Beethoven, Walter Damrosch, and Miss Jessie Lee

BEETHOVEN, WALTER DAMROSCH,AND MISS JESSIE LEE

Everyone knows that Beethoven was one of the greatestcomposers in the classical music scene. Walter Damroschwas conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra inthe late 1930s. Miss Jessie Lee Fleming was the principaland sixth grade teacher at the Terry-Norman grade schoolwhere I began my formal education. What they had in com-mon was a love for really good music.

In the part of the country where I grew up, country musicwas so dominant that local radio stations drew protests whenthey played any other kind. Stars of the Grand Ole Oprywere bigger-than-life heroes and made lots more money thanBeethoven or Damrosch ever did. Somewhere in her earlieryears, MissJessLee, as everyone called her, had learned ofother dimensions of music and thought that her pupils shouldat least be exposed to the great masters, other than RoyAcuff and Ernest Tubb.

So MissJessLee persuaded the Parent Teacher Associationto buy a record player and albums of her favorites. Frommemory, Beethoven was her first choice. She liked Mozartand Bach and John Philip Sousa. She also liked opera.

Besides leading the Philharmonic, Walter Damrosch con-ducted a weekly radio program directed at helping childrenunderstand classical music and the structure of a symphony.At the time of his weekly broadcast, we runny-nosed urchinswere packed into the sixth grade classroom to listen to UncleWalter and then hear some of MissJessLee’s music.He would have his orchestra play a brief segment. Then hewould let the first violins play the melody. He would add theseconds, the violas, the cellos, and finally the basses. Ilearned what a bassoon sounded like, even if I never hadseen one. Somewhere along the way, we figured out thatthere were no guitars in a symphony. If we were reasonablywell behaved, she would play Sousa and we could marcharound the room before going back to our lessons.

In those years, the Metropolitan Opera sent touring com-panies out into the hinterlands. Once a year, they came toMemphis, Tennessee. MissJessLee and a dozen other adultsfrom our town would get tickets and spend a weekend wal-lowing in two or three operas. She would always buy therecords and play parts of them for us when she came back.She would tell us the story of the opera and then we wouldlisten to the good parts. She knew better than to try to in-volve the Ring Cycle or other ponderous Teutonic mara-thons. Her favorites, and thus mine, were Carmen and Aida.She also had La Boheme and several albums of mixedpieces. Even at the age of 10, it was difficult to not get

caught up in the richness of Bizet’s music in Carmen.MissJessLee was vague on just how Carmen, the cigarettegirl, actually made her living. But what did we care. FromAida was the wonderful processional, to which we latermarched at graduations. Being buried alive was a grizzly endfor the hero and heroine. But again, it was the music and notthe plot.

Lest I am accused of becoming a musical snob at the ageof 10, I note that those were the years of swing, of jazz, ofDixieland. All these genres required good musicians, as didthe classics. This predates Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and therock era. My son insists that there are good musiciansamong the rock stars. I answer that with the beat overdrivingthe tune and the volume up high, it is hard to tell. Perhapssomewhere there is a rock musician who explains that theBeatles were influenced by Mozart and shows how. WithoutMissJessLee, I have missed it, if it exists.

As a grade schooler, my son took up the violin and madeit into the county youth orchestra. So we heard him rehears-ing Vivaldi or the Bach double. His sister, the aspiring balle-rina, liked Tchaikovsky and Stravinsky. That was the kind ofmusic they heard me playing and they seemed to like it.

We still have symphony tickets and make it to severalconcerts each season. I am less keen on vocal music andtrade away from oratorios and cantatas. Operas are so expen-sive that we abandoned them some years ago.

My favorite version of Aida was a summer presentationat the Baths of Caracala in Rome on a hot night 40 yearsago. When the processional started, out came animals fromthe zoo. Elephants, camels, llamas, and even ostriches. Theywere followed by the soldiers in the chorus waving theirbanners, singing lustily, and trying to watch what they werestepping into.

Probably that is the wrong thing to remember about anopera. But now that I have told you, try listening to the Aidaprocessional without thinking of the animals.

I thank MissJessLee, also Walter Damrosch and Ludvigvon Beethoven. They enriched my life.

Otha Linton, MSJPotomac, MD

UNCLE’CAR

“Your cousin Thomas called while you were out,” my wifesaid. “He told me to tell you to make your sister give himUncle’s car.”

“What’s all that about?”

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