Mary and Duke go to Washington

Respighi; The Pines of Rome; Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal; Charles Dutoit, conducting

In the summer of 1988, I took a couple of trips. One was to Calgary, Alberta, to help my friend Chad H. move to his new apartment after college. The other was to Washington, DC.

My companion on this trip was my friend Mary B. Normally, I would refrain from disclosing certain features of a friend when it isn’t pertinent to a story; not out of embarrassment, but either because it doesn’t matter, because of privacy or in an attempt to shorten a story. Mary B. is blind. And in virtually every other aspect, it doesn’t matter, except that it provided for a third companion: her handsome helper hound named Duke.

Mary would have me stress that Duke be designated here as a Leader Dog and not as a Seeing Eye Dog. There is more of an air of protection surrounding a Seeing Eye Dog which is typically a German Shepherd. In a Leader Dog, the emphasis is on helping and guiding. Duke was a Golden Retriever. And although Duke wasn’t a blackbelt in Tae Kwon Dog, I think that if danger ever visited upon Mary B., the assailant would have his or her hands full.

We were in town for a week and we kept busy. The Smithsonian museums were on our docket nearly every day. We visited the Capitol and the White House. Arlington National Cemetery took up a large part of one afternoon. And the monuments were Duke’s favorites as we were able to remain outdoors. Except for the Washington Monument, which was inside and made him a little jittery.

One memorable evening was at the National Theatre where we watched “Ain’t Misbehavin’” with Nell Carter. We attended the Friday Evening Parade at the Marine Barracks at 8^th Street and I. On our last evening in town we dined at a restaurant called “The Jockey Club” and was where the Reagans celebrated one of their anniversaries. The food was terrific, of course, and the service was unbelievable. “Bonjour, Duke!” our international waiter exclaimed, after learning his name, and when our entrees were presented, a stunning silver bowl of water for Duke was placed at his feet.

And on Thursday evening, we went to the steps of the Capitol to hear a free concert by the United States Air Force Band. An ensemble of tremendous musicians, they performed a typical band concert program consisting of marches, an overture and a soloist. And they closed their program with a wind transcription of Ottorino Respighi’s “The Pines of Rome”.

This 20^th century Italian masterpiece is one part in a trilogy of symphonic poems that together essentially form a musical biography of the city of Rome. Each movement in this work portrays the location of pine trees in the Eternal City at different times of the day and her life. The pines in the Borghese gardens, close to the catacombs in Campagna, near a temple of the Roman god Janus on the Janiculum hill, and along the famous Appian Way inspired Mr. Respighi to compose towering harmonic structures that support sometimes impossibly long ribbons of song and chant. The children are playing in the first grove. The trombones are priests in the second grove. The third movement is a nocturne in celebration of the Roman new year. And of course, what are trees without birds? The nightingale is heard at the end of the third movement by virtue of a phonograph, the first time this feat is presented in a classical music score. The finale is a parade of the Roman Legion in the misty dawn as they return triumphantly beside the pines of the Appian Way.

Although the density of the music is never so thick that you can’t see through it, the chords are full most of the time, particularly so in the 2^nd and 4^th movements. The lower wind instruments simulate a vast pipe organ with its 8’, 16’ and 32’ pedal tones. And in 1988, when National Airport noise pollution was not as closely monitored, the distant jet takeoff and landing rumblings mixed uniquely and well, I think, in those specific passages so excellently performed by the United States Air Force Band.

During the entire concert, Duke lay on the warm marble steps of the Capitol with his nose at Mary’s feet, at rest, yet “on”. A few year’s later Mary married, and for a few more years the relationship between Mary and Duke and that of Mary and her husband dovetailed. Then when Duke’s muzzle was white and it was time for Mary’s husband to assume the duties that had been those of a devoted friend, Duke retired to a farm where he no longer needed to be “on”.

I have, since that time, played the piano and celeste parts of “Pini Di Roma” in three performances; twice with “The President’s Own” United States Marine Band and once with the Chesapeake Orchestra on the River Concert series in southern Maryland. Each time, while I counted idle measures and listened to the strains of early 20^th century Italian romanticism, I remembered fondly my first trip to Washington, DC, and inwardly celebrated the concrete bond between Mary and Duke.

Credits: To service animals and their trainers worldwide. The profound nature of the partnership between devoted animal and the person who needs and depends on them is the stuff of legend and a love story for the ages. The “Thank You” that is extended to you here is just as profound.