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.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
A HEARTFELT TRIBUTE TO MICHAEL JACKSON - Gone Too Soon - (Chapter 6)
Looking back on my early childhood and teenage years, I have come to understand the origins of my rather eclectic knowledge of music. I grew up singing many genres of songs at home - popular, sacred, and classical - my mother had a huge collection of song books which my brother and I have now inherited. My early performances on stage, singing Christmas and Easter music, as well as Disney movie vocals are directly due to her. (Thank you, Mom). John also sang (at a later age) in a Barbershop Quartet, and other vocal ensembles at holiday times, and I played the piano in vocal and instrumental groups as well as singing solos. Every week we watched the 'Ed Sullivan Show,' which featured many pop and soul groups - The Temptations, The O'Jays, Diana Ross and the Supremes, The Bee Gees, the Beach Boys, The Doors, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Jackson 5, The Turtles, The Mamas and the Papas, Sly and the Family Stone, to name a few. I could play this music by ear, plus selections of George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, etc., and consequently would entertain friends for hours at the piano - I was very popular at parties! Then there was my association with Chad Mitchell and his Trio, which I have already mentioned in Chapter 5. Later in my life, I was able to use this knowledge in playing for George Balanchine's ballet class, as he only liked popular music for his class. The reason: he didn't want to hear classical music played at the 'wrong' tempo, which can easily happen, given the vagaries of a ballet class and the various tempi required. Furthermore, he was a trained and sophisticated musician as well as a choreographer, and as such, would be irritated by incorrect tempi. (Classical music needs a learned musician - which I was - and therefore in complete accord with his wishes to use popular music for class.)
Mother also took John and me to the movies once a week, on a regular basis. Our father loved football and baseball games, and either attended or watched them on television. Mother was not interested in spectator sports, hence the movie outings. She loved musicals, so we saw just about every one that existed, and all the Disney films as well. To this day, I can sing along with all the musical stars of yesteryear on the PBS channels, when those programs are aired.
You may wonder why I didn't choose to enter the field of popular music, instead of the classical field. As a matter of fact, I had several opportunities to do so in New York City, and later in Europe, but by then I was deeply involved in the classical tradition, and loved working at the piano (my favorite instrument) to constantly improve my skills as a concert pianist. I was playing concerts regularly - both in America and Europe, and was piano soloist for The New York City Ballet. This was the most interesting route for me. Although I loved popular music, my respect for this art form was not nearly as great as it was for classical music and musicians - that was the REAL DEAL in my estimation, at least at that time. Then I met one particular artist (and it only takes one) who completely changed my point of view on this subject - that person was Michael Jackson. I had watched him grow up as lead singer for the Jackson 5 at age 10, and develop into an amazing artistic phenomenon. I loved his music, his singing, choreography, and dancing - not to mention those mammoth shows he created for his concert tours. (He had more stamina than any performer I knew then or now.) What a massively talented, creative, multi-faceted genius he was! I remember reading a NY Times article which stated: "in the world of popular music, there is Michael Jackson, and then there is everybody else." (He was but 25 years old at the time - and a force to be reckoned with.)
I thought him a most extraordinary individual in every way -- his brilliance was evident in everything he did or said. He made a huge impact on me - I realized that he was as devoted to his art as I was to mine. Watching how he worked with others, to this day when I teach my students, I think of him, and how kind he was to people, even when correcting them in rehearsal. He was truly one of the nicest, sweetest, and most caring human beings I have ever met in my life, and I came to adore him. There was an aura and a light about him that, except for Mr. Balanchine, I had never before experienced - one truly wanted to be in his company. Michael was a perfectionist - he rehearsed his songs and dance steps to the nth degree, and scrutinized every note of his recordings before they were released. He pushed himself to the limit because he wanted his musical offerings to be as perfect as possible, and was willing to do whatever it took to achieve this. He also expected the same high standards from others: his band, back-up singers and dancers, stage crew, wardrobe and costume people, etc. Nothing escaped his notice on stage, even when he was singing and dancing himself at the same time. He had an unerring ear and eye.
Michael generally changed the face of show business - including the way a song was delivered, illustrating how a dance could enhance a song and imprint it upon one's mind - especially his dancing. ("Beat It" and the stage version of "Billie Jean," plus "Smooth Criminal," come to mind, not to mention the music videos of "Thriller" and "Bad." After his legendary television performance of "Billie Jean" in 1983 for 'Motown 25,' (the NBC special celebrating the 25th Anniversary of Motown) where he unveiled his famous 'Moonwalk,' his career went up several more notches. A staggering 47 million viewers tuned in to watch and if one didn't know Michael Jackson before, one certainly did after that television special. The audience was spellbound, and so was the rest of the viewing public. This is when the white glove was introduced, the dark sequined jacket (borrowed from his mother's closet), the white socks under short black trousers, and the black fedora. His routine that evening has been described by even the most sceptical of observers as 'poetry in motion.' His lightning moves, the dramatic static freezes, then the quicksilver moves again - these became trademarks of his. Dance notables such as Fred Astaire (to whom Michael's autobiography "Moonwalk" was dedicated), Gene Kelly, and Hermes Pan dropped by his home to congratulate him on his performance, and incidentally, learn how to moonwalk from him! (Michael speaks about this in his book). Strictly speaking, Michael didn't 'invent' the moonwalk. Old timers like Fred Astaire and Marcel Marceau had created illusions of floating backwards, and Jeffrey Daniel of disco group Shalamar had utilized it. Michael witnessed him on Soul Train, (which he watched frequently) and asked Jeffrey to teach him the step. Michael, as was his way, took it further - his art was that of the magician, (and he was in love with 'magic.') The release of his album "Thriller" saw his career soar to the heavens - and sell millions of records. Then came the video of "Thriller" which sent the record album through the roof again! The Motown TV performance cemented his place in pop history and his rise to unimaginable fame (the "Thriller" album sold another million copies the following week) and he stayed on top for the next ten years. In so doing, he dominated and defined the decade of the 80's. He was invited to the White House to meet President and Mrs. Reagan and given a Humanitarian Award for services to a charity that aided people in overcoming alcohol and drug abuse, (prompting President Reagan to quip, "Isn't this a Thriller?") He donated the use of his recording, "Beat It" for an ad campaign to discourage teenage drinking, met with President Bush, and then a bit later, performed for the inauguration of President Clinton, where he made a plea onstage for funds to fight the AIDS epidemic, and assist the victims of this disease. His "Thriller" album was inducted into the Guiness Book of World Records in 1984, and in 2009 MTV Base and VH1 voted it the best album released in MTV's lifetime. It's been preserved by the US Library of Congress as an item "deemed culturally significant." (As of this date in 2010, the album has sold 110 million units, and counting.)
In the ensuing years, he mounted huge touring shows - bringing the entire stage and all the lighting and sound equipment with him (two plane loads). Bubbles, his pet chimp, also made the trip. The record-shattering 'Bad Tour' (sponsored by Pepsi) lasted 16 months for 123 shows (1986-88) and boosted his profile to an even higher level. People around the planet wanted to catch a glimpse of the near-mythical creature they had witnessed in those groundbreaking videos. In Japan he was named "Typhoon Michael." The even more elaborate 'Dangerous Tour' was sponsored again by Pepsi, and slated to last 1992-93, but had to be cut short when Michael fell ill. Prior to that, the Bucharest concert was filmed (rights were sold for $21 million) and shown on HBO in 1992. His album, "Dangerous" cost a record $12 million to make (Teddy Riley was the producer, and the album features cutting-edge rhythms which appealed to a younger generation.) Somewhere in the middle of all this, he found time to perform at the 27th Superbowl in 1993, and be interviewed by Oprah Winfrey at his home, for a 'Live around the World' television event. He talked openly about his skin disorder (vitiligo), his father's very strict disciplinary tactics (some would call it 'abusive,') and his plastic surgeries.
It was prior to the last Jackson Brothers Tour in 1984 (called the 'Victory Tour'), that Michael was filming a Pepsi Cola commercial with his brothers. The pyros went off early, and his hair caught on fire. There is a horrific video of this on YOUTUBE - he was fortunate not to have died in the accident. But he lost much of his hair, and his scalp was badly burned. He did not sue Pepsi over this incident, but they awarded him over a million dollars (perhaps to pre-empt any lawsuits down the line), which Michael donated to a foundation that funded 'The Michael Jackson Burn Center' in Los Angeles. He went on the nationwide tour as a member of the Jackson 5, but in great pain, even with the use of medication. This was the first time he had ever taken anything in the way of drugs, and while he weaned himself off them, they always held an allure as an escape from pain - physical as well as mental. It was also during this time period that his skin began to change color - and white splotchy areas became evident... one could see it. This was due to a skin disorder called 'vitiligo,' which was a genetic condition on his father's side of the family. He was obliged to wear make-up on and off stage to even out his skin color (after all, he was a performing artist, and appearance plays a large role). His make-up girl, Karen, was always with him whenever he had stage shows, photo shoots, etc. (Michael's son, Prince, also has this disorder.) As if that weren't enough, he began to display signs of the autoimmune condition called 'lupus' which among other things, causes one's hair to fall out. It also affects the joints, and consequently he was frequently in pain before and after his shows. Thereafter, he had to wear hairpieces and weaves most of the time, and take prescription medication on a regular basis. He had no control over any of these physical maladies, but was heavily criticized for what people thought 'oddities'. The public made much of his plastic surgeries, even though they were limited to his nose, and a cleft insertion into his chin. (When Michael was a teenager, he had a case of extremely bad acne, which lasted for about 2 years. While he had previously been a fun loving and cheerful young man, he became withdrawn and quiet, and stayed home when he didn't have to perform. In addition, his father teased him about the size of his nose - calling him 'Big Nose' - and his brothers joined in the fun of teasing Michael. Consequently he wouldn't look at himself in the mirror, washed his face in the dark, and told his mother that he was 'so ugly.' His mother recounts the day when he just left the house, didn't say where he was going, and made a trip to a plastic surgeon's office, and came back with bandages on his face! This was the first of his 'nose alterations.' A bit later he fell down on the stage, and broke his nose, so another procedure was necessary. His mother said that he then seemed to become somewhat partial to having his nose re-done. (She went so far as to talk to the doctor, and ask him to do nothing more to her son's nose, but just tell him that the procedure had been done, when it hadn't. But, of course, the doctor didn't want to do this, even for her. Fortunately none of this affected his extraordinary ability to sing and dance, so he continued to shine brightly.
He won more awards than any artist ever has to this day - a total of 13 Grammys - (8 in one evening at the Grammy Awards in 1984), 8 American Music Awards in the same year, and in subsequent years was named Artist of the Decade, Artist of the Millenium, won several World Music Awards, NAACP Awards, MTV Music Video awards, BMI Urban Awards, Billboard Awards, Soul Train Awards, Grammy Living Legend Award (presented to him in 1993 by his sister, Janet), and the list goes on and on. Since he won every prize available, new ones had to be invented just for him!
In 1997 he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Jackson 5, and again in 2001 as a solo artist. It was in 2001 that the 30th anniversary of his career was celebrated at Madison Square Garden, and nationally televised. There were two performances, and included many celebrity performers (Marc Anthony, Destiny's Child with Beyonce, James Ingram, Whitney Houston, Usher, N'SYNC, Justin Timberlake, Britany Spears, to name a few.) The second half was introduced by Elizabeth Taylor and featured the Jackson Brothers (re-united for the first time since 1984). The rest of the program was devoted to Michael - including his iconic performances of " Thriller, Beat It, The Way You Make Me Feel, Billie Jean, and "You Rock My World," (the hit song on his Invincible recording released in 2001.) The second performance was on September 10, 2001, the day before the 9/11 disaster.
In 1985 he co-wrote (with Lionel Ritchie) 'We Are The World' at Quincy Jones' request, to be recorded by the reigning pop music stars of that time. Harry Belafonte and Ken Kragan spear-headed the project with Bob Geldof. Pop singers such as Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Cyndi Lauper, the other Jackson brothers, La Toya Jackson, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Willie Nelson, Kenny Rogers, Paul Simon, Bette Midler, Darryl Hall and John Oates, Steve Perry, Bob Geldof, Smokey Robinson, Ray Charles, Harry Belafonte, Lionel Ritchie, Diana Ross, Dionne Warwick, Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Huey Lewis and the News, James Ingram, and many others gathered together on the evening of the AMA awards after the show to record the song. Michael skipped the show to lay down the vocal track guide beforehand along with Quincy. All parties concerned donated their services: musicians, singers, and technical crew. They were all advised by Quincy to 'check their egos at the door.' The venture was called 'The USA For Africa' (United Support of Artists For Africa) and the recording earned in the area of $50 - $75 million for African refugees and starvation victims, winning two Grammys for 'Record and Song of the Year.'
In addition to his amazing musical abilities, I know that he could draw very well, was a marvelous writer, poet, and lyricist - a very deep thinker indeed. (I have sent some of his prose and poetry to various friends who had no idea of his gifts in that area!) He was such a wonder that I can still scarcely believe it! I am of the opinion that after finishing his incredible performing career, he would have been a fabulous film maker, director, and producer. Doubtless he would have composed the music for his films as well. I don't believe he could ever have stopped composing - he was like a water tap that wouldn't turn off as far as music was concerned - (much like Mozart in his day.)
He demonstrated how he would record his compositions to show them to prospective producers with whom he might be working (demo recordings, they are called). He could make all sorts of sounds with his mouth, singing at the same time, and would sound like a complete instrumental group! Then someone else (like the pianist) would notate the music which he sang, on paper, so they could be transcribed later for the musicians in the band. (It would take too long for Michael to actually write down all the sounds he made, so he sang them into a tape machine.) I was fascinated by all this and his ease in showing me the process. He also spoke about how the music would come to him at various times, or in a dream. He felt that he was only a channel that transmitted the music - and that he could not take credit for any of those songs. (John Lennon also said something akin to this). Sometimes I write poetry and have had a similar experience of sentences coming to me fully formed or complete. So I knew what he was talking about.
When I think about how poorly he was treated by the media, and the public humiliation he was forced to endure (including that trial, the false allegations, which by now have all been exposed as lies,) I could just scream. What he deserved was great respect and admiration, not only for his incredible performing ability, his great musical and creative gifts, but also for his humanitarian endeavors all over the world, and unending generosity. I do know that a very successful pop artist earns millions (and Michael was the MOST successful) - that fact alone will attract the vultures. (Consider that last year his estate earned $275 million dollars from CD and DVD sales. John Lennon's and Elvis Presley's estate earned $50 - $60 million.) This is not to mention the amount of jealousy, and ill will generated by less talented people in the music industry.
The mysterious circumstances surrounding his death leave many unanswered questions - although there are definitely clues to be found, if one is interested in looking. Michael, himself, had said that he thought there were people who did not want him around...(his mother made this statement on her interview with Oprah recently - and further stated that he must have known something, or he would not have said anything like that to her.)
For me, I can only say that Michael's death saddened me beyond words - it is still difficult for me to believe. The fact that he was only three weeks away from the first concert in the O2 arena in London, (which I had planned to attend) only heightened the loss which most of the world has felt. I do know that he was one - of - a - kind. There will never be another Michael Jackson.
"All art has as its ultimate goal, the union between the material and the spirtual; the human and the divine. I believe that to be the reason for the very existence of art, and I am grateful and honored to be an instrument of nature....to be allowed to give through music and dance, any way that I can." ----Michael Jackson----
Mother also took John and me to the movies once a week, on a regular basis. Our father loved football and baseball games, and either attended or watched them on television. Mother was not interested in spectator sports, hence the movie outings. She loved musicals, so we saw just about every one that existed, and all the Disney films as well. To this day, I can sing along with all the musical stars of yesteryear on the PBS channels, when those programs are aired.
You may wonder why I didn't choose to enter the field of popular music, instead of the classical field. As a matter of fact, I had several opportunities to do so in New York City, and later in Europe, but by then I was deeply involved in the classical tradition, and loved working at the piano (my favorite instrument) to constantly improve my skills as a concert pianist. I was playing concerts regularly - both in America and Europe, and was piano soloist for The New York City Ballet. This was the most interesting route for me. Although I loved popular music, my respect for this art form was not nearly as great as it was for classical music and musicians - that was the REAL DEAL in my estimation, at least at that time. Then I met one particular artist (and it only takes one) who completely changed my point of view on this subject - that person was Michael Jackson. I had watched him grow up as lead singer for the Jackson 5 at age 10, and develop into an amazing artistic phenomenon. I loved his music, his singing, choreography, and dancing - not to mention those mammoth shows he created for his concert tours. (He had more stamina than any performer I knew then or now.) What a massively talented, creative, multi-faceted genius he was! I remember reading a NY Times article which stated: "in the world of popular music, there is Michael Jackson, and then there is everybody else." (He was but 25 years old at the time - and a force to be reckoned with.)
I thought him a most extraordinary individual in every way -- his brilliance was evident in everything he did or said. He made a huge impact on me - I realized that he was as devoted to his art as I was to mine. Watching how he worked with others, to this day when I teach my students, I think of him, and how kind he was to people, even when correcting them in rehearsal. He was truly one of the nicest, sweetest, and most caring human beings I have ever met in my life, and I came to adore him. There was an aura and a light about him that, except for Mr. Balanchine, I had never before experienced - one truly wanted to be in his company. Michael was a perfectionist - he rehearsed his songs and dance steps to the nth degree, and scrutinized every note of his recordings before they were released. He pushed himself to the limit because he wanted his musical offerings to be as perfect as possible, and was willing to do whatever it took to achieve this. He also expected the same high standards from others: his band, back-up singers and dancers, stage crew, wardrobe and costume people, etc. Nothing escaped his notice on stage, even when he was singing and dancing himself at the same time. He had an unerring ear and eye.
Michael generally changed the face of show business - including the way a song was delivered, illustrating how a dance could enhance a song and imprint it upon one's mind - especially his dancing. ("Beat It" and the stage version of "Billie Jean," plus "Smooth Criminal," come to mind, not to mention the music videos of "Thriller" and "Bad." After his legendary television performance of "Billie Jean" in 1983 for 'Motown 25,' (the NBC special celebrating the 25th Anniversary of Motown) where he unveiled his famous 'Moonwalk,' his career went up several more notches. A staggering 47 million viewers tuned in to watch and if one didn't know Michael Jackson before, one certainly did after that television special. The audience was spellbound, and so was the rest of the viewing public. This is when the white glove was introduced, the dark sequined jacket (borrowed from his mother's closet), the white socks under short black trousers, and the black fedora. His routine that evening has been described by even the most sceptical of observers as 'poetry in motion.' His lightning moves, the dramatic static freezes, then the quicksilver moves again - these became trademarks of his. Dance notables such as Fred Astaire (to whom Michael's autobiography "Moonwalk" was dedicated), Gene Kelly, and Hermes Pan dropped by his home to congratulate him on his performance, and incidentally, learn how to moonwalk from him! (Michael speaks about this in his book). Strictly speaking, Michael didn't 'invent' the moonwalk. Old timers like Fred Astaire and Marcel Marceau had created illusions of floating backwards, and Jeffrey Daniel of disco group Shalamar had utilized it. Michael witnessed him on Soul Train, (which he watched frequently) and asked Jeffrey to teach him the step. Michael, as was his way, took it further - his art was that of the magician, (and he was in love with 'magic.') The release of his album "Thriller" saw his career soar to the heavens - and sell millions of records. Then came the video of "Thriller" which sent the record album through the roof again! The Motown TV performance cemented his place in pop history and his rise to unimaginable fame (the "Thriller" album sold another million copies the following week) and he stayed on top for the next ten years. In so doing, he dominated and defined the decade of the 80's. He was invited to the White House to meet President and Mrs. Reagan and given a Humanitarian Award for services to a charity that aided people in overcoming alcohol and drug abuse, (prompting President Reagan to quip, "Isn't this a Thriller?") He donated the use of his recording, "Beat It" for an ad campaign to discourage teenage drinking, met with President Bush, and then a bit later, performed for the inauguration of President Clinton, where he made a plea onstage for funds to fight the AIDS epidemic, and assist the victims of this disease. His "Thriller" album was inducted into the Guiness Book of World Records in 1984, and in 2009 MTV Base and VH1 voted it the best album released in MTV's lifetime. It's been preserved by the US Library of Congress as an item "deemed culturally significant." (As of this date in 2010, the album has sold 110 million units, and counting.)
In the ensuing years, he mounted huge touring shows - bringing the entire stage and all the lighting and sound equipment with him (two plane loads). Bubbles, his pet chimp, also made the trip. The record-shattering 'Bad Tour' (sponsored by Pepsi) lasted 16 months for 123 shows (1986-88) and boosted his profile to an even higher level. People around the planet wanted to catch a glimpse of the near-mythical creature they had witnessed in those groundbreaking videos. In Japan he was named "Typhoon Michael." The even more elaborate 'Dangerous Tour' was sponsored again by Pepsi, and slated to last 1992-93, but had to be cut short when Michael fell ill. Prior to that, the Bucharest concert was filmed (rights were sold for $21 million) and shown on HBO in 1992. His album, "Dangerous" cost a record $12 million to make (Teddy Riley was the producer, and the album features cutting-edge rhythms which appealed to a younger generation.) Somewhere in the middle of all this, he found time to perform at the 27th Superbowl in 1993, and be interviewed by Oprah Winfrey at his home, for a 'Live around the World' television event. He talked openly about his skin disorder (vitiligo), his father's very strict disciplinary tactics (some would call it 'abusive,') and his plastic surgeries.
It was prior to the last Jackson Brothers Tour in 1984 (called the 'Victory Tour'), that Michael was filming a Pepsi Cola commercial with his brothers. The pyros went off early, and his hair caught on fire. There is a horrific video of this on YOUTUBE - he was fortunate not to have died in the accident. But he lost much of his hair, and his scalp was badly burned. He did not sue Pepsi over this incident, but they awarded him over a million dollars (perhaps to pre-empt any lawsuits down the line), which Michael donated to a foundation that funded 'The Michael Jackson Burn Center' in Los Angeles. He went on the nationwide tour as a member of the Jackson 5, but in great pain, even with the use of medication. This was the first time he had ever taken anything in the way of drugs, and while he weaned himself off them, they always held an allure as an escape from pain - physical as well as mental. It was also during this time period that his skin began to change color - and white splotchy areas became evident... one could see it. This was due to a skin disorder called 'vitiligo,' which was a genetic condition on his father's side of the family. He was obliged to wear make-up on and off stage to even out his skin color (after all, he was a performing artist, and appearance plays a large role). His make-up girl, Karen, was always with him whenever he had stage shows, photo shoots, etc. (Michael's son, Prince, also has this disorder.) As if that weren't enough, he began to display signs of the autoimmune condition called 'lupus' which among other things, causes one's hair to fall out. It also affects the joints, and consequently he was frequently in pain before and after his shows. Thereafter, he had to wear hairpieces and weaves most of the time, and take prescription medication on a regular basis. He had no control over any of these physical maladies, but was heavily criticized for what people thought 'oddities'. The public made much of his plastic surgeries, even though they were limited to his nose, and a cleft insertion into his chin. (When Michael was a teenager, he had a case of extremely bad acne, which lasted for about 2 years. While he had previously been a fun loving and cheerful young man, he became withdrawn and quiet, and stayed home when he didn't have to perform. In addition, his father teased him about the size of his nose - calling him 'Big Nose' - and his brothers joined in the fun of teasing Michael. Consequently he wouldn't look at himself in the mirror, washed his face in the dark, and told his mother that he was 'so ugly.' His mother recounts the day when he just left the house, didn't say where he was going, and made a trip to a plastic surgeon's office, and came back with bandages on his face! This was the first of his 'nose alterations.' A bit later he fell down on the stage, and broke his nose, so another procedure was necessary. His mother said that he then seemed to become somewhat partial to having his nose re-done. (She went so far as to talk to the doctor, and ask him to do nothing more to her son's nose, but just tell him that the procedure had been done, when it hadn't. But, of course, the doctor didn't want to do this, even for her. Fortunately none of this affected his extraordinary ability to sing and dance, so he continued to shine brightly.
He won more awards than any artist ever has to this day - a total of 13 Grammys - (8 in one evening at the Grammy Awards in 1984), 8 American Music Awards in the same year, and in subsequent years was named Artist of the Decade, Artist of the Millenium, won several World Music Awards, NAACP Awards, MTV Music Video awards, BMI Urban Awards, Billboard Awards, Soul Train Awards, Grammy Living Legend Award (presented to him in 1993 by his sister, Janet), and the list goes on and on. Since he won every prize available, new ones had to be invented just for him!
In 1997 he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Jackson 5, and again in 2001 as a solo artist. It was in 2001 that the 30th anniversary of his career was celebrated at Madison Square Garden, and nationally televised. There were two performances, and included many celebrity performers (Marc Anthony, Destiny's Child with Beyonce, James Ingram, Whitney Houston, Usher, N'SYNC, Justin Timberlake, Britany Spears, to name a few.) The second half was introduced by Elizabeth Taylor and featured the Jackson Brothers (re-united for the first time since 1984). The rest of the program was devoted to Michael - including his iconic performances of " Thriller, Beat It, The Way You Make Me Feel, Billie Jean, and "You Rock My World," (the hit song on his Invincible recording released in 2001.) The second performance was on September 10, 2001, the day before the 9/11 disaster.
In 1985 he co-wrote (with Lionel Ritchie) 'We Are The World' at Quincy Jones' request, to be recorded by the reigning pop music stars of that time. Harry Belafonte and Ken Kragan spear-headed the project with Bob Geldof. Pop singers such as Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Cyndi Lauper, the other Jackson brothers, La Toya Jackson, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Willie Nelson, Kenny Rogers, Paul Simon, Bette Midler, Darryl Hall and John Oates, Steve Perry, Bob Geldof, Smokey Robinson, Ray Charles, Harry Belafonte, Lionel Ritchie, Diana Ross, Dionne Warwick, Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Huey Lewis and the News, James Ingram, and many others gathered together on the evening of the AMA awards after the show to record the song. Michael skipped the show to lay down the vocal track guide beforehand along with Quincy. All parties concerned donated their services: musicians, singers, and technical crew. They were all advised by Quincy to 'check their egos at the door.' The venture was called 'The USA For Africa' (United Support of Artists For Africa) and the recording earned in the area of $50 - $75 million for African refugees and starvation victims, winning two Grammys for 'Record and Song of the Year.'
In addition to his amazing musical abilities, I know that he could draw very well, was a marvelous writer, poet, and lyricist - a very deep thinker indeed. (I have sent some of his prose and poetry to various friends who had no idea of his gifts in that area!) He was such a wonder that I can still scarcely believe it! I am of the opinion that after finishing his incredible performing career, he would have been a fabulous film maker, director, and producer. Doubtless he would have composed the music for his films as well. I don't believe he could ever have stopped composing - he was like a water tap that wouldn't turn off as far as music was concerned - (much like Mozart in his day.)
He demonstrated how he would record his compositions to show them to prospective producers with whom he might be working (demo recordings, they are called). He could make all sorts of sounds with his mouth, singing at the same time, and would sound like a complete instrumental group! Then someone else (like the pianist) would notate the music which he sang, on paper, so they could be transcribed later for the musicians in the band. (It would take too long for Michael to actually write down all the sounds he made, so he sang them into a tape machine.) I was fascinated by all this and his ease in showing me the process. He also spoke about how the music would come to him at various times, or in a dream. He felt that he was only a channel that transmitted the music - and that he could not take credit for any of those songs. (John Lennon also said something akin to this). Sometimes I write poetry and have had a similar experience of sentences coming to me fully formed or complete. So I knew what he was talking about.
When I think about how poorly he was treated by the media, and the public humiliation he was forced to endure (including that trial, the false allegations, which by now have all been exposed as lies,) I could just scream. What he deserved was great respect and admiration, not only for his incredible performing ability, his great musical and creative gifts, but also for his humanitarian endeavors all over the world, and unending generosity. I do know that a very successful pop artist earns millions (and Michael was the MOST successful) - that fact alone will attract the vultures. (Consider that last year his estate earned $275 million dollars from CD and DVD sales. John Lennon's and Elvis Presley's estate earned $50 - $60 million.) This is not to mention the amount of jealousy, and ill will generated by less talented people in the music industry.
The mysterious circumstances surrounding his death leave many unanswered questions - although there are definitely clues to be found, if one is interested in looking. Michael, himself, had said that he thought there were people who did not want him around...(his mother made this statement on her interview with Oprah recently - and further stated that he must have known something, or he would not have said anything like that to her.)
For me, I can only say that Michael's death saddened me beyond words - it is still difficult for me to believe. The fact that he was only three weeks away from the first concert in the O2 arena in London, (which I had planned to attend) only heightened the loss which most of the world has felt. I do know that he was one - of - a - kind. There will never be another Michael Jackson.
"All art has as its ultimate goal, the union between the material and the spirtual; the human and the divine. I believe that to be the reason for the very existence of art, and I am grateful and honored to be an instrument of nature....to be allowed to give through music and dance, any way that I can." ----Michael Jackson----
Thursday, December 2, 2010
GONZAGA UNIVERSITY (My Freshman Year at College) - Chapter 5
To backtrack just a bit, during my sophomore and junior years in high school, I entered and won every division of the Greater SpokaneMy first day at Gonzaga University was fraught with drama and stress. During the previous week, I had met with an advisor to determine my course of study at this university. Because I was schedule to attend the Eastman School of Music the following year as a transfer student, I was determined to take the very maximum credits allowed, so I selected courses that were required for my degree in music as well as electives in which I was interested. If one has never been through this process before, let me say that a high degree of patience is necessary. There is a limited amount of space for certain classes, and when they are filled, that is that. One has to try to find a comparable option, if possible, or make do with different subjects of a similar nature. This is somewhat like a crossword puzzle - and speed is of the essence in registering. I remember getting the last place in a certain music theory class, no small feat, as I had to literally run from one room to another on different floors! And without getting lost! Then there were the mammoth lecture classes--which featured various professors, some more popular than others. Certain courses were overcrowded, while others were on the small side. I rather liked the large classes, because I could more or less get lost in the sea of matriculating students. Always a copious note taker, I enjoyed the lectures--especially if the professor was knowledgeable and humorous, which some definitely were. These classes were mostly English, World History, Mathematics, Philosophy and Religion. (Gonzaga is a Catholic University - so all students are required to follow a plan of study for Philosophy and Religion courses, thus automatically graduating with a minor in Philosophy. Because I had placed very high in math, I was enrolled automatically in first year trigonometry, which was either very difficult, or impossibly difficult, depending on the professor. The music courses were much smaller in size, and also more precision oriented. I loved music theory, and was more or less a 'natural,' thanks to my 'perfect pitch,' which most students did not possess. History of music involved a lot of reading and memorization of facts about composers, their lives, style of composition, and their respective places in history which corresponded to world events. A certain period of history could be defined by a movement in art, music, drama, or a historical event, cataclysmic or otherwise. I also took subjects such as speech, sports history, European History, and participated in badminton and table tennis (in which I had excelled in high school). Since I was a music major, I enrolled in many music courses, of course, plus Women's Glee Club, and Combined Glee Club (both men and women.)Music Festival, including the Concerto Division. The prizes were mostly money (very welcome), except for the concerto competition. The winner of that portion was scheduled for two performances of the Mozart Concerto in C Minor with the Spokane Philharmonic during their fall season. (Writer's Side Note: This is my most favorite Mozart concerto, and subsequently I re-studied it with Sari Biro in San Francisco. It was a staple in her repertoire and is included on her recently Remastered Boxed CD Set. I performed it in San Francisco with chamber orchestra, and then several times in Europe many years later. Every Mozart concerto has a cadenza connected to the first movement - and there are always several options included with the piano score. I had listened to a recording of Robert Casadesus [well-known French pianist] who composed his own cadenza, and I liked it very much. So I wrote to him, C/O the publishing company, to request his assistance in locating the published version so I might purchase it, as I hadn't been able to find it. I also told him I was 16 years old and was performing the concerto with the Spokane Philharmonic. He answered my letter, also sending me a printed copy of the cadenza, at no charge! Of course, I sent him a profuse letter of thanks, and he answered it - with an invitation to visit him and his family, if and whenever I should be happen to be in Paris!! He passed away in 1972, just after his son Jean, also a pianist, sadly was killed in a motor accident). Returning to the narrative: I had appeared with the Spokane Junior Symphony in the 9th grade, performing one of the Bach "Brandenburg Concerti," and also the "Sugar Plum Fairy Variation" (on the celeste) from Tschaikovsky's "Nutcracker Suite!" Talk about visions of the future! Little did I realize that would be the very first of hundreds, if not thousands of performances (not to mention, rehearsals) of "The Nutcracker" that I would play later in my life, as piano soloist for The New York City Ballet and then later, for Pacific Northwest Ballet. And that "Nutcracker" would define my Christmas seasons for the next 35 years! However, I was blissfully unaware of all this drama that would unveil itself.
My piano teacher at this time (I had stopped studying with Dr. Moldenhauer - at mother's insistence as they did not get along very well) - was a lovely and inspiring woman named Trula Whelan who taught at Gonzaga as well as privately in her home, which is where I had my lessons. I studied with her until I left Spokane; it was she who entered me in all those competitions - and it was her husband who was the conductor of the Spokane Philharmonic (Harold Paul Whelan). If this sounds like nepotism, in so far as my winning all competition divisions, rest assured it was not. The judges were invited from various universities and music schools in the country. Indeed one of them was Van Cliburn and his mother, which is when I was invited to play for him. This was indeed a thrilling occasion for me, and I had a private coaching with both of them together. (As you may recall, he won the Tschaikovsky Competition, and became world-famous.) I remember his height - he was VERY TALL and thin, and had huge hands. He could play an interval of a 12th (an octave plus a 5th) as easily as I could play an octave. He was very complimentary to me and told me I should become a concert pianist, for certain.
One of my fondest memories of that time was my association with a folk-singing group of 3 men from Gonzaga, who all had very good voices, and were enrolled in the music school as well. They eventually became very famous and known nationally as The Chad Mitchell Trio. Chad was a senior, I recall, and he and I became friends through glee club. He was starting this group, and asked me if I would assist him in rehearsing with the guys - play the music, and generally help them learn it. The song "Blowin' in the Wind" (written by Bob Dylan) became one of their trademarks - (it was an anthem of the 60's, to be sure), and indeed they were the first professional group to record and present it nationally on the Ed Sullivan Show. All of their songs were hits, and to some extent duplicated The Kingston Trio's Repertoire - but Chad and the guys (Mike Kobluk and Joe Frazier) had their own distinctive sound, sang completely on pitch, had great energy, and were every bit as good as the K. Trio, I thought. Chad's voice was very clear and pleasing (he was the tenor and lead singer.) They toured a great deal and made many recordings, of which I have several When they came to NYC during my sojourn at the New York City Ballet, I attended their performances, and we all celebrated together. Fun times indeed! I was proud of the fact that I had been there on the ground floor, so to speak, of their rise to fame. As I was writing the foregoing paragraph about them here at home in Seattle, I saw on the television that one of the PBS stations was presenting a retrospective of folk-singing groups, with a clip of Judy Collins and Pete Seeger from the early times. Then came Michele Phillips, who was a guest (present time) on the show and clips were shown of the Mamas and the Papas (remember Mama Cass and John Phillips?) The next group to perform was The Chad Mitchell Trio!! I nearly dropped my glass of wine, and watched with avid interest this attractive trio of men whom I had known when we were all quite young. (make that VERY YOUNG) They sounded great! It was definitely a moment! The program showed them as they are now, as well as a clip from an early performance.
It was around this time that my brother bought himself a used guitar for five dollars (he was proud of that fact) and began teaching himself to play the instrument. He also attended Gonzaga (I was long gone by the time he enrolled), and studied voice with Lyle Moore, the choral director. He told me that he learned much from Lyle, and after that started his own singing group (called 'The ChurchKeys' ). I wonder where he got that idea? (By the way, a churchkey is a beer bottle opening tool.) If my memory serves me correctly, he came with me to observe Chad and group rehearse in the music building. On that particular day, the place was locked - and we couldn't get in. But we found a window open on the lowest floor and crawled through it, then opened the door for the others.
At the end of my freshman year, I felt ready to tackle the next hurdle. Incidentally, I had no problems adjusting to university life. In fact, I preferred it to high school (much to the chagrin of certain people who were critical of my parents' decision to allow me to graduate a year early.) For one thing, classes were held two or three times per week, and not every day as in high school - with the resultant daily homework. So I found University life to be much less stressful - there was actually a little time in between classes and one was not so rushed. The only classes which met every day were Music Theory, Ear Training, and Keyboard Harmony. So the year ended for me on a triumphant note, so to speak, with nearly straight A's in all my coursework, and 30 credits towards a degree. During that summer, I worked as a bank teller in the Washington Trust Bank, which I enjoyed very much. Sometimes I worked a late shift posting entries on the bookkeeping machines. (There were no computers yet!).
My leavetaking at the train station as I departed for Rochester, New York, and The Eastman School was quite emotional for all of us, especially my parents. I thought my father was going to cry, and my brother was looking very sad. We had gone through so much growing up together, that a strong bond existed between us. I knew I would miss him, and vice versa. (To this day we speak on the telephone often, even though he lives in South America part of the year. Thank goodness for internet phone - so cost isn't a factor). My emotions were running high - on one hand I would miss my family, and on the other hand, I could hardly contain myself. Indeed I looked forward with great anticipation to beginning a new life in a totally musical environment, with other like-minded musicians from all over the world. The prospect was too thrilling for words! And there was the added bonus of my being away from my rather domineering and overly protective mother. I was only sorry that my younger brother, John, could not come with me - and I felt a little guilty leaving him at home alone.
Monday, November 29, 2010
MY TEENAGE YEARS - Part II
My brother, John, shared a personal reflection with me today in a trans-Atlantic telephone call. He said that his interest in classical music is rooted in the fact that he grew up listening to my practicing the piano every day. I used to get up when mother did, (at 5:30 a.m.) to practice. She would drink her coffee and read the newspaper - she always said the music relaxed her. This was our daily routine. John used to wear earplugs to bed some nights, so he could sleep later, if he wished - he could still hear the piano, only less. Working at the instrument in the early morning turned into a lifelong habit. If I have not practiced at the beginning of the day, things feel out of order, so to speak. John, who now lives half the year in Columbia, South America, said he feels sorry for people who haven't been exposed to classical music, as he was. I know that it does make all the difference in the world.
We also spoke about our mutual experiences of growing up in our parents' home. Mother was a fanatic about the house being kept clean. Both of us had chores to do in the morning - dusting the furniture, the window sills, and mopping the kitchen floor - all before leaving for school at 7:45 a.m. She also felt the need to periodically scrutinize our rooms for anything she considered 'a mess' and toss out items she deemed 'no longer necessary' or 'dilapidated.' She carried this practice much too far, in our opinion. One day I could not find my favorite panda bear, which used to go everywhere with me. Of course, the bear (named 'Blackie') had gradually become worn - his fur was mostly gone, and he was truly 'dilapidated'- but I adored him. After rushing all over the house searching frantically for him, I had a sudden brainwave. Maybe mother had done something with him, like.... throw him away....so I went out to the garage where the garbage can was kept, and lifted the lid. And THERE HE WAS!! I grabbed him, brushed him off and carried him back into the house - looking for my mother, to give her a piece of my mind! She was in the kitchen, and when I told her that I had found my 'lost' panda bear which she had thrown OUT, she was somewhat shocked. Furthermore, I said, "I will be leaving home, if this ever happens again!" By this time I was sobbing, and could not stop. (I was 8 years old at this juncture!) John was also crying, not only because I was, but because one of his favorite trucks had disappeared, and he feared for its demise. We both confronted mother, and made her promise not to do that again. She did keep her word - at least until I left home for Eastman, when she 'cleaned out my room' and gave away my prized, large teddy bear which always sat on my bed.....more on that story later. Mother was a very competent person, and knew how to take care of certain things in life, but she had no real idea of how a child's mind worked - that what may have seemed unimportant to her, could be crucial to a little boy or girl. She had no gift for empathy, and her imagination was completely undeveloped, as a result, I am sure, of her own unsympathetic upbringing.
During my junior year, mother decided that I should not stay in school for my senior year - she was a teacher there and felt that much time was wasted on non-essentials in the 12th grade. Both my brother and I had always attended summer school at Eastern Washington College of Education with our parents (they both took courses to fulfill certain requirements for salary increases). John and I took various subjects, (which had high school credits attached). We had fun doing this -- certain courses, such as learning how to edit a newspaper were excellent preparation for other types of work. I also took American History, Washington State History, and Civics, which were required for graduation. In addition, my outside music lessons had credits attached which counted toward a high school diploma. And, of course, I was required to study shorthand and bookkeeping by my mother, who taught those subjects (in those days there were no computer science courses). I had learned to type at about age 10 - a most useful skill in school and everywhere else. So thanks to mother's foresight I graduated at the end of my junior year with top academic honors. (At that time I was on the Central Valley girls' basketball team, which was in the state finals that year, and I was the table tennis champion that year as well.) My parents were heavily criticized for instigating my early graduation from high school, but that didn't bother them. After that, however, a rule was made to insure that all students be physically present for 3 years in high school - grades 10, 11, and 12. In retrospect, this all seems rather silly - matters have progressed quite beyond that point. In this computer age, one can take courses online, and actually earn a diploma in that manner.
And so, I enrolled in Gonzaga University in Spokane, living at home and driving to school. My plan to attend The Eastman School of Music, was still uppermost in my mind, and it was decided (after my audition tape was accepted) that I begin at ESM in my sophomore year, as a transfer student. The die was cast - I was ready to move on.
We also spoke about our mutual experiences of growing up in our parents' home. Mother was a fanatic about the house being kept clean. Both of us had chores to do in the morning - dusting the furniture, the window sills, and mopping the kitchen floor - all before leaving for school at 7:45 a.m. She also felt the need to periodically scrutinize our rooms for anything she considered 'a mess' and toss out items she deemed 'no longer necessary' or 'dilapidated.' She carried this practice much too far, in our opinion. One day I could not find my favorite panda bear, which used to go everywhere with me. Of course, the bear (named 'Blackie') had gradually become worn - his fur was mostly gone, and he was truly 'dilapidated'- but I adored him. After rushing all over the house searching frantically for him, I had a sudden brainwave. Maybe mother had done something with him, like.... throw him away....so I went out to the garage where the garbage can was kept, and lifted the lid. And THERE HE WAS!! I grabbed him, brushed him off and carried him back into the house - looking for my mother, to give her a piece of my mind! She was in the kitchen, and when I told her that I had found my 'lost' panda bear which she had thrown OUT, she was somewhat shocked. Furthermore, I said, "I will be leaving home, if this ever happens again!" By this time I was sobbing, and could not stop. (I was 8 years old at this juncture!) John was also crying, not only because I was, but because one of his favorite trucks had disappeared, and he feared for its demise. We both confronted mother, and made her promise not to do that again. She did keep her word - at least until I left home for Eastman, when she 'cleaned out my room' and gave away my prized, large teddy bear which always sat on my bed.....more on that story later. Mother was a very competent person, and knew how to take care of certain things in life, but she had no real idea of how a child's mind worked - that what may have seemed unimportant to her, could be crucial to a little boy or girl. She had no gift for empathy, and her imagination was completely undeveloped, as a result, I am sure, of her own unsympathetic upbringing.
During my junior year, mother decided that I should not stay in school for my senior year - she was a teacher there and felt that much time was wasted on non-essentials in the 12th grade. Both my brother and I had always attended summer school at Eastern Washington College of Education with our parents (they both took courses to fulfill certain requirements for salary increases). John and I took various subjects, (which had high school credits attached). We had fun doing this -- certain courses, such as learning how to edit a newspaper were excellent preparation for other types of work. I also took American History, Washington State History, and Civics, which were required for graduation. In addition, my outside music lessons had credits attached which counted toward a high school diploma. And, of course, I was required to study shorthand and bookkeeping by my mother, who taught those subjects (in those days there were no computer science courses). I had learned to type at about age 10 - a most useful skill in school and everywhere else. So thanks to mother's foresight I graduated at the end of my junior year with top academic honors. (At that time I was on the Central Valley girls' basketball team, which was in the state finals that year, and I was the table tennis champion that year as well.) My parents were heavily criticized for instigating my early graduation from high school, but that didn't bother them. After that, however, a rule was made to insure that all students be physically present for 3 years in high school - grades 10, 11, and 12. In retrospect, this all seems rather silly - matters have progressed quite beyond that point. In this computer age, one can take courses online, and actually earn a diploma in that manner.
And so, I enrolled in Gonzaga University in Spokane, living at home and driving to school. My plan to attend The Eastman School of Music, was still uppermost in my mind, and it was decided (after my audition tape was accepted) that I begin at ESM in my sophomore year, as a transfer student. The die was cast - I was ready to move on.
Friday, November 26, 2010
MY TEENAGE YEARS: Growing up in Spokane
After my audition with Dr. Moldenhauer, he accepted me as a student, and we got to work. I had lessons very often - much more than the usual one per week - and he never charged my parents for the extra time. He was an amazing pedagogue; requiring much devotion to the study of music in general.. so that intellectually I became very conversant with the history of music and music theory. He would quiz me on certain topics, to make sure I had learned what was assigned. He lived and breathed music, as did Rosaleen, his wife....together they made a formidable team. Not a moment was wasted in their lives; they made a point of playing tennis in the early morning, followed by a walk, then breakfast. Sometimes I stayed at their home, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Conversations were peppered with salient facts about certain composers and works; there was always something to remember, or questions to be asked and answered. They wanted me to move in with them completely, as he thought I should be immersed in the world of music at all times. My mother, however, had a different idea, and wasn't about to allow her daughter to be 'adopted,' as it were. However, when I had my lessons at their home (not at the conservatory like the other students), I would always stay for dinner, and thus be exposed to more instruction, quizzes, and much story-telling. It was about this time that he became afflicted with a devastating eye condition, which caused partial blindness at first. Because there was no way to reverse this, he studied every minute that he wasn't teaching - staying up all night to read and memorizing everything possible, while he could still see. The condition worsened, and Rosaleen always had to drive him everywhere, as he developed 'tunnel vision' which didn't allow for driving a car. She became his eyes. But he never complained - just accepted the fact of what was. He was an altogether extraordinary man.
During these years, I entered many competitions in the Greater Spokane Music Festival - and won them all. It became a common occurrence to see my name in the paper. I also began studying voice and tap dancing (which was a lot of fun for me). In addition, I became a member of a Triple Trio, called the 'Rainbow Girls' - because we wore beautiful dresses made in the same style, and in all colors of the rainbow. (Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, plus white and black) Our group used to appear on television often, and in various venues in the city. There was a television competition called "Starlit Stairway," which I won numerous times for my piano performances. When I was 14, a national competition (whose headquarters were based in NYC) held auditions for musical acts from all the Western States, and then the finals at the Spokane Coliseum, a large sports arena that held about 15,000 - 20,000 people. I auditioned for this event, and was one of the 25 acts selected. (It was called the "Ted Mack Amateur Hour" -- a forerunner of the Ed Sullivan Show). My entire high school attended to support me, and the place was packed - other high schools also came (a Spokane girl, [me], was one of the finalists!) I won second place in this contest - which included money, and a scholarship to Tanglewood, a prestigious music camp that convened in the summertime. The entire experience was so exciting for me; I wasn't one bit nervous to play in front of all those people. (Large crowds are always easier than small, intimate gatherings.) The money was nice, but the important prize was Tanglewood. However, that was not to be. Mother wouldn't hear of allowing me to travel by myself, even with a chaperone (which the sponsors would provide) and be someplace unknown to her! Oh no! That was out of the question. I was bitterly disappointed and very upset with her for this. (I now understand her reasoning, but then I was absolutely devastated.) So I began a campaign designed to persuade mother to allow me to enroll in the Eastman School of Music after my graduation from high school. I thought that my parents couldn't possibly object to my enrollment in a noted music school like Eastman (which was part of the University of Rochester) where I would get a degree from a university, and not just a diploma. Also there were dormitories connected to Eastman, which was a plus for anxious parents (unlike Juilliard, which had no such facility. Students had to live in an apartment, with a roommate, of course, but in New York City. They would NEVER have allowed that.) I wrote on a piece of paper that I was going to go to Eastman, and put it on my mirror. so it could be seen every day. (I have often done this - it is a way of affirming what it is I wanted and intended to do...and is a very powerful tool.)
Perhaps I should mention here that my younger brother, John, (who, remember, was told he could not study music professionally), was about to enter high school, and was considered a top student, thank goodness. He had his share of honors, to be sure, also studying the piano with me plus playing the clarinet in the band. However, watching his older sister getting constant acclaim, must have been, at times, hard to swallow. We had a close relationship growing up, and played consistently together. Between the two of us, we had a huge quantity of stuffed animals, which we endowed with certain personality traits, and constructed scenarios including a daily soap opera dialogue. This was so much fun - our parents could scarcely believe that we would spend hours building a store, a circus in the garage, and whatever else as a backdrop for our little stuffed ones. I also used to place them all around the piano and then play for them, pretending they were a 'live' audience applauding me. John assisted in the fantasy, of course. I remember the day when I 'decided' that I was too old for such things any more, and my brother was so upset. He wasn't finished with it yet, so I continued to participate in the daily 'drama' to mollify him. To this day, I still have a large collection of stuffed animals - and have fond memories of the stories we concocted and the names of the characters!
During these years, I entered many competitions in the Greater Spokane Music Festival - and won them all. It became a common occurrence to see my name in the paper. I also began studying voice and tap dancing (which was a lot of fun for me). In addition, I became a member of a Triple Trio, called the 'Rainbow Girls' - because we wore beautiful dresses made in the same style, and in all colors of the rainbow. (Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, plus white and black) Our group used to appear on television often, and in various venues in the city. There was a television competition called "Starlit Stairway," which I won numerous times for my piano performances. When I was 14, a national competition (whose headquarters were based in NYC) held auditions for musical acts from all the Western States, and then the finals at the Spokane Coliseum, a large sports arena that held about 15,000 - 20,000 people. I auditioned for this event, and was one of the 25 acts selected. (It was called the "Ted Mack Amateur Hour" -- a forerunner of the Ed Sullivan Show). My entire high school attended to support me, and the place was packed - other high schools also came (a Spokane girl, [me], was one of the finalists!) I won second place in this contest - which included money, and a scholarship to Tanglewood, a prestigious music camp that convened in the summertime. The entire experience was so exciting for me; I wasn't one bit nervous to play in front of all those people. (Large crowds are always easier than small, intimate gatherings.) The money was nice, but the important prize was Tanglewood. However, that was not to be. Mother wouldn't hear of allowing me to travel by myself, even with a chaperone (which the sponsors would provide) and be someplace unknown to her! Oh no! That was out of the question. I was bitterly disappointed and very upset with her for this. (I now understand her reasoning, but then I was absolutely devastated.) So I began a campaign designed to persuade mother to allow me to enroll in the Eastman School of Music after my graduation from high school. I thought that my parents couldn't possibly object to my enrollment in a noted music school like Eastman (which was part of the University of Rochester) where I would get a degree from a university, and not just a diploma. Also there were dormitories connected to Eastman, which was a plus for anxious parents (unlike Juilliard, which had no such facility. Students had to live in an apartment, with a roommate, of course, but in New York City. They would NEVER have allowed that.) I wrote on a piece of paper that I was going to go to Eastman, and put it on my mirror. so it could be seen every day. (I have often done this - it is a way of affirming what it is I wanted and intended to do...and is a very powerful tool.)
Perhaps I should mention here that my younger brother, John, (who, remember, was told he could not study music professionally), was about to enter high school, and was considered a top student, thank goodness. He had his share of honors, to be sure, also studying the piano with me plus playing the clarinet in the band. However, watching his older sister getting constant acclaim, must have been, at times, hard to swallow. We had a close relationship growing up, and played consistently together. Between the two of us, we had a huge quantity of stuffed animals, which we endowed with certain personality traits, and constructed scenarios including a daily soap opera dialogue. This was so much fun - our parents could scarcely believe that we would spend hours building a store, a circus in the garage, and whatever else as a backdrop for our little stuffed ones. I also used to place them all around the piano and then play for them, pretending they were a 'live' audience applauding me. John assisted in the fantasy, of course. I remember the day when I 'decided' that I was too old for such things any more, and my brother was so upset. He wasn't finished with it yet, so I continued to participate in the daily 'drama' to mollify him. To this day, I still have a large collection of stuffed animals - and have fond memories of the stories we concocted and the names of the characters!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
MY FIRST OFFICIAL PIANO LESSON (not with my mother)
Since I never studied the piano with anyone except my mother, whose knowledge of music and piano playing were meager at best, it was past time for me to study with a real musician. Mother inquired around Spokane, and found that Dr. Moldenhauer was well-known, and ran the Spokane Conservatory, as I mentioned in a previous blog. So she called and made an appointment for me to meet and audition for him. I was quite excited at this turn of events, and decided to play Beethoven's Waldstein Sonata. I was 11 years old at the time. When he asked me what I would be playing, I answered him. He became somewhat annoyed at this and said: "No 11-year old girl can possibly play the Waldstein Sonata." My mother answered in a very frosty tone, "my daughter can play this piece, and from memory ." And with that, she directed me to start playing it.. which I did. At the end of the sonata (some 25 minutes later!), Dr. Moldenhauer just stared at me, and said that for the first time in his life, he was speechless! This was quite true - he told the story many times to various people about that first meeting. (I often have wished that there had been a tape made of that performance, as I have no idea how it really sounded.) This sonata is quite a mature work, and requires an abundance of technique and facility, plus very good fingers - all of which I had, without realizing exactly what I did have, or what I was doing. I was innately very musical, and just played very naturally. Because I had such a huge musical gift, no teacher ever thought they needed to really teach me HOW to play the piano -HOW to use my fingers, which includes complete finger independence, HOW to make various sounds on the piano, or sophisticated phrasing. (Most didn't have that knowledge, to be sure.) I only acquired these skills later when I studied with Sari Biro, the legendary Hungarian pianist, who opened my eyes to the further possibilities of sound from the instrument. I became a completely different pianist under her tutelage, and worked incessantly to perfect my technique, sound, control, knowledge of phrasing and musical thought, plus I learned an immense amount of repertoire as well. (For example, all the Beethoven Sonatas, all the Mozart Sonatas, all the Chopin Etudes, and etc.)
Before I met her at Indiana University, (where I was studying for my master's degree) I listened to recordings of Vladimir Horowitz, Arturo Beneditto Michelangeli, Dinu Lipatti - entranced by the kinds of beautiful sounds these great pianists could make. And I didn't hear that in myself. But I carried around in my head this singing, ringing, gorgeous tone, and was looking desperately to find it. And I did - in the person of that fabulous artist, Mme. Biro. When I met her, and she played for me, I broke into tears, because she had THAT SINGING SOUND. She was a magical being to me; I truly adored her - she was the kindest, most generous person I had ever met in my life. I moved to San Francisco (her home) in order to study with her further. I had several lessons per week, and I always practiced as much as possible. During that time, I worked for an insurance company, (Equitable Life) as a secretary/agent-liason to support myself. During my lunch hour, I practiced in a nearby music store, where I had rented a piano I would take my sandwich, munching on it during my practice session! Then Equitable Life discovered that I was extremely good in math, and was able to make excellent insurance proposals for the field agents. Soon I was in charge of the entire fleet of West Coast field agents, and was offered a position as an officer (with a secretary of my own!) in that company. The salary was very tempting, but I was on a different path, one which they knew nothing about. I played a big concert in San Francisco, which my Equitable Life colleagues (all men) attended. Their reaction to my performance and the fact that this young woman in their office was actually an accomplished musician and pianist, was one of amazement. I will never forget the expressions on their faces afterward. But that concert made it very easy to explain to everyone why I could not take the position they had offered me.
Before I met her at Indiana University, (where I was studying for my master's degree) I listened to recordings of Vladimir Horowitz, Arturo Beneditto Michelangeli, Dinu Lipatti - entranced by the kinds of beautiful sounds these great pianists could make. And I didn't hear that in myself. But I carried around in my head this singing, ringing, gorgeous tone, and was looking desperately to find it. And I did - in the person of that fabulous artist, Mme. Biro. When I met her, and she played for me, I broke into tears, because she had THAT SINGING SOUND. She was a magical being to me; I truly adored her - she was the kindest, most generous person I had ever met in my life. I moved to San Francisco (her home) in order to study with her further. I had several lessons per week, and I always practiced as much as possible. During that time, I worked for an insurance company, (Equitable Life) as a secretary/agent-liason to support myself. During my lunch hour, I practiced in a nearby music store, where I had rented a piano I would take my sandwich, munching on it during my practice session! Then Equitable Life discovered that I was extremely good in math, and was able to make excellent insurance proposals for the field agents. Soon I was in charge of the entire fleet of West Coast field agents, and was offered a position as an officer (with a secretary of my own!) in that company. The salary was very tempting, but I was on a different path, one which they knew nothing about. I played a big concert in San Francisco, which my Equitable Life colleagues (all men) attended. Their reaction to my performance and the fact that this young woman in their office was actually an accomplished musician and pianist, was one of amazement. I will never forget the expressions on their faces afterward. But that concert made it very easy to explain to everyone why I could not take the position they had offered me.
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