CHAPTER 1
Concert
It was a cool, breezy evening in May 2010 when Eric Nederwalked by the marquee at Carnegie Hall. He stopped and staredup at the sign advertising Johan and Eric Neder, violinists playingwith the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Eric was still amazed hislife had turned out this way and that he could make a decent livingtraveling around the world playing the violin. His father, Johan, wasthe true master and one of the best violinists in the world. When heplayed, it was magical.
Eric thought, I'm good, but I can't seem to reach Dad's level. Oh well!Maybe someday?
He walked into the theater and asked where his dressing room was.His father was always a late arriver and would come in about a halfhour. Tonight the orchestra would play Beethoven's Second Symphony,and then Johan would perform the Violin Concerto in E Minor byMendelssohn. After intermission, the orchestra would open withMozart's overture to "The Impresario," and then Eric and his fatherwould play the violin duet, Vivaldi's Concerto for Two Violins in CMinor. This was always a popular piece, and orchestra crowds loved it.
Eric thought back to the first public concert he played with thePittsburgh Symphony. It was also the Vivaldi duet. They played thefast movements, but at a slower-than-normal speed. The middle slowmovement was played at the intended tempo.
At that time, Eric was only ten years old and not really ready to beplaying on a big public stage, but Johan wanted to expose him to theworld and let the public see what talent was developing. He rememberedwearing a little tuxedo with a tight collar and being scared to death.However, once they walked onto the stage, little Eric just stared at hisfather. He pretended they were just in his bedroom practicing.
He remembered noticing how animated and excited his father waswhen performing and how he really got into the music. By the thirdmovement, Eric was able to look at the audience, and he was playingwith more emotion and exhilaration. That movement really got thecrowd going. He assumed that was why his father had introduced himto public performance so young. In that way, Eric could get the thrillof performing and add more feeling to his playing.
They had played the duet perfectly, and Eric remembered bowing tothe audience and then running off the stage. Johan had to go backstageto get him to take another bow during the standing ovation.
Back at Carnegie Hall, Eric completed his warm-up and went overthe tricky parts of the duet by the time his father arrived. Eric thought,Dad never seems to warm up much. He just takes enough time to tune up hisStradivarius. My Guarnerius and I need more time to get ready.
"Late again," Eric joked as his father darted into his dressingroom.
"On time, as usual. Just hook on the bow tie and tune up the Strad,and I'm good to go," replied his father.
The orchestra started promptly at 7:30 p.m. this Friday as wastypical of the punctual Julio Rossini, the conductor. Eric sat just offthe stage to hear his father play the Concerto in E Minor again, eventhough he had heard it a thousand times. With the very first bow stroke,it was like a lightning strike. The sound sent a chill up Eric's back asthe master let go.
The sound, the tone, the music, the expression, the magic wasalways there. It didn't matter if it was a collection of ultrafast notes orthe slow, lyrical section. He wondered how his father got that muchsound and feeling out of two pounds of hollow wood and some strings.Eric and the whole audience knew they were witnessing somethingvery special.
Eric watched the way his father clasped the bow in his right handand the way his fingers gently gripped the wooden end. They werenot too tight, not too loose—just right to control the pressure, whileallowing the bow to rock in his fingers for speed on the fast notes.His father cradled the violin under his chin with what seemed like nopressure at all compared to other players, including himself.
Eric thought, Why doesn't the violin fall out? It is hardly held in there.The answer was obvious: the bow and violin were part of his father andattached in some almost magnetic way.
The applause finally subsided and intermission began. Eric againwarmed up a little and went through measure 101 in the duet, whichwas the hardest section.
Johan walked by Eric's dressing room. "What are you doing? Youcan play this flawlessly. What are you worried about?"
"I'm not as good as you are; I need to practice more. And I still geta little nervous," admitted Eric.
Johan had to bite his lip, and then he said, "You are one of the bestand hardest working players I have ever met."
Eric replied, "But my sound cannot touch what you do. By the way,the Mendelssohn was just fantastic."
"Thanks. But don't worry. Great playing just takes time."
As Johan finished a small shot of scotch, he said, "Let's go. Theoverture is about half done. Let's show them what this piece shouldreally sound like."
As Johan and Eric entered the stage, Johan shook the conductor'shand and said, "Let's take it a little faster than we rehearsed. I'm sureyour orchestra can keep up."
As the orchestra started at the faster speed, and Johan came in withhis part, Eric thought, Holy shit, what is he doing?
Eric came in furiously on his first entrance, and the excitement tookhold. They played it faster than they had ever played it with a brilliancethat was awe-inspiring for the crowd. Johan and Eric finished all threemovements almost flawlessly along with the orchestra. The standingovation was deafening and lasted six minutes.
Eric left the theater exhausted but exhilarated at the same time.Their reviews in the paper on Sunday were great. "Johan Neder is awizard with the violin.... His son, Eric, has made major strides forwardsince we last heard him two years ago. He doesn't have the magic of hisfather, but he is clean, musical, and exciting in his own way."
Eric thought, Not bad. That's a fair assessment.
Eric had attended Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh andgraduated with a BS in music in violin performance. Johan had taughtEric from age five through high school. Although Johan was one of thebest in the world, he thought Eric should study with another professorwhile in college to get a different point of view. Eric desperately wantedto play like his father. It wasn't so much from a competitive standpoint,but he just wanted to be able to create the sound and feeling his fathercould.
Every Sunday—even after a late Saturday concert followed by areception and sometimes too much partying—Johan would drag Ericout of bed to attend a late morning church service. They usually attendeda nearby Catholic church, but not always. Eric had grumbled about thissince he was a little boy, but he always got up and went.
After this morning's service, Eric asked, "Do we really have to goto church? And why don't we always go to a Catholic church?"
Johan answered, "The Presbyterian church was more convenient,and we have a flight home to catch at two o'clock. Besides, I don'tbelieve God cares which church you go to. He just wants you to makean effort to worship and give thanks for the gifts in your life. Attendinga different church can also give you a different perspective on religionand something to think about."
Eric responded, "I think I should not have had that fifth glass ofwine."
Johan laughed. "Then be thankful you didn't throw up—and moreimportantly, be thankful for the talent he has given us."
Johan got a lump in his throat and continued. "I also thank God forthe years I had with your mother. Even though she passed away overtwo years ago, I miss her and still look for her in the audience beforeevery concert."
CHAPTER 2
Violin
This week they were playing with the Dallas Symphony withthe usual program of Johan doing a violin concerto in the firsthalf and then father and son playing a duet after intermission.As they entered the concert hall, Eric noticed his father nodding toJohn, the principal oboe; Chuck, the first trumpet; and Sara, the leadcellist. From previous meetings, Eric knew these were the three bestplayers in the orchestra. The French horns were decent, the trombonesfair, and most of the woodwinds quite good. But John, Chuck, and Sarawere clearly several steps above even very good orchestra musicians. Ericwondered what the nod by his father meant.
While Eric's Guarnerius was an excellent instrument, his father'sStradivarius was one of the best violins ever made. Eric had played hisfather's violin numerous times, but he always wondered if that was themain difference in their playing.
On this Thursday, when Eric and his father were having their rehearsalwith the orchestra for Shostakovich's Violin Concerto no. 3 duet, suddenlyEric said, "Let's switch violins. I want to try out the Strad."
"All right, just be careful with my baby," Johan uttered. When theyswitched instruments, he saw a smile come cross the face of John, theoboe player.
Since the orchestra was well prepared, they only needed to gothrough the duet once. The conductor went back over three passageswhere he didn't like some of the orchestra's entrances or the volumelevels.
Eric loved playing the Strad because it had a wonderful tone andgreat response. But he had to admit that while his playing was maybe 5percent better on the Strad, his father could still get enchanting soundsfrom the Guarnerius. In fact, Johan even rehearsed the first half soloconcerto with Eric's violin as a change of pace. Eric slumped in hischair as his father's sound was outstanding on this violin also. Eric wastempted to go to a local music store and buy a $500 starter violin and seeif his father could make it sing also. He should have, but he didn't.
As they left the rehearsal hall, Johan said, "Your ax has some goodlife to it. Treat it with care."
Eric replied, "Your Strad is great, but I still can't make it hum likeyou can."
"As I keep saying, you are a fantastic violinist. At your stage indevelopment, you are the best I have ever heard. Your technique isalmost flawless, you play with great emotion, and you can play in severalstyles, from aggressive to very romantic. Someday you will be the bestthere ever was!" Johan said.
Eric thought, What is he drinking? Maybe Dad is hitting the scotchtoo early in the day. Maybe his hearing is going. What will change that willmake a leap forward in my playing?
Oh well. For a job that takes about twenty hours a week of work andpays almost $3,000 a week, I shouldn't complain. I have a lot of free time toexercise, read, compose, and meet girls.
CHAPTER 3
Women
Eric was not a typical, skinny musician. He was almost six feettall and about 190 pounds—unusually muscular for a musician—withthick black hair. He had four inches and thirty pounds onhis father. He did get the thick hair from Johan who, even at sixty-two,had a full head of hair that was now about half gray. Eric liked to liftweights and jog in the various cities they toured.
Because they were on the road about half the time, Eric had not beenable to maintain a steady girlfriend. Meeting girls was not a problemfor Eric, however, even though by nature he was quiet and shy. It waswell known that popular music groups had "groupies," but even classicalmusicians could attract some serious admirers.
The ladies attracted to classical performers may have been collegemusic majors themselves, or rich divorced contributors to the arts, ordaughters of these rich contributors. So if Eric was not enticed by anadmirer after a rehearsal or concert, he was usually approached in thehotel gym by an attractive, lonely female. Eric had to politely declinethe occasional male admirer also.
Johan liked to stay in good hotels with nice restaurants, and thesehotels usually had good exercise facilities also. Better hotels were alsopopulated by more attractive, financially well-to-do single ladies orbusinesswomen.
It was Thursday night in San Antonio after the orchestra rehearsal,and Eric was walking through the hotel lobby with his father, bothcarrying violin cases. Mary, a beautiful and fit pharmaceuticalsaleswoman, eyed Eric. He caught the hint and left his father to gomeet her.
"Hi, I'm Mary. Is that a violin in the case?" asked Mary.
"It's too small to hold a machine gun, so yes, it is a violin case. Myname is Eric. Dad and I are playing with the orchestra this weekend,"replied Eric.
"Nice! I've always loved classical music.... Could you buy a thirstysalesperson a drink?" said Mary.
"Definitely, but I would like to drop off my violin in my room first.Would you like to join me?" asked Eric.
"That's a different approach, and a little too quick for me!" saidMary.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to imply anything. My instrument is tooexpensive to leave in the bar." He laughed, and she joined in.
Mary did accompany Eric up to his room, but she stayed in thedoorway as he put his violin away. They went back down to the bar for acouple of drinks and met up with Johan for dinner. After dinner, Maryand Eric walked around the streets near the hotel, and Eric showedMary the theater marquee where he and his father were listed as guestartists.
San Antonio had some beautiful canals running between the hotelsand restaurants, so it was a great place for an evening walk. Mary wasvery impressed, and she sensed that Eric was a deep thinker and a goodperson. So about 10 p.m., they made their way back up to his room forthe rest of the evening.
Mary decided to stay an extra day and listen to the Friday concert.Over brunch, Mary told Eric about her job and why she was in thehotel.
"I am a salesperson for Zorex Pharmaceuticals. Most drugsalespeople have a small territory and drive to visit local doctors tosell their cholesterol medicine, blood pressure pills, Viagra knock-off,antidepressants, painkillers, etc. I sell developmental pharmaceuticalsthat are entering stage four or stage five approvals or have just passedstage five. I also sell special items for late-stage clinical trials or helpintroduce newly approved drugs. I do a lot of joint sales calls with thelocal representatives who know the doctors well."
Eric was surprised and said, "Sounds like you are really smart!"
Mary continued, "I'm good at most subjects, except languages. Ican't pick those up well at all. The good and bad news of my job is I haveto look good and be healthy. I have to eat correctly, exercise, and keepmy weight under control. A pharmaceutical salesperson can't be tired,or have bloodshot eyes, or be overweight. Once a month during that`woman's time,' I can't look irritable or bloated either. Who would buymedicine from someone who looked half dead or was in a bad mood?"
Eric asked, "So are you saying I shouldn't be eating this cheeseomelet and these really greasy hash browns?"
Mary responded, "Certainly not more than once or twice a week."
Eric replied, "But they are so greasy, salty, and good."
As Mary stole a spoonful of omelet and hash browns from Eric'splate, she said, "These things will kill you, but they are fantastic. If Iget a pimple from this grease, I won't be happy.... Another benefit ofthe job is that I need a nice wardrobe, and I love clothes. I have to dressprofessional, but attractive. Many doctors are still men, and it helps tobe cute."
Eric added, "You certainly have no problems there. You're not cuteor attractive—you are beautiful."
Mary continued, "Thanks. But the main advantage to looks is thatit is easier to get appointments. So I have to walk a fine line betweenlooking attractive and professional and not too sexy or sleazy. I try towear nice suits where the skirt is not too short. Then I wear pumps withtwo-and-a-half—to three-inch heels. Most doctors are nice but nerdy,and they respond to a decent-looking woman paying attention to them.Female doctors seem to like me also. We talk about women stuff, andthey ask me for beauty and hair tips. We also do a little boyfriend/husband bashing too."
As Eric shoved in more omelet, he asked, "What bad things wouldyou tell them about me?"
Mary laughed. "I don't see anything wrong with you yet, but I'llkeep looking. I was pretty nerdy myself, being a chemistry major incollege and playing the oboe in band and orchestra. I took piano lessonsall through elementary school, but I didn't like it much. The sound ofthe oboe and English horn attracted me for some reason."
She continued, "Originally I was going to work in a chemistry lab,but it helps to have a PhD to really do research, so I started lookingat graduate schools. However, about my junior year in college, Iblossomed. I stopped growing at five feet nine inches, my skin clearedup, and my weight stabilized—suddenly guys were noticing me. WhenI started interviewing for jobs at various chemical and pharmaceuticalcompanies, a lot of the interviewers suggested I go into sales. I really likeit except for maybe too much travel. I can't maintain a steady boyfriendand ... what happened last night is not me. We developed an instantconnection; I am not usually that forward or adventuresome."
