Chapter 28

We wiped them, put them to rest in their cases and then we hugged like a couple of lovers. Joyce was crying with joy, saying that she had never thought that she could have played like this when she was a teenager in Detroit. We changed and took our instruments with us when we left, me with two to carry now.

Senor Saintz was waiting for us and hugged us both, kissing us on both cheeks and telling us that he would be back on Sunday night to see if we get any better. Joyce laughed. “Hardly, Senor, I think I may have reached my pinnacle already.”

He smiled. “Don’t be so certain, Senorita; there’s no ceiling when you play unless you set one in your mind. Just follow Senorita Grosse and you’ll move up again, and then you’ll ask me one day to make you a guitar.”

There was a car waiting to take us back to the hotel where we said goodnight and went to our rooms for a good sleep. Sunday, we had breakfast with several visitors to our table who all wanted to tell us how wonderful we were. One was from the radio station that had broadcast our concert.

He told us that it had attracted hundreds of callers to the station who wanted to know when they could buy a recording of the concert, so I gave him one of the cards I carried with Allan Maxwell on. I told him that this person could organize proper manufacture and distribution in the US and, as far as I knew, four countries in Europe with the proper language on the covers.

After he left, we had a visit from the concert hall management who wanted to know if we could do a full matinee because the ticket box was being inundated with requests for seats, and the Sunday evening show was booked out.

I gave him a card as well and told him that if he rang the mobile number, he would get an immediate yes or no. He went off with his phone to his ear and he came back and offered it to me.

When I put it to my ear, I heard Allan who asked what on earth were we doing over here, but that, with what the guy had offered for a matinee, we were obviously doing something right, and that we had the go ahead.

I thanked him, told him I loved him too and then told him to go back to sleep.

I gave the phone back to its owner and asked. “When do you want us at the hall and can you send a car for us, please.”

The Sunday Matinee was certainly not full of tourists and schoolchildren. No, the hall was filled with serious music lovers by the sound of their clamor that we could hear. Not that we could understand the quick Spanish, but names of known composers were easy to pick out.

The hubbub quietened down as the orchestra went on stage and did the tuning ceremony. There was good applause when the conductor walked on and then they were off into the first half. Joyce and I had told our dresser that we wanted something more elegant than Spanish bordello outfits and they had come up with a couple of good long dresses that were comfortable, as well as being easy to play in.

When the orchestra went out for the second half there seemed to be an atmosphere of expectation, and when we were led onto the stage several stood to applaud before we had even played a note! Maybe they listened to the radio last night.

The time-of-day didn’t alter the feeling in the hall as the house lights dimmed and the conductor raised his baton, nodded our way, and then started the beat to set us off again. Once again, we were both lost in the wonder of the piece and our two guitars seemed to sing the tune rather than just playing notes.

There are some parts of that piece that make you feel as if you are gazing on a rising sun, and that all would be well in the world. When we finished the conductor stood with his baton raised for a good ten seconds before he lowered his arms, turned around and the hall erupted, yet another tour-de-force from the Stable Sisterhood.

We did Leyenda as the encore again. I doubted that we would have been allowed off the stage if we hadn’t, and this time I opened my eyes and gazed over the crowd as we played the quiet central part. I saw a lot of people with their eyes shut and a rapturous expression on their faces, and, once again, a pin would have made a resounding crash if one had dropped. As the final chord hung in the air there was a sound of air being drawn in. It was a good job it didn’t go for another ten minutes, or they would need ambulances outside.

The applause was deafening and sustained but we still resisted a second encore and were finally led off the stage with the orchestra following. We took our guitars down to the dressing room and wiped them over before getting changed into our day dresses and going out to the foyer where we had been told there would be food.

The audience, we found out, was mainly from other orchestras in the region and as far away as Valencia. We were told that many had heard us on the radio and had driven down to Seville in the early morning to try and get a seat if we put on an extra show. No wonder the management wanted us to play this afternoon. It was almost a musician’s convention.

We hardly had time to eat as so many wanted to talk with us. A couple had come down from Madrid and said that they would be coming to see the jazz shows. The conductor stayed beside us to interpret anything we couldn’t grasp, and we got quite friendly with him.

He told us that tonight would be mainly subscribers and town dignitaries so it would be a full house again with a party afterward. We ended up having enough to eat to get through the evening, and then went back to the dressing room to freshen up, relax for a little while, and then get changed for tonight.

Of course, relaxing with two wonderful guitars meant playing some tunes and the time just seemed to fly by until our dresser came in to get us ready. That evening was as magic as the afternoon, and we finally left the stage with everyone on their feet.

The orchestra members were happy at how good it all had been, and the conductor had hugged the two of us on stage when we went back for our third bow. The party after was very nice. We met a lot of lovely families who were the backbone of the town and, once again, many said that they had booked for one of our jazz shows. I asked our conductor how big the dance hall was, and he said it was a bit bigger than the concert hall in footprint.

With something that size we would have to be on the top of our game. We went back to the hotel and went off to bed. After cleaning off my face I sat on the bed with the guitar case opened, and just gazed at the glorious patterns and inlay work. I wasn’t sure that I could have afforded it if it hadn’t been gifted. I knew that it would serve as a travelling advertisement for Senor Saintz for as long as I took it onto future stages.

We had an early breakfast, and a cab took us to the airport where we were checked through pretty quickly and a little later, we were relaxing in our first-class seats on the way back to Barcelona where the others would be waiting for us.

The others were at the terminal and stood with us as we waited for the luggage. When three guitar cases came out of the tunnel, Janet exclaimed that we can’t go anywhere without shopping. We loaded the bags and cases under the bus, and it took us to the hotel which the others said was pretty good with a pool.

We had time for lunch and a dip before a light meal and then went to the jazz venue. We were to be here for three nights, go to Madrid on Thursday and then playing there on that night, followed by Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

The venue was pretty good, and the girls had set up already. Joyce unpacked her guitar, and we did a few numbers from the jazz show before the doors were opened. We went to the dressing room where our outfits were hanging and, by the time we had dressed and made up, it was almost time to start the show.

For the first half I mainly played electric piano and then a little guitar while the second half I was mainly on piano. I was back with my old guitar and promised myself that the new one would be kept for special occasions. The show went well but I couldn’t help thinking that this time last night we were on a concert stage.

After the first half we were resting in the dressing room, and Emily commented on how much better Joyce was playing. She was told that the weekend had made her lift her game a bit.

We had the next two nights here which were well attended, and then we were off to Madrid on Thursday morning with a show that night. It was a tight fit, but we made it to the venue to unload our gear with the bus driver taking our luggage to the hotel to check us in.

Madrid is a beautiful city with a very diverse population. We had a lot in our audiences there who looked as if they may have lived in the same caravans as Django, and we were very well received.

We spent the other three days sightseeing and playing, and, on the Monday, our driver took us to a seaside hotel in Moons Beach, close to a town called Moncofa. We had a few days rest on the shores of the Mediterranean. Friday it was a short hop down to Valencia, a far bigger place than I had imagined.

We stopped at the venue and unloaded our gear, the manager telling us that he was looking forward to Saturday afternoon. I had told the other girls that we would be having a jam session but had no idea who would be coming along. With our short break we were ready to take on the second part of the tour.

Saturday, after lunch, we were taken back to the jazz club where there were a lot of cars outside. When we went in Senor Saintz came over and gave Joyce and me hugs, and then every other girl before he introduced us around.

He certainly had some influential friends if this lot was a cross section. Of the twenty or so that had gathered was the maker of Joyce’s guitar, two well-known classical guitarists, and enough members of European bands to do a complete extravaganza.

We powered up our stage set-up which had been added to with a few amps and drums and were invited to lead off with something instrumental. As we played, we were joined by others with a few guitarists standing in front of the stage with long leads.

There were a couple of violinists, a few keyboard players, and another drummer so we all had someone to take over if we needed a toilet break. A couple of times Pet handed me her violin as she needed to stop. As we ran out of steam with one tune someone would start another and so it went on, unbroken, for three hours. Even the guitar makers were playing along and enjoying themselves.

As we wound down with the last few minutes I looked around and saw smiles on every face in the room. It had been good for us to let off steam as well as for the others as well. I suppose that when you’re a member of a top-flight Euro band you don’t get a lot of chances to let your hair down like this.

The two classical guitar players had been letting loose on electrics at times and Abigail was not left out, filling in at times with scat and getting on the drums. When all was quiet Roberto Bouquette asked if we could play Leyenda for him as he wanted to hear his creation, to check that it was as good as Senor Saintz had said it was. We hadn’t used them during the jam as that would have been sacrilege.

We got a couple of seats, and all the others went and sat at the tables. We wiped our hands after the jam, pulled out our classical guitars and waited until it was quiet. I nodded to Joyce, and we were into the seven minutes of heaven.

We had mics so were amplified and it sounded even better than in the concert hall with us going through the PA as a boost. Our fingers were warmed from the jam, and I heard Joyce move up another notch as we played. I had the weirdest feeling that Segovia himself was sitting alongside me and urging me on as we played through to the end. There was no loud applause, as such, when we finished. This was an audience of our peers and their hugs and kisses once we had put the guitars away was better than any standing ovation.

The management put on finger food for us, and it wasn’t long before paying customers started coming in, so we Sisters went off to change while others pulled the extra kit off stage. The show that night was out of the box.

We were well warmed from the jam; we knew that there were a lot of very influential new friends in the audience and the two halves went like clockwork. When we finished our second set someone called for one of our Sisters hits and, when Abigail called out, “Are you sure?” there was a cheer. So, we did about half the second set again but as genuine Stable Sisters, seeing that we already had the amps onstage, and threw in a few hits at the end.

It was well after midnight when we finished and walked off stage. It was nearly two when we were able to wake up our bus driver to take us back to the hotel. It had been a long but very productive day with us meeting a lot of other musicians that we would never have known otherwise.

Senor Saintz came up to me as I was leaving with my new guitar in the case. He gave me a hug and told me that it had been a true pleasure, and to consider the instrument mine for good. Then he said that he would make me another but winked as he said he hadn’t decided on a price yet.

I thanked him for his generosity and gave him a hug, and a kiss on each cheek.

I slept late on the Sunday, as did the rest of the Sisters. We asked the hotel reception where we could get brunch and they directed us to a nearby café. Everyone was slightly worn out from the excitement, and sheer concentration from the day before. We ran brunch into a proper lunch.

We were sitting around the pool when Joyce remarked. “You know, one of those guitarists yesterday wrote a book on technique which I have at home.”

Abigail added. “Not only that, but there were also a few there that I’ve seen in bands from the Eurovision show.”

Emily chuckled. “One of the keyboard players wrote a book on how to play piano.”

Pet said. “Well, other than us, was there anyone there who wasn’t famous?”

I said that we were becoming famous in our own right. “More than a few of those guys had been at our concerts from Marseille onwards.”

Janet remarked. “How would you know, Edie? You play with your eyes shut!”

We had lunch, and then went to the venue for a packed matinee performance without the Sisters part at the end. The evening show was also packed, and we had just the Monday night to go. Two days later we went down to Seville for three shows, and then Saturday evening we played our last show in Spain. It was now the end of June, and our next show would be in Naples, Italy. Before that, Pet and I had a double violin concert to perform in Vienna.

The plan was that Pet, and I, would fly to Vienna from Barcelona on Tuesday afternoon while the others would stay with the bus and trailer. They would take the ferry from Barcelona to Civitavecchia, a port just north of Rome, and then head down to Naples. The ferry takes about twenty hours in good weather so they would be on it Wednesday morning, and then be in the hotel in Naples by Thursday night.

Our Spanish driver would put the bus on board and then leave to go home. An Italian one would go aboard at the other end to be our driver there. This gave everyone a break before the first show in Naples on the following weekend.

In the meantime, Pet and I had to get ourselves, and our violins to Vienna. We all left Seville early on the Sunday and went via Madrid to stay overnight in Guadalajara. Monday evening, we were back at the hotel we had stayed before in Barcelona. Tuesday, we hugged the others, and wished them a good trip. We said farewell to our Spanish driver, and then a taxi took us to the airport.

At the airport we were back into VIP travelling and were whisked through customs and into the lounge to await our flight. It was the first chance to be truly alone, and we discussed the tour so far. Pet was still in awe of who turned up in Valencia to jam with us, and how much they appreciated what we did.

When we arrived in Vienna we were met by a representative of the orchestra, and taken to our hotel to be settled in. She told us that we would be picked up after breakfast as there was to be a rehearsal on Wednesday morning.

We both took the quiet time to ring home, it being just early afternoon back in Detroit. I spoke to Jordan for about half an hour, finding out how Ali was doing and how Josie was getting along with the twins.

He told me he missed me, and that he had passed his veterinarian course with honors. It would be his graduation ceremony in a week or so. I congratulated him and told him I was sorry that I couldn’t be there with him, but it was likely that I would be on stage in Naples or Rome at the time.

He laughed and asked if I was getting so that I didn’t know where I was any more. I answered that this may well be a sign that the tour is in its final stages. Before we finished, he said that a crate had arrived for me from Paris. I told him it was a new piano for Ali as she got older.

The rehearsal the next day was pretty much as we had expected; a conductor who wanted to assure himself that his shiny and new soloists were up to the level he wanted. It took three goes through our part of the concert that day before he was smiling.

We had Thursday morning clear so did some sightseeing and, in the afternoon, we did the whole concert as a dress rehearsal, the two of us given stunning flowing gowns to wear. I was reminded of what the girls wore in videos of a famous and popular violinist / conductor.

At the end of our piece the conductor, Wilhelm, asked us if we had an encore so we did the Paganini mix that we usually did. He then asked us if we would do the Swan trio for him, with his lead cello. Pet was given a viola, and we went and stood next to the cello, and he led us into the piece.

I thought that it was good, the orchestra thought so as well; but, to my ear it sounded a little off compared to the Boston performance. There was certainly nobody crying when we finished.

I had a flash of inspiration. “When we played this as a trio for the first time, we both had instruments supplied to us because I didn’t have my own violin with me. I noted that all three instruments were from the same Italian maker, and we have two today. Is there a violin someone could loan me now, that’s from the same maker?”

One was found and I made sure it was tuned and we did the Swan again and this time, when we finished, about a third of the orchestra, Wilhelm, and several administrators in the stalls were howling their eyes out.

It took some time to settle everyone down and explain that what they had just experienced was not unusual. I wrote down the name of the instrument maker and one of the orchestra administrators gave me his location and phone, as well as a shop in Rome that carried his instruments.

I then called Kelly in Boston to tell her our new bit of information, and to let her know we were still moving along with the tour.

She told me to give her regards to Wilhelm, and, when I did, he had a wistful look in his eye. “Up to a few minutes ago I would never have done this, but I now have the courage to call Kelly and speak to her. I think that if she knows about what just happened, she may be waiting by the phone for me to call.”

He went off to find a phone, no doubt in a quiet place where he could say things that he had held inside. Pet and I were taken back to the hotel where we relaxed and discussed the Swan Effect happening again.

On Friday we rested in the morning, had lunch and a session in the hotel spa before being picked up to go to the concert hall. When we got there, we were hugged by several of the orchestra who thanked us for releasing their fears.

Wilhelm also gave us a hug with a kiss to both cheeks. He told me that he had a few weeks off after this concert and would be flying to Boston.

I told him he was a very lucky man, and that Kelly is a beautiful person.

He replied. “I always knew it but could never relax enough to tell her I loved her.”

That night we did the concert, Pet and I did our two pieces and followed it with the Paganini but didn’t do the Swan. We got a good response with a few of the audience standing. That, I had been told, is pretty good for a fickle Viennese crowd.

Saturday, Wilhelm took us to a very good restaurant for lunch and, that night, we did our thing again. I was using the Italian violin throughout, and Pet had also been given one to use. The Saturday audience was more in tune with what was being played and we had a standing ovation that night and needed both the Paganini and the Swan, which had its usual effect with many weepers when we finished and were led off.

Sunday, we had a visit from our administration assistant who wanted us to go with her to the hall where several journalists were demanding answers that they thought only us two had.

The tone of the questions was how we got so many people crying in public and were we emotional terrorists. None had bothered to ask the sobbers what had happened; it was not considered the thing to question the upper levels of Viennese society, so these journalists were still in the dark.

Pet and I told them that what happened is now called the Swan Effect and is caused by certain harmonics when the three different instruments playing that piece. We couldn’t tell them the mechanics of how it happens and none of them were interested in the actual result for the listener. They all thought that something we did caused tear ducts to go out of control; something like a musical hay-fever. I conferred with the management, and we gave them all tickets for tonight to see what happens for themselves.

The management took us for lunch that day, the two of us, Wilhelm, and our cello player, who wondered what all the fuss was about. He declared that he was totally happy with his lot and hadn’t felt any of the effect when we played.

Marianne Gregory © 2023