Effortlessly, I hit each one with grace and energy and passion. The happiness I feel is followed by a burst of inspiration that leads me to the Bach minuet that I struggled with for years. I stop to see if Bill will join me, help me through the difficult passages, but he remains silent. I am on my own.
The melody glides easily off my bow. The music flows naturally and with a fluency that Bach himself would admire. My left hand dances across the fingerboard and the music surges through the house. My music. Just me. The cello has transported me beyond time, beyond space, beyond myself. It is playing me as much as I am playing it.
Everything that Judah ever played on this cello, everything that Ruth of the Bangor Symphony played—music that I was sure was beyond my abilities—is now coming through my hands, though my bow, through this cello, through me. I am working my way from one glorious piece to another. Vivaldi, Mozart, Breval, Boccherini, Fauré, Tchaikovsky, Saint-Saëns, Beethoven. With ease, I am playing songs that I never played before. They are fully familiar to me; they are mine. The world has stopped, and it will stay that way, as long as I hold the cello in my arms. With it, I can transcend time, even transcend my own abilities, and embrace the world with all the joy, sadness, and beauty that only music can express.
Acknowledgments
My greatest thanks goes to the men and women who, over the years, have taught me to play cello, in particular Heinrich Joachim, Noah Hoffeld, Laura Usiskin, and Suzanne Saba Hughes. Noah was especially helpful in putting this book together by providing valuable feedback as well as the musical notations that adorn the final chapter.
Several friends read the manuscript at various points and I would like to thank them for their guidance and input. These include Dr. Isaac Herschkopf, Carolyn Starman Hessel, Samuel G. Freedman, Jack Schwartz, and Rabbi Elie Spitz. I also got my family involved in this project, and I would like to thank my cousins Debra Kolitz and Deb Kram, and my children, Adam, Emma, and Judah. My most dedicated and helpful reader was my wife, Shira, who read through several iterations of this book and encouraged me at every turn. While I welcomed everyone’s contributions, all the shortcomings of this book are mine and mine alone.
I would like to thank the members, conductors, and administrators of the various orchestras that I joined over the years for allowing me to play with them and for talking with me about what the music means to them. The best part of writing this book was doing those interviews. My thanks to the InterSchool Orchestras of New York, the Downtown Symphony, the East London Late Starters Orchestra, and the New York Late-Starters String Orchestra.
I am grateful to Eric Hanson for the enchanting drawings that grace these pages. Finally, I want to thank my editor, Amy Gash—ever-positive, patient, and inspiring—and the whole team at Algonquin.
Published by
Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
225 Varick Street
New York, New York 10014
© 2014 by Ari L. Goldman. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Published simultaneously in Canada by Thomas Allen & Son Limited.
Design by Anne Winslow.
Art direction by Laura Williams.
Illustrations by Eric Hanson.
Portions of part 3 were previously published, in slightly different form, in Ari L. Goldman, “Big Cello, Little Cello,” New York Times, June 8, 2008.
Although this book depicts real events, some names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals, and some portions of the narrative timeline have been condensed for simplicity.
eISBN 978-1-56512-400-6
The Late Starters Orchestra Page 19
