by Kathy Kacer
“Of course, you are welcome to be here. I’m just
sorry we couldn’t provide a better rehearsal for you to hear.”
She smiled at him, suddenly shy and uncertain of
what to say.
“I don’t think we have been introduced.” He
bowed formally. “I am Bronislaw Huberman.”
Anna stood and curtsied. “My name is Anna
Hirsch. My father is Avrum Hirsch.” She pointed.
“Clarinet.”
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“Of course. You are the young lady who wrote to
me on behalf of your grandmother.”
He remembers that! “And thank you for everything you’ve done for my family,” Anna blurted out.
“If it wasn’t for you …” She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
Mr. Huberman brushed aside the comment. “And
do you also play the clarinet, Miss Hirsch?”
Anna sighed. “My father has been teaching
me. But my clarinet got lost.” She explained about
having been sick on the boat and only discovering
the missing clarinet when they were unpacking. “I
have no idea what happened to it.”
“Oh, that’s a pity. You must be terribly sad about
that.”
Anna nodded. She lowered her eyes to the ground,
blinking furiously, afraid she might start to cry in front of Mr. Huberman.
“But I know the feeling,” he continued. “My violin
has also become lost.”
At that, Anna looked up, wide-eyed. “It has?
Where did you lose yours?”
“In America, while I was there for a concert.” He
leaned forward and whispered, “I believe someone
may have taken it.”
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”
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“And I’m sorry that yours is also missing. Perhaps
we will find our lost instruments one day.”
“I hope so.” She said that half-heartedly, as if she didn’t believe it was possible.
“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hirsch.
Please come back to the rehearsal hall any time
you wish.”
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Chapter
26
Walking home with Papa after rehearsal, Anna told
him about her conversation with Mr. Huberman.
“He told me that I could come any time to listen
to the rehearsals,” Anna explained. “That’s okay, isn’t it, Papa? Mr. Huberman said it would be okay.”
Papa looked at her thoughtfully. “And will it make
you happy to come here to watch us rehearse?”
Anna nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, it will!” It would
be just like the times she had gone to the academy
to listen to her father rehearse—before he had been
moved to the ghetto chairs.
“Then I think that is exactly what you should do,”
Papa said. “As long as you get your schoolwork done, you are welcome here any time.”
Over the next few weeks, Anna took Papa’s message
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to heart. She worked hard at school every morning.
And although the Hebrew language was still frus-
trating at times, even she had to admit that she was beginning to learn more words and phrases. And the
squiggly letters were starting to make sense. Some
days, Baba would drag her to the market to help
negotiate the price of a chicken or some vegetables
for the new soup pot that she had finally purchased.
It wasn’t that Baba was not capable of haggling. She had bargained with the vendors back in Krakow like
a pro. But Baba was not having any luck mastering
Hebrew and needed Anna there to help.
The open-air market in Tel Aviv was at least twice
or maybe three times the size of the one in Krakow,
and it pulsed with activity. Hundreds of stalls
displayed everything from poultry to cheese to vege-
tables and even fabrics and furniture and handicrafts.
Anna inhaled the rich smell of spices like paprika,
turmeric, and cumin, and the strong aroma of
black coffee. The vendors shouted at passersby to stop and examine their goods. Everyone bartered for the
best price.
“Five shekels for a chicken that size?” Anna argued
in Hebrew with the butcher. “That’s ridiculous. My
grandmother won’t give you more than three.” It
pleased Anna that she was able to negotiate with the
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merchants. She was on her way to sounding as fluent
as one of the sabras that Mrs. Rose had mentioned on the first day of school.
To help improve her Hebrew even more, she
stayed after school once a week to do homework with
Eric. Between the two of them, it was often easier to figure out the difficult Hebrew script.
“I think this says, ‘I am looking for a doctor,’” Eric said one afternoon as they sat translating a passage.
Anna laughed out loud. “You’re going to have a big
problem if you think you’ll find a doctor saying that!
It actually says, ‘I am looking for a bathroom.’”
Eric grinned. “Okay, I won’t say that if I’m sick.
Though it might also help in that case!”
Anna was learning more and more about her
new friend during these times together. Like Anna,
Eric had learned to play trumpet from his father
beginning at a young age.
“My father sounds much stricter than yours,” Eric
told her. “He’s not the easiest person to talk to.”
Anna recalled how stern he had looked when she
spotted him at the audition in Warsaw. “And your
mother? Is she getting used to living here yet?”
At that, Eric looked away. “Not really. She isn’t
saying very much, but I can tell.” He paused before
continuing. “She thinks the troubles here are almost as bad as the troubles back in Poland.”
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Anna recalled that Papa had warned her of the
growing tension between Palestinian Arabs and
Jewish refugees. He didn’t want her to be out on
the streets alone, except for going to school and to the concert hall, or if she was out with him or with Baba. When Anna asked why there was such conflict
between the two groups, Papa tried to explain that
the Arabs felt threatened by the British authority and also by the arrival of so many Jewish immigrants,
whom they saw as trying to take over their land.
“Are they threatened by us?” Anna asked.
Papa nodded sadly. “There is one piece of land
here and several groups of people who want it. It’s not the same as in Poland,” he added when he saw Anna’s
stricken face. “But it’s still a difficult time here. We just have to be careful, that’s all.”
Anna told Eric what Papa had said, and added,
“Maybe you can talk to your mother and tell her
that the troubles here are not the same as those
back there.”
Eric shook his head. “I used to be able to talk to
her more. But she’s been so nervous lately, and quiet—
like she’s disappeared even though she’s standing in front of me. She never used to
be like that.”
Anna nodded sympathetically. “My father was like
that when my mother died—quiet and even angry.
But he’s come out of that now.”
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“I keep thinking that one morning my mother
will wake up and feel better and realize that we made the right decision to come here,” Eric continued. “But so far, I’m still waiting.”
“Are you glad you’re here in Palestine?” Anna asked.
Eric nodded. “Yes.”
“Then that’s the most important thing. Hopefully
your mother will come around and see it that way
too. I’m happy you’re here,” she added. And saying
that, Anna realized that she was beginning to feel
at home in this new country.
Chapter
27
Most days, after her schoolwork was done, Anna
eagerly made her way to the concert hall to listen in on the rehearsals for the first concert, which was only a couple of months away. Flyers had already been
posted throughout the city. The radio blared adver-
tisements for the new Palestine Symphony Orchestra
and for their inaugural concert—and for the appear-
ance of maestro Arturo Toscanini as its conductor.
All the great dignitaries from across Palestine would attend. The concert was even going to be broadcast
on the radio worldwide. Papa said that more than one hundred thousand people wanted seats in the concert hall, but there were only two thousand tickets. It would be impossible to accommodate everyone.
Today, the orchestra was rehearsing a long four-
part symphony written by the composer Johannes
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Brahms. The last part of that symphony was Anna’s
favorite. It was so loud and dramatic that it made her heart beat wildly, especially at the end, when all of the instruments joined together. Often, when the
musicians would lay their instruments down, Anna
realized she was sweating almost as much as they
were from the energy she exerted just listening and
holding her breath.
While the orchestra was taking a short break,
Mr. Huberman came over to say hello. “How are we
sounding today, Miss Hirsch?”
“Wonderful,” she replied, breathless. They always
sounded wonderful to her.
“Any luck locating your clarinet?”
She shook her head. “What about your violin?”
At that, he sighed. “I think it may be lost forever.”
Anna frowned. “But if you don’t have a violin,
then what will you play for the concert?”
A slow smile began to spread across Mr. Huber-
man’s face. “I have decided that I won’t be joining the orchestra this time.”
Anna wasn’t sure she understood this. Mr. Huber-
man was a great violinist. And this orchestra was his creation. Why would he not want to be part of its
historic opening concert?
“It’s not because of my violin,” he added quickly.
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“I just want to sit in the audience and enjoy the music along with everyone else.”
The break ended, and the musicians gathered in
their spots onstage once more. Mr. Huberman ex-
cused himself to go back to the conductor’s stand. As he walked away, Anna looked around and wondered
if the hall would be finished in time for the concert.
She watched the workers pounding nails into the
floor and walls. The racket was so loud that the newly constructed walls were practically vibrating. And it was not the first time that this had happened. There had already been several days when Mr. Huberman
had had to abandon the rehearsal because no one
could hear over the noise. This afternoon was no
exception. Mr. Huberman was having the orchestra
work through a particularly difficult passage in their symphony. The music needed to be soft at times and
then build to a great crescendo. But the softness of the violins was completely drowned out by a symphony
of hammers that all went to work at the same time. A moment later, the pounding and hammering reached
an all-time high. Mr. Huberman brought his baton
to his side and the orchestra members lowered their
instruments. He turned slowly to face the construc-
tion workers. From where Anna was sitting, it looked as if the maestro had had enough of all of this noise.
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He stood for a moment, hands clasped behind his
back, head lowered. Anna could see that he was
breathing deeply, either trying to calm himself or
building up to an outburst. The musicians were also
staring at him, and now they glanced at one another, wondering what was going to happen next. Minutes
passed. Anna waited and watched. Mr. Huberman
remained standing onstage but his face was growing
redder with each passing second. Finally, he walked
offstage and over to where the carpenters were still banging and drilling.
“Excuse me,” he said in a loud voice.
The workers did not hear him. They continued
with their construction.
“Excuse me!” This time he shouted the words.
The workers stopped suddenly, hammers still held
high in the air. The silence in the concert hall was a welcome relief.
Mr. Huberman pulled himself up to his greatest
height. “We cannot continue with these rehearsals if you continue making that horrible noise,” he said.
The workers stared at one another and at Mr.
Huberman. Finally, one of them stepped forward,
wiping his paint-splattered hands on his overalls. “I’m sorry, maestro,” he said. “But we have our work to do and we don’t have much time to finish.”
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191
“But we must rehearse,” Mr. Huberman sputtered.
The worker shrugged. “You have your work to do,
and we have ours.”
From where Anna was sitting, it looked as if Mr.
Huberman might explode. His hands were shaking,
his nostrils flared, and his face was as purple as the eggplant Baba had bought at the market the previous
day. Finally, he asked in a voice that was steely cold.
“How much money will you charge to do this con-
struction at night?”
At first, no one responded. Then the workers
gathered in a circle and began to talk among them-
selves. Anna watched in amazement. Mr. Huberman
held his ground, waiting with his hands clasped
tightly behind his back. Finally, one of the workers, the same one who had spoken earlier, stepped
forward again.
“Maestro,” he said. “We will do this work at night,
as you have requested. But we do not want extra
payment for our work. What we would like instead
is for you to promise that we will all have tickets for the first concert in December.”
Mr. Huberman stared at the workers and they
stared back at him. Finally, he replied, “Done!”
Chapter
28
It was the first day that Maestro Arturo Toscanini was going to be present at a rehearsal of the orchestra.
He had arrived the night before from Italy. Everyone thought he might need a couple of days to rest. But he had let it be known that he wanted to hear the orche
stra first thing in the morning. That morning, Anna’s father paced around the apartment like it was the first day of school.
“Baba,” he shouted, “where are my cufflinks? I
can’t wear this shirt without my cufflinks!”
Baba appeared from the kitchen, shaking her head.
“They are on your sleeves.” Sure enough, the cufflinks were dangling from the ends of Papa’s shirtsleeves.
A moment later, Papa shouted, “My music. It’s
disappeared. Where is my music?”
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This time, Anna stepped forward. “It’s all ready
for you at the door. Don’t you remember, Papa? You
put it there last night so you wouldn’t forget it.”
“Well, just make sure no one touches it.” He turned
around, mumbling under his breath. “Where did I
put my clarinet?”
Anna showed him that his clarinet was also at the
front door. If the tension in the air weren’t so thick, Anna would have burst out laughing. It was comical
to see her father, usually so composed, running
around the apartment.
“If your head wasn’t attached to your neck, you
wouldn’t know where it was, either,” Baba muttered
as she stepped out of Papa’s way and returned to the safety of her kitchen.
Finally, Papa was ready to go. Anna inspected him
and adjusted his tie. “Don’t be nervous, Papa,” she
instructed. “You always tell me that everything will be fine. So I’m telling you that as well.”
Papa paused and took a deep breath. “You are
growing up in front of my eyes, Annichka. And more
and more like your mother.” He paused, eyes far
away, and then resumed talking. “Yes, I will try not to shake too much in front of Maestro Toscanini.”
Then he leaned forward and smiled. “It wouldn’t
do my playing any good, would it?” He paused for
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another moment, deep in thought. “Do you know
that Toscanini once refused to conduct a concert in
Germany because he hated everything that Hitler was
doing there? He must be such a compassionate man.”
Then he looked once more at Anna. “Will you come
to watch the rehearsal this afternoon?” he asked.
Anna nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
She kissed her father on the cheek as he scurried out the door.