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Connecting people

Back in 1988, when several friends and I founded the Salt River Brass Band (a British style brass band, based in Phoenix), we had no money, no appropriate instruments, no audience, no place to perform, and no experience in running such a thing. Just some armature musicians looking for a better opportunity to perform.  Others handled recruiting personnel and music; I was handed administration.

I tapped my firm’s graphics and layout fellow to do the same for the Band.  We couldn’t pay Karl, but the work over the years was not onerous: a posed group photo and numerous live shots during a concert sound check about once per year, and a bit of layout work – mostly for our season mailer and the outer shell of our printed programs.  We credited him on the printed material and on the website (he was setting up as a professional and fine art photographer, and needed the exposure). We comped his extended family and friends into whatever concerts he requested.

We used his artfully posed program cover photo for an occasional season poster and on our CDs; KONC Radio used one as the front cover of their monthly magazine profiling the Band. Similarly, when we performed for the Verde Valley Fine Arts Association, the local paper used Karl’s work for the front cover of their “What’s Happening” supplement.

Our home venue, Chandler Center for the Arts, housed an art gallery.  We secured for Karl a exhibit in the gallery, which subsequently placed a bit of his work in its permanent collection; our tuba/euphonium quartet played for the exhibition’s opening, providing a bit of exposure for the Band, and a bit of tone to the gallery and to Karl.  And complementary wine and cheese for the quartet.

Karl’s photography and layout work was exemplary; it presented the Band as professional and artistic.  We all benefited – Karl, the Band, our audience, the radio station, our various venues, and the Chandler Center.  All from connecting talented people.

Casanova and our National Anthem

Our flugal horn player, Jack Bannon, in my Salt River Brass Band, posted on Facebook:

The son (Phillip Barton Key II) of the man who penned the lyrics to our national anthem (Francis Scott Key) served as the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia. He was shot and killed by Daniel Sickles (U.S. representative from NY) in Lafayette Square across from the White House because Keys was having a long-term affair with Sickles’ wife. It was the first successful use of the “temporary insanity” defense. The “trial of the century” back then and only put on the back burner by the civil war.

I could not but reply:

There’s much more to the backstory. Dan Sickles was a protégé of Lorenzo Da Ponte, Mozart’s librettist; the offending wife was Da Ponte’s granddaughter, whom Sickles met while boarding with, and being tutored by, Da Ponte, at the time Professor of Italian at what became Columbia. The affair with Key was payback for decades of Sickles’ philandering (he was rumored to have been keeping three New York City houses of ill repute afloat, almost single handed.)

Da Ponte grew up in Venice, where he invested much energy in philandering along side the storied Casanova; it reached such an exalted level that the Church in Venice expressed outrage (quite an achievement, that) and had Da Ponte exiled. Thence to Vienna, as librettist for the Italian Opera, where he wrote three of Mozart’s finest, including Don Giovanni, inspired by his drinking buddy Casanova. He shortly outraged Vienna as well, was banished, and spent some years writing for London’s theaters. Finished his career in New York, where he introduced opera to America, and became he first professor of Italian at Columbia.

And passed his Casanova gene, as it were, along to a young Dan Sickles.

Sickles, in turn, started a political career with Tammany Hall, was the point man for assembling the land which became Central Park, went to London with James Buchanan as the detail man for Buchanan’s embassy, engineered Buchanan’s nomination for the Presidency in 1856, as well as his own election to Congress. Had to resign his seat due to the murder scandal, but raised a regiment at the outset of the Civil War and emerged as Third Corps commander at Gettysburg. There, in violation of orders, he pushed his corps, on the army’s left flank, close to a mile in front of the rest of the line, uncovering Little Round Top and nearly losing the battle for the Union. Only reason he wasn’t cashiered was his loss of a leg in the battle (he needn’t have lost the leg; his corps surgeon said it could be saved, but Sickles insisted, and “dined out” on his war wound the rest of his life.)

Some years later, Sickles headed the commission that commissioned the bronze statuary on many Civil War battlefields; he seems to have embezzled some $20,000 to $30,000 from the fund, but skated again.  He ended his career as our ambassador to Spain, where he seduced the Queen Mother.

All in all, a full life.

One more twist to the Da Ponte/Casanova connection: It seems likely that Casanova penned a bit of the libretto he had inspired.  The Opera company was on the road, performing a Mozart opera, and anxious to rehearse for the impending premier of Don Giovanni, which Mozart was struggling to complete.  This would be the occasion when the opera cast locked Mozart in his hotel room until he finished.  Da Palma could not complete the libretto until Mozart finished the music; we therefore know when Da Ponte wrote.  We also know that Da Ponte was not in town that week.  But Casanova happened to be on hand.  And the original of the libretto has a bit that seems to be in Casanova’s handwriting.

An even further twist: Key (the anthem writer) preceded his son as District Attorney for Washington DC, during the first Jackson administration.  Jackson needed an attorney general; he asked Key (senior) for a recommendation.  Key recommended an in-law and fellow Maryland plantation and slave owner, one Roger Taney, who Jackson appointed, mostly because of his “solid” views on slavery.  In his second term, Jackson appointed his attorney general, Taney, to become Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.  Years later (just a bit after Sickles offed Key Jr.), Taney wrote the infamous Dred Scott decision.

And finally, the fellow who wrote “‘Twas the night Before Christmas” was the son of the fifth president of Columbia University.  He happened to run into Da Palma in a New York bookstore, was impressed, and introduced Da Palma to his father.  Which was Da Ponte’s foot in the door to the Columbia job.

Serendipity

Random examples of the benefits of nurturing a range of contacts and following up even weak leads, from my 17-plus years of managing our Salt River Brass Band, from its inception:

Some 18 months after our first rehearsal, when we were mostly doing concerts in various parks, I noticed an article on the upcoming opening of the fancy new Chandler Center or the Arts, seating some 1500.  Not thinking I’d get anywhere, I found a phone number for the hall and, to my surprise, found myself pitching the general manager on, could we ever play a brass band concert in his hall. More surprising, James called me a Godsend.  Seems a week long grand opening was  planned, with several high profile touring acts booked.  Unfortunately, construction ran several weeks over. No-one could re-schedule. And he had a deadline.

My start-up brass band was the Center’s grand opening.

We performed at the Chandler Center for another 18 years, doing a full six concert season and a free Forth of July, often to capacity crowds. We built audience alongside the new hall, always careful to price our tickets at the low end of the Center’s offerings, so as to pull new audience into the hall. We collaborated with the Center any way we could, providing free concerts when asked, smaller ensembles for fundraising events and art galley openings; the hall helped us with promotion, finding sponsors to cover hall costs (as for our free Forth of July concerts) and providing introductions.  I rather suspect James took me under his wing as something of a mentor; I was pretty green. To The Chandler center we owe much of the credit for our success.

Again, we joined the North American Brass Band Association at our inception, when we had barely a dollar to our name. ( As a matter of policy, we did not accept donations; we survived on ticket sales and contracted gigs – earned income only). We joined for the contacts, to be accessible to touring soloists or bandsmen moving into our area, and for a read on what other bands were doing.  Unexpectedly, I saw an ad the NABBA’s newsletter offering for sale (at a great price) the 2,000 piece music library of the Buffalo Silver Cornet Band, around since 1915 and, reputedly, the oldest brass band in the country. They in turn had bought the library of a 19th century band in the English Midlands.  We thus acquired wonderful music going back to the 1870s, much of it not available to any other band in the US. Wouldn’t have that music available without the NABBA membership.

Finally, listening to KONC, our then classical music radio station, I heard a broadcast of Gustav Holst’s “Mooreside Suite”. The Program Director, Sterling Beeaff, announced it as performed by the Dallas Wind Ensemble, with no other information provided.  On a whim, I called Sterling at the station and mentioned that he’s programmed an arrangement of a brass band piece, commissioned as a test for the 1928 British national brass band contest, and that I could find him a recording of the Holst in the original.  Conversation led to lunch; I donated a few brass band CDs to the station, got Sterling hooked on brass band music (much classical and operatic music has been transcribed for brass band), and we started to have brass band music programmed on our classical station, as well as Salt River Brass  performances regularly promoted. Sterling even broadcast interviews with our conductor and players.  All from a flyer of a phone call.

Talk to people.  Take a chance,  Get creative,  Reach out.

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