Sugar plums on the piano

Peter Tchaikovsky; The Nutcracker; Berlin Philharmonic; Semyon Bychkov, conducting

One of my favorite events in “The President’s Own” United States Marine Band occurred each year on Sunday of the first weekend in December. The President of the United States hosted a reception for the Kennedy Center honorees. The White House usually had just been decorated for Christmas and they had put in a request for the Marine Orchestra. The job typically lasted three to four hours with the group providing continuous music.

"How do they do that?" you might ask. The orchestra will play three or four selections. Then the conductor will call on the pianist in the orchestra, who doesn’t play on every selection, to relieve the large ensemble with a few tunes by him- or herself. The pianist has the option to ask the bass and drums to play along.

The concert grand piano at the White House was given “To The People Of The United States Of America”, as it states on the plaque on the front, by Steinway and Sons in 1938. It was the three hundred thousandth piano built by the Steinway factory, the cast iron piece inside is not gold but a very dark red, and the case is not black but features natural Honduran mahogany with gold leaf stenciling on the side.

During my stint in the Marine Band, I saw many artists who would receive and had received the Kennedy Center Honors, but one stands taller than the others. In December of 1999, the Marine Orchestra had taken on the ballet music from Faust by Charles Gounod at the Kennedy Center Honors reception. The piano book had only a condensed conductor’s score, no real piano part. The rest of the orchestra had all parts covered. But boredom had set in on my part, so I decided to play along from the conductor’s score. I remember keeping one eye on Major B. at the podium and another eye on the music. A nasty bit of pianism appeared on the page, so for a few seconds my gaze strayed from the major to concentrate on the “part” in front of me. When I turned my eye back to follow the baton of Major B., Major B. had disappeared and in his place, with a mischievous glint in his eye, stood 1999 Kennedy Center Honoree Victor Borge. He had reached for the major’s baton, stepped up to the podium and proceeded to conduct us through the rest of the piece, closing the score so that he could watch us, never missing a single cue. After we finished, he said, “That was nice. What was that called?”

The highlight for me at these parties came when we played selections from Tchaikovsky’s “The Nutcracker”. “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” features an instrument called the celeste. A celeste has a keyboard and it emits a sound similar to a music box. They can weigh as much as two hundred pounds and can cost as much as twenty-five thousand dollars. Believe me when I say that it makes no sense to drag a celeste over to the White House for just one number. So the pianist plays the celeste part on the piano an octave higher than written and it works fine.

“The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” provides the celeste with its single greatest hit. John Williams, though, gives Mr. Tchaikovsky a run for his money with the virtuoso celeste part in the soundtrack from the Harry Potter movies. Ernest Chausson wrote for the celeste four years before Mr. Tchaikovsky, providing a part in his 1888 incidental music for The Tempest. Since then, Bela Bartok, Gustav Holst, Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Herbie Hancock, the Beatles and The Beach Boys have utilized the heavenly sounds of the celeste.

Once a Kennedy Center Honoree has received his or her honor, they have a standing invitation henceforth to attend any or all Kennedy Center Honors receptions at the White House. Alas, Mr. Borge only had the opportunity to attend one; his own.

Credits: To Victor Borge, for his desire to bring more than the joy of music to his audience, indeed, for his desire to make his audience feel alive.