‘Music Man’ Extraordinaire : Autistic Singer Finds Audience for Special Talent at Unique School

There was no doubt that Joaquim Dixon could do the job. In fact, like the other developmentally disabled adults in the “sheltered workshop,” assembling the small tool kits was just the kind of simple, repetitious task that helped keep his mind focused.

The problem, his supervisors said, was the singing. And the humming, and the foot tapping, too. For while Dixon always put the screwdrivers in their assigned spots, he would do so to the tune of a Perry Como ballad or maybe a Miami Sound Machine dance single.

His supervisors asked for parental help, but the last thing Donald and Carol Dixon wanted to do was stifle their son’s lifelong love of music. Instead, the couple gambled and enrolled their son in Hope University, a unique Anaheim school that for 12 years has fostered artistic talent among developmentally disabled adults.

“The difference, very simply, was that at the other place they were always telling him, ‘Shut up, shut up,’ and now at this place they’re telling him, ‘Sing, sing,’ ” Carol Dixon said. Now, two years after enrolling, the 26-year-old has flowered into a stage performer and complex composer, or, as he described himself, “a music man.”

But the school has brought out more than just the musician in Dixon. Hope University director Doris Walker smiled Thursday watching Dixon tentatively smack high-fives with enthusiastic classmates after a raucous afternoon rehearsal. “When he came here he used to sit in a corner by himself and play records,” she said. “Just him and his record player. Now look at him.”

It is a common success story at the private university, housed in just four brightly decorated classrooms behind the Korean Presbyterian Church. All 30 students are between 20 and 50 years old, but none can cope with workaday-world tasks such as driving a car or balancing a checkbook. They do have a love of arts, though. They like to play instruments, act out plays about friendship and love and draw wonderfully colorful pictures of football players or cityscapes.

For all of the students, it’s an opportunity to build self-esteem and meet people, or, at the least, a chance to laugh and sing. But for some, such as Dixon, the school provides a rare environment to hone their sometimes astonishing talents.

There’s the blind, retarded drummer Paul Kuehn, who sings in five different languages, and Gary Ahearn, the keyboardist with Prader-Willi syndrome who can play back intricate classical pieces after one hearing. Another student, Ron Lee Langloe, is an accomplished keyboard and strings player who was born missing half his face, and Tim Bailey, who, despite his cerebral palsy, paints water-colors as illustrations to accompany his piano solos.

All fall into the category of prodigious savants. Savant , which is French for genius, refers to people with low intelligence or mental disabilities who exhibit extraordinary talents. That surprising aptitude can be in mathematics, as it was for the autistic character in the Oscar-winning 1987 film “Rain Man,” or, as it is for Dixon and his classmates, it can be an affinity for music or art.

It is a startling coupling, and it draws attention from audiences, such as the ones for whom Hope students have played in Las Vegas, Disneyland and at the White House. On a recent Friday afternoon, the audience was a television crew filming Dixon for a September cable feature on savant talents.

As the crew set up equipment in the small room, Dixon swayed from foot to foot and fixed his stare on a blank wall. When the cameraman turned on a spotlight and pushed the piano a few feet to get a better shot, Dixon showed his unease.

Like many savants, Dixon latches on to a rigid schedule to make his world more orderly. Meals at a specific time, a set rotation of clothes, furniture or personal items left in their assigned places--it all helps savants cope with the challenges of daily life. And on that day it was clear that the strangers and the departure from the status quo were making Dixon uncomfortable. “He’s doing so well,” whispered Hope teacher Lynette Law. “He’s taking this great.”

Dixon took it even better once the music started. And although he hadn’t recently rehearsed “This Masquerade,” after just a few chords of the 1976 George Benson hit he relaxed and snapped his fingers, rolling along with the song’s vocal ad libs. At the end he opened his eyes, and smiling, spoke in his deep voice, which at times sounds like a fast-talking disc jockey. “That’s a very good song, yes, a very good song.”

Later, without a crowd around, Dixon steered away from questions by reciting whole cartoon episodes, music and sound effects included. His parents said it is a maneuver he uses when he feels uneasy, and that day it took three songs from “The Little Mermaid” before he began to speak about his life and talents. He said he doesn’t know what the word autistic means, and he said he hopes to someday perform as a solo club act.

“I like to sing on the stage,” he said, averting his eyes and picking at a piano keyboard. When he does sing, Dixon’s voice is like his piano playing, smooth and crisp, with an occasional vocal flourish reminiscent of George Benson or Stevie Wonder. But as soon as the music ends, his speech becomes tentative, with words piling on top of each other and long pauses interrupting his sentences. Mostly, he speaks about musicians and music trivia, and even then only with prodding. As it is for most people with autism, social interaction is difficult for him.

But Law said that also is the area in which Dixon has shown the greatest accomplishment. Although he still enjoys wandering off alone with his tape recorder and his eclectic music collection (he rattles off Dave Brubeck, Julio Iglesias, the Village People, C+C Music Factory, the Beatles and Roy Rogers when asked about those who have influenced him), Dixon is increasingly willing to work with fellow students and have the spotlight on somebody else.

“It’s been great seeing that with him and some of the others,” said Law, almost shouting to be heard over the students’ rendition of “Do-Re-Mi” from “The Sound of Music.”

“We really stress that. Not only are they learning about music or painting, they’re learning self-esteem and a new way to feel good about themselves.”

She also noted that working with such an unusual group has enlightened her, too. “They know it’s bad to hurt someone, to take their things or talk behind their back,” she said. “They treat each other with respect, and they don’t have preconceptions about people’s race or color or anything.”

Law said the students are always seeking new knowledge and growing as people. “And isn’t that the definition of a good person? Sometimes I leave here and I wonder ‘Who’s really the retarded one?’ ”