There are several grand traditions during the festive month of December in New York: ice-skating in Bryant Park, going to see the Rockettes, shopping at Macy's, and buying a Christmas tree off the street from a man at a bodega. Slightly less well-known is a tradition I began this year. No, not caroling at the Union Square station, though that seems like a terrific idea. No, no, dear readers. This was a Holiday Celebration with Peter, Paul, & Mary.
It also happened to be my Carnegie Hall debut.
Every year, the New York Choral Society teams up with the legendary trio of folk singers - Peter Yarrow, Noel Paul Stookey, and Mary Travers, to ring in the holiday season, complete with classic holiday favorites, PP&M classics, and a piece or two from Sweden. In 1988, the concert was recorded for an annual PBS broadcast; an audio CD was also made. I highly suggest iTune-ing it; it's quite a festive mix.
Downbeat (a fancy word musicians use for call time) was at three sharp at Carnegie Hall. I arrived a few minutes late, owing mostly to some irritating delays on the ACE line. When I got to Carnegie, winded and worrisome, I remembered I hadn't looked up how to get on-stage. Surely they wouldn't let strangers off the street in, especially in my "street" clothes. (Though I would have been innocuous enough in a sweeping floor-length black dress...especially in Manhattan. Could have been an Evanescance conference or something). Luckily, a fellow Society member had arrived a few minutes late as well, so we braved it together. We went in through the stage entrance on 57th street and went through any number of locked doors and security checkpoints. There was music playing somewhere. I was getting close.
I walked through the door I could only assume was the stage entrance to Carnegie. I pushed the lever, the door yielded, and I let out a small cry.
It was beautiful. It was better than beautiful. It was an orgy of gilt Baroque decorations, cascading ivory balconies, and light! The Brooklyn Symphony Orchestra sat on the front of the stage-with timpani, xylophone, and bells predominately on stage left. I had to stop a moment and get lost in the moment - I was coming to rehearse with Peter, Paul & Mary in one of the best music venues in the world.
I giggled a bit; one of the stagehands gave me an eyebrow so severe that I was worried it would migrate straight into his hairline. So I threw my belongings on the plush red velvet seats and scampered onto the stage.
Robert DeCormier was the conductor for the evening. Conductor emeritus of the New York Choral Society and composer of most of the arrangements, he was meticulous and mechanical in his conduction. Dress rehearsal lasted a good four hours, leaving an hour and a half before call time, and only two hours before the show. I met my parents in the lobby, where we began the harrowing task of finding a place to sup.
I first thought PJ Carney's would fit the bill - a delightful little pub kitty-corner to Carnegie. It has become a favorite haunt of NYCS members after Carnegie rehearsals. And the fact that I came not with 20 people, but only 2, in tow, they must love me for that. But I must have missed the memo - Manhattan is a busy place at 7 on a Friday night. So my parents and I settled for Pax.
"So, are you excited?" my Dad asked over a Diet Coke and a panini.
"Sure," I said. "Why not?"
"Well, it's your Carnegie Debut, after all," Dad continued. "There will literally be thousands of eyes on you, watching you perform."
I looked at Dad. "Well, that's kind of the point," I began. "But I think - and this is just a hunch - that the audience may be a bit more concerned with PP&M than they are with a nameless choral member."
"Oh. Right."
So it began. I bid adeux to the parental units and scampered up to the third floor warm-up room. It looked like a wake - black everywhere - save for the men's red bow ties and a spray of red, green, and gold ribbon the women had. Paul Stookey was outside the warm-up room on his cell phone (an odd site to behold), and smiled at me. "Are you excited?" he asked.
Why was everyone asking? I nodded, smiled, and returned the question.
"Oh sure," he said. "Just jazzed!"
Then came the march onstage. The recital hall was conspicuously full of patrons, buzzing in that wonderful pre-concert excitement. I spotted my parents but had been strictly forbidden to wave, so I amused myself with taking in the grandeur and planning my life out as a famous mezzo-soprano so I could perform here more often, having star-crazed fans showering me with roses and bars of Toblerone.
Dare to dream.
The concert went by as most do - a blur of notes and chords and applause. It was, indeed, such a high - I've sang in in Canterbury Cathedral, or St. John the Divine, the Brooklyn Tabernacle - but there was something distinctly different about this. It was...it was not a spiritual experience, per se, but an emotional high - being in vicinity of so many other talented musicians.
Now, my short list of New York things to do is severely limited.
-Have an ID badge
-Work in SoHo
-Meet a celebrity
-Be involved in a major news story
-Appear on TV
-Get published
-Eat a bagel
-Brooklyn
-Get asked for directions as a native
-Appear in Page Six
-Hang out with Tina Fey
-Go skating in Rockefeller
-Have magical New York moments
Quote of the Day: "Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?"
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