The Girl from Berlin--A Novel by Ronald H. Balson

Author:Ronald H. Balson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

The organizational meeting with Sister Maria Alicia took place at the concert venue, the Basilica di San Petronio, Bologna’s oldest and most important church and one of the largest in the world. The fifteenth-century church sat in the center of the city facing the Piazza Maggiore. It was a giant structure, longer than an entire block, and divided into three naves and twenty-two chapels.

Sister had recruited a six-person ensemble to perform as instrumental backup to the choirs and soloists. It was a modified sextet: a violin, a cello, a double bass, a horn, a clarinet and a flute. We gathered in a semicircle while Sister laid out the plans for the 1937 series. As I looked around at our group, there were three women. Three out of six. How about that? Good for Sister.

She explained that the series would feature two a cappella nights where our ensemble would not be needed. The remaining four nights—two with the Christmas chorus and two with operatic stars—would involve our ensemble. Then Sister announced the stars. “We are privileged to have the great Magda Olivero on December 22 and the one and only Beniamino Gigli on December 23.” A buzz of excitement ran through the group. Two of the greatest vocalists in the world.

Sister passed out the scores for the two nights with the Christmas chorus. “Please arrange for rehearsal times among yourselves. There will not be much time to practice with the chorus before the concert. I do not yet have the music for Signora Olivero or Signor Gigli. It is likely we will not see their selections or the scores until earlier on the day of performance.”

With that, the meeting ended. I started out when one of the women, the cellist, stopped me. “You are Ada Baumgarten?” she said. I nodded. “And you are a member of the Bologna State Opera Orchestra?” she added.

“Right, the BSO. At least for this season,” I said. “I’m filling in for a man on sabbatical.”

“I was at the Teatro to hear you when you played the solos in La Traviata. I saved my lunch money to buy that ticket. Then I borrowed money from my friends so I could come back and hear you at the third performance. You were so beautiful. You know what I thought?”

I shook my head.

“I thought: Ada’s a woman. That’s what I thought. She’s playing with a major opera orchestra, and someday I will play my cello in an orchestra, just like Ada. I hope you know that all of my friends think the same thing. You give us all hope. You are our hero.”

She brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t feel like anybody’s hero. I just wanted to play my instrument, and I guess that’s all she wanted to do too.

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