Brush with Greatness II

Many years ago I was at the kind of establishment that we old timers used to call a "record store" in Chicago's Loop. At the time this particular store had the most complete selection of recordings in the city and was THE place to go for just about anything recorded on vinyl, but especially for their extensive catalog of classical music. On that particular day, it so happened that a very famous violinist was there, signing albums of his which customers purchased in the store. It was at the end of his ordeal (at least that's how I would describe it from the look on his face) when a young boy, maybe eight years old, after waiting his turn as the last person in line, finally made it to the table where the famous violinist was sitting. The boy was carrying his own violin and it was obvious that the man sitting at the table was his idol. "Mr. Famous Violinist..." (not his real name), said the little boy, "...would you please play something on my violin?" The way the world famous violinist looked at that little boy, you'd have thought the child asked him to slit his own throat. "No..." the famous violinist said to the little boy, "...I can't do that.". That was that, and off into the sunset went the famous violinist, leaving a crushed little boy and his violin behind in the dust.

How that incident ultimately affected the boy I'll never know, but it sure gave me pause about the thought of meeting celebrities whom I admired. Even though my relatively few encounters with famous people have ranged (with the exception of this one) from pleasant to downright inspirational, I still have the nagging thought in my head that given the chance, I'd rather take a pass on meeting someone I truly admired, lest the impression of my idol would be forever tarnished by the fact that the person is actually a jerk.

But a couple weeks ago I was offered a chance I couldn't pass up, to document the visit of a very famous musician, and someone I've always admired, to the school where I have been photograping for the past three months.

Like the famous violinist in the record store, from all outward appearances, this musician projects a gregarious, friendly, public demaeanor. That made me all the more suspicious; could his public face really be just an act?  Could this famous musician, perhaps the most recognizable classical music artist in the world at the moment, really be a jerk, just like the famous violinist? 

Like famous people often do, the musician kept us waiting. The school's orchestra and concert band were on hand for the event and filled up the music room to well beyond capacity. Members of the Chicago Civic orchestra were also there, personally mentoring the student  instrumentalists. No one knew exactly what to expect from the famous musician, would he give a lecture, would he treat us to a small performance, or would he just sit regally up front, privileging us with his mere presence?

Eventually there was rumbling in the room. "He's coming, he's coming.." the adults wispered in admiration, much like the members of the orchestra in the cartoon whispered "Leopold, Leopold..." as Bugs Bunny impersonating the great conductor Leopold Stakowski walked up to the podium.

"Find a chair..." someone whispered, "...he wants to sit in the cello section."

Like all important people, the great man had an entourage who preceeded him. Members of a film crew hired by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra were on hand filming a documentary Then came an assistant who carried in the famous musician's instrument.

Finally, in came Yo-Yo Ma who took his seat among the cellists as he sat in with the band...

Now I don't necessarily believe that every picture is worth a thousand words, or that one can read into the soul of a person simply by looking at a photograph. But I think these pictures testify to the fact that my trepidations of Yo-Yo Ma were put aside the second he entered the room and began playing music with the students.

The combination orchestra/band with their new second cellist played an excerpt of Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony and an arrangement of Dave Brubeck's Take Five. After the music was finished, there was time for the students to ask questions. When the orchestra director opened the floor, there was the typical few seconds of awkward silence, followed by a few giggles coming from the assembled, including the guest of honor. Finally someone worked up the courage to ask why Mr. Ma originally chose the cello. He told the kids that the instrument he really wanted to play was the double bass, because it was the biggest instrument in the orchestra. But being only four at the time, and a smallish four at that, the double bass was not a practical choice. 

Yo-Yo Ma exchanging thoughts with students at Nicholas Sean High School

Then someone (not a cellist) asked if he ever got tired of playing the cello. That question gave Mr. Ma pause to think and become philosophical. He said that while practice can become mundane and somewhat tedious, it paves the necessary path to be able to connect with the music written over the centuries, be it written by Tchaikovsky or Dave Brubeck, two wildly divergent composers, or any of the other composers from the baroque to the current day in his remarkably varied repertoire. Then he added that the true joy of his work is connecting with other musicians, such as those assembled in that room, in the effort to in turn, connect with people gathered to listen to the music. That, he said, is where the magic comes in.

After a few more questions, his assistant came back to retrieve Mr. Ma's cello. A few kids asked if they could take selfies with the maestro, who gladly obliged. After trading a few pleasantries with the orchestra and band directors, both of whom confided with me that they got no sleep the night before, Mr. Ma was gone, leaving the room filled with musicians young and not so young, with a feeling of exultation.

I can't say for sure quite how many of the students assembled in that room knew of Mr. Ma before being introduced to his work by their teachers before he came to their school. but they're all serious musicians so the meaning of his visit was not lost upon any of them. A couple of the kids I talked to, with tears in their eyes, were moved beyond words. That said, everyone was swept up by the tremendous generosity of his spirit and I think it's fair to say that not a soul in the room, Mr. Ma included, will forget that magical day anytime soon.