Learning to Talk

Many years ago, symphony orchestras were common in American small towns. These symphonies played more than the classical works of such musical greats as Mozart and Vivaldi; they also relished the 20th century Big Band era and jazz. By 1964 they were starting to disband. Over the rest of the 20th century, small town symphonies were kept alive by sharing players.

Not infrequently, four or five small towns, even smaller cities, called upon the same dwindling supply of musicians. The musicians often had come to America, legally, from South America, Central America and Asia. They did not saunter across an open border, but had sought and received visas and the other legitimate documents.

Unlike the trouble-prone rabble that increasingly makes the news, these people from faraway lands brought refined culture. They worked in the daytime and shared their musical fruits of civilization where it had seemed lost.

Though these musicians could truly ignite the soul of listeners, the symphonies still suffered from an inability to promote themselves. They had not been able to reach a public who had never considered going to a symphony. One of the five small towns sharing a group of musicians had come to the realization that unless they could attract at least 105 attendees per performance, they could no longer sustain their "own" symphony.

And then a playboy came to town. Let's call him, "Randy."

Randy was not a rich playboy, but he was young and had enough cash to chase a few women in the area. He drove a sports car way too fast, told raunchy jokes, was obnoxiously flamboyant, had too many big city habits, hunted and fished and was loved by rednecks, hustled the unwary in billiards, and was not unfamiliar with bar fights.

Most of the symphony's rather large association consisted of wealthy stay-at-home Karens and introverted beta-males, while its Board of Directors consisted of a small core of dedicated, hardworking professionals who burned their candles at both ends while giving more than their share of time and effort to the symphony. The newly elected symphony President was Ann, who still hadn't realized that she was set up for the position because no one else wanted to be President in the year that the symphony would likely fold.

Word soon reached the symphony association that Randy had been a successful volunteer promoter with a few charities he had assisted. Ann had opened the symphony's financial books and posed, "What have we got to lose?" Most of the Karens and beta-males were opposed to the idea of even including such a insufferable extrovert, but, largely at Ann's insistence, Randy was immediately placed on the Board for the sole purpose of promoting the symphony. Ann saw Randy as a little brother and placed great trust in him, and as in the story, "MacBeth," Ann loosed her dog of war.

Almost immediately after moving to town, Randy had noticed that the town's population was incredibly divided. Conservatives and Liberals rarely spoke to each other. Protestants and Catholics, rich and poor, black and white, they rarely spoke to each other. They avoided speaking to each other because they didn't always agree. Whatever flaws he had, and they were considerable, Randy spoke to everyone. He didn't care about their race or religion or political beliefs. He didn't care if they were the town's most revered citizen or its lowest miscreant, Randy always took a minute to talk with them.

Randy's first meeting with his fellow symphony association members had come to a sad close as they lamented their inability to get a billboard. The Board had tried for two and a half years, but made no headway. Randy's mind began to churn.

A big grin came across Randy's face and it was obvious that he was starting to boil with his extrovert excitement. "Give me an afternoon!", Randy happily cried out before running out the door. Alarmed by Randy's ebullience, and not understanding what he meant, the symphony association members hurried to hide their daughters and lock their liquor cabinets.

Randy's first stop was at the office of a businessman, Carl, who was suspected to be affiliated with organized crime. Rightly or wrongly, he had been shunned by many. Carl owned an empty lot in the very center of town. Drive through town and you would pass Carl's empty lot. Using the authority loaned by Ann, Randy asked Carl if the symphony could place a sign on the lot and repay Carl with an ad in the distributed programs. Carl saw an avenue to the elusive respect he craved. The deal was made in seconds.

Next, Randy visited a town artist with considerable accomplishments. She would paint the sign but needed the paint. A welding company agreed to construct the sign but needed the steel parts. The town hardware store donated the supplies in exchange for an ad in the program. Five days later, the symphony's sign stood proudly in the center of town.

The symphony program handed out to attendees grew over four times its original size, chock full of ads from those businesses and individuals who had generously contributed. Randy made sure that the ads exceeded the expectations of the givers.

The symphony's Christmas performance season was approaching, and with it the last chance to boost symphony attendance. With the success of the billboard under his belt, Randy requested and received the symphony's finest violinist to accompany Randy through town. The violinist was a Chinese gentleman, "Mike", who was surprisingly tall and muscular for a classical musician. Quiet, humble, introverted, and not self-promoting, Mike's personality was the opposite of Randy's personality.

At Randy's request Mike was wearing his symphony tuxedo and Randy wore a suit. It was a chilly, overcast, Thursday afternoon. Mike would walk into a store playing a sample of the Christmas music on his violin. After about 30 seconds, Randy would walk in and warmly invite the stunned customers and clerks to attend. Store after store, Mike and Randy gave shoppers and clerks their dinner table conversation for that night.

Finally, the night of the symphony's first performance of its Christmas music arrived. More than the symphony association members, the Board sweated out the numbers. Would they be able to reach the agreed 105 attendees?

The trickle turned into a stream. Department store clerks, students, families, farmers, the generous people who made the billboard possible, they came. Over 400 climbed the steps of the auditorium to attend.

Ann was elated, as were the rest of the Board. Their hard work had yielded more than they dared hope.

For Randy the answer was obvious; they just needed to stop worrying about their differences and talk to each other. If Americans can put aside their differences, and freely debate their issues, imagine what could be achieved!

But, the symphony association members continued to hide their daughters from Randy.