Symphonies & Scorpions: Takeoff!
WELCOME TO THE 15TH DAILY INSTALLMENT OF SYMPHONIES & SCORPIONS: AN INTERNATIONAL CONCERT TOUR AS AN INSTRUMENT OF CITIZEN DIPLOMACY.
I INVITE YOU TO READ THE ENTIRE BOOK, ONE DAILY EPISODE AT A TIME, FOR FREE, OR YOU CAN PURCHASE THE BOOK IN ITS ENTIRETY (with photos not found here) IN PAPERBACK OR KINDLE, HERE.
ENJOY!
(P.S. If you FOLLOW me, you’ll be sent all future episodes automatically!)
Takeoff!
[image error]
For those who enjoy flying, Flight JL17 from Boston to Narita is almost bearable. For those who don’t have a special hankering for thirteen hours of enforced inactivity, it’s torture. I hear complaints of not being able to fit a carry-on bag under a seat, not being able to reach one from the overhead compartment, of an intensely painful shoulder, of intensely painful ankles, of intensely painful pulled cuticles, and of a mouth “so dry I could die.” I think the record was broken for “Oh, shits!” on a single flight. And all that’s from a single colleague. And then we take off.
It’s a far cry, indeed, from 1979 when the red carpet was rolled out for us on our chartered Pan Am 747, which provided ample and luxurious elbowroom for the impressive assemblage of musicians, managers, staff, board members, and corporate sponsors. Don’t forget that in ’79 the Boeing 747 was only ten years old, and flying on one was an adventure in itself. Our flight was the first commercial landing of a jumbo jet in China—ever! Pan Am stewardesses, renowned for their high-class service, stylish uniforms, and perky little caps, literally let down their hair during the long flight and schmoozed amiably with us musicians. For many of us it was our first time on a jumbo jet or first class flying, so having a chance to climb the spiral staircase to visit the lounge in the executive cabin was alone worth the price of admission.
[image error]Flying first-class on Pan Am in 1979.
[image error]
In the old days, many of the BSO’s flights were booked as charters. Though that might sound lavish, there were practical reasons for this. The combination of an unusual and inflexible schedule (i.e. we had to be on stage and ready to play at the appointed hour, or else) and the large number of personnel made it a challenge to find suitable regularly scheduled flights. In addition, at the BSO there was a policy—unwritten, perhaps—of leaving a seat empty between musicians. Again, this may sound extravagant, but the odds of playing one’s best are enhanced when a musician doesn’t have to sit twisted like a pretzel for several hours on the way to the concert hall. Considering the commercial airline cost of tickets for the hundred-and-two musicians in the orchestra, plus fifty-one empty seats in between, chartering flights became a reasonable expenditure.
Back in the Stone Age actual meals were served on domestic flights, and for a time airlines engaged in food wars as they competed for passengers drooling at the prospect of steak and lobster dinners between Dubuque and Des Moines. The going got so good that it became possible for passengers to pre-order specific menus if the standard fare was not to one’s liking. Word was passed among my colleagues: “Psst. Order the vegetarian meal. It’s better.” Or the kosher meal. Or the Hindu meal. (Yes, there was such a thing.) Even short flights had good food. For a time, we took the late-night Braniff shuttle back to Boston after the last Carnegie Hall concert on New York tours, and though we were served a “snack” of cold fried chicken, an apple, a bag of chips, and a beverage, there were colleagues who felt this was inadequate.
For Martin Hoherman, the BSO’s former assistant principal cellist, food was just the starting point. Martin was a fine and courteous gentleman who spoke with an accent of European nobility and bore an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean. His particular tour quirk was to abscond with anything not nailed down and which didn’t have a price tag. Beware, hotel towels! We were once on a flight during which one of the musicians complained to the stewardess that there was no soap in any of the lavatories. Immediately, a chorus of the entire orchestra piped up in unison: “Martin!”
Regardless of the comforts graciously provided by Pan Am in 1979, by the time we landed in Shanghai everyone was exhausted and with the extreme time zone change we couldn’t tell up from down. Typically, on an international tour an orchestra has a day or two of R&R before any scheduled commitments. But because the ‘79 tour was such a lightning strike and carried so much political import, convention was thrown to the wind. We didn’t even go directly to our hotel when we arrived. Rather, we were shanghaied to an auditorium somewhere in Shanghai for a concert of ancient Chinese music.
Imagine the scene: a hundred seriously jet-lagged musicians sitting in a very dark theater where, to the unenlightened listener what might be construed as a series of random grunts, whines, bonks, and the occasional pluck emanated from stage. I was seated near the back of the hall and within minutes I saw heads nodding. Shortly thereafter the music onstage was accompanied by harmony of a different sort—the snoring of my colleagues.
Coffee, Tea, or Conductor?
Somewhere over the Klondike, and in between the dozen or so movies provided for my individual viewing pleasure (an option that was definitely not available in 1979), I roam the aisles in order to avoid paralysis of the lower extremities, and pass an hour or two gossiping and listening to dirty jokes with colleagues and staff.
Even more fascinating than the dirty jokes is a conversation with managing director Mark Volpe, who recounted the intricate high wire ballet act of how Charles Dutoit was hired to replace Lorin Maazel.
The first challenge had been how to deal with Maazel’s ongoing illness. He had already cancelled concerts in Denmark, Munich, and New York, but had remained doggedly determined to conduct the tour. Yet there was more than a suspicion he would remain incapacitated for some time. The question was how to respectfully provide him the wiggle room to rescind his commitment before it was too late to find a replacement. Volpe cited to me instances of conductors who, like professional athletes, will insist, “I’m fine” even when they’re deathly ill. As with many musicians, conductors probably feel that being on a stage is a big part of what keeps them alive; that sense of being needed, of creating something. I think the other side of the coin is true as well: the fear of not being needed is greater than the fear of death. (When Maestro Stanislaw Skrowacewski, ninety-one years old, frail, and almost blind, heard of Maazel’s infirmity, he volunteered to fill the void for the grueling tour. With great respect, Volpe politely declined his offer for obvious reasons, though it should be noted that Skrowacewski had recently conducted his beloved Minnesota Orchestra—where he had been music director from 1960-79—to great acclaim.)
Ultimately, in consultation with Maazel’s physicians, it became clear that Maazel’s infirmity would put him on the sidelines for the foreseeable future.
The next step was to find someone to replace Maazel who not only was of equal stature but was also an audience favorite in China and Japan. Presenters have great clout in these decisions because they’re the ones who have to sell the tickets and pay the orchestra its fee, so it’s their asses that are on the line. They had to be assuaged. In Japan, they hedged. They pressed to have Maazel for at least the final of the three concerts. Failing that, they expressed some desire for Seiji Ozawa to return to the podium as the hometown, nostalgic hero. Volpe went as far as having conversations with Ozawa, who had also suffered from recent bouts of ill health, and together they decided it was not a good idea. The presenters also were reluctant to change programs, even from the gargantuan Mahler Fifth to the more manageable Mahler First, which might have made finding a willing and ready conductor much easier. So, Volpe’s hands were tightly tied in that regard, too. Fortunately, Dutoit was amenable.
Working with the Chinese presenters proved to verge on the surreal. According to Volpe, when the BSO works with established and respected tour managements like Konzertdirektion Schmid, based in Germany and New York, there’s a clear line of authority and decision-making. The current president, Cornelia Schmid, by the way, was a violin student at Tanglewood once upon a time before going into management and succeeding her father in the family business. Working with the Chinese presenters, most of whom are government bureaucrats whose considerations were more political than artistic, was a different kettle of fish. Making decisions among them was like a game of hot potato, and Volpe sometimes didn’t even know if the person he was talking to knew there was a potato.
Meanwhile, there were still obstacles finalizing arrangements with Dutoit.
First, he was already committed to another engagement in Singapore. With his long and cordial connection to the BSO, he was willing to disengage himself from that concert. Fortunately for us, that was the only scheduling conflict, as he had planned a vacation after that. I imagine there were a lot of cancelled travel arrangements involved in untangling that part.
Second, would Dutoit receive the blessing of the presenters? As a former music director of NHK Symphony in Tokyo and with all those tours to China, that seemed a slam-dunk. Ongoing discussions went on among the BSO, the presenters, Jasper Parrot—Dutoit’s manager in London—and Dutoit himself in Cologne.
Third, all hypotheticals aside, could he get to Boston in time to rehearse? He had a concert in Cologne on Monday and the first rehearsal of Mahler Fifth in Boston was scheduled for Wednesday morning. He hadn’t conducted the piece for a long time and his score was at his Montreal residence. Solution: the BSO recruited someone to go there, find the score, and overnight it to Dutoit in Cologne to give him time to study it on the plane to Boston.
Maazel’s withdrawal, deciding on possible replacements, narrowing the list down to Dutoit, and working out all the details to hire him all took place over a very frenetic weekend, with communications covering three continents and twelve time zones. Volpe says that Dutoit is the real hero for saving the tour, but I don’t think there are too many managers able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat as he and Tony Fogg. Tony, with typical Australian understatement, gave the impression it had been a walk in the park. “We had our sights on Charlie the whole time. It was just a matter of working out a few details.”
Near Panic
While waiting for our connection to Beijing at Tokyo’s Narita Airport, a gut-wrenching rumor spreads like a subterranean temblor. Poison smog in Beijing? No. Dead pigs floating down the river to Shanghai? Much worse. The worst possible news of all. There’s no Gmail in China! OMG!! Panicked, frenzied thumbs desperately rush to get online at the airport for a final cyber fix. Being a techno-Neanderthal, I give up almost immediately, but clarinetist Tom Martin comes to my rescue and helps me get it working. Though in the end the rumor turns out to be patently false, I will forever have a warm spot in my heart for clarinetists.
On JL 869 from Narita to Beijing, my main objective is to stay awake so that when we arrive at the hotel at about 11:00 PM I’ll be able to fall right to sleep. I’ve heard various strategies for overcoming jetlag on long flights: 1) Don’t drink alcohol; 2) Drink plenty of alcohol; 3) Sleep; 4) Don’t sleep. My preferred strategy falls into the mind over matter category. Regardless of the length of the flight, at whatever time of day I disembark at my arrival city, I pretend it’s the “correct” time. I consciously avoid trying to figure out what the time is at home. Sometimes this strategy works. On the Asia tour, however, equilibrium will prove elusive for a good week, but at least I would be alert when I was supposed to be. Keeling over in the Adagietto of Mahler Fifth would not leave a positive impression of America.
I watch movies and stay awake. My strategy is foolproof, except when it doesn’t work. On this occasion it turns out to be a dismal failure.
***
Click on the title if you’d like to purchase Symphonies & Scorpions in its entirety. It’s available in two paperback editions, one with black-and-white photos, the other with color photos, and in Kindle.
NEWS FLASH: MY FIRST POLITICAL THRILLER, THE BEETHOVEN SEQUENCE, IS SCHEDULED FOR RELEASE ON SEPTEMBER 8! A MENTALLY UNBALANCED MUSIC TEACHER BECOMES PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! PREPOSTEROUS? STAY TUNED.
