How Gardening Can Solve All Your Pedagogical Problems

Garden Catalogs as Catalyst

Plato says we must must have an Ideal to establish the
roadmap to contemplating beauty. All gardeners would agree
that one of Winter's great pleasures is curled up with
glossy new garden catalogs, the perfect pictures assuring
us of easy success, even when that new lily is priced
outrageously. Visions of drifts of daffodils enter our
imagination, unencumbered as yet by all the sore muscles
from planting 200 of them. All great visions require serfs
to carry them out, and mine seem to be forever on strike.

So, we approach a new pupil with our ideals in place, only
to be reminded soon enough that like those tender new plants,
the pupil may or may not flourish. So, Plato said to always
study the object at hand. You can kill a plant with too much
attention. One has to stand back and contemplate the whole
person. The most important link to further success will be
if you in fact have the pupil's attention (or not). Tobias
Matthay added a footnote in an early publication, relating
the story of watching three monkeys in the zoo. His companion
asked, "Which one of these three monkeys do you think you
might teach successfully?". One monkey was all over the
place, another was scratching his belly, and the third was
staring straight at them, wide eyed. Matthay replied he
could teach the third one..."Because I have his attention".

Good Results Require the Proper Soil.

How often I have failed in my garden by not paying
enough attention to basic soil health. This Spring I went
on a Black Kow Binge. I can no longer lug the bags around
at the garden center, but always seem to find someone to
lift for me. I think by now I have mastered the trick of
suddenly appearing REALLY OLD. Help seems to come out of
nowhere. Results have been superb...that old spruce came
forth with all sorts of new needles, and an almost dead
shrub seemed suddenly to be shouting Hallelujah!

An older student suddenly has tension problems. I
persuade to put off any thought of surgery, explaining
one slip of the knife might prove irreversible. I go
into basic thinking mode, and set out on a program to
detox the muscles with some relaxation studies of my
own invention. New soil if needed for new roots to grow.
The trick is to find the inner stress that is leading to
tension in the limbs. Take time to talk to students about
what they feel is different in their lives that is causing
this upset. Shift down to basic things explained in simple
language.

Things Don't Always Bloom on Schedule

Preparing recitals with students carries enough baggage to
detour even the best expectations. Its all in the planning.
Cliffhangers wait til the last minute, and quick learners
grow bored. I always insisted pieces be memorized a month
ahead of the date. Also, tryouts should be thrown about with
abandon....play for the postman when you see him approaching.
When you walk past your piano on the way to somewhere else,
sit down and play a difficult passage cold and from memory.
Play act and get yourself into an emotional frenzy, and then
sit down and play the program in total. The actual performance
will much easier, I assure you.

Talk To Your Flowers and Give Them Praise and Encouragement.

Sounds abit like the old movie "On a Clear Day..." Plants do
feel vibrations. Notice before a rain how everything seems to
draw upwards in anticipation. Students respond to patience. To
cultivate a calm demeanor is of great pedagogical value. My
students often ask me how I can be so patient. I tell them I
and extending my life span by not screaming at them, or banging
objects around. They are tense enough already, so why add to that.
If you are pacing everything with a sense of purpose, students will
sense they are on the right path. Sometimes just a word or two can
make a huge difference. I use to praise students as they went along
in the lesson, but learned over time they are so geared to Summations
that they often didn't grasp the "praiselets" as they fluttered by.
The goal is for them to learn to praise themselves when they sense
things are going well. Some day they will be on their own, so that's
a big thing...encouraging and giving praise to oneself.

This Bloom is Staggering....However Did You Grow That!

Some years ago a student approached me to teach them during the
Summer Term, as their regular teacher was away. I asked what they
wanted to learn and back came the "Dante Sonata" of Franz Liszt.
I thought, okay..!!!!... (what on earth are you getting into..)
I really don't think that is possible, but bring it and I'll see what
I think. The piece was something this person wanted terribly to play.
I decided that was the best possible reason to create a hothouse
atmosphere, and force it out. It was an amazing experience, so
successful his teacher asked how on earth I manage to accomplish it.
I said I just gave him permission to fail, and failure wasn't an option.
Many years later that student wrote to ask me how on earth I managed to
get him to play that work. The answer was simple...and easy to guess.

Is this The End, or should I continue....

Brahms the Enigma...

Brahms has always been rather an enigma to me as a person. He lacks that handle on his biography that attracts attention, for instance the madness of Schumann or the parading around Paris with a woman dressed as a man i.e. Chopin and George Sand. In contrast, there is no sensational element in Brahms' life. If there is a close encounter, it would be the fascination with his relationship with Clara Schumann. Many assert they were lovers, others say they had a mother/son relationship. The fact remains that she was a widow 14 years older than Brahms, and had eight children when Schumann died in 1856. Brahms was only 23 at the time, and hardly in a position to take on such an adventure. What did develop was a lifelong friendship, with Brahms a devoted presence and Clara somewhat more demanding, often acting rather imperially and somewhat critically. She was remarkably independent for her time, but don't forget the fact that she had been before the public as a child prodigy from a very early age.

When I was in my late teens I had quite a few lessons with Carl Friedberg, who was one of the last students of Clara Schumann, and who went to Brahms for coaching on a major part of the Brahms repertoire. He often spoke about both of them. His comments on the relationship of Brahms and Clara Schumann asserted that there was no real romance in the conventional sense. For him, it was more of a mother/son relationship. Friedberg spoke of the fact that Brahms' mother was 17 years older than his father, so Brahms had witnessed a marriage of an older woman and much younger man at close range. Don't forget that Brahms was close at hand when Schumann was in his last months in the sanitorium. Clara was not allowed to visit her husband for TWO YEARS, and then only at the very end. Friedberg told the story of Brahms composing his Variations on a Theme by Schumann, taking Clara a variation each time he went to see her, to help distract her away from all the personal sorrow and angst she was experiencing. I have always been struck by this story, and have never read any reference to it, rather it was just handed to me by someone who knew them both.

During Brahms' life the art of photography grew by leaps and bounds, and we have quite a treasury of photos of him, starting around the age of 14. By the age of 20 Brahms was attracting huge attention, particularly through the famous article written about him by Robert Schumann in the Neue Zeitscrift fur Musik, his periodical that made the rounds of the music world at that time. Schumann proclaimed Brahms a genius, the next great German composer. The result was instant fame at the age of 20. Music publishers appeared, many of Brahms early works were published, and in a few years he was on the way to becoming both world famous and a wealthy man before age 30.

The appearance on the scene of the Austrian violinist Joesph Joachim around 1853, at the time Schumann was touting Brahms to the world, was another life changer for both Clara and Johannes. Both of them accompanied Joachim at the piano, and the three of them toured around Germany, causing a great deal of comment, as Joachim was only two years older than Brahms, and Clara was well into her 30's. They were true Bohemians!

In 1853 a rather unusual composition appeared, written jointly by Schumann, Brahms and Schumann's talented student Joesph Dietrich. Called the "F A E" Sonata (Frei aber Einsam) it was so named by Schumann. "Free but Lonely". Rather a Werther approach to life, "The Sorrows of Werther" by Goethe being wildly popular at the time, with many young men affecting the melancholy and "mad with love" character of Werther. The sonata was not published until the 1930's, remaining in the hands of Joachim until his death. I played it many times with Jack Bauer in our early years at USC.

Brahms moved to Vienna at the age of 29, and was warmly received. His first associations were with singing groups, writing and conducting choral music. But rather quickly he withdrew into intense composition of his symphonies, chamber music and piano and vocal music. He was methodical, like a good Saxon, and often social, although one reads more antedotal accounts, and rarely more personally probing accounts. I like Jan Swafford's new biography of Brahms, as he paints a more intimate picture of Brahms in these Viennese years. Carl Friedberg said you could set your clock by Brahms' daily constitutional around Vienna. Brahms was a great walker, striding forth with his hands behind his back, erect in statue. One of the favorite photos I found was that of Brahms standing in his studio apartment, holding a cigar, looking at the camera with a wistful gaze. Jan Swafford emphasizes that Brahms was undemanding in his personal needs, taking refuge in his books and music, and his apartment meticulously kept by his adoring housekeeper.

All these thoughts went into a new "Conversations in Music" I did October 21 for students and public at Charleston Southern University. I have taken my older concept of "Piano Portraits" in a new direction, leaving space to take a composition apart for the audience, explaining how I approach learning it, trying to make it more understandable for the average listener. Brahms' Rhapsody in E Flat, Opus 119 proved a good choice, particularly in that passage that rather sounds like the zither playing the theme from "The Third Man". The students sat up when I played a snippet from "The Third Man"! One must be daring these days. My reward was several students coming up at the end, wanting to know how they could learn more about Brahms

Deja vu....Half a Century Later

My first home in Columbia was a small rental house just off Datura Road. That area is now in the news again with the opening of Whole Foods new store just two blocks away. I was tempted yesterday to venture down Datura after I had done my shopping, and with the feelings one encounters after not seeing a person for years, or a street or house, I had a pang of nostalgia. I had forgotten what a charming area it really is, Datura winding down a long hillside just beside Brennen School. Years ago there was a large vacant lot with a pathway cutting across to the school on the parallel street, as there was no through road in those days....and still not one today. Today there is a very large new home just built in that spot. Two houses were for sale, opposite each other just at the top of hill. I suddenly stopped and parked off the road in a makeshift driveway. People still tend to have pinestraw areas where they park their cars, as many of these houses have no garage. I walked around the side of the first house, to see through the backyard fence children playing in the schoolyard at noon, just like 49 years ago. Obviously someone had lived there many years, as everything looked like it had just been there a long time, not particularly attended to, but not totally neglected either. I noticed a distinct smell and realized it was a scent from the past, coming from the earth and the damp, one that I often noticed at my former home just at the foot of the hill. I was taken aback. We are so visual today; perhaps we have forgotten the power of certain smells to instantly take up back in time.

Years ago I stopped by my music teacher's home in Birmingham...this would have been in the 1960's after I had moved from Texas to South Carolina. Sure enough she came to the door and of course had no idea who I was. But I noticed a smell that instantly threw me back to the early 1940's when I would go to her house once a week for my accordion lesson. There was always this smell, and I finally relized they were an Italian family, and it was obviously the smell of garlic. I had the oddest sense of deja-vu, almost quaking in my boots as I use to do when going for a lesson I never much liked or prepared for.

The smell of Datura Road suddenly made me realize all those people I knew on that street had long since moved, or even passed away. Should I buy the house, restore it and move back again? I guess we all have those thoughts, if only for a moment, before we realize the train long ago left the station and won't be stopping there again.

More South American Memories II

On the way back to Santiago from two weeks in the south of Chile, we stopped in Chillan and were met by the Principal of a Seventh Day Adventist school, who drove us to the school campus near the base of the Andes. We stayed for two days, and played our main recital program for the whole school. I remember they had to move the piano, which was an upright, putting it on the back of a truck, with me riding in the cab. It was a rocky journey, but several strong lads were holding it. I remember the Director's wife saying they had just done Handel's "Messiah", noting that it was an
arrangement for three solo treble voices, chorus plus violin and piano. That impressed me no end. The morning we lett was a Saturday, so the Director was in prayer and unable to be with us. The wife prepared a nice breakfast, and somehow I remember her saying that the local Indian population, which wasn't interested in their religion, were all waiting for the "Great Earthquake". I guess I am still figuring that comment out.

Back in Santiago we had a few days to regroup, and prepare to travel to the extreme north of Chile, right into the Attacama Desert, perhaps the driest on earth. This leg was done by bus, and they turned out to be quite nice, with an atendant to serve tea and coffee, and snacks. I remember a rest stop along the way, where there was a water pump, quite in the middle of nowhere. There was a small flower blooming beautifully, and beside it a sign saying "Dame Agua"....which apparently everyone did.

We arrived in La Serena, a beautiful small town, and were met by Jorge Pena-Hen, the director of the orchestra at a big school for orphans. He had started this orchestra some years before, and this is now felt to be the real begining of what is called El Sistema, the movement made famous by the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra in Venezuela. He had already taken the orchestra to Cuba, so he was leaning heavily towards the Socialist Front. I remember Patricio Cobos remarking that some of the money was coming from the Red Chinese, who were very prevelent in certain areas of South America. I spent a few hours with Mrs. Pena-Hen, a wonderful pianist, and we played for each other. I remember being struck by the beauty of the piano music of Humberto Allende, Chile's great composer. His music remeinded me of Albeniz and Granados,and in fact Debussy was one of his great admirers.

The sad conclusion to this story is that a few years later,
after the assassination of President Allende,and the take over of General Pinochet, the so called Death Caravan wove its way around Chile, and Pena-Hen was murdered and his body dumped along a road just outside La Serena. I often wonder what became of his wife. I only found this out a couple of years ago when reading the European Piano Teachers Journal, the author of the article having been in Chile during the same years I visited. It took me a long time to digest all this, but it puts in focus the fact that we never know so much in life until long after the fact. Judy Woodruff of NPR News did a documentary of this period in Chile, Judy being In Chile during this time.

We played out last concerts in Vina del Mar, the great resort town on the Pacific, close to Santiago. After the concert there, a very lovely lady invited me to return
if possible and play a solo recital for them. I did this two weeks later, and was excited to find a review of it in Chile's leading newspaper a few days later. This was a great turning point in my career, and led to over 150 solo concerts in the years ahead for the United States Information Service. Isn't it remarkable how things happen in life.

I left Chile with deep memories, and often I see pictures in my mind's eye. One that I often reflect on is traveling in the south of Chile on a cold day, by a very old bus. Suddenly I saw a man on horseback,with a second horse next to him waiting on a small rise by the side of the road. The bus stopped, after hours of travel, and a man got off with his suitcase and mounted the second horse and they rode off into the gloom. It made me realize the vast size of this country and the huge areas of very small population. A romantic scene....worthy of a song!

South American Memories...1971

Chile in Revolt...Winter 1971 in Chile

Writing about this part of my life forty some years after the fact has it's own inherent perils and failing memories. But the fact remains, much remains vivid and thought provoking. I made this first tour of Chile when Patricio Cobos called me from Wintrop College to say his accompanist, pianist Jess Casey, would not be able to make the tour. He asked if I could possibly leave in two weeks time and also, if I felt comfortable about his repertoire demands. It was the end of term in Columbia, and I knew I wanted to go terribly. We met soon after and went through two of the larger works which I recall the Brahms Sonata in A Major for violin and Piano was one. In those days I had a large repertoire of music for strings, and almost as large for winds. A few shorter works were familiar, and there was also a mandantory work by an American composer, which I do not recall.

There was a rather humorous twist in that Patricio had just gotten married, and his bride would be accompanying us on our tour of 12 cities, lasting about a month. She was a lovely tall American beauty, and Patricio was barely up to my shoulder, and I was 5'11" in those days. Of course, everyone thought the bride was mine, and just who was this Chilean violinist tagging along. We had our share of humorous adventures to say the least.

Pat had arranged for me to stay in Santiago with his Aunt Clara and her family, and they lived near the center of town in a large apartment above a furniture store. That gave me the opportunity to get to know some locals, and also to rest up between segments of concerts. As we were playing for the United States Information Service, we made our base at the Centro Americano, where the main attraction was a large library and classes for teaching English. There was also a very nice Steinway in a small auditorium, and we practiced a great deal when we got there so as to make a team out of ourselves. After about a week we were ready to set off to the northern part of Chiles, that long narrow country that is as long as America is wide. We would be traveling by train and bus. Two days before we were to leave we were told that newly elected President Salvatore Allende would be touring the north as well, leaving the same day as we had planned. The American Embassy said we must go SOUTH instead....so in the space of two days the whole affair was turned around, and we indeed DID go south. This made me discover the fact that my sponsors were not fazed in the slightest, changing all sorts of concert arrangement for this long tour. Latins seem to like this kind of spontainiety, as evidently it happens all the time.

What is most important about this particular time in Chile was the fact, that after years of rule by the Social Democrats, Chile had elected a Socialist Party candidate, Salvatore Allende, as President. The country was virtually in an uproar, and the Socialist's drive to take land from large estate owners and parcel it out to poorer
people was having a chaotic effect, to say the least.

We played our first concert at the Centro, and a large audience attended. We had an
excellent review in the main newspaper, except I was puzzled by the comment that my
ornaments in the Mozart were "unusual". I never figured that out! We left by the night
train for Conceptcion, and I remember I couldn't sleep because the tracks were old and there was a clicking sound every few seconds where the ralls didn't quite connect! Pat made us go to the restroom and collect a share of toilet paper, saying it would mysteriously disappear. I guess there was a shortage along the line, so to speak!

Chillan is famous as the hometown of the great Chilean pianist Claudio Arrau. In fact, when we visited the marketplace I could hear him playing the Appasionata over the radio in one of the stalls. He was a hero, as he had come home after one of the worst earthquakes and played benefit concerts all over. I learned this from our piano tuner, who had accompanied Arrau on his tours in Chile. When we were leaving the following day, a man came to the train before it left and asked if we could come to his school some miles to the east near the base of the Andes. He said they didn't get much classical music, and the whole school would turn out. We accepted, and made plans to go there on our return in two weeks.

As we headed to the extreme south of Chile, we followed the Bio-Bio River for miles, and it was in flood stage, and often seemed like a vast lake. Temuco was Pat's hometown, and we had two concerts to play there. I remember the hall had no heat, and we played with a small heater at our backs. Afterward the last concert there was a banquet in a local hotel, and I remember the desert was called "Volcano" as it was the shape of one, and the top was filled with brandy sugur cubes, which ignited into a glorious plume of fire! Inside there was ice cream...so it was a kind of Baked Alaska, Chilean style. I was having to adjust to very late nights, Latin style, and soon learned the value of the siesta!


Our tour took us ts Valdivia, as far south as we could go without being much more
adventurous and heading into the mountains and glaciers of Chile Austral, where
Puntas Arenus is the most southern city in the world. That was not to be, but it
was the big regret of this trip. Valdivia was built along a river, and farmers brought boats with vegetables and fruits right into the heart of the city. We played for the
Goethe Society, as their is a huge German population in this area. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of blondes of both sexes. We were entertained royaly, and I remember the beautiful hotel where we stayed, with the huge dining room with windows looking over the river.


Heading north again, we stopped in Concepcion, which is the home of one of Chile's great universities. Little did we realize that it was also a center of revolution, not the safest atmosphere during these turbulent days. Pat was to play with the school orchestra, but we received word that student unrest might lead to a demonstartion against visiting Americans. The concert was delayed one day, and took place quietly in the early evening. The orchestra was wonderful and Pat played two works of Saint-Saens.


A footnote to this is that, unknown to me, the composer Luigi Nono was in Chile at this time. He was associated with Stockhausen and Brono Maderna, leaders of the Darnstadt Group in Germany, but soon to establish his own studio in Freiburg. Patricio and I returned to Chile the next year, and again went to Concepcion. During that summer (winter there) a young leader of the Chilean Rovolutionary Front named Luciano Cruz was murdered under mysterious circumstances. Nono was deavastated at the news, and wrote one of his great masterpieces.. "Como una ola fuerza y luz" in memory of him. Just last summer 2011 I went to the Salzburg Festival to hear Luigi Nono's greatest work, "Prometeo", performed in the huge Collegiate Church. A massive work that takes two orchestras, several smaller orchestral choirs, two choruses, and two conductors...it is a work revered in Europe, but little known in the USA, where it still awaits a performance. I find such co-incidences thrilling in my life, even if it takes years for it all to clarify. There is much more to this story...and I will take up my pen again soon.

Fall is in the Air

One nice thing about living surrounded by nature is the noting of subtle changes
as the seasons unfold. There is a moment in mid-August that always alerts one
that summer is ending. Perhaps it is a cooler than expected morning, although the
day can still be hot. Perhaps it is the cooler feel as the sun goes down, heat
suddenly dissapating. I always look for the early red leaves on one or two trees
or for scarlet leaves that appear in the underbrush. More than once I have ventured
out in the woods to see what is catching my eye, always startled to think color is
appearing so soon. I have a hickory tree by the front door, and this year the nuts
are bigger than ever it seems. I pick them up so Billy can mow more easily, and since
they have been falling for over a month now, I get some good waistline exercise. Today
I noted the squirrels have finally gotten around to them, and my job is over. There
are a few pine stumps around, and the squirrels use them for tables to dine ...there
is always a residue of cracked nuts atop them.

I went to survey my neighbor's pear tree, and it is quite full, but they are smaller
this year. I am allowed to pick up those that fall, and it seems everytime I go
there this strong breeze comes from nowhere, shakes the tree, and all these lovely
pears fall to the grass below. Isn't that amazing how these strong winds come along!

By the drive, two trees have almost shed all their leaves, and one oak is ready to
turn, framed by very green trees. In a few days I will have this wonderful painting
seen through the picture window in my sitting room.

Then there is my tiny green lizard, who hangs out by the back door. I dug up the
hydrangea bush two weeks ago, and gave it away. It was becoming so ragged. Little
green lizard loved to sleep on a hydrangea leaf. Many a hot day I would pass him by
and notice how green blended into green. Today I saw him on the bush I
replace his pad with, and he gave me a wink, as to say he was still around and
liked the new space. I have so many birds and squirrels that take no notice of me,
afterall, I am just a visitor to their place on earth. As Colette would write..
"Earthly Paradise", her ode to her mother's gardening skills, and her own early life.

"Quo Vadis?" -The Art of Piano Performance"

Curious title, curious frame of mind, curiosity killed the cat. I have more time these days to ponder weighty subjects, and I can think of nothing that matches my curiosity about piano performance today. I just read a few pages in a self-help book by a noted scholar of piano literature and performance practice. I had to put it down after a few pages, as I felt if I had to suffer like some people over performance anxieties, I would not even leave the house. It is such a luxury to share misery, but frankly, any misery connected to the piano is a very private affair. It never ceases to amaze how many pianists sit down at the piano bench, and instantly forget (or they never read) Tobias Matthay's most valuable suggestion: "Never sit down at the piano except to make music". What does this tell us? It tells us that everything we do at the piano should have some amount of framework, design, objective, purpose...you can add you own word. Exercises? These are the most challenging of all, as they demand our utmost discipline and unwavering attention. This is when we deal with craft, and craft is the basis of any art. The painter sizes his canvas while peering into the white void, his internal vision already alive with purpose. The writer looks at the blank page and suddenly writes a few words that soon open up into sentences and paragraphs. The ballet dancer works at the barre,yet if it is a good studio, music plays and each exercise builds towards the complete body/mind experience. The pianist must ease himself into his session, first determining what kind of session it might be. Just the thought that one might plan out the time might be news to many. What is your goal for today, tomorrow, the week, month, year....decade!! Are you starting all new pieces at the smae time, or, are you adding them slowly, so each work is at a different stage of development? How easy to be overwhelmed. Have you really thought about the musical and technical challenges of each work, so as to avoid having everything being a plunge for notes and organization? Buffets are fun, but eating at one every meal might make one soon turn off food in general. So the same is true for repertoire. Do you really enjoy sitting through programs that are more about the performer tackling one hurdle after another? Perhaps it never entered his head that the audience is usually the reason he is there, and they don't want a huge buffet. They want a balanced program, which means just that. On reading my words I think I might be still under the influence of The Victorian Age. On reflection, my early teachers were very much under this influence. We often think Victorians were stuffy, rather stifled people. But it amuses me that so many dramatic breakthroughs came just at the end of this age. Tobias Matthay made great insights into the whole process of learning, balancing scientific observations with equal amounts of common sense and instinct. Freud made his amazing journies into the psyche, and Stanislavsky made acting into something vital and timeless. Alexander made his bold discoveries about mind and body, so nobly illustrated recently in "The King's Speech", where his techniques were used to unlock the tongue of George VI. I grew up in an age when beautiful tone was the great challenge, as the Golden Age of Pianists had at it's core this wonderful aesthetic of sound. I heard many of the great practicioners of this art, including Rubenstein, Hess, Horowitz, plus many others through their recordings...especially Cortot and Gieseking. Each had a unique sound, but they all had this tonal art that was at the core of their music. I have a vivid memory of Carl Friedberg, then in his eighties, playing parts of the Brahms Concerto in B Flat Major. We had finished a lesson, and he was showing me some of his ideas. What struck me so stongly was the focus of his sound. It had weight, but it also had virility and strength. His fingers were deep in the keys, and everything was directed to the musical intent. He didn't wave around, fall around, or any of those things we see in abundance today. I just read a review in The Guardian of a recital by Yuja Wang in London last week. The critic was eager to say she had fantastic fingers that did everything she demanded with ease. What surprised him was the lack of depth in her playing, and the sound could become hard at times. She is very much a pianist of the moment, and she atrracts attention by dressing unconventionally for her public. Perhaps we are entering a whole new AGE. Its more about the package and the predictable results, than it is about the searching for soul and profond moments. I have grown very fussy in my advancing years, not wanting to be made to listen to speed and thrills. Years ago my teacher Frank Mannheimer sat through a performance of a Chopin Scherzo by a master class student, a performance so loud and fast it was almost unbearable. He smiled at the end and told the young man."A racecar could have not done it any faster". Luckily that young man grew into a fine and sensitive artist.

"I Slept with Margaret Thatcher!"

Now it can be told...after years of suppression and torment! I had taken my mother to the U.K. in 1982, just as the Falklands War was raging. Margaret was before the House of Commons every day, choreographing the latest news to fashion the best political adavantage. She was in full sail, just like Meryl Streep in the fascinating film making the rounds of late. I had arranged our London schedule so I could practice each morning, a concert looming on the horizon the last part of our stay. I pondered..."what will I do about mother all this time". Little should I have worried. She was galvanized in front of the TV with the daily Orations of Margaret. If this wasn't enough, there was also a big snooker tournament going on at the same time, so somehow my mother managed to get hooked on this as well. I think the fact that the Queen Mum was also a great fan, and actually was very good at snooker, convinced my mother that this was indeed the way to go. At least, by lunchtime, Mom was ready to go out, so it meant a lot less strain on me to have her so enjoy her long mornings in her robe with the telly going.

Now, just as you are wondering about Margaret and me, I should relate that some years later I had a dream where I was somehow at 10 Downing Street. A great party seemed to go on and on. Margaret was ever so nice, and showed me over the place. It seemed to grown darker and darker until I realized I would never get home ....wherever that was in this dream. Margaret said, "John dear, you had best put up here for the night. There is a nice long window seat on the landing between the first and second floor. It has a lovely cushion, and I will bring you a blanket"

There was just something so "take charge" about Margaret. I bedded down for the night, and before I knew it, it was dawn. Someone brought me a cup of tea and a biscuit, and I departed just as soon as I could.

I never saw Margaret again! We just passed like ships in the night. When I saw "The Iron Lady" I felt I had seen it all before. I guess I had!

Spring Forward....Step Back

So here it is the early days of February, yet my garden seems to say it is mid-March. It has been a long time since I experienced such a long bloom of my 20 or so camellias. "Magnolia Grandiflora" is a mass of shell pink flowers, and of course it is my favorites, at least at this moment. But an old timer, "Governor Mouton", has been blooming for two months, with the largest flowers I have ever seen. The longest time record is held by "Debutante" which started flowering in October and is just now finishing up. When I moved to South Carolina, a long experienced gardener told me that if I planted camellias and roses I would have flowers all year long.
Some of the camelias are now trees, after 27 years of growth. Some were moved from the front side to the back after the first three years. The rule seems to be to not plant them near oak or walnut trees, but aim for pines. Recently I had to do radical surgery on my woodland garden. Bushes planted originally too close together (a common fault) had to be thined out, with the result that a new vista appeared from my breakfast table window, down the hillside to the pond below. I can only see it in winter, but other times it is nice to know it is there.

Another loss was my largest pine, which was slowly finishing. I had a wonderful team come and take it down from the top, limb by limb, as it was only 12 feet from the house. Unfortunately, they only cut the trunk in rather large sections, as the charge to haul it away was too much for my pocket. So Billy, my faithful gardener, and myself set up a sawmill operation, and managed to roll all of them down to the bottom of the property, mostly out of sight. It will take a good 10 years for them to break down, but that is so much better for the enviornment.

I never realized I would go into woodland management, but that is the case when you have three acres of dense forest. We have slowly cleared under areas of trees, but not as radically as a good German farmer would do. I find birds like clearings as long as there is cover nearby. This, plus access to water, will bring birds to your porperty, even without putting out feed. Also, sandy areas attract doves, who like to sit in sand, or take a sand bath.

Our lovely new Southeast Park, situated off Garner's Ferry a few miles past the VA, is a great addition to this side of town. Today I noticed a small, slim wooden tower seeming to be about 15 feet high, with a top hat of metal that reflects the sun. According to the park ranger, it was built recently as a project by the Boy Scouts, and its purpose is to attract Swifts, which feed on the insects attracted by the reflection. The birds circle around it, feeding in the air. Its all too complicated for me, but it seems a nice addition. I guess the attraction is rather like moths attracted to light. Live and Learn!

Gustav Leonhardt

The death this weeik of Gustav Leonhardt brought memories of a visit with him in his home in Amsterdam in 1959. I was living in London, but decided to visit friends (fellow Fulbrighters) for a Dutch Christmas. A friend from Yale found a family for me to stay with for the week I was there, and so began my introduction to the Dutch way of life, and the wonderful city of Amsterdam. I was given a bicycle and thrown out into the streets of the city, almost immediately being pulled to the curb by a very polite policeman, who explained the rules of the road. Small country, lots of rules.

The visit with Gustav came about through Clyde Holloway, who was studying harpsichord with him, along with his organ studies with another professor. The small house sat right on the banks of a canal, and was filled with musical instruments and small children, family life lived where it fell. I was thrilled to see the harpsidhords, and listened as Gustav played Bach and children played at his feet. Clyde explained that Gustav was "the person" to go to, as he was at the forefront of Baroque performance practices at that time. Having been to Yale, where there is one of the great instrument collections in the world, and having studied with Emanuel Winternitz, the curator of instruments at the Metropolitan Museom of Art, I was no stranger to this world. In fact, my dissertation at Yale was directed by Ralph Kirkpatrick, whose performance style was well known to me. Kirkpattick was a difficult man, personally and musically. He laid down the rules, and that was it. Gustav, by contrast, was completely at ease with himself, and made you feel welcolmed into his home.

At that time Gustav had already formed his small consort, and done recordings for the Bach Guild, all released by Vanguard Records. He talked about his study in Vienna, and his dislike of his courses, leading him to spend all his time in the libraries copying manuscripts...literally dozens of them. He also said he came to the harpsichord during the Second World War, went he and his family were hanging on by a thread, living in the countryside with very little to eat. How well I remember my Dutch friends telling me they ate tulip bulbs in the depths of hunger.

So although my visit was brief, it still is bright in my memory. He ended up being a transformative figure in baroque music, yet remained down to earth and stayed in his charming home until his death.

Oh Those Charlestonians....!

Returning to Charleston this week to present another Piano Portrait.."Debussy and the Sea" found an overflow audience of students, faculty and guests from the area. Charleston Southern University seems to grow bigger with each return visit. A new Band Hall funishes a very nice lecture room with a good Yamaha grand, and this makes an intimate setting. This new program shows the influence of Asian art and music on French musicians and artists in the late 19th, early 20th centuries. Paris was the scene of several International Expos, which brought people from all over the globe, especially the Far East. "La Mer" of Debussy bridges this divide beautifully, influenced as it is by the Gamelan orchestras brought over from Java and Bali for these expos. I wondered if the beautiful transcription by Lucien Garban might be a rather heavy dose for the listener, but I was delighted that the reception was so cordial and warm. When you think of the momumental influece of this score on composers who followed Debussy, it becomes apparent that our ears have long ago absorbed this idiom.

I have found playing a great symphonic work in transcription focuses the ear on the principle line of the piece, the definite shifts in harmonic direction, and the importance of highlighting thematic material. Keeping the underneath, supporting lines in proportion is the greatest challange. I learned a lot from this experience, and look forward to adding this work.."La Mer"...to my repertoire.

Thoughts on Jacqueline du Pre

Playing a concert recently in my old neighborhood in London brought back memories of Jackie du Pre from the late 1950's, early 1960's. She lived with her family in a flat near the BBC Headquarters, just north of Oxford Circus. Just a short walk north is the Royal Academy of Music, Regent's Park, and the now reborn and booming Marylebone High Street. I first met Jackie when I went to a meeting of The London Cello Club in Notting Hill sometime in the fall of 1959. She played a recital with her mother at the piano. Sometime later, through a friend from Yale, the violinist Jack Glatzer, I was invited to her home for Sunday supper. We ate in the kitchen, and her mother, Iris, stayed in the background and let Jackie be hostess. Afterwards, Jackie show slides of their vacation on the Isle of Jersey. I could tell that this was where she loved to be, swimming in the sea, and playing on the beach. Both her brother and sister were there,but I never met her father, who never seemed to emerge from his study. Hillary du Pre was at the RAM with me, and I saw her frequently, as her accompanist Christina Mason and I were both students of John Wills.

That summer we all went to Zermatt, Switzerland to the Pablo Casals Masterclasses. During three weeks of intensive work I was able to hear Jackie several times during her classes with Casals.Although there were individual courses in strings,voice, opera studio and chamber music with piano, everyone spent the morning with Casals as he gave lessons to a large group of cellists. My guess is that Jackie was about 15 at this time. Casals was clearly taken with her, but there were a couple of older cellists of some statue there that summer, and she was not chosen for the final concert, which was a mixture of cello, voice, opera studio, and piano. I remember her playing a Boccherini Concerto with great poise and warmth of sound. Casals signed a photograph of the two of them, putting the word "talent" over her head with an arrow pointing towards her. A charming touch from a dear man who always had kind words for everyone, but who was also tough, tough, tough.

Jackie came to hear me play, along with her mother and sister, at the Fulbright Commission on South Audley Street. I remember Christina Mason carefully turning down the pages of my Schubert Sonata in B Flat, Op.posth. She seemed starled when I said I was playing it from memory! Jack Glatzer also played the Brahms G Major Sonata with me, so it was a real reunion from Zermatt.

When I read comments about Jackie today, by all and sundry, I am always struck by my own personal thoughts about her, and the hype and fantasy scenario we have today about her life and music. Just today I read an article in The Telegraph about the current proms season, expecially about Tasmin Little playing the Elgar Violin Concerto. The writer followed with a description of Jackie playing the Elgar Cello Conerto, the work most identified with her.. then and now. He said, referring to a clip of her playing, that there was this sexual energy in her playing, and launched into a rather too personal account of her marriage to Daniel Barenboim, his many romantic adventures, leaving me with the feeling that all this was somehow contrived and out of place.Does musical depth have to be regarded as sexy these days? Its a good example of how events get warped and mangled when it comes to postmortem accounts.

I would like to say the person I knew was basically uncomplicated, very direct, and warm hearted. I saw Jackie several times over the years, and even ten years later she remembered everything, laughed over shared experiences, and showed the poise she had at a very young age. Jackie had a fundamental sweetness that was disarming, and one felt she had natural confidence. As for her playing, there was this direct to the heartstrings intensity, a God given gift, and a gift of phrasing that few attain. It all seemed so natural, and just poured forth. I never quite liked the du Pre/Baremboim Duo, as he seemed to press her too much, not allowing her the type of sympathetic accompaniments that allowed her phrasing to blossom. She played really well with the then named Stephen Bishop, but this was at the start of her career.

One has few chances in life to be around a genius. Jackie was a genius, but a very down to earth one. Life treated her cruelly, but what she gave us in her brief life was a glimpse at pure talent direct from the Gods.

A Return to Holland...after 35 years!

Attending a dear friends 95th birthday was a great excuse to return to a country I fell in love with as a student in the late 1950's and early 60's. My first impression still remains vivid...that of seeing spotless white curtains hanging in picture perfect windows, pots of flowers on the sills. That image seemed to capture the basic stillness that is a remarkable trait of Dutch life. Tightly packed cities mean closely packed apartments, and life has many moments spent indoors. But the typical Dutch living room is still very much the same: comfortable chairs drawn up in a circle, places for books and coffee cups, and plants on the sills, desk, and table. Vermeer likes to show oriental rugs as table covers, and this is still a favorite, although the rugs are thin, so drape elegantly. Coffee seems to be a passion like it has always been. The Dutch must grind the coffee, filter it slowly, so that the waiting around for the first cup is an equisite pleasure.

The stillness pervades everywhere. Villages abound in cottages with beautiful small gardens, metticulously maintained. This May there were elegant rhododendrums of every shade, all in perfect bloom. I was lucky, as the week before mine had bloomed in Hopkins, and were equally wonderful this year. The many parks and canals add their own quality of life, and I still find the tree lined canals places of poetry and nostalgia. Sitting with friends on a Sunday morning having brunch at a sidewalk table, we watched a slow parade of bicycles, many tamdems for two, draw by and fade in the distance, like silent ships. Once in a while a motorcycle wound go by, bringing the stillness to a halt, but even these riders tried not to stick out too much. It seems we were viewing riders taking a circle tour of seven villages, a Sunday tradition.

My friend's apartment looked out over the center or Eindhoven, which was bombed relentlessly in the final days of WWII. A lazy town river flows by her second floor terrase. We floated in and out for four days, celebrating a long life filled with great happiness, but also dark moments of war. The Dutch speak of eating tulip bulbs when there was no food. They laugh about it, but underneath is the resolve that saw them through.

The celebration party was a work of art, held inside and out at a lovely restaurant inside a beautiful park. Everyone was in long dresses and black tie, adding that touch that the hostess preferred. It was like a panorama of life, brief connections with one's past, filtered through many years of living.

Suddenly It's May

We had a beautiful, long Spring, with a few detours along the way, especially from violent storms, bringing high winds, hail, and pounding rain. A new roof, by way of State Farm, got baptised immediately, but it held firm and there were no surprises. It seems I stayed home for weeks, and I took advantage of the time to work on new repertoire. This summer I will be a presenter at the Alabama MTA Convention, and also teach at the South Eastern Piano Festival at USC. We auditioned some great pianists, and I think it will be a treat for all of us. Then in July its back to London (where I have just been for two weeks) to play for the Bosendorfer Piano Series in Regents Park on July 27. It will be Brahms, Schubert, Debussy, and the Great Themes from Movies of the Forties, including the Warsaw Concerto of Richard Addinsell. A couple of Piano Portraits in Charleston in September are on the horizon, and also I will perform on the September Concerts for the first time since I retired.

I have been learning the transcription by Lucien Garban of Debussy's great symphonice work, "La Mer". It is a most interesting transcription, quite pianistic, and sounds lovely on the piano. It is full of notes, but it is not overwhelming in difficulty. I do have the advantage of having performed all of Debussy's piano music, so I see many correlations and similarities. I would say keeping the line moving forward and constanly varying the color and voicing are things one has to master. It will be interesting to see how people react. I have taken most of the tremeloes out, not wanting to sound like a silent movie piano player! Actually, I find it is very engrossing, and I am amazed at how Debussy composed this work. It is much more complex than one would think, as when we listen to it on recordings it seems to float by. The challenge is to the EAR more than the fingers. The harmonic changes are often veiled, hidden away in the texture in such as way as to always sounds like you never heard then before each time you come to them!. He has the ability to come up with fascinating choices, usually ones you would not suspect. His technic of composing is that of constant variation, one section evolving out of another in this incredibly fluent stream of sound. One always thinks Impressionism is vague, formless, and full of mist. That is all a put-up-job. It is as highly constructed as Beethoven or Mozart, and has all the mastery of counterpoint (with some novel twists) found in Bach.

A recent visit to London found everyone recovering from two 4 days weekends, and social calendars were all mixed up. The Wedding entralled the nation, and was an enormous pick me up for a public terribly put upon by inflation, difficult job market, and loss of benefits. Sound familiar? I avoided the central areas, and instead visited friends in the suburbs, going around by bus. It was a great visit, and I always leave with regret. The consolation is when I get home, I am so comfortable and it is so beautiful, I wonder why I left in the first place!

Rustles of Spring

A very unusual, cold and damp Winter is slowly giving way to Spring. It is happening swiftly, as it often does in these climes. In just a few days camellias that have sat for months suddenly burst into bloom. Some of the ones that rarely have more than a few blooms seems to be especially enthusiastic this year. I have one called Professor Sargent, a favorite of my father when we lived in Alabama. It is crimson, with a carnation like center, surrounded by single petals. A rhododendrum nearby is almost the same color, and it is called Nova Zembla. It has led many lives, either in robust health, or slowly fading away. It should be called Nova Vita, since it roots easily if a branch get covered up. I saw it struggling away at Callaway Gardens, the same year mine was rampant with bloom.

Flowering quince is always a joy, and this year it came out very slowly, and is now full of bloom. I noticed it planted along Leesburg Road, just as it starts past the Vets Hospital. It was interplanted with small firs, and looked stunning. A sign just there says "Welcome to the Lower Richland Community". It always make me smile, as if we are a lost part of the Midlands (which suits all of us just fine).

My pansies didn't thrive in the snow and ice, so now I have replanted, mostly from the "give away section" at Lowes. There is something satisfying about rescue. From a point of last hope, you revive and make useful. Teaching taught me alot about that. I had some students show up from poor experiences elsewhere, and I always made a point of saying I was their Last Hope. Do What I Say, and Show Up Faithfully. That is always a good recipe.

So now I am waiting for the tulips, which I plant in pots to discourage the moles and squirrels. They don't last long, but they are so majestic, and have unearthly colors. Just a few in clumps here and there can make a fiesta out of your garden.

More Pages to Turn....

Issac Stern, Violinist
Issac Stern was at his peak when he played a recital in Township Auditorium in the 1980's. I was priviledged to not only turn his pages, but also to have a modest conversation with him backstage. He struck me as totally approachable, funny, and full of energy. I remember his signing my program for me, and when he asked my name, I said John Adams. He laughed and said, "Oh yea, well I'm Thomas Jefferson." I noticed his violin case in the dressing room, and on the inside of the lid was a virtual family album of photographs. The program included the Enescu Sonata for Violin and Piano, a nod towards his association with that great composer and violinist. The score was in manuscript, and the pianist warned me that there were several cuts. I had to look carefully to find small red dots, and when I saw one,turn the page and look for the next red dot. Now that would have been fine with a rehearsal, but having to do this without one, and in front of hundreds of people was nerve wracking. The pianist, whom I have forgotten....(I must look it up)..was very complimentary afterwards, and signed my program along with Stern. Issac Stern was born in 1920, so he would have been in his sixties when I met up with him. He was a class act to say the least.

Leontyne Price, Soprano
Leontyne Price sang at least three times in Columbia, and the final concert at Township Auditorium was in the mid 1980's. The most vivid memory I have is arriving early for the concert, and standing backstage waiting for Miss Price and David Garvey, her pianist, to arrive. Someone was rattling the sidedoor, and I went to let them in. A very short lady in boots and a fur hat, very Russian, came in, looking rather lost. I said "Can I help you" and Madame said, "Oh no, I know exactly where to go". Of course, I was expecting a tall, regal appearance, but in street clothes, overcoat and hat, she looked quite ordinary. I was stunned, to say the least, as she always struck me as very tall from the stage. Not the first time I have been fooled with that, as great artists have a way of making themselves appear larger than life. Or, perhaps, we do that unconsciously! She wanted to try the stage right away, so out we went, with a scattering of applause from the few souls already seated. She tried a few passages, turned and smiled, and that was it. She had a habit of touching the curtain when she walked out on stage...rather a flick of the wrist sort of thing...and I realized this was a good luck ritual for her. As I knew so many of the pieces from playing them myself, I was able to watch her a great deal. It would seem to me that she had the most relaxed vocal technique possible. She always sang "Pace, Pace, Mio Dio" from Verdi's "La Forza del Destino", and so I waited for that wonderful B Blat. It seemed to come out of space, perfectly formed, and the most beauriful sound imaginable. She was totally removed backstage, lost in thought, and unapproachable. She had a small table with all her encores spread out. After the first encore she suddenly said to me..."Pick one out!" I almost fainted. For the life of me, I can't remember what it was! Afterwards in the dressing room, she was so so lovely to me, and signed my program with a short greeting, and also a beautiful photograph of her. A Magical Evening.

A diversion...

Alicia De Larrocha, pianist

De Larrocha played twice in Columbia, and both times she practiced in my studio in the old music building, McMaster School. She was very small, but had powerful shoulders and hands. I remember going with Leon Harrelson to meet her at the airport, and she arrived carrying not one, but two music cases. Right then and there you knew you were in the presence of a world class artist, with dozens of concerts on her schedule. After her concert, I was invited to a small supper party, and she was very amusing. Learning I was soon to play with orchestra, she remarked'"I hope you have a good conductor...there are many bad ones!" The second visit was in the 1980's, and this time she noticed a picture of herself on my studio wall. When I went back stage after her concert, she handed me a new photograph of herself, saying "This one is much nicer!" She seemed in some ways the opposite of what one might expect in so great an artist. She was folksy, down to earth, and direct. I always found her playing to reflect those qualities, plus a seemless technique and exqusite polish. I heard her with the National Symphony some weeks later, over the air, playing the Schumann Concerto. In the last movement, during that famous syncopated rhythm, the conductor faltered. Not Alica..she remained steady as a rock and brought it all to a magnificent conclusion. A real professional and a wonderful person.

Some Pages I Have Turned....!

Beginning in my late teens in Kansas City, I had the opportunity to turn pages at concerts for some of the greatest musicians. I just sort of fell into this, but was given a big push forward by Ruth Seufert, who ran the biggest artist series in town. I started out as an usher in the Music Hall, learning all the different seating patterns in that large space. An emergency arose, and I made my page turning debut with vioinist Misha Elman at the last minute. What follows are some rememberances of some of these artists, some of whom I remember more for their artistry than for any personal contact. But a few had real charm, and they stand out for that reason.

Misha Elman, violinist.

Elman would have been in his 60's when I heard him, and I remember his beautiful manners and stage presence. He was born in Kiev in 1891, and was one of the most famous pupils of Leopold Auer, a celebrated master teacher. His playing was quite bold and full of romantic performance traits, many of which are out of style at this time. I wore my Phi Mu Alpha pin everywhere in those days, and I remember his telling me that he was also a proud member! The audience loved him, and they often heard him on the radio. He played the famous "Meditation" from "Thais" as an encore, and you can hear it on his page in Wikipedia.

Shirley Verrett, mezzo soprano

Miss Verrett ( at the time Verrett-Carter ) was the winner of the National Federation of Music Clubs Young Artist Award, and I turned pages for her during the finals in Kansas City. She was accompanied by a very young Charles Wadsworth, and of course I always reminded him of that in later years. I remember the ease of her technique, and the great showmanship....perhaps I should say Star Power, for she went on to a great career. By this time she had already had some important concerts, but she really took off in the early 1960's. She gave a meltingly liquid rendition of the "Habanera" from "Carmen" that I can still hear in my inner ear fifty years later. I had already heard Charles at Yale, when he played for Elaine Ritchie, who had just won the Naumberg Award, and gave an informal recital in the Yale Glee Club rehearsal room. Shirley Verrett died just a few weeks ago, followed by magnificent tributes far and wide.

Mack Harrell, baritone

While a student at Aspen Music School I turned pages for Mack Harrell, who was joined by my teacher, pianist Joanna Graudan ,for a performance of "Dicterliebe" by Schumann. I had been fascinated all that summer session with Mack Harrell and Phyliss Curtin, who were rehearsing for the New York City premiere of Carlyle Floyd's opera "Susannah". They had already done it at Florida State University, where Floyd was on the faculty. I had already heard Mack several times in Kansas City, where he joined Carl Friedberg and Conrad Bos for several summer masterclasses in the late 1040's, early 50's. He was slight of statue, and had been a violinist who suddenly discovered his singing voice while a student at Curtis. He was probably as great a recitalist as any singer I had heard. His sound was like bunished bronze, with a very sensuous overtone. His German diction was perfection. A great singer, and incidentally, the father of cellist Lynn Harrell....who was about 10 years old at the time I knew him. The funny bit was that Phyliss Curtin had started as a violinist also, so the two were well matched.

Birgit Nilsson, soprano

Again, a last minute emergency sent me to the aid of this magnificent artist, who gave a spellbinding performance in Austin, Texas in the early 1960's, while I was on the piano faculty there. Her pianist was Leo Taubman, and he met me backstage, where I could hear Birgit warming up in her dressing room. She sounded like she was right beside us, but there was a heavy door between. He insisted I meet her first, and then we could get down to business. She swept on stage, and plunged into
"Dich Teure Halle". I looked up and saw this vast amount of spray come out of her mouth, and several people in the front row moved back. (She was sucking on a cough drop before she went on stage, wrapped it in her handkerchief, and handed it to me!)
What I remember particularly was a set of songs by Sibelius, which she characterized to great degree. I also noticed how she had this incredible sense of phrasing..knowing just how to make the music flow in a most natural way. She was very free, but also very disciplined at the same time. She was brought to the concert by a young Swedish guy, who had covered his car with flowers for the ride (in a rather beat up old car). She was so giving, and the audience loved her. At the end she came around the piano, took my hand, and had me bow with her and Leo for the final turn. She gave me several photos, all of which disappeared during the move to South Carolina.

A digression....

The Stars of the Music World had a quite different progress in those days, almost always arriving by train. They usually showed up at least the day before their concerts, and sometimes stayed several days. I remember the endless photos in the newspaper, some of which could be quite inventive. Lily Pons, the reigning coloratura of her time, was photographed on the rail platform holding a lease with a leapord at the other end. How they managed that shot remains a mystery, but I imagined at least four men with guns and whips standing behind the photographer. She was barely five feet tall, and appeared much taller on stage, because of clever touches, such as a small crown on her head, and a long train sweeping behind her. She demanded a white canvas runner from the wings to the center of the stage, and made an entrace fit for a queen. Her recital always featured a flutist in tow, so she could do the cadenzas to the Mad Scene from "Lucia di Lammermoor" in more authenic fashion. She invariably sang pieces about larks, and the flute was a necessary addition here as well.

TO BE CONTINUED>

Bah! Humbug!

There's one thing about celebrating Christmas early as I did in London this year. The pace of the crowds was good, service was good, and the mood had that needed edge of anticipation. I just came back from shopping in some old haunts in Columbia. I am exhausted. When buying soap at Stein Mart, I was in a short line, and no one behind me. The cashier took my money, handed me a bag, and said in a loud voice "Next customer please..." Summarily dismissed, I barked.."Merry Christmas and Thank You". No reaction. Wandering on to the Fresh Market, I entered in hopes of finding my favorite cheese, being La Roule, a goat cheese flown over from France. They have not had it in stock the last two visits, even though they placed a enticing picture in their Christmas Catalog. So there it was, but packaged in huge blocks, large enough for a family of 10. I asked a helper if they had smaller packages as they use to have. She referred me down the line, and the Mistress of Cheese barked, rather unpleasantly, "Well, How much do you want". She procceded to slice it in half, and gave off the air of "Her Majesty's Displeasure". I flopped it in my bag, and went back into the frey. I kept running into a nice lady with a cane, who was making rather good progress. She had watched the performance, and we got to talking in the row with the pancake mixes, which was rather busy. We discussed the downfall of simple manners, went on to settle most of the world's problems, and finished up with a conversation about the Vienna Opera, which we found we had both attended. She was from Austria, and told a charming story of getting two seats for the re-opening of the restored opera house after the II World War. Her husband had no suitable clothing, so the waiter at their hotel lent him one of his set of tails. Off they went to an historic occasion. That made me stop and think. Civil Communication is the only means of survival today. My new friend and I decided not to march on Washington, but go to our respective homes and have a cup of tea. Merry Christmas, One and All!

Christmas Season in London

I have to hand it to the English. They are so tough, it often appears to us, but anything below 32 degrees is considered life threatening these days. They are becoming quite soft it would appear, after 10 days in London walking the streets and riding the buses. Agreed, they supposedly have a moderate climate. But the past few years have seen record heat and record cold. Does that mean the tropics are getting colder and the artic is getting hotter?. Now there is the theory that it will get alternately hotter and colder, and finally settle on hotter. The English are ill-prepared for snow, even in the North and Scotland, where some places had two feet.

There is a new society for the preservation of all things ENGLISH, called The Society of St. Goerge. I have now attended three excursions sponsored by them, and they are a jolly rum group. The necessity of such an organization stems from the fact that its all referred to today as UK. UK this, UK that. The ENGLISH are up in arms, afraid they will lose their special identity. The President of this group even approached your's truly to write a song they could sing at their gatherings. Now that did take me off my heels...a Patriot being asked to do such a thing. My friends said "He thinks you are the OTHER JOHN ADAMS" That rather took the glow off, after already deciding the anthem should end with "ENGLAND< ENGLAND< ENGLAND!"

To get back to basics, I did so enjoyed the Royal Opera presentation of Cilea's rarely done "Adrienne Lecouvreur", a picture postcard version of this verismo classic. Another highlight was A Ceremony of Nine Lessons and Carols presented by my club at St. James Church, Piccadilly. Being a music based organization, ROSL is able to draw up extensive talent from their pool of prize winners. It was moving and exceedingly well done.

Lots of taxi rides blunted the extreme cold. Once I got stuck in a traffic jam that crawled along for hours it seems. I told the driver I was going to run out of money. He said."Just pay me what you've got Mate". A rare occurance. If you tip generously they always say..."You are a fine gentleman!" Tip often and generously!

The other joy was meeting the young Scottish mezzo soprano Laura Kelly, who holds the John Kenneth Adams Scholarship this year at the Royal Academy of Music. She is petite, dynamic, and utterly charming. She gets to create a role in a new opera to be done this Spring by Peter Maxwell Davies. Alas, I can't be there, but she is obviously well on her way.

So now I am a known quantity to the doormen at the Ritz, next door to us. I get a laugh each time I walk by, especially the sight of the dust pan they keep by the service door....a battered piece of equipment on which is scrawled in white paint..Prop of Ritz Hotel. Perhaps in case I decide to whisk it away someday!

Schubert

After a long time away, I have revisited some Schubert works I played some decades ago. The piece that has riveted my attention in the last of the Impromptus, the one in F minor, Opus 146., No. 4. You can tell it has been a long time, as I am still hooked on opus numbers for Schubert, instead of the Deutsch catalog numbers. It is D.935. I have a vivid memory of Rodolf Serkin playing this work and complaining about how it is such a knife edge experiece in performance. Rudolf was always a rather nervous performer, at least before the concert. The times I heard him in the 1950's brought forth deeply thought out performances. A friend at Yale was studying Beethoven's Sonata in E Flat, Opus 81a "Les adieux" and Serkin arrived to play it in Woolsey Hall. As you know the first movement has that very tricky passage early on, and my friend was eager to find out just how Serkin approached it. He practiced in my teacher's studio and my friend crawled out on the ledge between the adjoining studios, (they were really fake balconies in the faux Venitian style) and listened to Serkin practice. He practiced so slowly he thought he had some form of paralysis. When he played the passage that evening in Woolsey Hall, he fluffed it. So much for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.
As for this F minor Impromptu, I find it catches the dark side of Schubert. It is relentless in propulsion, almost like a wild Hungarian danse. It has relief in beautiful scalar passages, but even those seem to develop into wild rides up and down the keyboard. Just when you think he is ready to finish, he does a detour into a section that lulls you almost into an Ave Maria mood, before returning for a final passage that suddenly doubles the time, and slams you down the entire length of the keyboard. The headless horseman has passed and you are left dazed in the ditch.

I think in another month I will be in command of this wild beast. Schubert requires a steady hand and quick thinking. So do all wild beasts.