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Tuesday was a great evening and Saturday is going to be another one. As you know, with me, its all about the music
and a great tradition started this past week at Ecpot. Pam and I went out Tuesday night, had dinner and enjoyed the Candlelight
Processional performance at America Gardens Theater. It didn't hurt, that our goddaughter, Jennifer, was part of the choir for
the first time, representing University High School. John O'Hurley provided a fine retelling of the biblical story of the birth of Jesus
and Derek Johnson's fine arrangements of traditional Christmas carols made the evening perfect. For those of you who don't know, Derek is
the man responsible for the Voices of Liberty. A moment of trivia: Disney originally signed Voices to a six-month contract and the manager
who presented the deal told Derek that they were simply offering him an opportunity "while they found something else as singing groups
rarely lasted more than a few weeks." Voices has now been performing at Epcot for more than 25 YEARS and they remain the most popular
entertainment group in the parks. Members of the Liberty Voices group (one of many names they use when performing outside the Disney parks)
also participated in the Orlando Phil's annual "Home for the Holidays" Pops concert this past weekend. I got to do one of those off-the-beaten-path things I so love the other day...I have written on the subject of the Disney Wilderness Preserve in the past, but it has been a good many years and the file that I created has long since been lost. Pam and I decided we needed a "play day" last Friday since she had a rare day off and so we made up our minds that we were going to revisit this unusual bit of "green tourism." Here's the good news: The Preserve is still around, still probably one of the top-five quietest places left on the planet and still being well managed by The Nature Conservancy. There isn't any bad news to go with this... how 'bout that??? Okay, so I can see the puzzled looks on your faces. You're asking "what the heck is he babbling on about???" Let me give you the short skinny on the history of this place: Back in the late '60's when Walt and Company were laying out their plans for the property they had just bought in Central Florida, they became painfully aware that a fairly large portion of the earth they had purchased was just... plain... swamp. Unlike many other speculators of the time, they were well aware of this and knew exactly what it was they had bought. They knew that they COULD make something of this land if they wanted to, but it would be more time-consuming, costly and troublesome than it was worth at the time. So, they labeled the 7,500 acres "conservation land" and let it go at that. "That," however, didn't end the problem for them. A few years later the state passed an ordinance that stated that if you dug up an acre of wetlands in one place, you had to replace that with another acre of wetland in another location that made some sense to an environmental oversite board. For the first 25 or so years of WDW's existance, that didn't prove to be a problem. They had plenty of better land elsewhere on the property to build on and so they could just leave this swampy, smelly bottom sit... that is... until some bright developer within the company came up with the notion of building Walt's "dream city" on that land because guess what... they could then actually sell the property for a profit. Now keep in mind that wildcatters had been selling swampland to unsuspecting yankees for years, but this was something of a different plot. They could now afford to drain the land and make it useful. The only sticking point was that pesky regulation that required them to replace the welands they wanted to destroy... acre for acre... building an artificial swamp someplace else was out of the question... what to do, what to do? Enter Mr. Louis Fischer... an entrepreneur who had been homesteading and raising cattle on central Florida land for more than four decades. It so happened that in 1998, he was looking to sell nearly 13 square miles of relatively pristine land. Developers had been hopeful that they could grab the parcel, bording on one of the few still-undeveloped major lakes in Central Florida, but Mr. Fischer was, in fact, more interested in finding a buyer who might be able to preserve the land in its current state. News reports of the time noted that the property was home to 12 endangered species of animals and birds and also home to the largest colony of bald eagles in the nation. Disney was looking for a way to get the state to allow the permits to build Celebration. The fit was a natural. Along with Mr. Mickey came the Orlando Airport Authority who needed some land to mitigate wetlands they were going to plow over to make new runways at Orlando International Airport and the County of Osceola, who was interested in having the property preserved for its own sake. Eventually, the deal was cut, Disney shelled out about $13 million dollars for 8,500 acres of land. The airport authority and the county added their own purchases making the buy over 12,000 acres. Disney also placed a million dollars in an endowment fund to assist a yet-to-be-selected caretaker organization in maintenance of the property. A few months later, a deal was struck with The Nature Conservancy to become that caretaker organization. Disney also assisted the project by building offices and a classroom facility near the entrance to the property. And that's where we are today. Pam and I discovered this little gem tucked away off Pleasent Hill Road a few years ago when I saw an article in the Sentinel about an upcoming photographic show at the Orlando Musueum of Art. Clyde Butcher, a local wildlife and nature photographic enthusiast, was having a one-man show at the museum. We went and were incredibly impressed with the huge, 15 FOOT x 20 FOOT images. Clyde is a man who does things in a big way. He manages to do his picture taking using a huge, old-fashioned 8x10 view camera, very similar to equipment used by such men as the Kolb Brothers back in the 1800's to photograph the Grand Canyon. As we wandered through the displays, I noted that a number of the images indicated that their location was "The Disney Wilderness Preserve." I was puzzled because I'd never heard of this place. I was, however, determined to find out where it was and what it was all about.. and that led me to my original article published in the Florida Forum archives around 2002 or so. Since the economy went so sour, DWP has not been able to keep staff on hand to be open to the public on weekends. That meant that very few people could enjoy the fine hiking trail or the picnic area near Lake Russell unless they could come on a weekday. However, recently, due to some comments made to Disney, interestingly enough, the park is now again open seven days per week, excluding major holidays. To be sure, there are some other times when they might be unexpectedly closed for reasons such as hurricanes, wildfires and other acts of nature over which they have no control. Give the Conservancy a call at 407-935-0002 to make sure of their operating hours before you go. Getting there isn't hard, it just takes a long time. If you are coming in from I-4, get off at FL 535 (exit 64) and proceed SOUTH on 535 as if you were headed back towards Kissimmee, NOT into the Walt Disney World shopping village area. Turn right onto Poinciena Boulevard and follow that road for 13 miles to its end at Pleasent Hill Road. Turn right onto Pleasent Hill road and immediately get into the left lane. There's a sign there indicating a crossover road that actually leads you onto the rest of Pleasent Hill Road which was cut off from the main part of the road a few years ago by an expansion of the entrance road to the development of Poinciana. Follow the sign, taking a semi-left turn and that will put you BACK onto Pleasent Hill road. In case you miss the turn, you can also turn left a couple of blocks beyond onto Dover Plum Road which goes through a shopping center. It then will connect back to Pleasent Hill road. A few hundred yards to the right of the interestection of Dover Plum and Pleasent Hill, you will find an entrance gate at Scrub Jay lane to the Preserve. There's no official charge to hike on the trails, although a $3 dollar/per person donation is suggested. Trail guides and information are avilable at the education center. More details about activities and the history of this great area is available here: The Nature Conservancy - The Disney Wilderness Preserve.. This is one of those rare places where you can get a first-hand look at the REAL Florida... the land is being worked by volunteers to return it back to the way it was when the first settlers started moving in from the south over 300 years ago. They've a ways to go yet, but its an amazing place.
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Sandy McCrory Sandy McCrory (Group 2) Sandy McCrory (Group 3) Michele Merritt Dick Longley Jennifer Gaspari Susie Kemper Ralph Veerman |
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Its 5:30am on Thursday and I'm groggy as usual. Never have been a morning person and I never will be, but even through the fog, I know today isn't going to be an ordinary day. Pam and I will be traveling with the First Church choir to New York City. For the next three days, we'll be touring around town, rehearsing and then on Sunday, performing George Atwell's "Mass for a New Millennium" in its New York premier performance at Carnegie Hall. I drag out of bed as usual. Pam has been up for some time, she's more excited than I am right now, and has fixed a quick breakfast. I do my best thinking at night, so I packed last night, called the cab company last night, got everything I would need ready last night… knowing full well that if I put off anything for today, I'd likely forget it. Now I'm starting to wake up. The cab arrives and Pam is bustling around, getting a few last-minute things in her purse. I get the rest of the bags and get out, load the trunk. I wait a few minutes and she's not out yet, so I go back in. "Where's my green bag???" Its in the cab already," I reply. "Let's go, he's waiting." In a moment, we're piled into the back seat and off for the airport. We pull up at the Jetblue loading area and Pam gathers the bags while I pay the cab driver. Then we roll inside. We're a bit early, but far from the first to arrive. A number of our choir friends are standing around chatting, most of them looking about as groggy as I do. I get us checked off on Rebecca's list and now all we can do is stand around and wait until all the rest of the members show up. By 7:30am we are all present and accounted for. A Jetblue representative opens a bag weighing station for us and we get our bags checked and boarding passes printed. There's one good thing about living in Tourist Town, USA. We can get direct flights to just about anywhere from here. No changing planes and very little chance that our luggage will wander off. With all the check-in procedures complete, there's little else to do but wait again until its time to load the airplane. A number of us wander off to various airside restaurants to get coffee, bagels, biscuits, who-knows-what-else. We sit with Dabney Valtinson and her daughter Paige and talk about various singing, bell playing and other performances we've seen or done in the last couple of years. Dabney's been gone from our choir for awhile and came back, as did a number of this group who are traveling, specifically to celebrate George's work and do this performance. Its good to catch up on what's been going on with old friends. The time passes quickly and the announcement is made for our flight. It's a beautiful morning in Florida as we soar off into a bright blue sky. The flight should take a bit more than 2 ½ hours. Pam starts to read a book, but dozes. I alternate between surfing the onboard television programs and trying to start reading a novel that I'd picked up at the bookstore the other day. Neither seems to be able to really hang on to my attention for very long. Before long, we are out over the Atlantic, our flight path taking almost a straight line from Central Florida to the eastern tip of New York, we drifted off the coast about North Carolina. There's a channel you can tune to on the TV that gives you an approximate location of the aircraft over a map of the countryside you're flying over and your speed and altitude. I finally just settle on that. 36,000 feet and over 500mph. Half the North American continent in less than 3 hours. It would have taken our forefathers months to cover the same ground. Our altitude starts dropping and pretty soon I murmur "Land Ho" to Pam. She glances out the window at the coast of New Jersey. The jet begins a leisurely swing to the left while continuing to drop. We get our first look at New York City from about 8,000 feet up as we make our final turn towards JFK International Airport. In a few minutes, we bump and rumble our way down the runway and I'm in a place I've never been before. I have visited New York the State before, and Albany a couple of times with Pam when her father was living there, but this is my first time ever in "The Big Apple," with the single exception of a brief glimpse from a train window as we passed through on the way to Boston years ago. We disembark from the jetway and form a knot around the carousel that disgorges our bags. Once all the luggage is accounted for, we meet a representative of the bus company that will transport us around the area for the next few days as we travel as a group. For our touring and free time, its "get there however best suits you." Two big 50 passenger buses pull up to a sidewalk loading area and we split into two groups to load up. With everyone onboard, the buses start from JFK towards downtown Manhattan. We've always thought that Orlando traffic was bad. Never have I seen it worse than what we crawled through for the next hour and a half. Our top speed was maybe 20mph and most of the time it was far slower than that. What might have taken 30 minutes on a normal street took nearly an hour and a half. We passed parks and graveyards and gradually the buildings grew taller and closer together, then we dove under a big old bridge and moved from Queens into downtown Manhattan. Finally, we turned a busy corner and pulled up in front of the Hyatt Grand Central Station. We were, although I didn't know it at the moment, right in the center of everything that is New York. Getting Lost (and then not so) on the New York Subways. Once we had our room assignments, keys and bags dropped off, Pam was eager to get on to our first "event" of the New York weekend. We had made arrangements to meet her father's one-time student, colleague and friend Dr. Don Kornfeld at Columbia University. He was going to take us to the Kolb Annex and show us the portrait that had been commissioned of Larry. We had seen the presentation in a video, but she was eager to see the actual portrait.. Hyatt Grand Central Station was right next door to its namesake and Pam was pretty sure that she knew which subway train would take us where we wanted to go. Mind you, these memories were 35 years old, but I blithely assumed that she knew exactly where to go and what to do. We entered the huge complex that is Grand Central Station and immediately became… lost tourists. She said "I'm pretty sure we need to take the "A" train to get uptown to Columbia." I'm looking around the station and I see several signs that indicate track numbers. None of which start or even contain the letter "A." We continue to walk through the cavernous building, looking for some entrance that will take us to the subway. No dice. Finally, as we're going through the same hallway for about the third time, it occurs to me that we might need some directions… me, the guy who NEVER asks for directions, makes the suggestion "don't you think we should have a map or something?" Pam is uncertain. She remembers just enough that things seem vaguely familiar and hopes that a sign pointing the way will turn up, but it doesn't happen. Finally, I see a booth marked (hooray!) "Tourist Information." I firmly take her elbow and we walk over to the booth. A young lady listens to our destination and agrees that the "A" train is the way to go. And yes, in response to my request, she's got "The Map." "The Map" became our keys to the kingdom over the next few days. Our copy rapidly got torn and dog-eared because we were in it at every moment. The Map revealed the mysteries of the Subway… New York's almost-magical underground railway that can get you just about anyplace… if you know which train to take. The lady at the booth pointed out Columbia's location and indicated which station we needed. She then made her one mistake… kind of vaguely pointing in a direction and saying "You need to go through that entrance and then just follow the "A" signs. I didn't see exactly which way she pointed and it took us another ten minutes to find the entrance. We did have to ask a couple of uniformed policemen, but we did finally find our way. I wasn't sure what to expect. New York subways had kind of a reputation. Dirty, dark, smelly. I didn't find that where we were. What I found was the world… if you walk the tunnels awhile, it will pass by you… that is, just about every kind of human known to man. New York is a true polyglot… everyone lives there. …and there's music. During the weekend, we saw guitarists, sitar players, sax players, dancers and just plain beggars. I don't know if the instrument players need a permit or how they get there, but some of them even have signs they put up and its obvious they come to the same place day after day and ply their trade, hoping for some silver change or even a few dollar bills. And yes, I saw folk stop now and then and drop something in the hat or the instrument case as they passed. Now and then they will board the train at a station, make a big announcement about doing a song or a dance and then walk through the car passing the hat. Some of 'em are actually pretty good. All I could think about at first was Bill Cosby's monologue about the New York Subway that I heard once on a recording. He talked and joked about the "acts" on the trains and the truth is, it's a lot like that, although the actors and singers take themselves a bit more seriously than Bill made out in his skit. …and there's art… yes, in the subway… as I got used to moving through the tunnels, I began to "see" more each day and there's a LOT of amazing artwork. Much of it was put there by the builders of the tunnels. Some of it is in anodized metals, some painted murals, a lot done in cut-glass Italian tile, all of that had to be laid by hand. Probably the city has taken on projects to restore this work from time to time, as it all is in pretty good condition. Some of it is breathtaking in scope, there was one place at an intersection of two tunnels that had a circular spot in the floor about fifteen feet in diameter on which had been laid a globe of the world… entirely in quarter-inch cut glass tiles. That had to be a true labor of love. Another spot had a series of eyes embedded in the station wall. I walked by these and noted that each was a little more open or closed than the previous one and speculated that if you went by that spot fast in a train, the eyes would wink at you. There were futuristic "Jetson-style" murals on the walls depicting a future city with sleek, aerodynamic trains racing through the underground. I'm told some of it contains gold and silver leaf. Were they from the 20's, 30's, 50's? Who knows. There's no explanation, although I bet someone somewhere has written a book about it all. Back to our tale. We found our way through the large, Grand Central subway station to the track where the "A" train was boarding and soon a noisy rumble announced the arrival of the silver train. The doors opened, a wall of people hopped off and another wall, us included, boarded. The doors swooshed shut and off we went. You learn to hang on. New York subways travel fast, someone told us faster than any other subway in the world, and they change speed suddenly as they encounter curves and switches. We kept checking our map and soon enough arrived at the station. A short walk away were the doors to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital and the Kolb Research Annex. Pam had been here in 1982 to witness the dedication of this center in her father's name. This was her first visit back, twenty five years later. Kornfeld had given us instructions to stop at a building up the street and get the guard there to call him to let him know we had arrived. We found the right doorway after a couple of misses and the indicated guard. Within a few minutes, he came through the door and escorted us into the lobby of the Kolb building. There was the portrait, right on a large, brick pillar supporting the ceiling of the atrium entry. The glass walls looked out over Riverside drive and on to the Hudson River in the background. Don was ever the gracious host, reminiscing about earlier days when he and Larry had worked together. Pam enjoyed chatting with him, I just relaxed and let the ambience of the place settle in. We'd been traveling all day and slowing down a bit finally was a pleasant thing. We spent about forty five minutes chatting with Don and after he left, a few more minutes absorbing the view from the atrium and taking another long study of the portrait. Then it was time to take the train back to the hotel. We found a number of our group thinking about finding dinner and so I asked the concierge for a suggestion about a good Italian restaurant. She had a plan and ten of us walked from the hotel over to a place called "Salute." The concierge had called ahead and we had a reservation set for about 8:15pm, but when we arrived early, they were able to get tables cleared and moved a bit sooner. We enjoyed a fine meal. After that, we decided to take the trip up to the top of the Empire State Building. It was a Thursday night and somewhat chilly and we figured the crowd would be small. Wrong. The line was nearly an hour and a half. Still, we waited it out and eventually got up to the open observatory on the 86th floor. The wind was bitter cold, but the lights of the city spread out below made it worth the wait and putting up with the chill. I couldn't resist. I had to call Mom from the top of the building. The connection did go through, but it kept dropping in and out. It was worth the minutes anyway. We slept in a bit the next morning as rehearsals were not scheduled to start until after lunch. The price the hotel wanted for a breakfast buffet was nothing short of ridiculous, so we decided to try the food court we'd located in the basement of Grand Central Station. We found a place that suited and discovered that a lot of our group had found the same, or nearby places. This food court became our breakfast spot for all four days since it was convenient, and had decent, fresh food at reasonable prices. We had decided to make the trip over to Central Park and see the Natural History Museum this morning. Pulling out "The Map," we studied our route. It would be necessary to take the "S"huttle subway from Grand Central over to Times Square and then take a "1" train north to 89th St. Last night, it had been cold and windy. This morning, the sun was sneaking out and it felt like it might warm up. We had flown from late, late spring in Florida, back into Winter in New York… and while we were there, Spring arrived. The transformation in just four days time was amazing to watch. We were getting the hang of traveling on the trains now, but still getting occasional help in which ways to turn to get places. I've discovered that New York people have a bad rap they don't deserve. They are often illustrated as busy, cold, silent people. They are not so. They are generally pleasant, often talkative and most willing to help out lost tourists, often even if not asked intentionally for directions. I found this everywhere we went, not just an isolated person here and there. We walked down to Fifth Avenue and then turned a couple of blocks north to the entrance to the museum. What an amazing place. You could spend a lifetime within this massive place and probably not see it all. We visited the "Planet Earth" exhibit halls together for awhile and then Pam wanted to shop in the gift store (and I didn't), so we agreed on a meeting place and disagreed amicably on the time to meet ("We need to meet here at 11am." "Nooo, we'll meet at 11:15." "You're pushing it," "Yes, I most assuredly am."). While she got lost in three stories of goodies to buy, I visited the Hayden Sphere Planetarium displays, then the North American Mammals rooms, the African Arts rooms and had another more leisurely walk through Planet Earth on the way back. One interesting side stop was a display about how the amazing dioramas that are the main displays in these stuffed animal exhibits were created. The backgrounds were painted by a team of artists led by a gentlemen named George Webster. Mr. Webster and members of his group traveled to every location represented by the animals being preserved in the displays. All over the world, he and his team stood on high hills, tall mountains, in deserts and by streams, taking photographs and doing sketches of the natural environment where a particular species of animal could be found. Once back in New York, the artists took this material and created a panoramic painting of the background appropriate to each display. Then, they carefully repainted that same scene on the back and side walls of the display case. Since these walls were curved, not square, they had to carefully draw a grid on the wall surface first to insure that the perspective agreed with the shape of the wall and then they also had to carefully blend the foreground of the bottom of the painting with the floor of the display case, often using dried plants and brush, gravel and other natural materials to make the seam as invisible as possible. You have to look hard to figure out where the floor ends and the painting starts in most cases. They've done an incredible and beautiful job of rendering these landscapes. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, Practice, Practice! By this time, I was getting "museum feet" and it was getting about time for us to get back, get a bite of lunch and then get ready for the four-hour Mass rehearsal. We met at our agreed-on spot and Pam had her arms full of bags. She'd obviously had as much fun as I had and found things for her classroom and her grandchildren. We arrived back in plenty of time, then discovered that the rehearsal had been moved from one ballroom to another. Finding our way down the hall, we at last walked in and joined the rest of the group. Rebecca was just starting to give information about the other two groups that would be joining us to rehearse the singing portion. Within a few minutes, the room filled up with chatting teenagers. Two high schools' choruses were joining us for the program. One from Apopka High School which is a suburb of Orlando and the other from Tappan-Zee High School in Orangeburg, New York. The organizers from Mid America Productions had their plan for how they wanted the singers arranged and so they took over that portion, "stacking" the singers front to back by height and by sections, right to left. So the sopranos were on the far right, then tenor one and two, then alto one and two, then baritone and low base. Being a tenor one, and pretty tall, I wound up nearly dead center and in the third row. I had Michael Mather, another First Pres. Singer on my right and a singer from Tappan-Zee high on my left. Poor fellow was sandwiched between two of us "older guys." However, he made the best of it and I enjoyed singing with him. Talented youngster with a good, strong voice. He told me that this was a kind of "second chance" for his choir. They had originally been scheduled to sing with a group that was planning to present Randall Thompson's "The Peaceable Kingdom," but for reasons unknown, that performance in New York was cancelled. "Mass for a New Millennium" gave them another shot at singing in Carnegie Hall, but they only had about six weeks to learn the music… all completely unknown music when they started. Given that, they did a great job and most of them were very focused and as excited as we were about the opportunity to perform the work. Most of 'em I say. There were a few who thought that their cellphones were far more important than any director. Rebecca had to really lay down the law to them to get them to put away the cellphones and text messaging gadgets. It got better the second day, but for some having the girls especially "blipping" away, typing text messages to their friends both back home and elsewhere in the rehearsal hall was a real annoyance. Technology has its place, and for now, that place needed to be out of sight and out of mind. In a way, its too bad that we didn't get to do the whole Mass. That kind of "distraction" and how it affects our lives is one of the themes explored in some of the portions of the Mass that we did not get to perform due to the constraint of the time allowed for our part of the three-part program. Rebecca has this back-to-front thing for rehearsals, so we started with the Dona Nobis Pacem and worked our way towards the front… through the Fuga Internetus, then the Agnus Dei, The Gloria, The Hymn Conditor Alme Siderum (Oh Composer of the Stars!) ending with work on the Kyrie. The hours passed swiftly… what had seemed to be a long rehearsal at the beginning, passed in just moments. New and Old Friends In the evening, we traveled again down to Central Park west to meet with Pam's Father's friend Sue Witter, her friend Bob and her niece, Lizzie. She had been eager to meet us in New York for a visit and also was planning to attend the concert performance. We had gotten tickets for her and Bob, but when Lizzie came down from Albany to spend a few days and look over a cosmetology school, Sue changed her plans to see to it that Lizzie attended the performance. I kind of felt sorry for Bob, but he was understanding and philosophical about the change in plans. I felt like I was walking into an O'Henry story when we arrived at the "somewhat aging, brownstone building on Fifth Ave, that looked down over Central Park." This place was complete with a bellman at the front door, who was, apparently, expecting our arrival, as he was quick to greet us and inform us that we could take the elevator in the corner to the 6th floor. Well, I got a taste of how the "other" half of New York lives in this place. The elevator was already waiting for us when we stepped around the indicated corner and the button for the 6th floor was already activated with no help from me thank-you-very-much. When we arrived at the 6th floor landing, Bob promptly opened the door, it was obvious he already was aware of our arrival as well. We were ushered into an elegantly-appointed living room that really did look like a setting out of an O'Henry story. Small, comfortable settees about an oriental rug, a fireplace in one wall, a piano in the corner, decorated just so with pictures of the children and special friends. Over sushi and chilled wine, we talked about the trip so far and the long rehearsal just completed. Sue, I think, wanted Lizzy to hear all of this as I get the impression that she's kind of looking for what to do with her life. Eventually she informed us that we were off for dinner and we started for the door. Sue and Lizzie went ahead as she had said the restaurant she'd selected said it might be a bit before a table was ready. Bob escorted us to the elevator again and pressed the L button and another unmarked button under it. "We'll get a taxi to the restaurant," he says. "Oh, should we call or did you already take care of that?" "Oh the bellman will flag us a cab," he replied. It turns out that the unmarked button informs the bellman that we are coming down and will require a cab. When we got to the door, the bellman was already out on the curb, hand out, waving to get a cabbie's attention. That's when I found out about the elevator. It seems that the doorman has a remote control in hand that automatically calls the elevator and pre-selects the correct floor, Bob informed me that had I pressed any other button, it wouldn't have mattered… none of them would work. Technology hard at work, it seems. We arrived at 79th St. and a small restaurant with a bright red awning out front at the unusual name of Quatorze Bis in gold letters across the front. Sue and Lizzie were inside already and informed us that the table would be ready in just a few minutes. We continued our conversation about the rehearsal schedule and what to expect from the performance on Sunday. Sue also chatted a great deal with Pam about her father and how much his friendship had meant to her. She had been keeping up with the activities of the Board of Psychiatry at Columbia University after Larry had left the area and they had communicated often while he was living in Sea Island and with us about things that were "going on." It was a way that Pam's dad could at least stay in touch with the science that he devoted his entire working life to. The evening slipped into a pleasant haze of fine wine, delicious food and good conversation. I won't comment on the amount of the bill, although I did happen to see it at the end. You can choose to spend a lot on dinner in New York City if you so desire. You think you've practiced enough? Think again Rehearsal on Saturday morning was right after breakfast, so we did the fast thing at Grand Central again and then immediately headed up to the ballroom for our second rehearsal, this one scheduled to last 3 hours. I'll say this for the young folk that joined us. Most of them were dedicated and hard working. They put their noses to Rebecca's grindstone and worked hard to get it right. I could feel the little problems straightening themselves out. Notes here and there, rhythms and tempos interpreted in different ways by three different conductors got into sync. The balance of the singers settled… it was starting to come together. New York, New York... its a hellofva town! In the afternoon, Pam and I again took off on another journey through town, this time to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We wandered through the great galleries of American, French and other painters. Pam's high point was their extensive collection of Rembrant paintings. I enjoyed seeing the depiction of "Washington Crossing the Delaware." I have seen images of this painting ever since elementary school, but I never realized just how BIG the original is. It covers one massive wall of one of the American gallery rooms all by itself. In the evening, we expected Pam's friend Barbara Stewart to arrive from Richmond and so we headed back to the hotel to meet her. She arrived around dinnertime and we settled her into our room, which had an extra bed. That evening, we decided that we'd like to find a good Chinese restaurant close to the hotel and the concierge geniuses provided us with Wu Ying Le Lexington Ave. which turned out to be a great choice. Barbara tried some thing that had pickled mustard greens in it. Didn't look like any mustard greens I'd ever tasted and she wasn't sure that she'd actually gotten what she ordered, but she claimed it turned out well. I got a spicy shrimp dish that was really good. Pam ordered and said her's was tasty, too. We had been directed to not stay out too late and get plenty of rest to prepare for the big day Sunday. So early to bed and early to rise was the order of the day. The "Day" arrives Sunday arrived, now it was proof-in-the-pudding time. We had breakfast in Grand Central again, it turned out that the place we had chosen was the only one that opened early on Sunday morning, so that worked out well. After breakfast, I donned my black tux and now it really began to hit me… I was going to be singing in Carnegie hall in just a few hours. First, though, we had a full dress rehearsal scheduled for this morning. A couple of things had happened along the way. Originally, we were scheduled to be the second of three works presented in this concert. When we arrived in New York, we discovered that the Mass had been moved to the end of the concert. MAP ran the dress rehearsal in reverse order so, as the last number, we did our rehearsing first. This meant that after our practice session was over, we could sit out in the auditorium and listen to as much of the other two rehearsals as suited us. We would not be able to sit as audience for the rest of the performance, so this was our only chance to hear the other two groups. Our buses pulled in and two big red flags announced it… Carnegie Hall. Our first look was something of an underwhelming experience. We were led in through a backstage door, crowded like cattle into a freight elevator and taken up to a waiting room… and there we stayed for awhile. The room was anything but glamorous. We passed the time talking about the places we'd been and the sights we'd seen over the last couple of days. Then our coordinator from MAP stepped in and told us to get lined up, it was time to go down to the hall for our dress rehearsal. A few minutes later, we stepped out onto the storied stage of Carnegie Hall. Now the magic really began to happen. The orchestra was all there. The traditional sounds of warm up and tuning filling the room. Michael nudged me in the ribs and said "we're here… this is Carnegie Hall… and we're really here. I just gawked like a wool headed tourist. I was standing on the stage where such greats as Placido Domingo had performed. Aaron Copeland, Arturo Toscannini. The list goes on and on. The sense of drama, of the history and fame of this place, really hit hard. Out in front the seats were now pretty much empty. A few friends, Pam and some others were settled in seats to watch our rehearsal. George was out there, sitting about halfway up the Parquet level. It had to be hard to just sit there and see your brainchild being brought to life by others. I know full well that he would rather have been at least the pianist on this performance… if not the conductor, but things work out as they work out sometimes. Rebecca got things rolling fairly promptly. The amount of time you have for practice is strict and short. Get it done and get off, there's two other groups waiting behind you. She took it in order this time, Kyrie, Hymn Conditor Alme Siderum, Gloria, Agnus Dei, Fuga Internetus and then the Dona Nobis Pacem. It was wondrous, listening as we sang George's rich, open chords and meaningful text. When we got to the Fuga, I got this stupid, touristy grin on my face that just would not go away, no matter what. Down-load… forward back…. Searching, searching, dot com heaven and on we flew and yes, I experienced all the wonder, all the joy and when the rehearsal was over, I knew why people took on the difficult, demanding task of becoming professional singers and musicians. I was on a high like I'd never felt before. A natural rush of adrenaline that just sent me to a height of excitement. I knew how a ski jumper feels in that moment when he snaps those tips up and soars off into empty space. The feeling that a world-class ice skater gets when he or she or they snap through a perfect spin and feel the velvet touch of ice in a perfect landing. The rush a bobsled driver gets when he executes a perfect turn at 80 plus miles per hour and knows that he's flat out on the pace for a new world record. The hour of dress rehearsal was over in no time and now all we could do… was wait. I joined Pam out in the theater and her responses were joyous. "It sounds great!," she cried as I walked over to where she was sitting. "I know," I grinned back, I could hear it off the back wall. Rebecca was all wrong about the sound in this hall. You can hear everything, or at least, I can." I realized I was sweating as if I'd run a marathon. I settled in a chair and listened as the second group started working on Hayden's "Mass in Time of War." … a piece that seemed appropriate for these dark and difficult times. The program seemed so perfect, There was the Joy of Vivaldi's "Gloria." The hope expressed in Hayden's "Mass" and our Mass, which ended with the promise "I am with you… even…. Until… the end.. of… the age. I could not WAIT to sing this glorious message to an unsuspecting audience. But wait was what we had to do. Until our 2pm appointment with the photographer who was going to do a group picture out in front of the hall, all we could do was wait. I had no appetite, which is not unusual for me when I know I'm going to singing for awhile. Pam and I relaxed through all of the Hayden rehearsal and a bit of the Gloria practice. Then Dabney Valtenson and her daughter Paige stopped by and they started talking about food. Dabney had found the Hall's gift shop and Pam wanted to see that, so we departed the theater. As we started along the hallway towards the shop, I noticed a long line of framed scores hung all along the wall. I stopped and started looking at them. "Whoa, here's one signed by Arturo Toscannini." "This one has Robert Shaw's autograph on it!" "Oh man, here's one signed by Aaron Copeland." A page from each score, autographed by its composer, or conductor, or famous singer. A history of great music lined up one page at a time. We found our way upstairs and into the small souvenir shop. I couldn't resist it. I decided to spring for a tee-shirt that said "ask me about my debut at Carnegie Hall." Yah, I know, it was silly… Pam bought it for me anyway. They kept talking about food. Now someone had told me before we left Orlando about the Carnegie Deli that was supposed to be a great place to get food near the Hall. So we and Dabney and Paige all went looking for that. We did find it, a couple of blocks over, but there was a line out the door and down the street and I had doubts that we'd be able to get a table in time to be back at the hall on time. So we turned into a hotel's sandwich shop that was right there on the corner and had a great lunch of sandwiches and salads. Then we wandered back to the Hall in plenty of time to get set up for our group photo. Right after the photo, Pam and the other non-singers went in for the start of the concert. We still had an hour to kill, so Michele Merrit, Chris Smith and I wandered across the street to another deli where we could find a soda and a seat. We sat and chatted with Chris for awhile and then, it was show time. As I noted earlier, I now truly know why people spend years learning to be professional singers and musicians. It's a difficult, often disappointing life, but they do it anyway. They do it… for moments like this one. We lined up, checked to be sure the tie was on straight and everyone was ready… and then walked onto THAT stage. This time, the hall was filled. Carnegie Hall has a main floor and five balconies. I was amazed to see that the hall was crowded. There were people sitting on all the balconies, even way up to the ceiling. An expectant hush fell and then Rebecca stepped out to polite applause. One last quick tuning check… and then a moment of silence… and we started. Lord God... we sing Your praise! "Kyrie" was sung a-capella. I was surprised that after this movement ended. The audience was actually dead silent. "Hymn Conditor Alme Siderum" is a bold, sensual paean of joy offered to the Creator of the Universe: "O composer of the stars, eternal light of believers, hear the prayer of your supplicants. You, before whose mighty power all bend their knees; celestial, terrestrial. You suffer the ruin of death. The perishing of the race. You who saved the sick world, who grants healing, bringing the healing balm. As the world turns toward evening, The Bridegroom issues forth from his chamber. Glory and Honor to the Father. Courage and Power to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, time for all eternity. Allelu for all Eternity." "Gloria" is a bright, highly syncopated alleluia to the Most High God. "Glory be to God on high. We praise Thee, we bless Thee. O Lord God, O God, the Father almighty! The only begotten Son, we give Thee thanks. We give Thee thanks for Thy great glory!" "Agnus Dei" is a prayer pleading for the mercy of the Father: "Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us." The "Fuga Internetus" is a joyful fugue based on terms drawn from activities on the internet: "Download, forward back. Searching, searching, dot com heaven, ISP server, browser, browser, virtual reality, e-mail, on the world-wide web." Mixed into this insanity are these words in latin: Sum essom parvulus (when I was a child), Loquebar ut parvulus (I spoke as a child), Cogitabam ut parvulus (I thought as a child). And finally, the message of hope for all the world: Dona Nobis Pacem, "Grant Us Peace." And the final count out… 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005… I am with you…. I am with you…. Even… to the… end… of… the age….. After the Gloria, the audience began to get excited. They were good only for the first moment, then started applauding after each movement. The applause grew louder with each succeeding movement… when it was over… there was a moment of hush… then an amazing cheer and everyone just lept to their feet. This wasn't just our families and friends, although they were there and joined in it… this was a fairly typical, and supposedly sophisticated audience that went wild over a new work. The applause was long and generous. Rebecca found herself called back three times for extra bows. That doesn't happen all that often anyplace… in Carnegie Hall… it was unbelievable. That brief, wondrous moment of glory I was in a kind of shock. I had poured so much energy and concentration into this past half hour, I'm not sure I even knew where I was for awhile. We departed the stage and I did find my way out the stage door. I knew I needed to catch up to Pam. Michele was with me for a minute, then Sonie Braun who wanted to find her husband Joe, who was sitting with Pam. So we headed towards the front door. On the way, I ran into Sue and Lizzie. I did manage, I think, to stumble out a "thank you" when she caught my arm and told me how wonderful it all was. She took a couple of quick pictures and then she and Lizzie headed off and I continued my hunt for Pam. I did find her out front with Joe and made sure that Sonie and he were reunited. Then we headed for our bus. "Are you okay?" Pam asked me. "Yeah, I'm fine… just tired." I was kind of numb… and I stayed that way for a good portion of the dinner cruise. At first, I wasn't going to eat anything… didn't want anything to drink, I just wanted a quiet place to sit and catch up to myself. Michele found us a table on the boat that was on the edge of the crowd and a little quieter perhaps and they just kind of let me be. Eventually, I did wake up enough to make it to the buffet line and get a little to eat and a soda. Near the end of the 2 hour cruise, I did kind of come back to myself. Pam was concerned, but I was okay now. I said "I just… gave all I had… I was on such an adrenaline rush that when it ended, it just kind of left me in a kind of stunned state. I think she, of all people, understood. A sobering ending Michele, Barbara, Pam and I returned to the hotel together, sort of planning to do something together in the evening. Michele wanted to go downtown to the World Trade Center Site, Ground Zero and initially, we all agreed to go. When Barbara and Pam got to the hotel, they decided that they would rather just sit and visit with each other awhile. So Michele and I grabbed "The Map" and headed off to find our way to Ground Zero. It took a bit longer than we expected. The site was marked on the map and the guidebook we had indicated that subway station that had been destroyed in September, 2001 when the buildings collapsed on it was to have been open again in April 2007. However, when we got on the train, a very helpful young lady informed us that the station was still not open and that we would have to go south to the next station and walk back. That seemed fine, but for once, the subway had a surprise for us. At the stop before the World Trade Center site, we kind of heard a blurred, announcement, though neither of us could make out what was being said. The next thing we knew, the train was no longer a subway, we were on a bridge headed over the river into Brooklyn. "Yah, that happens a lot around here on weekends," our riding friend informed us. "The trains get shuffled around because traffic is lighter. You'll have to get off at the first station and ride back again to the first station NORTH of the WTC site. Then you can walk back down there." So, we hopped off the southbound train and walked across to the other side of the platform. About 20 minutes later another train came rumbling up and we climbed aboard that and started back. "I guess we'll go over the bridge again" Michele said. "I think not, I replied, looking at "The Map." It looks like the train going this way goes through a tunnel under the river." Sure enough, we stayed deep underground for quite some time, eventually passing right through the pit where the twin towers had stood, although we didn't know exactly where we were, and coming up to the next station. Once we departed the subway, it was necessary to figure out where we were exactly and which way we needed to go. A guard in an office building entrance provided us with both our location and the directions we needed and we set off. In the next block, we encountered Trinity Episcopal Church and an amazing item of art in their courtyard. Standing a good twenty feet in the air from what looked like a pillar on the ground was this incredible mass of what looked like tree roots that had been covered in either bronze or brass, I couldn't tell which in the orange glow of the street lights. A sign nearby told an amazing tale. On September 11th, debris from the falling twin towers had crashed into their courtyard and graveyard. A large sycamore tree that stood in the courtyard was uprooted and left standing upside-down in the graveyard. Amazingly, not a single stone in the graveyard suffered damage either from the tree's falling or the debris that filled the area around the church. Some time after the incident, an artist by the name of Steve Tobin came by the church and saw the uprooted tree. He contacted church officials with the idea that the roots of the tree might be preserved as a memorial to the events and the miraculous fact that the chapel that the tree shaded was left untouched by the destruction of the buildings nearby. The church agreed, funding was found and the tree's roots were sheathed in a bronze and returned to the front of St. Paul's Chapel in 2004. There they stand today, a mute testimony to the horrors of September 11… and the miracle of the tree that protected the chapel from the destruction of the World Trade center. In the next block we encountered another guard watching over an office building. This guy turned out to be quite a conversationalist and was willing to tell his tale. He was not present in the area on 9/11, but he said "you could smell that odor all over Manhatten for months after the buildings collapsed… and when you get to the site, you'll still smell it. You'll know when you get there." He was right. The first thing I noticed when we neared the pit where the buildings once stood was a strong odor of what to me smelled like burned paper. It was pervasive in the air around the entire area. Six years and you can still smell the fiery odor of the destruction of the twin towers and three other buildings nearby. At the moment, they are still in the process of taking down a 40-story office building that was damaged so badly that it was considered unsafe to reoccupy after the disaster. They are removing this building roof-to-ground. Girder by girder in order to protect other buildings standing nearby. It was a sobering hour that we spent looking over the site. Construction fences have been put up as work is almost completed on new subway and PATH train stations for the site. Work has already started on the new Freedom Tower building that will replace the twin towers. The area looks like most any other construction site, but there's that pervasive odor…and all around the fences, people have stuffed bundles of flowers and other items, memorials to the thousands who perished there. A series of signs along a walkway that borders the sites names those who perished at both the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks. There's a museum someplace, too, but it was late when we got there and all that was long since closed for the night. As we started back for the subway, we found Fire Station 134, right across Liberty Street from the site. Along the wall facing the site, the city has put up a bas relief in red granite as memorial to the firemen from this station lost in their attempts to save lives on that fateful day. Michele speculated that all the faces of the men depicted in the mural might have been sculpted from photos of the actual crewmen who perished as each one was different and very lifelike. After the message of hope of the Mass, going to this site was a humbling experience for me. I realized that faith is the true answer to 9/11. Our government, try as they might, will never defeat these extremists using force of arms. Only the message of hope and faith of the Mass has a chance to change the world in any meaningful way. Michele and I walked into the almost-complete station that will handle subway and PATH trains when the new Freedom Center project is completed. We then walked the tunnel for a couple of blocks to the next station and boarded a "3" train headed back towards Times Square. The subway had another surprise waiting for us tonight. About halfway back, the express train pulled into a station and stopped as usual… a few folk got off… a few got on… and the train just sat there… a few more folk got on… still no doors closing… then an announcement that the train was being "held by the dispatcher…" a few more folk got on… still the train sat… more folk got on… still we sat.. the announcement was repeated… more folk got on… by now, the train was getting pretty filled up, it had been almost empty when we boarded earlier… then another voice came on the speaker system and announced "due to a police investigation, this train will be held indefinitely. Please detrain and take either a "1" or "2" train to continue your journey." Now I would have expected some angry reactions from people. A couple of people at least grumbling out loud. None of that seemed to happen, though. The crowd just gave a kind of collective sigh, stepped off the train through the doors, crossed the platform to the other track and waited patiently for another train to arrive. Later at Times Square, we chatted with an MTA maintenance man and he said "Yah, it happens pretty frequently. Never know what's going on, but people around here are used to it." We arrived back at the hotel just about midnight. Both Pam and Barbara were asleep when I slipped into the room. I quietly got ready for bed… the great adventure was ending… I was truly sorry to see Monday arrive. But Monday does come as it always has and so we said good-bye to one of the world's great cities. The flight back was uneventful… but the memories of that one great performance will last a lifetime. Thanks George, for writing a truly great work of music. |
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