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.
I could never handle such a journey now. Certainly I would not be able to RUN! Was always so happy to come to the conclusion of this journey!
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