Legends

The classical music world lost a beloved figure on April 27 with the death of Russian cellist and conductor Mstislav Rostropovich.

Many of us string player types grew up listening to his many recordings. For me, it was his Tchaikovsky "Variations on a Roccoco Theme." Later on, I not only had the pleasure of playing in an orchestra where he was the soloist, but working with him as a conductor (he was the conductor, I was the violist).

In 1990, I was the only American representing Germany in the "Deutsches-Sowietisches Jungendorchester (German-Soviet Youth Orchestra)," in a residency in Portugal collaborating with the Kirov Ballet. Slava was the conductor and part-producer of this production of Prokoviev's Romeo and Juliet. The shows took place in an ancient Roman amphitheater just over the Spanish border in Badajoz. The orchestra was seated on stage behind the action. Because of that (or because of some sadistic/manic Russian costumer), we had to wear these really hot and heavy monk's robes. Another crazy thing about the production was that the dress rehearsals had to take place at 2:30 a.m. "Because of the heat..the dancers...your robes..." was the reason we were given. It seemed strange at the time, but not necessarily much stranger than many things seem when you are in your early 20's. I remember on the day (night?) before the dress rehearsal we were advised to go to bed early so we could be rested in time to get up and meet the bus at 1 a.m. Apparently no one told Slava this, because he started wandering around at 9 PM looking for musicians to have a rehearsal with. Or go drinking with, I can't remember..it's all a vodka soaked blur at this point.

There were a few things that stick in my mind about the first performance. The last note of the piece is one chord that is held for a few minutes. Us monks were astonished though when our beloved Slava stopped conducting right at the beginning of the note, walked downstage to the inert bodies of Romeo and Juliet (who had died within inches of each other, arms outstretched towards each other but not touching), grabbed their hands and clasped them together on his knee, his head bowed over it, to tumultuous applause. This way, way, over-the-top melodramatic moment was diminished a few moments later when a section of the super-duper VIP (read: countesses and such) seating collapsed into the ancient subterranean Roman gladiator waiting rooms over which it had been shoddily constructed. For a moment the Maestro was confused, thinking the screams were ones of approval and adoration, but sadly, they were screams of panic and trampling.

Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and the production continued its run to huge, un-collapsing crowds and greater adulations.