Eastman School of Music - Score Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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FACULTY BUHLESUUE The Chief asked me if I wasn't a musician once, and I had to admit it was true. Well, get over to the Eastman School. There's a student missing, and it looks like somebody on the faculty is mixed up in it. You'd better not let on youire a detective. Here's the dope. Good Luck! I took the piece of paper he handed me and beat it. One John Freshman, a student, had suddenly disappeared. The student body was upset about the whole thing and inti- mated the faculty knew more than they were telling. It was up to me to get something out of them and find that student. I finally decided I'd say I was from some town' out West and our Music Teachers Association had asked me to visit the school so I could tell them about it. It was pretty feeble, but I couldn't think of anything better. When I got to the school the registrar was nice about it and suggested I visit some of the classes. He called in a young man standing in the hall and introduced us. The young man said sure come along, he was just going to class. We went to a room in the Annex. A few students were already there, but what interested me most was a man sitting at the piano playing scales and arpeggios up and down the entire keyboard. He had every appearance of being in a trance, as he noticed no one and was serenely oblivious of the terrific amount of sound he produced. Unable to take my eyes away from him, I was suddenly horrified to notice the grand piano begin to rock. At first only a slight shudder, the movement began to gain momentum as he continued thundering up and down on the keys. The playing grew louder and louder, the piano rocking from side to side, until I was sure it must at any moment turn turtle. What might have happened had he continued I do not know for at that moment he began to play Goetterdaemmerung from memory. This was followed by the Brahms Paganini Variations and he finished off with the Schu- mann Carnival. The only change I was able to notice in the man himself was that his hair got mussed up. This he combed with his fingers. Then he stood up and calmly began calling the roll. When he came to John Freshman's name he said he supposed the reason Mr. Freshman never came to class anymore was that he was writing starts and couldn't stop. That was all the information I got because before I could speak to him after class he had seated himself at the pinao. As I left he was playing scales and arpeggios again. We were early for the next class so we went into a little room I later learned was an office. I was introduced to several people, but it was with difiiculty that I made out where they were sitting as the room was filled thickly with smoke. As I became accustomed to the atmosphere I discovered the cause of it. Each man was smoking a pipe. Lighting a cig- arette in self-defense I settled back to listen to the argument that was going on. My escort addressed the man sitting at the desk. I ,think the Metropolitan has the best chorus in the country. How do you feel about it? Well, I'1l tell you. I agree in a way. But SAY have you heard my choir at Brick Church? With a sudden inspiration I interrupted: Isn't Johnny Freshman in your choir? I was completely ignored as the man at the desk suddenly began rummaging through a pile of music. Discovering what he wanted he held it up for the others to see. It was Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms. Do you see this? We're doing it a week from Sunday and if those tenors just come in here right -he sang to illustrate- it's going to be swell. Somebody noticed the time and the group dispersed. I had an idea there might be something here to give me a clue. Since nobody appeared to notice that I wasn't leaving too, and my former companion had apparently forgotten about me, I had a free hand. I went through the entire office carefully. What I found gave me plenty to think about. The man with the choir was certainly implicated in the disappearance of the student. I went out quietly with several papers hidden in my pocket. I was free to go where I chose and wandered around trying to listen at doors. I didn't have much luck until I notice one door partly open. I heard: La vee doo college est laboroose, et c'est par la qu'elle est bun-- I looked through the glass. The teacher seemed to be suffering. She fiinched at every word. Finally unable to stand more she stopped him. 100

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Have you been over this before class? Well no, but you gave us such a tough assignment I got stuck. She shuddered at the vernacular but went bravely- on. How much did I assign for today? ' The class chanted in unison: Fifty-five pages of translation into English, a hundred sentences to do, read one book and be able to tell the complete story in French, and memorize ten pages of idioms. Her reply to this staggering summary was lost, for someone down the corridor gave a loud and excellent imitation of Donald Duck in a frenzy. The class began to laugh. She asked what it was. ' That's Donald Duck, she was informed. I was unable to guess whether she knew about Donald Duck but I did know she was very unhappy. When she spoke again her voice was full of sorrow. I cannot understand why students pay good money for an education and then prefer Donald Duck to the French Classics. I never could stand by and watch a woman suffer, so I went away as quickly as possible. But I had learned what I had wanted to know. This woman was involved in the case of the missing student. The library seemed a good place to think things over, so I went down there. , When I went in it was deserted except for one person bending over some music. I sat down andntook out my notes. I had the thing pretty well figured out, but the greatest mystery was where the body was hidden. I'd prowled around just about everywhere by this time and there wasn't a sign of one. I was about to give up and go get some coffee when a female shriek from the back room brought me to my feet. My studious companion also looked up. . Er-I say-is something-er-wrong? What I mean is-is-- ' I didn't answer him. In the back room I found a very frightened young lady. What scared you? Look! She pointed to a mound of books and papers on the fioor back of one of the tables. It moved! Open the window quick. Call an ambulance. I began throwing books and papers in all directions. Maybe he's still alive. So that's what they did with him. In another minute I had him uncovered. He was breathing but unconscious. John Freshman! gasped the girl. I put him gently on the table and rubbed his wrists. Er-excuse me-but do you need-er-any help? Yes. You can show the ambulance men the way in here. Oh yes, of course. He went out just as the sirens screamed down Gibbs street. I didn't go to the hospital with John Freshman. I had to go through that pile of books and papers and I could phone the hospital later. I began sorting the things. Grove's Dictionary, Goetschius, music histories, theory papers, dictation papers of all kinds. French, German, Psychology books, English literature,-that was just a beginning. It was late when I finally finished. The building was dark and deserted as I found my way out into Swan Street. Oh-er-hello. Is he alright? I looked up to see the young man who had been in the library earlier. I said I was just going to phone the hospital and find out. Do you mind if I sort of come along? No, come ahead. You can have a cup of coffee with me. We went into the White Tower and while the hamburgs were cooking I phoned the hospital. The reply was what I expected. The boy was resting. Sheer exhaustion and overwork. The summer vacation would put him in shape. But he couldn't be questioned. I devoured four hamburgs and ordered four more. Then he asked me about the mystery. I guess this case of John Freshman can't be solved very definitely, I told him. We can't convict anybody. I had it figured out almost the whole faculty was guilty of at- tempted murder. Tried to kill him by piling on more and more work until he would either suffocate under the accumulation or die from exhuastion trying to keep it cleared away as fast as the professors piled it up. I've got proof against enough professors to fill a jail but there's two thing stopping me. This school is pretty well known and I guess John Freshman had a, fair warning this might happen. Besides, he's going to pull through and plans to come back next year. I guess I'll just turn in a report-missing student found. I paid the bill and we went out on the street. We shook hands and I said goodbye. So long, he held up his hand in a mild salute, see you later. Q Sibley's clock struck one. I thought to myself it was pretty late now. A 101