<<  -- 4 --  John Bell Young    ON WATCH

What is now a well-known story here concerns the European representative of the very piano used in this contest. It seems the fellow has a habit of putting away one too many drinks in succession, and having done so frequently over the course of the event, has made a string of aggressive and unwanted advances on local waitresses and on the Cliburn Foundation Staff. His behavior, which did not go unnoticed, became the subject of a formal reprimand by the Cliburn Foundation chairman. It seems nothing escapes Richard Rodzinki's attention. Just yesterday one competitor got a call wherein Mr Rodzinski, being justifiably responsible and concerned, asked him if it was true that he was planning to streak naked across the stage at the formal announcement of the finalists. Though it was in fact only a bit of levity at the root of this rumor -- the competitor's amusing response the previous evening at a local bar to a silly question posed by a Fort Worth Star-Telegram reporter -- Mr Rodzinki was not about to let even so much as a rumor fly by unintercepted.

Roger Wright, one of the few genuine stars of this contest, continues to enjoy himself in spite of the way things turned out, and has cultivated a considerable following. The other night I dined with him and his charming hosts, scions of one of America's oldest corporations. Their 20,000 square foot spread with its bevy of antique motor cars, imported stone fireplaces, tastefully appointed music rooms and Italian faucets provided a comfortable setting for practice. Of course, when I learned that the nature of his host's business was electronics, I mentioned that I had recently purchased a set of headphones from one of its hundreds of retail outlets across the world. With that, I immediately asked for a refund, as the product had gone bad in a matter of days.

Even so, the evening did not stop there. We ended up in a cowboy bar with several of the competitors and their new-found girl friends, members of the press and a variety of hangers-on, downing one tequila after another, before going on to a glitzy hi-rise suite, where another party was in session with Menahem Pressler and a gaggle of rich society ladies, their hair all aglow in butressed boufantes. Only two days later I would see the same women and others at the aforementioned pool party, where a slightly tipsy host asked Roger to play a 'l'll som'thin' for his 14-year-old daughter. Jumping in on behalf of Roger, who is still unaccustomed to such things in this business, I declined, pointing out that he had already downed a few drinks and besides, it wouldn't be fair to 20 or so pianists also in attendance. Best to take a rain check, I suggested, and with that gave our gracious host a complimentary CD of Roger's stunning performances in Australia. Which just goes to prove that there is nothing quite like working a room at the Cliburn Competition.

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