If you read Lauren
Bacall’s August obituary, you might have skipped over the notation that she had
starred in the play Applause that ran
on Broadway from March 30, 1970 to July 27, 1972.
The obit did not
mention that in the fall of 1972, she and the play toured the country, stopping
at the Fresno Convention Center in October. At the time, the city of Fresno had
a population of approximately 170 thousand, and it was an agricultural center.
It was heavy on the “agri,” and light on the “cultural.”
The exceptions were
occasional, national theatrical touring companies like Applause, and quality musicians brought in for a one-night
performance. Such was the case on Tuesday, October 31, 1972, when Carlos
Montoya performed, and at the time, he was a truly great master of the Spanish
flamenco guitar.
Being a bit bored in
Fresno much of the time, I would regularly take off on weekends weekend to
visit friends in either San Francisco or Los Angeles.
To combat the ennui, I
decided to take classical guitar lessons with John Uretria on his farm just
outside of town. While living in Detroit in the mid-1960s, I had attempted to
learn to play folk guitar but when I had two guitars stolen, I decide that the
harmonica was easier to hide from potential thievery.
When I discovered
that Carlos Montoya was coming to Fresno, a neighbor and I bought balcony tickets
for his performance, which was to start at 7:30 PM.
When There’s a Will
It was a dismal,
rainy evening and we arrived before 7 PM. The front door to the Convention
Center was locked and rather than go back to the cold car to wait, I suggested
that we try and see if there was another door that was open.
There’s Always a Way
Around the back, I
found that the stage door was unlocked, and we carefully and quietly entered.
We walked up a short flight of stairs, and we were on the stage which had
several checkered-cloth tables set up for the next day’s performance of Applause. We sat down at one table, and
waited.
In the distance, I
heard the sounds of someone playing a classical guitar, and convinced my
reluctant companion to come with me to see where the magical sounds were coming
from. We approached an open door to a small room, peeked in, and I pulled her
aside. We saw a beautiful woman with long, black hair pulled tightly back, and
a man with a guitar.
“That’s Carlos
Montoya. He’s warming up,” I said with unbounded excitement. My friend wanted
us to leave, but instead I entered the room to see the master playing his
guitar. In my best high school Spanish I held out my hand and introduced
myself, “Pardon Senor Montoya, con su permiso. Mi nombre es Harvey,” and then
reverted to English. “I admire you so, and am now taking classical guitar
lessons, and wanted to hear you play tonight.”
In the Beginning
Montoya took my hand,
turned it over, and said that I must not have been playing long since there was
no deep callouses. Then he showed me his hand with callouses deeply embedded
from years of playing and practicing, and then he laughed.
As we continued to
talk, a man entered, looked at us and pointedly asked in a thick Australian
accent, “What are you doing in here?” This Aussie was Montoya’s manager, and
didn’t want anyone disturbing him before, during, or after a performance.
“Don’t you recognize
me?” I boldly asked, “I’m in the cast of Applause
and this is our night off. I wanted to hear the great artist Mr. Montoya play,”
and with that his manager stepped back.
Montoya said that he
had to relax now, and wondered where we were sitting. When I mentioned the
balcony, he said “Oh, no,” and told his manager to get us two seats up front.
That’s where we sat,
and although my guitar lessons didn’t last long, the memory of that night still
makes me smile as I write this.
