The Burden of Being a Prodigy

Chapter Ten

The boys entered their senior year in high school and began thinking about what they might do after graduation.  

Rusty said there were probably organists he might study with, but the problem with going to a university or a conservatory was that he’d be with the same teacher for four years. Instead, he said he wanted to be with different teachers, one a year.  

Meanwhile, the state American Guild of Organists chapter had heard about him. On a Saturday morning, as I sat in the church listening to him practice, two members of the Guild dropped in. They asked him to play for them, so he played for about an hour, mostly his own compositions. They were very taken with him, and they asked if he would give a recital at their spring convention.  

Until that time, Rusty had barely heard of the Guild and didn’t feel a need to belong. They convinced him, however, that he could gain national and even international contacts through the group. He agreed to their request and began planning what he would play.  

The recital would be in another city, so he would have to stay there for the four days of the convention. When he told me, I arranged for the three of us to go and stay in a hotel.  

“Won’t that be expensive?” he asked. 

“The expense will be very minor compared to the benefits you could gain,” I assured him.  

So it was that on a Thursday the three of us crowded into my old truck and drove across the state. 

After we had checked in with the convention people and found our two adjoining hotel rooms, we went to the church where Rusty’s recital was to be held on Saturday evening. Recitals would also be held there on Friday and Saturday afternoon, and someone was preparing for one of those, so Rusty couldn’t actually play the organ, but he could listen.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not my favorite, but I won’t really know just how bad it is until after the Saturday afternoon recital when I can get on it.”

There would be a series of recitals and workshops on Friday, so Rusty picked out which ones he wanted to attend. Meanwhile, David and I decided we’d check out the city, having never been there before.

On Saturday afternoon, Rusty, David, and I went to the church where he would be playing his recital. Following the afternoon recital, David and I sat in a pew and listened while Rusty began trying various combinations of sounds. At one point he sighed and said, “It’s worse than I thought.” It occurred to me that organists were among the few musicians who had to use whatever instrument was assigned. It wasn’t like they were violinists or other musicians who owned their instruments. Even a few concert pianists had their own pianos shipped from site to site. Of course, singers also had to use the instrument they were given, but presumably only the ones who had been given very fine ones actually performed. Rusty was stuck.

He continued to try stops and combinations. The organ did have combination buttons which he could set, and which would automatically pull stops when he pressed the buttons.

“Well,” he said at last, “I guess that’s the best I can do.” Then he played parts of several pieces before he finished. The recital was to be a combination of his own compositions and those written by others.

After a light supper, Rusty dressed in a rented tuxedo and the three of us returned to the church. Rusty placed Bear on the console, warmed up a bit and then retreated to a room off the chancel while David and I took seats in the pews.

Soon, others began to arrive, and by concert time, there was standing room only. David and I were happy to have claimed seats early. I must say that often one of the drawbacks of an organ recital is that the audience can’t see the organist.

Shortly after 8:00, Rusty strode across the chancel and sat at the organ, launching into the Bach Prelude and Fugue in A Minor. When he finished, he stood and bowed to the clapping audience and then returned to the organ bench. He followed that with the Franck ‘Finale’. It’s a showy piece, and as far as I could tell, he played it very well. By then the audience was totally absorbed in the music and didn’t make a sound until he finished, at which point they applauded loudly. He ended the first half of the concert by playing the Prelude and Fugue in G Minor by Marcel Dupré. He had recently added it to his repertoire, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

During the intermission, David and I eavesdropped on conversations around us, all of which were laudatory.

When Rusty returned to the organ, he played compositions of his own.

At the end of the recital, the audience stood and gave Rusty a loud, long ovation. He bowed several times and then left the chancel with Bear, but the applause didn’t let up until they’d returned and bowed again.

When the applause died down and people started to depart, we made our way to the parish hall, which was full of concert-goers. Rusty was there fielding compliments both for his playing and for his compositions. Someone asked him if they had been published, and Rusty replied, “Honestly I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Well, they should be,” the man said, and Rusty agreed to think about it.

Some people asked Rusty to give concerts at their churches. They handed him cards with their contact information, and he passed them on to David, who collected them and made notes about what people wanted.

At one point, Rusty looked at David and grinned. I wasn’t sure just what was passing between them until they told me later, when we were back at the hotel.

One of the last people to shake Rusty’s hand introduced herself as the church organist. She said he’d found combinations on the organ which she didn’t even know existed.

“Most of them are on the combination pistons,” he said, “so you can explore them and keep any you want.”

At last the hall was empty, and the boys and I made our way back to our hotel, where we had a late supper in the restaurant. In my room, I asked them what they had been grinning about during the reception.

“I suddenly decided I needed a manager,” Rusty said, “and it looks like that’ll be David. I can’t keep track of all that stuff, but he’s a natural.”

It took a while for us all to come down from the excitement and get to sleep that night. For once I didn’t hear a sound coming from the boys in the other room except some gentle snoring.

Sunday morning, there was to be a Guild service at one of the churches, but we weren’t really interested in attending. Instead, we slept late and then had breakfast in the hotel.

When we finished, we took a leisurely walk around the city, talking quietly as we went. I noticed that the boys were holding hands and wondered if it was safe, but nobody said anything.

As we walked Rusty said, “I know I said I wanted to study with different teachers, but which ones and how do I get to do that?”

David suggested that Rusty needed to make recordings to send out to prospective teachers. They decided to make a project of that, but knew they’d need to get a tape recorder. They were very new and quite expensive at the time.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “It will happen.”

We went to a recital in the afternoon, and people were still wanting to talk with Rusty. He asked some of them if they knew who he should study with. He got many suggestions which David carefully wrote down.

There was a recital Sunday night which Rusty wanted to attend. Although we had planned to drive home that evening, I extended our stay at the hotel for another night.

After dinner at a restaurant we’d found, we went to the recital. Rusty was quite impressed with the organist, perhaps the first one he’d heard who he really liked. So after the recital, we went to the reception. Rusty had to wait some time, but eventually he was able to talk with the organist. He first congratulated him. In turn, the organist congratulated Rusty. Rusty asked the man who he had studied with, and as he spoke, David collected names and more contact information.

That night I heard considerably more sound coming from the boys’ bedroom. Smiling to myself, I was able to drop off to sleep.

********

Back home the boys continued to make plans for life after they graduated. Neither one of them wanted to go to college, despite the American Dream, which was rampant at that point, and which called for marriage, a college education and a good job for the man, a stay-at-home wife and mother, two or three children, a dog, and a nice home with a car in the garage in the suburbs.

Rusty wanted to study with organists and composers. David had no desire except to be with Rusty. He did, however, consider taking courses in accounting and personal management so he could continue to be Rusty’s manager.

They decided to spend their first year in New York City. Rusty was going to study organ at one of the large Manhattan churches. David could get the courses he wanted at New York University.

Neither one of them had a lot of money. Rusty earned his lessons by working as the assistant to the organist at the church. In addition, they had part time jobs in restaurants waiting on tables.

All of this of course was a huge adventure for the two boys, who wrote to me at least once a week. Neither had ever been in a large city and certainly not in New York. Their tiny apartment, basically one room, was quite expensive, but they managed. They explored the gay scene of the time, visiting gay bars and a few drag shows. They never tried to pick up another man, although several tried to seduce them, they reported.

Rusty had to play for the Christmas Eve service in New York, so they flew home the next day to spend some time with me and the Millers. I had certainly missed them, and I couldn’t hide that. Not only did I enjoy their company, but I also took pleasure in those sounds coming from their bedroom again.

They knew I was getting on in years, and they were worried about me, but I assured them I still had a few years left. They did call me frequently, just checking in, and they arranged to call Muriel if they tried and couldn’t reach me. I told them it was all unnecessary, but I secretly appreciated their concern for me.

In the spring, Rusty gave a recital on the church organ in New York. He also received letters from various parts of the country enquiring about the possibilities of him giving concerts. David fielded the enquiries and responded, stating a price plus travel and hotel accommodations while in the recital cities. He put together a tour for Rusty, and early in the fall they departed for other parts of the country in their new used car.

After the tour, in which Rusty earned his first real money as a concert organist, they flew to London and took a train to Canterbury, where Rusty was going to study with the organist of the cathedral and also play some services. They were able to live on the cathedral grounds and eat with the choir boys, so their expenses were minimal.

That was an exciting year for the boys, as they explored many parts of England. Of course, first they had to learn to drive on the left side of the road and to manage some of England’s very narrow streets. Rusty gave a recital at Canterbury Cathedral as well as one at St. Paul’s in London. Both of these venues have very long reverberation times ─ up to twelve seconds ─ and he had to make adjustments to what he played in relation to what he heard. He found that his playing was sometimes more by touch than by sound, although once he experienced the reverberations, he did learn to adjust his playing to accommodate them.

In their third year out of high school they went to Paris. Rusty wanted to study with Marcel Dupré, who was at the Paris Conservatory and the église Saint-Sulpice. He took both organ and composition lessons with Dupré, a man whom he learned to respect highly.

In the early fall of their fourth year, Rusty gave a number of recitals in various French churches. He observed that the Cathedrals were nearly empty during services, although many people attended his recitals and other events.

After the French tour, they returned home, Rusty having decided that there was nobody else he wanted to study with right then.

The first thing the boys did when they arrived in town was to buy me a new truck. I protested. It was much too much money, but they insisted, and I must admit I loved it.

I was secretly amazed at how much money Rusty was earning. Several of his compositions had been published so he had some income from those as well as from frequent recitals.

One day he surprised me by saying he had again taken the job at the Methodist church in Springfield.

“Why?” I asked.

At first he wasn’t very forthcoming, but I asked enough times so that he finally said, “David and I want a place we can call home. All the traveling is fun but it’s also tiring. I was offered jobs in New York and San Francisco, but they wouldn’t have been home. This,” he gestured around the room, “is home to us and it’s all we want. Oh, I’ll still give recitals from time to time, and I’ll keep composing, but we wanted to be home and with you.”

For a time I tried to talk him out of the idea, but he and David were adamant.

As I write this, I have just turned 95. With the boys back, I now have company again. I’m no longer lonely. Lying in bed at night listening to the sounds coming from the boys’ bedroom, I think back to that little, tearful boy who first came to my door and all that has happened since.

Life works in mysterious ways.

I’d like to thank my editors, who once again saved me from numerous errors, and to Mike for maintaining this wonderful site.