Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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16 THE PORCUPINE the women; and of the great fortunes that were made each year by foreign artists. For these reasons Jan’s father thought his son would have no trouble in bringing home rich rewards. The big boat was about to leave for America, and Jan had engaged passage., His father, mother, and Nina, his little sister, were at the pier to see him off. It was a sacl parting. With tears in their eyes goodbyes were said. Jan’s mother warned him to be careful, “for America is a dangerous place,” and his father said: “My son, you must play as never before, and bring home much money, and we will buy much land and houses, and be no longer poor.” Jan answered his parents as best he could. He asked little Nina what she wanted from America, and she replied: “Bring me ze doll—vot you call her? Ze Teddy bear?” After a last boodbye he had just time to make the boat, and was soon on his way across the waters. He had difficulty in engaging a manager. In fact, he found it impossible to hire one. Their reasons were many: He was unknown. He would not agree to let his hair grow six months without cutting. He would not agree to act queerly, and to adopt foolish mannerisms. His name did not contain all the consonants in the alphabet, and consist of seventeen or eighteen letters, and it could be easily pro- nounced by everyone. So he was forced to hire a hall, do his own advertising and manage for himself. The result was as I said before—a small ‘audience. Jan had not yet had a glimpse of the little crowd, so he did not know whether failure or success was in store for him. But it was time to begin. As the stage door opened, Jan Marval entered, and advanced to the piano, A still- ness on the part of the audience took the place of the noise of a few moments before. Seating himself before the in- strument he struck a few preliminary chords, and was soon deep into the first number, a Beethoven sonata. The first sight of the audience was a surprise to Jan. He was shocked at the smallness of it, and knew the recital

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| ! THE PORCUPINE 15 His Reception It was a cosmopolitan audience.. Almost every civilized nation was represented. The majority of those present were Russian Jews and Poles, who had come out of admira- tion for their fellow-countryman. Here and there were a few Americans, whose curiosity had led them to the con- A few Germans and Frenchmen—seekers of the One or two newspaper re- cert hall. best in music—could be seen. porters sat with pencil ready to criticize the recital, but the audience was small. New Yorkers are not given to patronizing unknown pianists, especially when not under the direction of one of their famous managers. For an artist without a’name to give a concert solely by himself was almost unheard of. Jan Marval paced nervously up and down the little room just off the stage. He was buried deep in thought. To- night was his night of all nights. He was about to realize his fondest ambitions. His dreams were about to become realities. For years he had thought of nothing else but to play before an American audience; and now, to-night, just a few feet distant, was that very audience waiting to hear him. He hoped it was large, and that his first appearance in America would be successful. At an early age Jan had shown a remarkable talent for music. His father, being very poor, thought he saw the hope of future wealth in his son, so he kept him practising unceasingly at the piano. The result was natural. At fifteen Jan was a wonder, and at seventeen he made his first tour of Poland. This tour had brought Jan’s father some pecuniary relief, so he now felt that a tour of America would be well. Exaggerated reports had reached distant Poland of the great appreciation shown by the American audiences; of the wild applause and the mad worshipping of pianists by

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THE PORCUPINE 17 would be a financial failure. He then resolved to make it a musical success. Jan did not play the first movement so well as he might, for he had not fully recovered himself, but in the second he played as he had seldom played before. He did not care about the financial side, but was thinking all the while that if he could make his recital a success from a musical view-point he would then make a name for himself, and that would help in his future concerts. The Sonata was ended, and Jan was making his way to the stage room. He was listening eagerly for the expected applause, which he knew he deserved, but it was very feeble applause that he heard. There is inspiration in num- bers and in a small crowd there is a total lack of it. So it was here. Each person was afraid to start the applause himself, whereas if it had been a large audience they would have risen as one person and have gone wild with approval and appreciation. Almost all of those present realized that Jan was a genius, but their hesitating applause was a puzzle to his ears. It was the same way with the other numbers garian dance by Liszt, and a set of waltzes by Chopin. Each selection was played perfectly, but received little applauce. The last number was Tschaikowsky’s Sixth Symphony—- better known as the “Suicide Symphony.” The composer took his own life immediately after writing down the score, and a few modern musicians have committed suicide just after playing it. It is a wild, weird, morbid selection, filled a Hun- with tragedy, pathos and melancholy. Jan was just in the right mood to interpret this number perfectly. It is safe to say that never before had it been played so well as now. It seemed to voice his feelings better than words could do. With the usual amount of clapping, the audience quietly filed out and hurried home. Jan went back into the stage room and, seizing his hat and coat, walked out into the night. He did not know in which direction he was going, or where he intended to go, but walked blindly on. His first concert was over and he had much to think about. He