A Cabbie, a Concert, and a 3.5 million-dollar Stradivarius

If Joshua Bell were a basketball player, he'd be Michael Jordan. If he were a movie star, he'd be Brad Pitt. If he were a politician, he'd be Barack Obama. If Joshua Bell were a violinist, he'd be . . . oh wait, he is the violinist of his time. The guy's a rock-star, except he happens to play the violin. People all over the world pay big money to hear him play, which is why I took notice when I heard he was performing at Michigan State. And why I was really glad I still qualify for student rates at the box office, and why I convinced my friends that this experience was crucial to our education. This is also why I felt perfectly certain that Joshua Bell would have a driver.

"Of course he has a driver," I confidently explained to Marjorie, my friend who was accompanying me and Ann to the concert, "I just can't imagine them crammed into some economy rental car."

I had just received an automated telephone message explaining that the performance was postponed till 8:00 p.m.. It turns out poor weather had grounded all the flights out of Louisville and Mr. Bell was therefore en route via car to Michigan.

After a delicious, leisurely dinner, we made our way to the Wharton Center. It was 7:55 and people were still milling about. We learned from the usher that Joshua Bell had arrived about 15 minutes earlier.

A few minutes after 8:00, Mr. Bell and his pianist, Jeremy Denk, walked on to the stage. Both adorned in fairly nondescript black attire, button-down shirts (untucked) and sleek black pants, they seemed perhaps just the tiniest bit frazzled, but only the tiniest bit. Any molecule of frazzle evaporated, however, the moment they began playing. After a few measures, they were carried away by a compelling musical conversation between the violin and the piano, carrying us away with them. Their virtuosity was evident, the interpretation brilliant, the performance impeccable. The hall was utterly silent as they played, punctuated only by a few coughs that escaped between movements.

After intermission, Joshua Bell, slouching down to reach the microphone, told us the story of their adventure getting here. They had originally planned to take an early morning flight out of Louisville where they had performed the night before. Upon arriving at the the airport, however, they discovered that every flight had been canceled -- except for theirs. Their sigh of relief was short-lived as their flight was also canceled soon thereafter. Plan B was to drive to Cincinnati, about two hours away, and catch a flight from there to Detroit. After negotiating a price, they found a cab-driver who agreed to take them.

But in another turn of misfortune, a dead battery sabotaged plan B prompting the two musicians to explain their plight to the next driver in line. In solidarity to his comrade, he said that instead of taking them himself, he'd jump the first driver's car. The taxi successfully jump-started, they piled into the cab with an uncertain battery. They were very certain, however, not to leave behind Mr. Bell's violin, an 18th century Stradivarius worth 3.5 million dollars.

The stream of bad luck continued when they learned that they weren't going to be able to get a flight out of Cincinnati after all.

"Would you like to keep going?" they asked Neville, the driver and their new-found best friend.

He agreed and drove another six hours to Lansing.

"Neville decided to stay and hear the concert," Joshua Bell continued, gesturing to a somewhat under-dressed gentleman in the audience. The man stood up and received his own round of enthusiastic, grateful applause.

"If the tempo of our music seems on the fast side tonight," Joshua Bell quipped, "it's because the meter's still running."

The second half of the concert was as glorious as the first. And somehow, it was even better laced with this tale of human kindness, ingenuity, and determination. I'm pretty sure Neville had no idea at first that he was transporting two world-class musicians who regularly rub shoulders with the creme de la creme of society. Yet regardless of wealth and social status, it was a cabbie from Kentucky who made it possible for the show to go on.


(As a bonus feature to this post, I'm linking to a wonderful Pulitzer Prize winning article about the day Joshua Bell played incognito in a Washington, D.C. subway station. It's aptly named Pearls Before Breakfast. )