Battling Beethoven
by Bob Spiwak
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Back around 1955 I was courting a lass who lived in Chinook, Montana, about 80 miles from where I was stationed with the Air Force on the Alberta/ Saskatchewan/Montana border. Her folks had a large ranch in Blaine County and I had met her at a sweet shop hangout in Havre. She was lovely and after a couple of dates she invited me to the family home for lunch. There I met her mother and a baby grand piano.
I was two years removed from my freshman year at Montana State University as a music major. I was not a good student and by only attending my music classes was requested at the end of that year “not to return”. This is akin to a sex-scandled congressman who “retires” before he is ousted.
But I did learn a lot in my music classes, and while my major was voice, I could dink around on the piano. My personal piece de resistance was learning, by heart, about half of the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Thus 57 years later, last week, I pushed the ON button on my keyboard and commenced to attempt Ludwig’s charming melody. I could do okay with the right hand, although the left hand was drawing a blank even locating the proper single note of the first four bars. And I discovered that my memory was gone on the right side when more than three fingers were required.
Being a genius with the computer, I asked Ms. Gloria to show me how to find sheet music, and she led me to Google. Eureka! I typed in “Moonlight Sonata” which led me to Wikipedia and ultimately to the score of the piece. There in front of me, full screen, was the first movement; black lines, white spaces and lots of dotty-dots with stems. My memory was good enough to recognize that whatever key it was written in had four sharps. Uh-oh.
Undaunted, I decided to print that first movement, half of which I had, half a century before, been proficient at - enough to impress Charlotte’s mother. I hit the print key and the printer spat out the first page. As I removed it I noticed first that there was no title on it, then that the notes were not those I had seen, and finally that in the corner was written ‘Page 18’.
I tried to stop the printing but failed. Eighteen pages later, out came the title page and the opening notes. The entire piece had been printed.
I climbed the stairs to my musician’s garret, removed the cover from my instrument and turned it on. I found the missing evasive notes for the right hand and then remembered I was a treble-clef musician with an excellent memory. Then.
Even now, I had to recite to myself “Every Good Boy Does Fine” (the black keys) and “A Cow Eats Grass” (the white ones). OK, now we are on our way. To the left hand keys, let’s see: “Good Boys Do Fine Always” and “F-A-C-E” for the whites. I practiced for at least fifteen minutes.
Sometime, somewhere, don’t be surprised if you see me at a piano playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. At least the first eight notes. With both hands |