~ Two-part Harmony ~

Chapter Eleven

The few measures of the Williams piece specified for the audition were a bear. James couldn’t believe that the director expected a horn player in a youth orchestra to be able to do them justice. He went to YouTube and listened to a recording of the entire overture and was blown away. Freddie listened, too, looked over the audition measures and grinned.

“Typical. All the parts for all the sections of the orchestra in this piece have to be murderous. But we’ll get it. By the time we perform it, it’ll be good. You’ll see. You’ll be one of us by then. Maybe even have taken over my chair. Probably will have.”

James gave him a look, then said, “No way. I’ll turn it down. I’m not doing that.”

“Well, that’s for later. Getting you into the school comes first. That’s what matters now. I’ll practice this with you. And the duets. You’ll be ready.”

They spent a lot of time working on the three pieces. Both boys had precocious talents and took advantage of them. When he was ready, James recorded the lower part of the Mozart using a Bose Bluetooth recorder/speaker Freddie had. He wasn’t satisfied with how he’d played, did it over and then over again. He liked that third recording. He worked on playing the top part against it till he had it down perfectly, or as perfect as he could make it. Freddie told him he’d had it perfect two days earlier and since then had just been wasting his time. He told him to stop already or he’d get stale.

They both had trouble with the Williams. But they kept working, taking it at a slow tempo at first and building speed the next time they played it, and in the end, they played it for Mrs. Ford. She had a few suggestions that made it a little easier, and they practiced it again until finally they felt they had it well under control and felt James could pull it off successfully. Or, as Freddie put it, “You’ve got it in the bag.”

They recorded that, too, because they were proud of it.

>   >   >

James was nervous all through the ride as Mrs. Ford was driving them to the audition. He had some support; Freddie came with him.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed,” Freddie had said. He’d asked Mrs. Ford, who said it would depend on the men holding the audition, but he should come and if they didn’t want him there, he could wait outside with her, that she’d be waiting there for them to come out when James was done. So he was in the car with James, holding his hand and trying hard to keep him talking so he wouldn’t worry to the point of brooding and scaring the crap out of himself before the audition started.

The three of them walked into the auditorium. Mrs. Ford introduced first herself, then James to Carlos Meyer, the orchestra conductor-cum-director of the music department, then turned and left. Mr. Meyer introduced them all to Perry Michaels, the head of the school.

“Freddie, I see you’re here, too,” Mr. Meyer said. “Do you know James?”

“Yes, we’re friends. In fact, James is living with us at the moment. It’s why he’s going to want the scholarship to include boarding. After hearing him, you’ll be happy to have him here.”

Mr. Meyer laughed. He was a short man with mostly grey, long hair down over his ears and collar. He was a little on the plump side. James didn’t think he fit the picture Freddie had drawn of him. He didn’t seem stern or rigid, and there was a noted lack of presence in his bearing. But then, he wasn’t on the podium in front of a bunch of kids now, either.

“Well, that’s what we’re about to find out. James, you can go up on stage and tell us when you’re ready.”

“Is it all right if I sit and listen?” Freddie asked. “I’ve had to listen to all the practicing he’s done. I’d like to be here for the real thing.”

“That’s fine as long as you’re quiet and don’t interfere at all. That okay with you, Perry?”

“You’re running the show today, Carlos. I’ve no problem with it.” Mr. Michael did have a presence. He was tall and slender, was wearing a suit and tie, and was the sort of man the kids in the school would automatically call ‘sir’.

The stage had a single chair and a music stand, both looking lonely as there was nothing else there. James was carrying the Bose speaker and his horn. He set the speaker down on the chair, then looked back out to where the three people were seated in the front row, the two men in the middle. Freddie sat several seats from them on one end of the row.

“I won’t need the stand or the chair. I’ve memorized the music,” James remarked, speaking loudly from the stage.

Mr. Meyer nodded. “That’s fine. Just begin when you’re ready.”

“I’ll play the Williams measures first.” James brought the horn to his lips, took a breath, and then started double-tonguing the rapid measures he’d been given. He went on with the rousing, intricate music for the twelve measures he had been asked to learn. Freddie smiled. As far as he could tell, James had knocked it out of the park.

Mr. Meyer was surprised. He hadn’t expected the measures to be played at the tempo which was marked, and he hadn’t expected to hear it mistake-free. He knew that picking The Cowboys Overture was asking a lot from his horn section; from the entire orchestra, really; he doubted all of the horns would even be able to double-tongue. It was only because he had Freddie leading the group that he felt he could get away with selecting the Williams piece for performance. Now, if he had two Freddies in the orchestra, he was more sanguine about his choice of scheduling it.

He didn’t give a clue to his feelings, however. He needed to hear the entire audition and see if James continued so well under pressure. At this point, though, he knew he wanted James in his orchestra.

James looked around, feeling very alone and uncomfortable when there were no remarks forthcoming about what he’d just played. He began fidgeting and forced himself to stop. Finally, taking a breath and exhaling, he calmed himself enough to look out at Mr. Meyer and speak. “Sir,” he said, feeling his nerves were all too obvious, “I’ll turn on the speaker now and play the first two Mozart horn duets from K-487. I understand you agreed with Mrs. Ford that I could record myself playing the second part of each duet, and I have those on my Bose speaker.”

He leaned over the chair, turned on the speaker, and watched for the small green light to say it was alive and well and waiting to be activated.

Nothing happened.

Freddie, watching, realized before James did what the problem was. The Bose needed to be recharged after several hours of use. Those hours had been spent in recording and playing back the Mozart and then the Williams. With the time James had spent using it, its battery had run down. Neither of them had thought to recharge it before the audition.

James eventually stood up. He faced Mr. Meyer, white-faced, and said, “Sir, I don’t have any way of playing my duet’s second part. I think the battery needs recharging. Without the recording, I can only play the top part of the duet.”

Then he stood looking out, and Freddie could see him wilting. He knew what James was thinking, that this had been his chance, his only chance, and he’d blown it.

James had been improving, gaining self-confidence while living with Freddie. The fact they’d fallen in love had been a factor in that. Now Freddie could see the self-doubts coming back in force. He could see James was looking at coming to terms with not getting the scholarship, and without it, with no admission to the school, no place to live; he’d be homeless. His only option would be to be sent off to Kansas, where he’d have no life at all.

What Mr. Meyer said was icing on the cake, and a very bitter icing it was. The man was cringing, but what choice did he have?

“I’m so sorry, James, but there are specific rules for auditions. A musician is supposed to make sure he has everything he needs for an audition. It shows the director he can count on the musician to be ready to play when he needs him to be. A director has to have confidence in his orchestra members. You play very well, but I’m afraid I have to say, if you couldn’t see to your own equipment, knowing how important the audition was, then I have to fail you. You didn’t play everything you were supposed to. I’d given Mrs. Ford permission for you to do the duet, but I told her and you knew it had to be a duet, not a single line of a duet. I’m so sorry, but this has to be my final decision.”

Freddie was watching James as Mr. Meyer was talking, and he saw what was happening to him. All the building up Freddie had been involved in with James was being undermined in a matter of minutes. His whole demeanor was crumbling.

Freddie couldn’t let this happen. This was too important. James was too important, and it was killing Freddie to see him in agony on the stage, ready to break down any moment now as his tragedy was becoming more and more apparent.

Freddie was not one to go down without a fight.

Of course, for Freddie, a fight was waged with charm and persuasion, not confrontation or violence. He stood up, not forgetting but ignoring that he wasn’t supposed to interfere.

“Mr. Meyer, can I make a suggestion?” he asked politely. “I have my horn in the car. We both just had a lesson with Mrs. Ford before coming here. I could play the second part of the duet. Maybe it’s not how this was supposed to happen, but it’s actually better as you’ll hear how we perform together, how James can work off another player as you do in a duet. You can hear it live, not partly recorded. That’ll give you more to gauge James’ ability by than you’d get with a recording. You’ll hear him responding to another live player and so have more to go on this way than what you’d have heard the other way.”

Mr. Meyer equivocated. He really did want James. That the boy could play was obvious. He was better than any horn player he had, with the possible exception of Freddie. But as the school’s music director, he had to be a stickler for the rules, and doing this would be breaking them.

Freddie saw his indecision and kept speaking. “Look, sir, James is a terrific player, better than I am, really. He needs this school, and you need him, especially if you want the Williams piece to work. With the two of us in the horn section, we can carry the horn parts. Can I get my horn and play for you with him? It’s actually the way the duet should be heard.”

Mr. Meyer’s indecision turned into a smile, more than what Freddie had expected. Mr. Meyer smiled because he now had a reason to accept this change of program. “That sounds like an excellent suggestion, Freddie. Just hurry up. We don’t want to keep Mr. Michaels waiting.”

Freddie got his horn. He didn’t have time to warm up, but he’d played with Mrs. Ford only a little over an hour ago. He knew he could do this.

When he got on the stage with James, James looked so relieved, so thankful, Freddie felt an overwhelming urge to hug him. He resisted. He looked out at Mr. Meyer, got a nod, and they began. As they’d done before, they copied each other, they supported the line the other was embellishing, they made music. The piece was difficult, technically demanding, reaching into the topmost register of the horn. James’ playing was faultless. He’d been given a second chance, and he took advantage of it.

When they were finished, Mr. Michaels and Mr. Meyers had a quick private conversation together, and then Mr. Meyer spoke to the boys. “Congratulations, James. You’re in! Best audition I’ve ever heard. Mr. Michaels will have to talk to your parents about the details, but you’re getting in with a full scholarship, boarding included.”

Freddie wasn’t expecting James to leap into his arms and had to fight to keep from dropping his horn, even falling over. James had tears in his eyes. Mr. Meyers smiled and said they could find their way out and James would be contacted with school information. He congratulated James again and left them.

>   >   >

Mrs. Ford had dinner with Mrs. Clausen and the two boys that night. She invited them to the fanciest restaurant in town and insisted they have whatever they wanted. This was their night. She ordered champagne for her and Mrs. Clausen.

James had never had lobster before. He hadn’t had filet mignon or several other things on the menu, either. Mrs. Ford saw him dithering over the menu and told him, “I should have taken you to a smorgasbord. Then you could have tried a whole number of unfamiliar things. Although, knowing you as well as I do, you’d have chosen only things you were familiar with. Right?”

“Hey, I’m getting better!” James protested. As recently as a week ago, James would never have thought he’d ever dispute anything Mrs. Ford would ever say.

“We’ve been working on that,” Freddie said with a smile. “He’s much better now. I even got him to play soccer the other day.”

“No way! I don’t believe it!” Mrs. Ford really couldn’t.

“Yep. He’s learning how to be something other than a horn player.”

“Not sure I want to be.” James wasn’t sure what to do with his eyes. These were the only three people in the world whose eyes he could meet without looking down, and right now, he wanted to be looking into each of theirs. “But I’ve learned so much in the last few weeks. It’s been the best time I’ve ever had. I’m not so scared of everything now. I don’t doubt myself so much. I’ve had Freddie, and you, Mrs. Clausen, and of course you, Mrs. Ford, andand the trains, and . . . and, well, everything. Happy as I am that I’ll be going to that school, leaving this behind makes me wish a little I’d failed the audition. But then I’d have had nothing at all.”

“Bull crap!” Freddie was angry and everyone could hear it. “Throw you away like yesterday’s newspaper? You? You’re one of us now, James. I’ve already talked to Mom. She agrees with me. We think you should . . . we want you to turn down the boarding part of the scholarship. We want you to continue living with us.”

James’ mouth fell open. He looked back and forth at Freddie and his mom and couldn’t find any words to say. Freddie stood up, came around to his chair and hugged him the best he could. “I love you so much,” he whispered in his ear.

James blushed, then turned to Mrs. Ford. “Did you get that we’re boyfriends?”

She laughed. “You didn’t need to explain it. Anyone seeing you two together knows it, and I see you two together a lot. I’m so happy for how this is turning out. I was a little worried about you entering a new school all by yourself, James, but I don’t have to do that now. And even if that were the case, the new and improved James would have been just fine.”

“I don’t know,” Freddie said. “Without me around to watch him, he might have fallen into bad habits. Hey, he might even have taken up the saxophone.”

Mrs. Ford shuddered. “Then that’s one more reason for you to keep an eye on him, Freddie.”

>   >   >

The school’s yearly orchestra concert was performed several months later. The highlight of the performance was the John Williams piece written for the John Wayne film of the same name. It completed the second half of the concert and was introduced by Carlos Meyer, the conductor.

“Our final piece tonight is one that these kids have put tremendous effort into as well as their hearts and souls. They have great talent or they’d never have been able to bring this off, but talent minus effort doesn’t accomplish much. You’ll be hearing that talent tonight, and you’ll hear the results of all the effort these fine young people expended, too. I’m extraordinarily proud of these musicians, and proud of all the work they put into learning this piece. What you’ll hear next will almost certainly make you feel the same pride I do. And you’ll be amazed at their skill. We’ll now play for you John Williams’ The Cowboys Overture.”

The piece started with a bang, with the horns and trumpets double tonguing the opening blast before the orchestra quieted to introduce the first of several melodies. The piece never lost its pace, however, and mixed tranquil with rousing throughout. Nine minutes later, after that first stirring blare from the horns, the piece ended with more dramatic horn double-tonguing and a half-step trill.

The audience loved it. They went crazy, standing and whistling and demanding over and over again that Carlos come back on stage for repeated bows which seemed unending. Calls for an encore echoed though the building. Finally, when Carlos came back and faced the crowd, he raised both arms and waited for them to become silent, then spoke.

“I know you’d like an encore, but frankly, everyone in the group on stage is exhausted. I can’t ask any more from them. However, I can and will, if you want, give you a different sort of piece for an encore. A piece I think you’ll find very special.”

There was shouting in the affirmative from the crowd, so Carlos continued. “All right, I have a great treat for you. It’s a decided change of pace, one that’ll let you calm down before leaving tonight. We don’t want you driving on the roads with the aggression of the overture still resonating.”

The audience laughed, which Mr. Meyer had expected, and it allowed him to catch his breath. Then, after the audience quieted, he continued.

“I’ll tell you a bit about the encore so our soloists have a chance to recuperate from what they just played. We’re so fortunate to have in this amazing group of young musicians two outstanding French horn players. They’re lucky to have the teacher they do, Mrs. Laura Ford, who was a top soloist who performed with orchestras worldwide before she retired. She stays active teaching music lessons for private students. The two horn players who will play the encore for you tonight are two of her students.

“You just heard the amazing horn work required by the Williams piece that they played so well. I’m sure you can imagine how appropriate it is to give them a moment of rest which was so well-earned. They are our co-principal French horn players, James Madison and Freddie Clausen. They switch from first to second horn for every piece we play. Ask them, and each will tell you the other is the better horn player. They are truly amazing young kids, and you’ll get an appreciation of that listening to them play.

“The piece they’ll play for you is quite short. It was written for orchestra by the Norwegian composer Edvard Fliflet Bræin. It’s his Ut Mot Havet, which translates as To The Sea. Mrs. Ford arranged it as a duet for two horns, and that’s the version you’ll hear now. It was written just for them. This will be its premier. Freddie, James, when you’re ready.”

He turned and walked off stage. There was a short pause, and then Freddie and James, in their tuxedos, came on stage. They were applauded and they bowed together, something they’d practiced and never felt comfortable doing. The lights over the orchestra dimmed and the two boys were spotlighted.

They stood at an angle to the audience, half looking at each other, half into the auditorium. Freddie grinned at James, nodded twice, and they began playing.

The piece, as arranged by Mrs. Ford, was two and a half minutes long. James played the opening solo, and Freddie played the reprise at the end. The piece was soulful and moving, and the audience, as if in a trance, remained still as the last chord slowly faded into nothing. The boys, after a short pause, lowered their horns and the audience erupted with more raucous whistling and shouting and clapping. They were on their feet and not about to stop celebrating the two boys. The boys weren’t sure what to do. They bowed again and looked at each other. Freddie shrugged and bowed again. Nothing much fazed him.

Mr. Meyer returned to the stage, asked the two boys to bow again together, then looked to the orchestra behind them. They were clapping and shuffling their feet, too. The lights over them came back on and the director had them rise.

There were more curtain calls, and finally, it was over. Freddie yanked his bow tie off as quickly as he could.

“Whew, glad that’s over. Now I don’t have to pick up this horn till school starts in the fall!”

James just shook his head, scowled, then grinned at him.

\ THE END /