my role model. I read the Bible every day, to try to see what he did, and to try to act the same way in the contemporary world. Jesus did not seek out rich people or intellectuals. He sought out the poor, the despondent, the sick, the marginal. Broken people, essentially."

Anthian is dismayed by social attitudes towards the homeless and destitute. "In Ottawa last summer, the government hired an army of students whose jobs consisted of walking the streets with cell phones and calling the police whenever they spotted someone panhandling on the sidewalk. Like it was dogshit. They just called the cleaning service."

Anthian has a different solution to get his 20 former vagrants off the streets for good: a trust fund built from the money the choir earns. "I want all 20 singers to receive $1,000 a month for the rest of their lives. I envision a day where all 20 of my singers go up to Quebec City to meet Lucien Bouchard. And they all hand him their uncashed welfare cheques and say, 'Thanks, but we don't need these anymore. We're independent now.'"


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This document was created Thursday, October 8, 1998. ©Mirror 1998