The Symphony Exposed
The Source
I was reminded of comic Allan Sherman’s comment when asked to conduct a symphony orchestra. He said, “You have no idea of the insane feeling of power standing up in front of 100 people who know what they’re doing….” In my case, I wasn’t so foolish as to try to conduct the Jacksonville Symphony, but I had agreed to narrate Peter and the Wolf for the group’s annual Children’s Concert at Annie Merner’s place. Since I had no idea what I was doing, I decided to do something else…investigate the symphony, dig up the dirt, see where the bodies are buried (and are no doubt de-composing.) First observation: These people are serious. Deadly serious. I sat in the parking lot watching them unpack the tubas, violins, and trumpets. All their instrument cases are black. They dress in black clothing with black shoes. …sort of a harmonic Mafia. Several dozen silent people carrying black cases, all headed toward the same building. If it had been Valentine’s Day in 1929 Chicago I’d have run the other way. They do not greet each other with glad “Hello’s!” but with serious nods. Occasionally a smile will flash back and forth between an oboist and a flautist, but even then you know it was a deeply secret joke. Perhaps it was a signal meaning, “Who’s the idiot narrator today?” I watched them take their place before the concert….murmuring. The director appeared, nearly late. They stopped murmuring. Obviously they were talking about him. Don Corleone had entered the building. Our short rehearsal was all business, no smiles. I sat out there awaiting my time to go on and I wonder where I’ve seen this before. I’ve never been to a meeting of the General Motors Board of Directors or the Republican National Committee. We did one morning concert and one in the afternoon to large crowds of kids from most area elementary schools except District 117. They must have been afraid of black suits. And since I’m providing this in-depth investigation, I must report that the quality of Jacksonville Symphony continues to amaze. A town of this size is not supposed to host so grand a sound. ..even it it’s just a cover-up for something more sinister. But back to the juicy stuff….. When we broke for lunch at Mac’s dining hall, I noticed that the brass players were the largest consumers of pizza while the strings spent more time grazing the salad bar. Interesting. Several of the woodwind players chose to have their tenderloin bun-less. Is there something about sitting and playing a woodwind that…oh, never mind. Hardly anyone took dessert. What did they know? I sat with the percussionists since no one else wanted to sit with them. Perhaps it’s the old prejudice among instrumentalists that drummers aren’t really musicians. If that’s the case then I had chosen the perfect place for the narrator to dine. A string player wandered over to join us after he’d eaten. He may have been spying. Even the lunchtime conversation was hushed. I heard a female violinist laugh then there was a silence. She may have been punished later that evening…perhaps the head of her Stradivarius found lying in her bed. When we sauntered back to the Mac Chapel for the afternoon’s concert there seemed to be no discussion of the morning’s event. I’ve spent a good deal of time around actors and jazz players. When they do a performance they never shut up about it. The secretive symphony acted as if the morning gig had never occurred. What were they trying to cover up? The concert ended, the masses of children were duly thrilled with their taste of live, symphonic music, and the musicians began to pack up their gear and head back to their limousines. Again….in near-silence. No hearty cries of “See you later!” “Great gig!” or even a “Good-bye” as far as I could determine. Nothing. Like philharmonic phantoms they disappeared into the Jacksonville afternoon….poof. Enticed by this strange behavior, I’ve been trying to find a way to sneak into a ballet company. So far the tu-tu requirement has been too-too confining, but I’m still trying.