Tag Archives: Chautauqua

It’s interesting that the top three artists I remembered a connection with are Tony Bennett, Carlos Montoya and Henry Mancini. There are others but these stand out because they were real people.

Dad took me to visit Tony Bennett at his guest house. We spent a half-hour chatting about everything and made sure he was OK and left. The next morning I was in my office and saw this man coming across Bestor Plaza to the men’s shop below us, like he was a regular guy. No-one accosted him for an autograph. He had no security, nothing. Amazing!

Carlos Montoya, the guitarist, was trouble from the get-go. His agent kept stressing his rider in which he needed a chair which was exactly 17.5 inches from the ground with certain other specs. I anticipated disaster. Once my driver had him safely ensconced on the grounds in guest lodging I called him so we had a few hours before rehearsal to find him the perfect chair. I’d arranged for keys to all the major facilities including the playhouse/opera house, different halls et al and had people standing by.

I picked him up and asked if he wanted to see the amphitheatre where he’d be playing and he said “yes.” So we drove and parked up the street and walked in. The Amp Crew had placed the 74 seats out for the orchestra to back Mr. Montoya. He asked if he could walk onstage. Of course! Sat in one of the orchestra chairs and asked if they had another. It was the perfect seat for him. Five minutes, done. Later on that evening I drove him to a reception and he was just a lovely man.

Henry Mancini (“Moon River”) was always one of my idols. He came to a reception at the house, catered by my Aunt Lorna and Joan C, and we kids were always around to pass hors d’oeuvres or help with dishes. He came into the kitchen to escape and get a glass of water and we spent 10-15 minutes chatting about music et al.

There are so many more. Burl Ives in his underwear (being groomed for his performance by his wife and daughter) and I was invited in but at 19 was too shy for that. The lecturers are a different breed, more on that later, as well as other artists.

I worked so much when I was there that I didn’t get a chance to do more than stop by events. That’s why I miss it so much when I have the luxury of seeing the morning lecture, lunching at the Athanaeum, et al. I’d stop by for five minutes at best. At everything. Mainly to deliver a check, roses or a speech I’d written.

For years afterwards I had trouble enjoying an entire evening at a play or opera, because it was my job that made me pop in and out of everything and therefore enjoy nothing. But what can I say. We worked there, we didn’t live there.

Sad to say I really do like visiting in the winter when the big social thing used to be the post office and bookstore. Yes, on some days one can cross-country ski to the post office. It’s become more upscale these days so Starbucks or like has come in for the growing population of winter people.

Another Season has come and gone, and there was a week on food that I missed in its entirety. Michael Ruhlman kicked of the foodie week lectures. I’m currently reading his book “The Making of a Chef” and regularly check his blog.

We usually go for a long weekend in the summer, as my father and actually the entire family used to work there. But illness has taken its toll and no-one made it there this year.

As Jim and I and our dinner guests watch the most incredible land-based fireworks in the country, I think back to sitting along the shores of Lake Chautauqua, by the bell tower, watching the Mayville Fire Department’s version of fireworks.

It’s the thought that counts. Sitting on the grass by the lake with a hundred people watching a small town strut its stuff. That’s what life is made of.

Yes, I have wonderful memories of the big stuff, but lighting luminaria at night all around the 21-mile lake, sailing the ill-fated 17 ft. day-sailer which should have been named the Davy Jones (all while we sat on the crystal clear lake with no wind while Dad said “we’re gonna go like he** any minute”), that’s what it’s all about. The Chautauqua Belle and Frank’s sister playing the organ in the bell tower. Playing basketball at the High School club. Learning golf with pro Stan Marshaus. Resurfacing the eight clay tennis courts….

Working at the program office, cleaning 52 of Ben Vereen’s suits in Jamestown, ordering roses for the opera divas, being asked to buy drugs by artists, or convert a check made out to an agent to cash for the artist at 11:00 p.m. in the middle of no-where (no way, no how, easy excuse for both). Before ATM’s or computers or cell phones. I wrote guest passes by hand. Once on the pass, once in a ledger I gave to Accounting every week. When the SPEBSQSA came, last week of every season I had to write 150 just for them! That’s the Society for the Preservation … of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America, hello Scotty from Buffalo!

So when Chef Ruhlman confirmed his artists lodging and meals I really missed the fact I couldn’t get there this summer, especially for food week. As for now, favorite artists I’ve seen and met: Tony Bennett; Carlos Montoya; Henry Mancini (he hung out with me in our kitchen to take a break from the reception). There are more but it’ll be another post.

Favorite caterers: Aunt Lorna and Joan C., mentors along with Mom who set up these donor receptions nearly every evening. Memories.

To feed four, capture 24 Mexican freetailed bats. No, this is NOT a recipe. Bats are fascinating creatures. See Note, below.

At Chautauqua it is against the law to harm a bat. They eat an impressive amount of mosquitos and keep the population down to allow tourists to listen to the symphony, watch a ballet or take a leisurely sail on the lake. When I took up running (I’m terrible at it) one summer the only time I could go was at twilight, between work and … well, work. That was when the bats came out and every once in a while I’d be hit by one – kind of creepy but it was nice knowing they were around. I must have been hit because of my lightning speed and agility, ha!

Years later we went kayaking with friends and paused under the Congress Street Bridge in Austin to watch the nightly migration of 750,000 Mexican freetailed bats. We saw maybe a hundred. A few months later I booked a hotel on the lake next to the bridge, and a lake cruise to surprise Jim. Not only did our car break down en route, we almost missed the cruise and when we lingered by said bridge, a few bats emerged, but at about 5:30 the next morning, with Jim sound asleep, I heard them return, an amazing sound.

Finally, a few weeks ago Jim and I were driving towards the Waugh Street “Bat Colony” (that’s what the sign says, in quotes) in twilight and we saw several large clouds coming our way and thought it was a strange storm blowing in. Then we realized they were hundreds of thousands of bats on their nightly migration to feed on our mosquitos!

We thought we were a jinx because friends would tell us about the bats. At Congress Street people line the bridge at night from perhaps May to October and see them emerge. We were beginning to think it was a joke being played on this non-Texan.

So thank you bats, for eating the mosquitos and other annoying insects.

Happy cooking, Dee
p.s. No bats, please.

Note: Before I get angry posts from bat experts, PLEASE do not catch a live bat, or touch an injured or sick, or dead, bat you come across. Call the local bat group (there will be one, trust me) or Animal Control right away.