A Behind-the-Scenes Job With Historic Resonance
Navy Musician Has Introduction Honors at Swearing-In

By Michael E. Ruane
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, January 19, 2009

Just before noon tomorrow, a magisterial voice -- rich and befitting the moment -- will utter to the multitude spread before the Capitol the words: "Ladies and gentlemen, the president-elect of the United States . . . Barack H. Obama."

There will be a careful pause between "states" and "Obama." The B's in the president-elect's name will be perfectly enunciated. The words will be spoken as if from a patriarch, heard from on high, and broadcast across the nation.

No one in the throng will be able to see the man standing at a microphone in an open Capitol doorway. The man himself, wearing a headset filled with background chatter, might be unable to hear the crowd's roar as his introduction echoes across the Mall.

But his words will become part of history.

The disembodied "voice of God" for Tuesday's swearing-in ceremony, one of the deepest voices in the vocal spectrum -- a second bass -- flavored with faintest hint of Tennessee, belongs to Navy Musician 1st Class Courtney Williams, 33, a postal carrier's son from Greenbrier, Tenn.

Gifted with a deep, "Ol' Man River"-type singing voice, he is normally the official concert narrator for the 99-piece U.S. Navy Band. It is a behind-the-scenes job in which he gives oral program notes at musical performances, wreath-laying ceremonies, change of command ceremonies, arrival ceremonies, balls and retirements.

He's a former high school band geek with a yen for country music, whose performance preparation usually includes a cup of coffee and a Marlboro Light.

Williams has never announced an inauguration. He said he believes he got the assignment because his work was known to military officials who helped plan the inaugural ceremonies. "I was thrilled," he said.

The job requires a tone of authority, but not command; formality, with a touch of drama. He must inject a spark of electricity into his "LAY-dees and GEN-tel-mun . . . " without sounding like a game show host.

"You want the emphasis in the right places," he said. "You want to build excitement."

And you dare not mess up. Mainly, he will be introducing people: members of Congress, dignitaries, present and former high-ranking government officials. All names must be pronounced correctly, and there are about 30 introductions.

He will start about 10 a.m., introducing the San Francisco Boys and Girls choruses, and will announce Obama about 90 minutes later. The president-elect will be sworn in moments afterward.

The pause before Obama's name in the introduction must be done judiciously.

You want the pause for dramatic effect. But if it's too long, the crowd "may be cheering and screaming so much they never even hear the name," Williams said. "So I may not rush through it but not leave as much time" in the gap.

The B's, A's and the M in the president-elect's name are fun to pronounce. His name "lends itself well to being announced," Williams said.

And it all must be perfectly timed. "Everything is down to the second," he said.

Willliams, who has plenty of experience introducing foreign officials with hard-to-pronounce names, said the swearing-in list presents no real pronunciation problems.

The dedication of former president Bill Clinton's library in 2004 was real tongue torture. "There were three pages of foreign dignitaries," he said.

The only name on Tuesday's list that gave Williams pause was that of Presidential Inaugural Committee Executive Director Emmett S. Beliveau, pronounced BELL-eh-vo.

Williams has a seemingly ever-changing script for the ceremony, which he has edited to add phonetic spellings of names, and pored over dozens of times. He has also recorded himself at the band's headquarters at the Washington Navy Yard to see how he sounds.

Aside from attention to pronunciation, he must keep his mouth muscles limber. Cold weather, a very real threat Tuesday, can be a big problem.

"It starts to affect forming words, because your muscles are so cold in your face," he said. "After a period of time, the cold sinks in so much that the muscles are slow to move and you're trying to not slur, trying to enunciate, and it becomes difficult."

And he prays his nose doesn't run: You can't be sniffling at such a moment.

Williams said he doesn't come from an especially musical family, although his mother sings in church. He attended the University of Tennessee on an opera scholarship, but prefers musicals and hymns. He has been in the storied Navy band since 1996.

On Tuesday morning, he will ride to the Capitol in an official car driven by a senior chief petty officer. In the car, he will go over the script again, reading it aloud, trying for the right tone and cadence, and begging of his comrade: "Stop me if something's wrong."