The Baton: Vol. 4, No. 4 - January, 1925 - The Juilliard School

THEBATONtyped," added the lady kindly, and Molly althoughreluctant to leave, wias pleased at theprospect of a novel at first hand.II"It looks like it's fixin' for a blizzard," remarkedMr. Pearson seeing from the kitchen windowthe ominous clouds gathering."I certainly hope not," asserted his wife. "It'sbleak enough here without adding a blizzard forthe entertainment of our city guest."Hardly had she spoken when the wind beganto increase in velocity, the snow changing to hailwhich beat a sharp tattoo on the windows. Thehotel seemed to shake on its foundations andMrs. Pearson going into the living-room to pokeup the fire, glanced nervously in the direction ofthe guest's room. The latter, however, quiteoblivious to the elements without, was hard atwork and the typewriter was click-clicking ata furious rate of speed. With a shrug of hershoulders Mrs. Pearson returned to the kitchen.Her husband, still standing by the window,gave a sudden start. He peered intently throughthe dusk and storm in the direction of a railroadbridge at the foot of the mountain."What is it?" questioned his wife anxiously."Looks like a wreck," ejaculated Mr. Pearson."I must hitch up the sleigh and go see.""Oh, not in this terrific wind and sleet,"pleaded his wife."I may be needed down there," he called as hepulled on his boots and grabbed his coat and cap.During an hour of tense waiting they watchedthe lights of the train below and the lanterns ofthose running to and fro near the bridge, andthen they saw a sleigh coming slowly up themountain as if heavily loaded. As it approachedthere was the sound of many voices and beforethey realized it, Mr. Pearson entered with theannouncement that there had been a landslidejust ahead of the train as it crossed the bridge.Fortunately the cars and passengers had escapedinjury but the engine had been damaged and itwould be impossible to proceed that night."Fix up some rooms of the hotel, Molly," hedirected, "and we'll give 'em what food we'vegot. The train is a special from Buffalo witha lot of people who've been to a conference orsomething there." He called to the visitors tocome in."Oh, they must be dreadfully important," whisperedMolly with excitement to her mother, as agroup of ladies and gentlemen entered. As theyshook the snow from their coats and warmedthemselves at the fire their remarks indicatedvarying degrees of disgust, distress, indignation,resignation and amusement at the predicamentin which they found themselves. Other sleighsfull of people began to arrive and Molly who wasbreathless with interest, was hurried off by hermother to assist in preparing the rooms and arepast for the hungry assemblage.A long table was arranged to accommodate allthe guests and soon the party was gathered aboutwhat was a really festive board considering theshort notice. Everyone seemed more cheerful atthe sight of Mrs. Pearson's tempting fare andconversation became genuinely merry. Molly,who was having a hard time to serve the guestsand listen to the conversation at the same time,gathered from their words that they must be verycelebrated folk. She conveyed the impressivenews to her mother who was too confused to care.As the girl brought the dessert one of the gentlemen,(a very good-looking one, she made a mentalnote), asked her whether she was fond ofmusic."Oh yes, sir, what little I know of it," she replied."What do you know of it?" asked a lady ofcharming appearance who had heard the question."Not much, but I do love to sing. I alwayssing at my work," answered Molly with embarrassmentas she noticed that all the conversationhad subsided and attention was directedtoward her.She, in turn, could no longer restrain the keeninterest she felt in the visitors and begged themto tell about themselves. Here was a golden opportunityto talk to persons of that alluring outsideworld. It might never happen again. Shewould return to her drab existence and nevermore come in contact with celebrities. Withthe storm they had come; with the storm theywould go."I heard you speaking much of music duringdinner. You mentioned names I've read in the'History of Music' which my cousin gave me.You must all be very great musicians," she saidwith such apparent reverence in her tones thateveryone laughed good-naturedly."Well, why not?" exclaimed one they hadcalled Mr. Willeke. "We must pass the timesomehow and I'm sure we'll never have a moreenthusiastic or interested audience." At the suggestionthat he lead off, Mr. Willeke said, "Ohno! That's for our Director to do," and hebowed to the one at the head of the table. Thenhe drew up a chair for Molly, whose eyes wereaglow with excitement at being an audience ofone, with what seemed to her, the whole worldto entertain.Ill"We represent," began Dr. Frank Damrosch,"some of the Faculty of the Institute of MusicalArt of the City of New York in its, variousdepartments: Voice, Piano, Organ, Violin, Violoncello,Harp, Orchestra, Theory and Composition,Languages, Lectures and the Supervisors'Department."The organization of the Institute is the culminationof my whole aim in life. I felt thatwhat was needed in America was plenty of opportunityfor the right kind of musical education.That meant to me that students should not