I learned yesterday that an old friend of mine had died. It was not a shock; I knew he had been fighting cancer for a long time. He was not someone I saw very often anymore. But as soon as I read the email, from a mutual friend, I was gripped by sadness.
I met Mike when I moved to Chicago in 1975. We were music students together, both post graduation, both (French) horn players. We played in groups together, studied with the same horn teacher, and socialized, usually with other horn players. Mike and another horn player named Glen always seemed to be palling around together.
We were all members of the horn section of the Civic Orchestra of Chicago, a training orchestra run by the Chicago Symphony. One of the many perks of belonging to Civic was the opportunity to get $1 tickets to Friday afternoon Chicago Symphony concerts. The tickets were usually in the gallery, the highest balcony in Orchestra Hall. For perspective, full price gallery tickets at the time were $6, which was a lot for poor grad students. To get the $1 tickets we had to go to the Civic office, which at that time was on the 4th floor of Orchestra Hall. And there were always a limited number of such tickets.
I had a class on Friday mornings and it was always a rush to get out of class, hop on the El and get to Orchestra Hall in time to get a ticket. On this particular Friday the CSO was playing a very popular piece, the Sinfonietta by Leoš Janàček, a Czech composer from the late 19th-early 20th centuries. It is a spectacular piece. It calls for 12 trumpets plus 2 bass trumpets in addition to all the usual orchestral instruments. It is stunning both auditorily and visually.
When I got to Orchestra Hall I immediately ran into Mike and Glen who told me all the Civic tickets were gone. And the concert was sold out. But, they said, they were going to try to sneak in and did I want to come with? Why not, I said. So, being very familiar with Orchestra Hall because of being in Civic (we rehearsed on the stage, left our stuff in the musicians' locker room and had sectional rehearsals in the basement) we went up the back stairs to the gallery on the 7th floor and popped out into the crowd of ticket holders. We avoided the ushers and went to stand at the back of the gallery. There was one empty seat next to us and Glen encouraged me to take it (such a gentleman). After protesting a few times, I sat down.
Well, Mike and Glen did get tossed out by an usher. I felt bad for getting to stay, illegally as it were. I met them at intermission - they were back, with tickets from a man who left the concert fro some reason. They were cheerful.
RIP, Mike.
