It was the summer of 1974. I was 23 and ecstatic. I had just finished my first year of graduate school, studying at the University of Miami with Professor of String Bass, Lucas Drew. I had a new boyfriend, James. And I had been accepted at Tanglewood, the summer home of the renowned Boston Symphony and the prestigious training ground for young orchestral musicians at the Berkshire Music Center.
I was spending a few days with my parents at my childhood home in Rochester, NY before leaving for Tanglewood, which is about a day's drive, located in the picturesque Berkshire Mountains. While in Rochester, I got a call from James down in Miami. He told me he wanted to come up to visit, and asked if it would be OK for him to go with me to Tanglewood. I didn't know exactly what he would do there, but I was madly in love and was excited to see him. I said yes, come on, and anxiously awaited his arrival.
James showed up several days later. Tall, athletic, and good-looking, he was brown from the sun and wore a beard. Although he played bass, he didn't perform with the Miami Philharmonic, like I did, and wasn't enrolled in graduate school. He free-lanced as best he could and was a bee keeper on the side. He enjoyed giving samples and selling the dark amber honey from exotic Florida plants, like avocado and hibiscus. He had driven up with his bass in his pride and joy, an Army surplus Jeep. And he had brought a few jars of honey, which he gave my parents. With his innocent personality and generous nature, he quickly charmed my parents, just as he had charmed me. We spent a few fun-filled days in Rochester and then left for Tanglewood, James in the Jeep and I in my Pinto wagon.
Arriving at Tanglewood, I felt like I was in heaven. The luscious green mountains faded into the gray mist, like a Japanese paining, The student orchestra was magnificent, with players from all over the country. Our conductors were Gunther Schuller, Seigi Ozawa, Leonard Bernstein as well as several talented student conductors. We also had master classes with BSO Principal Bass, Henry Portnoy, and chamber music. What a great opportunity I thought. I am so lucky to be here. I started feeling like James was a fifth wheel, not really belonging there. He was camping out at a nearby KOA while I was staying in the dorm. But then he auditioned for BSO bassist, Larry Wolfe, and it was decided that James would take private lessons with Larry for the summer.
After several weeks of wonderful music making, James mysteriously disappeared for a couple days.
Even though we were staying in different places, we managed to eat together and go out in the evenings with the other student bass players. Having no cell phones back then, I worried myself sick that something terrible had happened to him. He finally showed up, acting like nothing unusual had transpired. "Where were you?" I demanded.
"Well, if you must know," he replied, "I spent a couple days in jail."
"What on earth for?" I asked
He explained that he had "borrowed" some lumber from a construction site to make a platform for his tent in the woods where a few BSO members camped for the summer. He didn't think the 2x4's would be missed, but he had gotten caught and arrested. Since he couldn't post bail, he had spent two nights in the slammer.
"But come see the tent," he beckoned. "It looks great and now we'll be able to stay together in the woods."
The tent did look very inviting--sturdy and civilized, complete with a pallet for the sleeping bags and an oriental rug on the floor. Somehow, I was able to overlook his crime and was happy to move to the woods--mosquitoes, felon, and all.
To be continued...
(James is not his real name,)
