The Passing of a Great Restauranteur

Last week I received word that Gerry Freeman, owners of Gulliver's Restaurant on Howard Street in Chicago, had died. Gerry was one of the many small businessmen that make the neighborhoods in Chicago unique. And his restaurant, on the most northern fringe of West Roger's Park, (if you cross the street you are in Evanston) was certainly unique. The place is stuffed, floor to ceiling/wall to wall, with antique chandeliers, paintings, prints, wrought iron, figurines, lamps, stained glass, building facades and many other artifacts, many rescued from demolished Chicago landmarks. Gerry was on duty night and day greeting patrons and making you feel at home.

Gulliver's, Light Opera Works and Classical Music

Gulliver's was founded in the late 60's and, in fact, was the first place that I tasted Chicago Pan Pizza in 1974 as a freshman at Northwestern University. In the 70's and 80's Evanston's liquor laws were restrictive. After student rehearsals and later, Light Opera Works rehearsals, cast members, orchestra and crew would make their way south to Gulliver's to unwind. The large menu, late night hours and well stocked bar satisfied the late night cravings of post rehearsal/performance artists. To this day, if you stop in after midnight on any given night, you will often see tuxedoed musicians relaxing in one of the many antique adorned booths.

Arts Supporters

Gerry Freeman and his wife Nancy have supported Light Opera Works since its earliest days. They have generously donated opening night parties and gift certificates for auctions. The restaurant's support continues today as a member of our "Restaurant Partners" program. We are very grateful.

If you have never been to Gulliver's, stop by late some night--you might meet one of your favorite Chicago musical artists. Though you will no longer meet Gerry, his spirit is certainly present in the place.

 

It's the day before Thanksgiving and like everyone else, I'm looking forward to a nice day of cooking (I'm trying a new potato recipe that I'm really excited about), eating, maybe some football, and spending time with my family.  It's also one of those times during the year when I look back on everything that has happened and remember how lucky I am to work in this field.  So, here it is: My list of classical-music related things to be thankful for.

1. I'm grateful to the Deeply Rooted Dance Theater and the Chicago Children's Choir for helping us to make our Annual Tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. an emotional and entertaining concert experience last January.   The sight of the entire audience on its feet and linking arms was a powerful reminder of what an idea can do. 
2. I'm grateful to the classical music organizations that joined the Sinfonietta in founding this web site in partnership with the Arts & Business Council of Chicago and the Boeing Company.  This site has become a national model for audience engagement and institutional collaboration.
3. I'm grateful that I was able to attend last summer's American Symphony Orchestra League conference and experience an L.A. Philharmonic concert at the amazing Disney Hall, hear Peter Sellars brilliant keynote speech (you really should listen to this if you have the time - a warning - it is long and takes a while to load), and spend time with my colleagues discussing the issues of orchestras.
4. I'm grateful that the Adler Planetarium partnered with the Sinfonietta to present Jose Francisco Salgado's stunning video of images from our solar system that was projected during our performances of Gustav Holst's monumental work, The Planets.  We are hoping to present a large-scale, encore performance of this piece.  Stay tuned for details!
5. I'm grateful to the global media who covered the October world premiere of David Baker's Concertino for Cell Phone and Orchestra and put it in front of 250 million sets of eyeballs and ears. 
6. I'm grateful to the dedicated staff of the Chicago Sinfonietta for their hard work and wonderful accomplishments.
7. I'm grateful to all of the musicians who live and work in the Chicagoland area and enable our organizations to present the music we care about.
8. I'm grateful to the foundations, corporations, government agencies, and individuals who support our work through their generous contributions.
9. I'm grateful to the men and women who serve on our boards.
10. I'm most grateful to you, our audiences.  Please keep coming and bring your friends, bring your family members, bring your business associates, and help us spread the word that great music is accessible, affordable, and well worth getting off the couch for in our city.

I could easily fill a few more pages but this will have to suffice.  Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!

I recently attended a convening of over 100 arts administrators here in Chicago that was sponsored by the Wallace Foundation.  This New York-based national arts funder focuses its grant making on building arts participation - always a relevant topic - and actively promotes the dissemination of "best practices" from their grantors to create learning communities that benefit the field.  This is good stuff, and spending two days with colleagues imagining what is possible is always inspiring!

The Wallace Foundation staff arranged this convening so that the participants would themselves participate rather than take the more passive role of listening to experts speak about the field.  My first activity was to be a part of an open rehearsal performed by the Amir String Quartet preparing a Shostakovich piece.

This open session demonstrated, in an unmistakable fashion, the need to break down the "fourth wall" that separates the musicians from the audience when we can.  The rehearsal began with the quartet playing a section of the piece.  The session's facilitator, Eric Booth, interrupted the musicians about two minutes into the section and got them talking to each other (and us) about what they were feeling about the sound, the interpretation, etc.  I think most of us were surprised to hear the divergence of opinion the musicians had about certain aspects of their performance.

They played the same section a few more times, trying different approaches, and fielding questions and comments from the observers along the way.  During the course of these discussions little tidbits of information about Shostakovich's life at the time he composed the piece were revealed that shed light on why the music sounded the way it did.  It turns out that his wife had died just before he wrote the quartet and he was quite depressed during this period of his life.  The session ended with a full performance of the piece.

What was the result of experiencing this?  When they first began playing the music, I didn't like it very much.  Listening to the musicians talk, and sometimes argue, about the piece enhanced my enjoyment of the music substantially.  I want to provide similar experiences for members of the Chicago Sinfonietta's audience.  Stay tuned, I'll let you know how this all works out.

This blog is the first in a series of monthly posts written by Chicago Sinfonietta musicians.  This week's guest blogger is June Matayoshi, an active free-lance oboist and English hornist in Chicago.  She is a member of the Chicago Sinfonietta and the Illinois Philharmonic Orchestra.

Nothing creates more havoc for a double reed player than the change of seasons.  Imagine having your perfectly honed reeds completely collapse due to a humidity and temperature drop, or become so saturated and enlarged due to too much humidity and rise in temperature.  How do you even predict what kind of reed to make when the temperature is as variable as it is in Chicago at this time of year!

As an oboist who has battled with double reeds for over 30 years, my reed making struggles often have me asking myself, "Why do I continue to play this instrument?!"

Think about having the success of your professional career hinging on a piece of bamboo.  A bad reed can make or break an oboist.  Assuming you have the musical ability to master the techniques of the oboe itself, a professional oboist must also spend endless hours perfecting the art of making a reed, something that takes years and years to develop.  You take bamboo tube cane, splice it, chop it to length, gouge it to a particular thinness, fold and shape the cane to a specific shape, then take the folded cane and tie it onto a tube.  Once you have made this "reed blank," you sharpen your knife to begin the whittling process.  You carefully sculpt the reed, creating a backbone and channels, a very thin tip, and a thicker middle area called the heart of the reed. 

Sound easy?  Not!  Here are the problems.  Back in the 70's, John Mack, principal oboist of the Cleveland Orchestra, said that we had to accept the fact that good cane sources were dwindling and that we had to learn to make playable reeds from bad cane.  Cane was no longer given the chance to grow and age to maturity due to keeping up with demand.  He said that over 30 years ago!  So you get the picture.  Couple that with working with a woody grass like bamboo, which can be highly affected by temperature, humidity, altitude, and sometimes you just throw up your hands wondering how to tame this plant into a reed that is going to provide you with the warm, articulate tone every oboists strives for.  

How long do reeds last?  It depends on how lucky you are.  Sometimes it's one rehearsal.  If you've found some decent cane, perhaps the life of the reed may be extended to 3-6 hours worth of playing before it starts to deteriorate.  This is why you always see oboists whittling on reeds, always readying a new reed for the next rehearsal or performance.  

Check out this Wikipedia link for a rundown on reedmaking.  There are some nice illustrations here as well.

Last Sunday you probably couldn’t help but notice the 40,000 runners who took to Chicago's streets for the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon – and included among that number were The Chicago Chamber Musicians’ own Joseph Genualdi, violin, and Gail Williams, horn, as well as Gail’s daughter, Liz.