A Cold Week in Florida–When “The Great One” Came to Town

Don’t get me wrong. He’s a fantastic artist—accompanist to the stars! In addition, this man is a renown teacher who has for decades traveled the world visiting universities, colleges, and conservatories of music to impart his wisdom. But they didn’t like him in Tallahassee, Florida.

Clash of Cultures in Northern Florida

You may think of Florida as a sunny destination featuring Disney World, vast ivory beaches, beautiful surf, and a fun time. But we’re not talking about that part of Florida. We are talking about northern Florida, which roughly equates to southern Georgia. Translation? The Deep South. This man was from the North, and that turned out to be a problem.

The student body at FSU, of course, is from everywhere, but more generally from the South. Women tended to have three names, like Mary Margaret Johnson or Catharine Susan Smith. They dressed better than I did. Some were saving themselves for marriage—not exactly what I’d remembered growing up! Many men and women spoke with a pronounced southern drawl.

There had already been a run-in that year with another guest accompanist from New York City who spoke her mind, and people down there didn’t like it. One guy exasperatedly said, “Look! This is the South. We don’t behave that way! You have to be polite!” So let’s just say the engine was primed against this guy before he ever got there.

Hostile Beginning

Before his arrival, the rumor mill was flying with talk of how he was a typical “northerner”—rude, not genteel, as was expected in the South. Well, I am from the North! I remember this same pianist giving a master class at my undergraduate college in Ohio, and I sure didn’t remember that much hostility then. But here, the students took a different view.

I was scheduled to perform early in the week, and I’d already sat in on some other students’ performances. The hostility was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He would correct someone, and they would say “yeeeeesss…” in a guarded way or even directly refute him. He would crack jokes; they wouldn’t laugh. He would tell anecdotes—no response. Guys seemed to fare better than the gals, but almost no one seemed to get along with him. My voice teacher, who was on to the trouble, implored me not to react negatively, no matter what happened.

When my time came to perform, our guest expert immediately found a wrong note in my singing and then regaled us with a story (which I’d already heard him tell in Ohio!) about another young student singing a wrong note in his masterclass. She’d decried, “But my senior recital is only one month away!” Cue the laughter . . . I laughed, though not very sincerely. Since then, I have wished I could go back to that moment and say, “OK! What do you want me to do? Whine that my recital is only a month away and I can’t possibly make a change at this point?” That would have crashed his story, and he wouldn’t have been able to land that gem on his audience. But, I digress . . .

Tipping Point

The last day came. After one or two singers performed, he asked, “Who’s next?”

Silence. Dead silence.

“Come on, people! Time is money!” he exclaimed.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my voice professor. He said, “Get up there and sing!” “But Sir!” I said, not realizing the situation, “I’ve already had my turn!” In his loudest stage whisper, he said, “GET UP THERE!”

So, reluctantly, I went onto the stage. “What have you got?” he said. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any more art songs to sing,” I explained. “But I could sing an aria from La Bohème, if you wish.” He said, “OK.” So, I sang “Sì, mi chiamano Mimi.”

Suddenly, something good happened . . .

Unexpected Connection

He seemed to like what he heard, which surprised and pleased me. He helped me work on my legato, something that really matters in Puccini, and he did it in such an interesting way! In the second part of the aria, there’s a passage beginning with the words “ma quando vien lo sgelo” that begins very softly and crescendos into a series of increasingly dramatic, arching phrases. He had me start that phrase by sounding the initial m, thus causing the singing sound to begin with the consonant, not the vowel! This intensified the legato effect and really made the whole section come alive.

He pointed out the multitudinous score markings. There are so many, and they have to seem as natural as possible while singing. He made sure I grasped them all. He pointed out the syncopations during the introduction, which accentuated the innocence and vulnerability of the young love expressed. He made sure I made the most of the climactic high notes towards the end, fully sustaining the high A‘s at the poco allargando passage. The aria began to take shape, coming together as a whole.

I started to sing better, and I was feeling great. But, what else was I feeling? Could it be…gratitude?! Yes! I was grateful to this good man for coming to help us. Since then, I have sung Mimi in La Bohème many times, and it’s always been a good role for me.

“You sound pretty good,” he added, finally. “Not bad . . . not bad.”

Lesson Learned

So I learned an unexpected life lesson. Open your eyes and be willing to listen to people who are different than you. Only crazy people become musicians, which is why we have to help each other! This special person ignited a flame in me that has served me all my creative life. I was grateful he came, that he changed me, and that I had the rare opportunity to be coached by him twice in just a few days!

Now that was a great week in Florida!