“Thank you,” Abby said, shyly.
When Abby finished, Becky asked, “Will you show me?”
Abby nodded, and Becky climbed on the bench beside her.
“I’m impressed,” Jennie said.
“Thanks,” Amanda said. She’s more advanced than I was at her age. I think she has a talent for it. I don’t want her to burn out, so I’ve been careful not to push her. She practices without being told. She spends so much time on it, I’ve begun to worry about it. Today, with Becky, she’s been more outgoing than I’ve seen her before.
“Rance talked to her and asked her to try to make at least one friend at school. She promised, and I think that’s what she’s doing with Becky.”
“Beck likes everyone, and she talks to anyone. Right now, I think she’s in awe of Abby.”
“She is a precocious little girl. She’s a pleasure in class, though sometimes I have to slow her down a bit so others can talk,” Amanda said. “She’s doing really well in her reading.”
“I have her read to me every day,” Jennie said.
“I wish all of the mothers did that. I think some of the children only read while in school, and it shows. It’s a shame, really,” Amanda said.
“Are you going to teach Laurie piano?” Jennie asked.
“She’s a little young yet, but if she shows interest in it, I will. I hope she does. Abby practically demanded it.
“Look at her with Jenny. It warms my heart to see that.”
“I want to compliment Consuela on dinner. It was really good.”
“She’ll appreciate that,” Amanda said.
Part Two
Chapter 2
Abigail Kendall 2
The Cheyenne High School organized in 1875, and was the first public high school in Wyoming.
Abby entered the school in 1898 at the age of seventeen. Together, she and best friend, Becky Pierce, along with sixteen others began the next step in their education.
After the second day of class, Abby whispered to Becky, “This is so easy. We had all of this in Mama’s classes.”
“Better enjoy it while we can. It will get harder,” Becky said.
* * *
After three months of school, Amanda asked, “What do you think of high school?”
“It’s too easy,” Abby said. “It’s all stuff I’ve already had.”
“Just don’t get overconfident, honey. I’m really proud of how well you’re doing.
“Have you talked to any of the boys in your class.?”
“Not really. They don’t say much in class. Two have dropped out already,” she replied.
A very talented pianist, Abby had progressed beyond the point where her mother could help. She played all of the music for the church, and played solo pieces before the student body. Shy in her relations with others, she was a bold pianist, adding flourishes to the pieces she played. She could play from memory after a single sight reading of the music.
“You know I love Wyoming, but I wish there was a way for Abby to study music under a master. Her piano teacher told me she has gone as far as she can take her, and thinks she’s a prodigy.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. Are there any other teachers in Cheyenne?”
“There’s not a big selection and hers is the best of the lot.”
“What about Laramie?” he asked.
“I doubt it’s any better.”
“I’m open to any solution you come up with,” he said.
“I know, Honey. Cheyenne is not the cultural center of the world.”
“Hardly,” he laughed.
Kendall living room…
“Mama, could we order some new music? I’ve played the ones we have so many times, it’s boring. I would like to have some of the more contemporary composers like Sebelius,”
“Find what you like and we’ll order it,” Amanda said.
“Thanks Mama.”
* * *
Abby graduated at the top of her class in 1902, and began classes at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. She and Becky Pierce were roommates.
She graduated Magna Cum Laude from the university in 1905, She planned to teach in the Cheyenne Public School system beginning that fall.
Abby was rarely excited by anything. Today was different. “Mama, look at this.” She handed her mother a leaflet in the package of her latest music that had just arrived.
The leaflet described a new school that had just opened in New York City. The Institute of Musical Art was founded by Dr. Frank Damrosch, the godson of Franz Liszt and the head of music education in New York City’s public schools.
Dr. Damrosch was quoted as being convinced American musicians should not have to go abroad for advanced study. His music academy would provide an educational experience comparable to that of the established European conservatories.
“That sounds impressive, honey, but it’s not Wyoming,” Amanda said.
“I could pay for it from my trust. I haven’t used it for anything else,” Abby said.
“I want to find out more about it,” Abby said.
“Write them and ask for more information,” her mother said.
“Could I call them? I’ll pay for it.”
Rance and Cal Pierce had paid to have telephone service from Cheyenne to their ranches. “Papa, I want to call them. I’ll pay for it,” she said.
“Go ahead and call. You know we support your music.”
“Thanks, Papa. You’re the best.”
While at the university, Abby had called home frequently, but this was a first time for her to make a call of this sort. She cranked the phone and told Central she wanted to call the Institute of Musical Art in New York City.
Central called her back and said the Institute was on the line. She identified herself and told them what she wanted. The connection was not very good and she had to ask them several times in order to understand what they were saying, did get it all.
“They’ve changed their name to The Juilliard School of Music. They said, there had been such a large response, that you have to audition in order to get in. They’re going to send me the information about what is needed. I’m excited, Mama. This might be my answer.”
“I hope so, honey, I really hope so.”
A week later…
Her package arrived. She found the requirements for entrance inside, and told her mother about it. Mama, I want to do this. Will you go with me? We could visit Grandma and Grandpa.
“I would love to,” Amanda said. “I’ll talk to Papa and see if he can go. It would be like our trip twenty years ago. You probably don’t remember it, but I sure do.”
Rance was agreeable. Get the dates, and I’ll make the reservations,” he said.
Another phone call, and Abby had the dates, and the reservations were made. They were going to New York.
Part Two
Chapter 3
Abigail Kendall 3
The big 8 steel wheels spun as the engineer released the brakes. Black smoke poured from the stack and hung over the platform, in the calm Wyoming afternoon.
Their reservations were for a drawing room and three regular Pullman seats. Rance and Amanda would sleep in the drawing room, while Abby, Laurie and Michael had Pullman berths. They were on a train that would carry them to Chicago, where they would change to the train to New York City.
The noisy sound of the wheels as they rolled over the joints in the tracks reminded Amanda of her first train ride from Elmira to Cheyenne. The train they were on now was much quieter, and faster. The trip would take one day less than the original one.
The morning of Abby’s audition, Amanda asked if she was nervous. She laughed nervously, “I am,” she said. “A lot more than I expected. I really want this to happen. I could always go back and teach, but I’m not into that as much as you were. I want to be a musician so much it aches.”
“Do you want us to come with you?” Amanda asked, “Maybe lend a little moral support?”
; “It’s not necessary, Mama. If it goes poorly, then I’ll just curl up in a ball and die.”
“We’ll come, Princess. It might help to have someone there that knows you.”
“They probably won’t let you into the audition, Papa,” she said.
“That’s all right,” he said. “We’ll still be there.”
“Thanks, Papa.”
They rode in a hansom cab to the school at Fifth and 12th in Manhattan.
At the lobby desk, Abby was told Dr. Damrosch would be with her in a few minutes.
“Is it all right if my parents wait for me here?” she asked.
“Yes, but the audition will last approximately two hours,” the receptionist said.
A door opened, and a short man with a long gray beard came through. He was wearing small, round rimmed glasses. He appeared to be looking over them instead of through the lenses.
“I am Doctor Frank Damrosch, You are…” he looked at the card in his hand, “Miss Kendall?”
“Yes sir. I am Abigail Kendall. These are my parents, Rance and Amanda, my sister and brother,” Abby said.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said to Rance and Amanda. “Come with me please, Miss Kendall,” and left through the door he had entered.
“He’s rather abrupt, don’t you think?” Rance said to Amanda.
“He’s probably a very busy man, with a lot of irons in the fire,” Amanda said.
Doctor Damrosch led Abby through a warren of passageways and onto the stage of a concert hall. “How long have you been playing, Miss Kendall?” he asked, after they were seated at the small table in the center.
“Since I was five,” she replied.
“How did you start at such an early age?”
“My mother is a music teacher, and Papa gave her a Steinway upright for Christmas that year. She played and I fell in love with the instrument.
“She showed me fingering exercises, and allowed me to sit by her on the bench when she played. When I started climbing on the bench and doing the exercises by myself, she started giving me short lessons.”
“Did she make you practice?” he asked.
“Make me? She had to make me stop. I took lessons from her until she said there was nothing more she could teach me. The same thing happened with my teacher in Cheyenne. When I went to college, I took lessons in Laramie.”
Can you sight read,” he asked.
“Since I was eight,” she replied.
He rummaged through the papers, and came up with a piece of sheet music. “Are you familiar with this piece?” he asked and handed her the music.
There were no words on the paper, only the notes. She looked at it and smiled. “Yes sir,” she said. “It is Finlandia, by Sebelius. I have most of his music.”
He indicated a grand piano on the stage. “Would you play it for me please?”
“Yes sir. I would be pleased to.” She walked to the piano, adjusted the bench, flexed her fingers and began to play.
For the next hour she played. Most of the pieces, she either had or had played before. Some were unfamiliar, but she didn’t miss a note.
After the last piece, Dr. Damrosch asked, “If you are selected for admission, where would you stay?”
“I would either take an apartment, or stay in a hotel,” she said.
“Living in New York is expensive,” he replied.
“That will not be a problem sir.
“Tuition for the year is paid in advance,” he said, and is not refundable.”
“That will not be a problem either.”
“Thank you, Miss Kendall; you will be notified of my decision by mail.”
“Thank you for the opportunity to play, sir. I enjoyed it.”
He showed her back to the lobby, where her anxious family waited, and then he left the room.
“Well?” Rance asked.
“He said I would be notified of his decision by mail,” Abby said.
“What did he do?” Amanda asked.
“He asked a good many questions, like how old was I when I started, was if forced to practice? Those types of questions. He gave me a piece of sheet music, with no title and no composer, and asked if I was familiar with it. Mama, it was Finlandia. I told him, and he asked me to play. It was a beautiful grand piano and had the most wonderful sound. I played Chopin. Bach, and Beethoven pieces. He never uttered a word. Then he asked where I would stay if I was selected. He told me New York was expensive, and tuition would be paid up in advance and was not refundable. I think he was trying to frighten me then. It didn’t work. I could tell he loves music. While I was playing, his eyes were closed. I didn’t realize it, but when the lights came up, there were people in the room. No one said anything, though.”
‘Well, it’s out of my hands now. I did my best, and don’t think I made any mistakes. I’ll have to wait and see if I was good enough.
“I’m exhausted. Could we get something to eat?”
Her father put his arm across her shoulders, and said, “That’s my girl. Let’s go.
Part Two
Chapter 4
Abigail Kendall 4
The train ride to Elmira was just north of four hours, in a chair car. Amanda’s parents greeted them at the station. After the ritual handshakes, hugs, and exclamations of “Laurie is a young lady now, Michael is a handsome boy, and just look how beautiful Abby is,” the family made their way to the Taylor home.
The four day visit passed quickly, and followed by a farewell at the train station made somber by the realization it was likely the last time the Taylors would see their daughter and her family. The train left Elmira to take the Kendall’s home.
“It was a nice visit, but too short,” Amanda said to Rance.
“I hate goodbyes,” Rance said. “They mean someone is leaving, and you may never see them again.”
“It is going to be very hard when the all of the children leave,” Amanda said.
‘I may not let them leave,” Rance said.
“As if,” Laurie piped in.
“When we get home, Laurie will be at UW, Michael in his last year of high school, and no telling where Abby will be. It’s going to be lonely in that big house, just the two of us.”
* * *
Two weeks later…
The Lazy K mailbox held a letter for Abby, postmarked for Abby. “It’s postmarked New York City,” she said. I’m almost afraid to open it. What if I’m not accepted?”
“Sweetheart, if they don’t accept you, it’s their loss,” Rance said. “There is always an alternative.”
“What would that be?” Abby asked.
“Europe,” Rance said.
“I thought of that before I heard about Julliard. It would be such a major step, and so far away,” she said.
“It depends on the scale of your dream,” he said.
“Would you listen to that? My papa, the philosopher!” Abby said.
“I may not have a college degree, but I still have deep thoughts,” he laughed. “When Michael and Laurie graduate, I’ll be the only one in the family that hasn’t gone to college.”
“It’s not too late, Pops,” Laurie said.
“Right, I can just see me going back to school. Who would help me with my homework?”
“Seriously, Papa, there are courses you could take about cattle breeding, or anything that captures your fancy,” Abby said.
“Quit stalling and open your letter,” he growled.
She opened the bulky envelope and took the letter out. Her eyes closed, she sat there for a minute. Her eyes open, she looked at the letter and let out a shriek. “I’m in! I’m in! I start with the fall semester. I have to send them a bank draft for the tuition and I’m in. They’ve enclosed a listing of what they call suitable lodging.”
Abby mailed the bank draft, and called the school to let them know it was on the way. Arrangements were made for housing near the school. She would leave Cheyenne the first week of September, and begin school the following week.
“I’m really going to miss your music, Punkin and you too, of course,” Rance said.
Abby hugged him, and said, “You haven’t called me that since I was a little girl.”
“You’ll always be my little girl,” he said.
“We’ve come a long way since I found you under that bed, haven’t we? I’ve always wondered if you ever remembered the details of that day.”
“I haven’t and consider it a blessing. My first clear memory is the Christmas you gave Mama the piano.”
“I’m probably going to be calling you to play for me over the telephone,” he said.
“I will too,” she promised and hugged and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey, find your own man,” Amanda said as she walked into the room. “That one’s mine.”
“Maybe so, but he’s still my Papa.
Rance’s eyes were brimming, I’m so proud of my women,” he said. “All three of them.”
* * *
The day arrived. The four Kendall’s were at the train station to see Abby off. An abundance of tears was shed, as she boarded the train after the final call by the conductor. She stayed on the rear platform, waving until Cheyenne began to disappear. Sitting in the small compartment she wondered what was ahead for her. I’m going to be a concert pianist. Her dream was about to become a reality.
New York City…
The elderly couple that managed the building where she lived was about the same age as her mother and father.
“Would it be permissible for me to have a piano?” she asked.
“As long as it doesn’t disturb the other tenants,” the kindly gray haired landlady said, in heavily accented English. We have two other Julliard people here. You should meet them. One is a violinist and the other a soprano.”
“I’m sure I will,” Abby said.
The piano she rented was delivered the next day.
Training begins…
The path laid out for Abby included music theory classes, performance training, and more than ten concerts per year for a minimum of two years..
Abby talked to her mother after the first month. “Mama, this is intensive. There was nothing anywhere near this complex at Udub. I have worked harder this past month than I ever did before. My next performance will be next month, and they are scary. After each performance there is an in-depth critique before a panel of master musicians. My advisor says it doesn’t get easier.
Mama Was A Mail Order Bride (Mail Order Bride Series Book 14) Page 5