ABSTRACT

I soon became a frequent guest conductor in the Czech Republic. Several of the concerts led to interesting adventures. For an all-Gershwin 100th anniversary concert in Prague with the FOK Orchestra (Film, Opera, Koncert), I wrote well in advance about the importance of finding a good banjoist who could read music for the concert—I said I’d even settle for a guitarist playing a banjo with guitar tunings; we’d miss the ringing open “clang” that the open tenor banjo tuning produces, but at least it would provide a banjo color. When I arrived in Prague and started rehearsing, there was no such player; there was an empty hole in the music every time a banjo cue came up and I could not hide my disappointment. During intermission, the orchestra’s personal manager came to apologize for the absence of a banjo player. “There are plenty of banjo players in Prague,” I said. “Just walk across the Charles Bridge and you’ll find two or three.” “They can’t read music,” countered the manager. “Get me one anyway; I can teach them most of the parts by ear.” At the end of the morning rehearsal the manager approached the podium. “We think we have your banjo player. He is waiting for you at your hotel.” “I can forgo lunch, let’s walk to the hotel.” At noontime you can get around “Prague center” much faster on foot than sitting in a limousine or a cab as it tries to work its way through the traffic and the labyrinthine, medieval, one-way streets.