The Pianist

       The Pianist

Suzanne Marsh

I trembled as I awaited Herr Schuyler, he was to be my new piano instructor. The piano was my life from a very young age. Herr Schuyler was a massive man, in his early forties, I was six. His shining bald pate and huge hands terrified me. I sat at the piano, my small hands on the keys, as Herr Schuyler began the metronome. He made me count out loud to whatever melody I was playing. I often wondered why he taught the piano, then one afternoon I discovered he was a pianist himself. He played the Minute Waltz by Chopin. He then asked if I would like to learn it since he thought I was ready for a recital. I was very pleased and said yes.

I hated the man as I began to practice the Minute Waltz, it was difficult. I complained to him his retort:

“Mr. Montgomery, you are a child prodigy and as such you must work on difficult passages

such as this to hone the skills you have been blessed with.”

That stopped me from saying something more about how difficult a piece this was for me, I knew now I could do it. I began to practice each day for two hours, no more marbles at least until this recital was over with. My best friend Fredric did not help matters much:

“Hey Marc, how about a game of marbles, I have new Aggie>

“I can’t Fredric I must practice for my recital, I have little less than a month.”

“Marc, come out and play marbles, piano is boring.”

“Fredric, to you piano is boring to me it is life beyond Duisburg.”

The conversation between the boys continued, finally Marc grabbed him marble bag. Fredric smiled like a Cheshire cat as Marc approached.

The boys played several games then Marc’s mother yelled out the window:

“Marc, you must come in and practice, Herr Schuyler will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Marc, scrambled up the steps, he had to practice several passages from the Minute Waltz or Herr Schuyler would be unhappy with him. The windows in the small apartment were open, the sun was shining. The music carried on the slight breeze, as Herr Schuyler strode toward Marc’s home. He thought to himself: ‘Ja, he has got that passage down pat, I am glad to be investing my time teaching

the boy, what talent he has.’

Marc’s mother opened the door upon hearing Herr Schuyler’s heavy hand on the door:

“Come in Herr Schuyler, Marc has just been practicing.”

“I heard him, he is a very talented boy, we must work with him more, in another year I would

like to see him go to Eastman School of Music, that is in Rochester, New York.”

“Herr Schuyler, he can’t go that far away, we have no relatives in New York!”

“Perhaps you don’t but I do, my sister Anna, lives in Rochester, I am sure she would look

out for the boy. She has a concert grand piano; she plays with the Rochester Symphony.”

“I can’t let him go; he is my only child.”

“Madame, if he stays here, you will be stifling his genius, would you prefer to go with

boy to Rochester? I am sure my sister would not mind.”

“Yes, that might work.”

That afternoon with his mother sitting next to him Herr Schuyler made the proposition to Marc. Marc watched his mother’s face light up. It was that Herr Schuyler decided that he would accompany them to Rochester. He could join the faculty at Eastman, then he could continue to teach Marc. It all sound good, especially to Marc.

Marc told his friend Fredric about the school he would be attending in Rochester, New York:

“Fredric, I am sorry we must part as friends, but when I am a concert pianist I will dedicate

my first concert to our friendship.”

Fredric smiled sadly:

“What piece of music will you play to remind you of me?”

“I will compose a piece just for you, you will be the first to hear it.”

“Just write me a letter now and again.”

The two young friends parted then. Fredric, hoped that Marc would write to him, at least they could be friends' long distance,

The morning of their departure was cold and winding, a typical winter’s day in Texas hill country. The train whistle blew as its warning that departure was imminent. Marc sat quietly as the train began to move. He hoped one day to return to Texas, playing a concert in honor of his friend Fredric. Three days later the train arrived at Grand Central Station in New York City, New York. Marc, stared in wonderment at the tall buildings, the hustle and bustle of everyday life in New York. He knew they still had another eight to ten hours by train before they arrived in Rochester.

Herr Schuyler’s sister Anna, met them at the train station, then drove them to her home in West Henrietta. Later that day Herr Schuyler asked Marc to play Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. Anna, her blue eyes misting:

“That is beautiful Marc, thank you.”

Herr Schuyler smiled faintly at his sister:

“I told you he was a child prodigy.”

“Yes, you did Hans, but remember he is also a young boy who needs other interests besides

the piano.”

“How could I forget that he beat me at marbles this morning. I think he misses his friend

friend Fredric, more that he says.”

“Oh, before I forget, he has an appointment at Eastman tomorrow morning, his instructor is

Gerald Fontaine, the Gerald Fontaine. I promised the best well he is the best.”

Herr Schuyler smiled at his sister fondly. Two years to the day Herr Schuyler married Marc’s mother, in a beautiful ceremony. Marc played the bridal march with a gusto he never realized he had.

Ten years later, the family of three returned to Temple, Texas. Marc was scheduled to play at Temple Collage as a favor to the dean. He decided he would like to visit several places in Temple, the place where he had grown up. He also had a concert in Austin, he hoped that Fredric would be at the one in Austin, since he was playing an original piece, he had written for Fredric. He bumped into Guy Plankton, a musician he knew from his years in Temple. Guy, informed him that Fredric had gone to Vietnam, he had come back a changed, silent young man. Marc, felt terrible about Fredric then an idea struck him:

“Guy, do you have any idea where Fredric is?”

“Yeah, the VA hospital here in Temple, why?”

“I am going to get him a ticket to the concert tonight here in Temple, I was going to play

Bach tonight but instead I will play a piece I composed for him, just before we returned.”

“Hey, Marc, maybe the music will reach him, I hope so. He is so withdrawn, he was

a POW for two years.”

Marc now understood why Fredric was silent, he went to the VA hospital to visit him. He tried to get him to talk, but all Fredric could do was stare blankly at him. Marc returned to the hotel, crestfallen. Herr Schuyler, whom Marc called Pops, sat quietly listening to the piece Marc was playing, there was a passion there he had never noted before:

“Marc is there something wrong? The music, there is so much passion and loneliness,

especially toward the end of the composition, surely that is not what you are

intending to play this evening at the concert.”

Marc, turned to Pops:

“Pops that is exactly what I am playing tonight, it is for an old friend of mine whom

I hope will be at the concert tonight he was disabled mentally in Vietnam.”

Pops, thought about that for several moments:

“I see Marc…”

Marc felt a love for Pops that he no idea existed, the gentleness is those three words almost broke Marc’s heart.

That night Marc came on stage, sitting at the concert Grand Piano, he wondered what it was that Pops was hiding. He glanced around, then he saw guy, with Fredric. Marc stood before the audience:

“This composition is dedicated to my friend Fredric; it has been years since I left Temple to

pursue a career, but tonight is worth it.”

He noted the tears welling in Pops eyes, he hoped he had disappointed him. Later that evening after the concert, Marc approached Pops:

“I saw the tears in your eyes Pops, why?”

Pops turned to face Marc:

“Your friend Fredric, vas a soldier, so vas my brother Hans. Your friend came back my brother

did not. War is a terrible thing, Marc.”

Finally, Marc understood the love hate relationship he had felt with both Pops and Fredric.