After graduating from high school a year early, and then taking my freshman year at Gonzaga University in Spokane, I was ready for greener (or at least, different pastures, and eager for new experiences. As I said previously, I found the prospect of meeting other musicians, running my own life, and (especially) escaping from my mother's eagle eye, exceedingly attractive. My parents, who were far from wealthy, told me that I would need to pay for my own transportation cross-country from Spokane, Washington to Rochester, New York, which is where The Eastman School of Music (ESM) was located --and still is. It is a part of the University of Rochester (U. of R.) which was one of the selling points insofar as my parents were concerned. It meant that a Bachelor's Degree from Eastman School would be more than a diploma - it would be a bona fide academic degree in music from a noted university. Both my parents were teachers, had at least master's degrees, and believed in higher education for both my brother and myself. At the time I did not realize how fortunate a circumstance that was - many parents do not have an interest in higher education, and certainly not for girls! (Remember, this was the 1960's!) But I always had been told that I would be able to earn at least a master's degree, and they would help finance that. I don't think they counted on their daughter being this exceptional multi-talented musician who would insist on attending such an expensive school as Eastman (even in those years.) My father could not understand why Stanford University (which offered me a complete academic scholarship), or the University of Southern California (USC - same offer), and even Yale Music School, weren't just as good as Eastman, which cost so much more. But I had my heart set on ESM, and eventually my endless campaigning bore results. When my mother finally capitulated, and aligned herself with my way of thinking, my father soon gave his consent.
The problem was that Eastman did not give scholarships to 'transfer' students, which was my category - having attended Gonzaga University for one year. (Even with my straight A average and excellent performance tapes, Eastman did not budge from that rule. (NOTE: I did receive a full scholarship for my junior and senior years there.) But for the time being, I was obliged to take out a student loan, as well as a government loan (available in those days, fortunately) to finance my sophomore year. I also had worked in a bank every summer since age 15, and therefore used my earnings plus the prize money from all the piano competitions I won, and the 'Ted Mack Amateur Hour Contest' money as well. This amounted to several thousand dollars, which I used to pay my transportation and school fees. The housing (dormitories were part of the Eastman tradition) was quite expensive, and at that time, undergrads were not given permission to live off campus. I remember waiting with baited breath for the answer to my several loan applications, and when they all were accepted, and the money offered was enough to secure a place in the curriculum, I was beyond thrilled! (It did take me several years to repay the loans from the government, but I did it - a little at a time, but consistently and in a timely fashion - month after month). In doing this, I established a good credit rating for myself, as this was my first loan. While I don't think I was aware how crucial and important this would be later in my life, I certainly have realized it since. My parents were very upstanding in this respect, and taught us to be honest and meet our obligations, financial and otherwise.
At the end of Chapter 5, I described my rather emotional departure from my family at the Spokane Railway Terminal - on the eastbound 'Empire Builder,' a deluxe, well-appointed and most comfortable mode of travel. I opted for the train in preference to air, simply because of cost considerations. Traveling by coach (not sleeper car or Pullman) was by far, much less expensive, and since I did wish to come home at Christmas - when there was a long furlough - I elected to ride on the train. My mother prepared much food (enough for the 3-day trip) which I carried in a cooler, complete with cold drinks, sandwiches, cold chicken, salad, and cookies. One could purchase coffee and soup from the vendors who strolled through the aisles, peddling their wares, or eat in the dining car, with its elegant white tablecloths, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I treated myself with at least one dinner there, and sometimes two. {I had remembered such trips, taken at an earlier time with Mom, when we shared a sleeping compartment, and ate oatmeal for breakfast. I still recall the incredible taste of that amazing oatmeal, and have yet to eat anything remotely as delicious - in the cereal category, of course.}
If you have never taken a lengthy voyage by train, I heartily recommend the experience. Only in this fashion can one see so much of this great country of ours. Car trips are also very marvelous and educational as well. My parents always took one long automobile trip each year --my brother and I had much fun in the back seat either playing with our dolls and toys, teasing each other, counting the telephone poles, and occasionally looking at the scenery whizzing by.
The train allows freedom of movement, and no one has to think about directions, or be pre-occupied with driving a car. It is a complete vacation from every day life, and to this day, I prefer the train to driving or air travel. One can take a nap, meditate, read, look out the window, eat, and generally revel in the slower pace of life. In my case, I always made many friends on those long trips - and would correspond with all of them for quite some time afterward. Since some of us routinely took the same journey, we would run across each other several times a year. I do recall (especially after the first time) dreading the stop which picked up the guys from Notre Dame University on their way home from school. They were an unruly bunch, loud and usually drunk. Since it was always late in the evening when they boarded the train, I would be asleep and awaken to some young man completely draped all over me! No matter what I did to avoid this, the same thing always happened. The young man, upon being awakened by me, would apologize profusely, and then drop off to sleep again on my shoulder! What could one do? I just had to learn to live with it.
By far the worst part of the trip was at the conclusion of the 'Empire Builder's' journey - at the Chicago Union Station. There I had to change trains (definitely an unpleasant prospect), which included finding the correct track and running, yes, RUNNING for the train to Rochester - aptly named the 'New York Central.' This train was always very rickety, old, noisy, with hard, uncomfortable seats, and generally not people-friendly like the 'Empire Builder.' At the onset, a great deal of heat would be produced from the furnaces, and then as we neared our destination, the cars would gradually LOSE the heat, until it was actually very cold inside them. Of course, this was much worse in wintertime, when it was cold and snowy in New York State, and freezing inside the rail cars. I learned to pack a blanket as well as extra scarves, mittens, heavy socks, and a fur hat to wear ON the train. And I always wore my heaviest fur coat, which mother had purchased for me at the 'After Christmas Sales.' By the time I arrived in Rochester, I was not only freezing, but had contracted a bad cold as well!
Additionally the Chicago Union Station was unbelievably busy, especially during the Christmas holidays, when so many servicemen were running here and there trying to board one of the many trains. Because there were no 'reserved' seats on the 'New York Central,' it was "first come, first served." If one were unlucky enough NOT to be among the first in line - tough luck. One would have to stand for most of the trip to various cities, or sit on the floor! Can you imagine?! I saw several of the servicemen stretched out in the aisles sleeping on their backpacks. Fortunately, I had this down to a science - I checked all my bags through from Spokane, and carried only one tote bag, plus the food carrier. Thank goodness, I was a pianist, and not a violinist, or even worse, a cellist! (Those delicate instruments have to be carried by hand, and not checked as luggage.) Then I just RAN for the train - as I usually knew or found out ahead of time where my train would be located. It was truly a zoo! I certainly could not run like that now!!
I remember arriving at the Rochester Station at approximately 6:00 A.M., and looking for a taxi to take me to the Eastman dormitories. I was very tired, and also cold, but truly excited. And I still recall the sensation of having embarked on a great journey - which it truly was, I have had this same feeling many times when my life has taken a new path ...a step away from what had been.....a leap into the unknown.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
A RETROSPECTIVE: Reflections, Remembrances, and NUTCRACKER (Chapter 7)
I am seated at my Steinway piano, looking at the beautiful view from the living room windows, while ruminating about the previous year and all that it had brought. Much has occurred in the world at large, as well as my own universe. The next round, namely 2011, has already begun and history is being made, as we speak.
For one thing, I stopped working at Pacific Northwest Ballet in June of 2010 - 'retired' is the word that was used in the news announcement and in the PNB program. (I used to dread the sound of that word, and its implications.) Of course, I did not retire from music, only from rehearsals and performances with the ballet, all of which I faithfully executed during my 25 years of service at that institution. While there are several aspects of my work that I miss, (such as performances) and certainly many of the people, I am not feeling the loss of playing all those hours of rehearsal in the ballet studio. I hope no one will be offended by this statement - certainly my dearest friends and family will not be surprised. While I have always had the stamina to practice long hours and enjoyed it, ballet rehearsals are something else entirely. Those simply make one very tired and sore, to put it succinctly. Playing the various pieces over and over again is necessary for the dancers to learn and rehearse their steps and roles, but it is a tedious process for the person at the piano. And no matter how wonderful and gifted that pianist may be, one simply becomes 'wallpaper' in the end. Of course, I realize this is part of the job expectation - to function much like a tape machine (only a 'live' one). However, if one (such as myself) is also the Piano Soloist and expected to perform (at the highest level) solo works and concertos with the orchestra, that is another matter altogether. The simple fact that a pianist must practice the instrument daily, (a totally different issue than rehearsals in the ballet studio), learn and practice all those solos, adds a physical component that sometimes becomes very painful. I was always fortunate in that my stamina allowed me to do all this, and quite readily. For example, I played major concerts in New York City at Alice Tully Hall, Town Hall, and Carnegie Hall. My friends simply could not believe I was able to accomplish all this - and yet work with the New York City Ballet as their piano soloist and rehearsal pianist. Sometimes I was at the piano for 10-12 hours per day, and although I ran into problems at certain points with my arm muscles, and was obliged to have cortisone injections in order to play, I continued that punishing schedule - probably because I could stand it. Just to clarify matters, this all has nothing to do with my love for, and enjoyment of ballet and dance in general - that is still there, sharp and intact.
This is the first time in my career with the ballet, that I have not been involved with the production of 'Nutcracker' - either in rehearsals or performances. While piano soloist in New York City Ballet (8 years), I rehearsed and performed in George Balanchine's production; and as piano soloist for Pacific Northwest Ballet (25 years), I did the same work for Kent Stowell's production. This makes a total of 33 years of 'Nutcracker.' I haven't checked this, but that may be something of a record. (In Europe, we did not perform that ballet - a light opera was done for the Christmas season.)
For those who are not familiar with the routine of mounting such a large production, let me say that the process is lengthy and onerous. It begins in late October with myriads of children's practices, and concludes with many onstage rehearsals for the entire company - with all manner of smaller rehearsals included in the schedules. For the pianist, this means playing every note of the difficult piano transcription of this 2-hour Tchaikovsky work. Everyone breathes a sign of relief when the last onstage rehearsal is finished, and the performances commence. (There are many children involved in the 'Nutcracker,' which always requires extra stage time for their dances, entrances and exits.) Fortunately for everybody concerned, the music is brilliant, beautiful, rich in texture and sound, and the familiar melodies have become synonymous with the Christmas season here in America. The score is one of Tchaikovsky's greatest triumphs, and a masterpiece of musical composition. To illustrate this point, I never wearied of hearing the music, only of playing it. During this Christmas season, I watched a number of different productions on television; from London's Royal Ballet, Berlin Ballet, Monte Carlo Ballet, to Bejart as well as the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow. All very different productions (including a circus), but my favorites are still George Balanchine's and Kent Stowell's (with Maurice Sendak's colorful designs and costumes.) The fact that I could actually watch and listen to 'Nutcracker' attests to the beauty of the music. One of my friends could not believe that I could or would be willing to do such a thing. But the power of that music is incredible - and nothing can overshadow it!
I do have to say that the Christmas season was, for me, redefined this year - without Nut rehearsals and shows. There are usually 42-44 performances - two per day at times. And then there is the worry about SNOW which in the past few years, has become a source of concern, especially when one lives on a huge hill, such as Magnolia or Queen Anne. There have been times when I was literally stranded on my street, as all main cross streets (hills) were closed, and terribly icy. Once the father of one of my students brought food supplies, as he had a very powerful 4-wheeler truck, and could get to my place via a circuitous route - for which I was very grateful. However, even in the worst snowstorm, I was able to get to the theater somehow. I do recall one show where most of the orchestra members could not travel, but I was there - having ridden with Kent and Francia Stowell (directors of PNB at that time) who lived near me on Capitol Hill. And so, I became the orchestra, playing many parts on the piano - also singing the little duet in Act I, while playing the piano, as well as the high sung notes in the Snow scene. As the tambourine player in the percussion section was absent, I played that as well. I recall that John Pendleton, our former beloved company manager told several people that "Dianne is a one-man band!" And he was right...For that one show, I received not only doubling, but tripling+ fees!
My initial fears that I would be 'lost' without the ballet work proved to be groundless. What has happened since is nothing short of miraculous, at least for me. Of course, I continue to teach, as I believe children should grow up exposed to the arts, especially music. It opens doors that one never even knew existed. Many of my students tell me that they find their minds are clearer, more agile, and their moods and points of view are affected in very positive ways. I do believe in the power of music to change a person's entire being - and whether the student becomes a professional in the field or not, is completely immaterial. They are exposed to a very high standard of playing, and they all learn, albeit at various rates of speed. There is nothing more exciting to me than to see my students become adept at playing the piano, and generally educated in music.
In addition, I have become very involved in writing. (When I was much younger, I used to write stories on various subjects, enjoying it very much.) Many people have urged me to write a book on my life in the arts, and include stories about all the incredible artists with whom I have studied, worked, performed and socialized. At the suggestion of my friend and colleague, Margie Talvi, I started an online blog much along the same lines, and find that it has become the centerpiece of my daily routine. Of course, I still practice, and enjoy rehearsing music that I love, and which is specifically written for the piano. I do believe that if I had known it would feel this wonderful, I might have left the ballet earlier. At the onset, I just reveled in the fact that I did NOT have to go to the theater, nor play even one rehearsal or class - and just let the day create itself. What a fabulous feeling that is....and one which I had never before experienced.
In reviewing the many examples of downsizing and even eliminating orchestras in both concert and ballet performances, in order to save money, I fear for the future of classical music. It appears to be in grave danger, and is there any other kind? (Marjorie Kransberg Talvi has written extensively on the subject in her excellent online blog, entitled "Magic Moments," at mktalvi.blogspot.com - I urge you to read it.) Selfishly I am grateful that my career has spanned decades and from this vantage point, I have concluded that I could not in all good conscience encourage anyone to follow a professional career in classical music. Even pop music, so much more accessible to people and therefore more 'popular' is having its issues as well. Listen to what Jay-Z Carter says about the subject on the new Oprah Channel - OWN. Most of the successful rap artists have successfully founded clothing lines, fragrance and accessory lines, and make a great deal of money capitalizing on their name. They all love music, and while recording and performing may be their passion, the business is not what it used to be, that is for certain. Much of this can be traced to the internet - where so much music can be downloaded for pennies, and sometimes not even that.
A week ago I watched the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts Awards, which honored Oprah Winfrey, Paul McCartney, Jerry Herman (composer, lyricist of 'Hello Dolly' and 'La Cage aux Folles' fame),
country musician Merle Haggard, and Bill T. Jones (Tony Award winning dancer/choreographer.) Caroline Kennedy, elegant as always, introduced the show stating that nearly 50 years ago her father, John F. Kennedy, had said, "a nation reveals itself not only by the individuals it produces, but by those it honors." I found myself wondering how long it might be before this marvelous show would no longer be viable - that perhaps the arts would cease to play any kind of role in American culture, except the most perfunctory. And I was reminded that it was Ralph Waldo Emerson who said, "do not go where the path may lead; instead go where there is no path and leave a trail." My friends, it is time for us all to become trailblazers, to prevent the disappearance of some of our most valuable assets - music, dance, and the arts in general.
For one thing, I stopped working at Pacific Northwest Ballet in June of 2010 - 'retired' is the word that was used in the news announcement and in the PNB program. (I used to dread the sound of that word, and its implications.) Of course, I did not retire from music, only from rehearsals and performances with the ballet, all of which I faithfully executed during my 25 years of service at that institution. While there are several aspects of my work that I miss, (such as performances) and certainly many of the people, I am not feeling the loss of playing all those hours of rehearsal in the ballet studio. I hope no one will be offended by this statement - certainly my dearest friends and family will not be surprised. While I have always had the stamina to practice long hours and enjoyed it, ballet rehearsals are something else entirely. Those simply make one very tired and sore, to put it succinctly. Playing the various pieces over and over again is necessary for the dancers to learn and rehearse their steps and roles, but it is a tedious process for the person at the piano. And no matter how wonderful and gifted that pianist may be, one simply becomes 'wallpaper' in the end. Of course, I realize this is part of the job expectation - to function much like a tape machine (only a 'live' one). However, if one (such as myself) is also the Piano Soloist and expected to perform (at the highest level) solo works and concertos with the orchestra, that is another matter altogether. The simple fact that a pianist must practice the instrument daily, (a totally different issue than rehearsals in the ballet studio), learn and practice all those solos, adds a physical component that sometimes becomes very painful. I was always fortunate in that my stamina allowed me to do all this, and quite readily. For example, I played major concerts in New York City at Alice Tully Hall, Town Hall, and Carnegie Hall. My friends simply could not believe I was able to accomplish all this - and yet work with the New York City Ballet as their piano soloist and rehearsal pianist. Sometimes I was at the piano for 10-12 hours per day, and although I ran into problems at certain points with my arm muscles, and was obliged to have cortisone injections in order to play, I continued that punishing schedule - probably because I could stand it. Just to clarify matters, this all has nothing to do with my love for, and enjoyment of ballet and dance in general - that is still there, sharp and intact.
This is the first time in my career with the ballet, that I have not been involved with the production of 'Nutcracker' - either in rehearsals or performances. While piano soloist in New York City Ballet (8 years), I rehearsed and performed in George Balanchine's production; and as piano soloist for Pacific Northwest Ballet (25 years), I did the same work for Kent Stowell's production. This makes a total of 33 years of 'Nutcracker.' I haven't checked this, but that may be something of a record. (In Europe, we did not perform that ballet - a light opera was done for the Christmas season.)
For those who are not familiar with the routine of mounting such a large production, let me say that the process is lengthy and onerous. It begins in late October with myriads of children's practices, and concludes with many onstage rehearsals for the entire company - with all manner of smaller rehearsals included in the schedules. For the pianist, this means playing every note of the difficult piano transcription of this 2-hour Tchaikovsky work. Everyone breathes a sign of relief when the last onstage rehearsal is finished, and the performances commence. (There are many children involved in the 'Nutcracker,' which always requires extra stage time for their dances, entrances and exits.) Fortunately for everybody concerned, the music is brilliant, beautiful, rich in texture and sound, and the familiar melodies have become synonymous with the Christmas season here in America. The score is one of Tchaikovsky's greatest triumphs, and a masterpiece of musical composition. To illustrate this point, I never wearied of hearing the music, only of playing it. During this Christmas season, I watched a number of different productions on television; from London's Royal Ballet, Berlin Ballet, Monte Carlo Ballet, to Bejart as well as the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow. All very different productions (including a circus), but my favorites are still George Balanchine's and Kent Stowell's (with Maurice Sendak's colorful designs and costumes.) The fact that I could actually watch and listen to 'Nutcracker' attests to the beauty of the music. One of my friends could not believe that I could or would be willing to do such a thing. But the power of that music is incredible - and nothing can overshadow it!
I do have to say that the Christmas season was, for me, redefined this year - without Nut rehearsals and shows. There are usually 42-44 performances - two per day at times. And then there is the worry about SNOW which in the past few years, has become a source of concern, especially when one lives on a huge hill, such as Magnolia or Queen Anne. There have been times when I was literally stranded on my street, as all main cross streets (hills) were closed, and terribly icy. Once the father of one of my students brought food supplies, as he had a very powerful 4-wheeler truck, and could get to my place via a circuitous route - for which I was very grateful. However, even in the worst snowstorm, I was able to get to the theater somehow. I do recall one show where most of the orchestra members could not travel, but I was there - having ridden with Kent and Francia Stowell (directors of PNB at that time) who lived near me on Capitol Hill. And so, I became the orchestra, playing many parts on the piano - also singing the little duet in Act I, while playing the piano, as well as the high sung notes in the Snow scene. As the tambourine player in the percussion section was absent, I played that as well. I recall that John Pendleton, our former beloved company manager told several people that "Dianne is a one-man band!" And he was right...For that one show, I received not only doubling, but tripling+ fees!
My initial fears that I would be 'lost' without the ballet work proved to be groundless. What has happened since is nothing short of miraculous, at least for me. Of course, I continue to teach, as I believe children should grow up exposed to the arts, especially music. It opens doors that one never even knew existed. Many of my students tell me that they find their minds are clearer, more agile, and their moods and points of view are affected in very positive ways. I do believe in the power of music to change a person's entire being - and whether the student becomes a professional in the field or not, is completely immaterial. They are exposed to a very high standard of playing, and they all learn, albeit at various rates of speed. There is nothing more exciting to me than to see my students become adept at playing the piano, and generally educated in music.
In addition, I have become very involved in writing. (When I was much younger, I used to write stories on various subjects, enjoying it very much.) Many people have urged me to write a book on my life in the arts, and include stories about all the incredible artists with whom I have studied, worked, performed and socialized. At the suggestion of my friend and colleague, Margie Talvi, I started an online blog much along the same lines, and find that it has become the centerpiece of my daily routine. Of course, I still practice, and enjoy rehearsing music that I love, and which is specifically written for the piano. I do believe that if I had known it would feel this wonderful, I might have left the ballet earlier. At the onset, I just reveled in the fact that I did NOT have to go to the theater, nor play even one rehearsal or class - and just let the day create itself. What a fabulous feeling that is....and one which I had never before experienced.
In reviewing the many examples of downsizing and even eliminating orchestras in both concert and ballet performances, in order to save money, I fear for the future of classical music. It appears to be in grave danger, and is there any other kind? (Marjorie Kransberg Talvi has written extensively on the subject in her excellent online blog, entitled "Magic Moments," at mktalvi.blogspot.com - I urge you to read it.) Selfishly I am grateful that my career has spanned decades and from this vantage point, I have concluded that I could not in all good conscience encourage anyone to follow a professional career in classical music. Even pop music, so much more accessible to people and therefore more 'popular' is having its issues as well. Listen to what Jay-Z Carter says about the subject on the new Oprah Channel - OWN. Most of the successful rap artists have successfully founded clothing lines, fragrance and accessory lines, and make a great deal of money capitalizing on their name. They all love music, and while recording and performing may be their passion, the business is not what it used to be, that is for certain. Much of this can be traced to the internet - where so much music can be downloaded for pennies, and sometimes not even that.
A week ago I watched the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts Awards, which honored Oprah Winfrey, Paul McCartney, Jerry Herman (composer, lyricist of 'Hello Dolly' and 'La Cage aux Folles' fame),
country musician Merle Haggard, and Bill T. Jones (Tony Award winning dancer/choreographer.) Caroline Kennedy, elegant as always, introduced the show stating that nearly 50 years ago her father, John F. Kennedy, had said, "a nation reveals itself not only by the individuals it produces, but by those it honors." I found myself wondering how long it might be before this marvelous show would no longer be viable - that perhaps the arts would cease to play any kind of role in American culture, except the most perfunctory. And I was reminded that it was Ralph Waldo Emerson who said, "do not go where the path may lead; instead go where there is no path and leave a trail." My friends, it is time for us all to become trailblazers, to prevent the disappearance of some of our most valuable assets - music, dance, and the arts in general.
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