As a teenager I attended as many concerts as I could afford. When I was 14, a small orchestra of black musicians played at my church and I fell in love with the melodic sound of the cello. The cellist, a dentist by profession, agreed to teach me how to play. I worked in a grocery store two days a week to earn the money to pay him–$1 per lesson. Two years later I was good enough to study with the first-chair cellist of the Chicago Women’s Symphony Orchestra.
In those days, it was almost impossible for a black man to make a living as a classical musician, so when I graduated from high school, I became an air-conditioning and heating engineer and pursued music in my spare time. When I was 22, I got married and started a family. My kids absorbed my love of classical music and learned to play the piano and other instruments. Even my wife took up the piano so she could give our children extra coaching. Consequently my family had two violinists, a violist, a cellist and a pianist, and we formed the South Side Family Chamber Orchestra.
Over the years my children have left the group and other musicians have joined, but my goal has remained the same: to bring classical music to African-American kids who would otherwise never hear it. We give free concerts in housing projects and schools all over Chicago. We operate on a limited budget, but we do our best to provide lessons and instruments to young people who show a passion for it. We’ve seen how the discipline of learning classical music can transform even the most excitable kids into calm and interested students.
Just as rewarding are the reactions from the adults who hear us play. A few years –ago, my chamber orchestra was scheduled to perform at a state college. One of the featured selections was a work by composer Jacques Offenbach titled “Orpheus in the Underworld,” which includes a major harp solo. My neighbor, an African-American man in his late 60s, agreed to use his station wagon to transport the harpist and her harp to and from the school. It was the first time he had ever attended an orchestral performance. Afterward he told me how much he had enjoyed himself. He was astounded by his natural love of classical music.
It was a wonderful moment, but I wished he could have had this realization years before. My own kids have made music a central part of their lives. My son and daughter still play the violin and the piano, and my oldest son, who played viola in our family ensemble, is now a high-profile keyboard artist who plays contemporary music.
My grandchildren are getting in on the act as well. My grandson gives clarinet lessons to children, my granddaughter is perfecting Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” on the piano and my great-granddaughter took advantage of our youth music project to study the cello. Several months ago I picked up my 14-year-old great-grandson in the car. I assumed he didn’t want to hear the classical music that I had been listening to, but when I reached for the radio dial he asked me not to switch the station.
Unfortunately, my family is the exception in the black community. Even young African-Americans who are lucky enough to be exposed to classical music often feel uncomfortable expressing their appreciation, largely because the media often define “black” music as hip-hop or rap. But I see signs of progress. Several weeks ago I accompanied my college-age string quartet to a conference for young African-American musicians and was thrilled to hear the advanced playing level of the participants. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra has started a diversity program to encourage minorities to audition, and last year it hired its first black permanent musician. Recently a young man who occasionally plays with my group applied for a position in its violin section. If he makes it, he will have done something I could only dream about.
