The old joke asks, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” The answer is “practice, practice, practice.” I am here to prove that there are other ways to get to Carnegie Hall that are easier and considerably more entertaining.
My husband Marcel and I used to visit New York City often, especially when my parents and brother settled in Midtown Manhattan after coming from Poland. Their apartment was in a 100-year-old building on 54th Street and Broadway. From their window, one could see the Ed Sullivan Theater, walk to Central Park, have dinner at the famous Russian Tea Room, and attend a concert at Carnegie Hall.
During these visits, we would often eat out in many ethnic restaurants nearby. One of our favorites was a cozy little Greek-Italian restaurant called Eleni on 8th Avenue. Inside, the walls were covered with painted murals of Greece and Italy, so real that it made you feel you were dining there. As often happened in small restaurants, the owner would come up and have a little conversation with the patrons.
One day in September 2005, after a full day of sightseeing, we went to Eleni for dinner. Unfortunately, the dinner was unsatisfactory this time. The food was barely warm, the meat was tough, and the waiter, as often happens in New York City, was arrogant. So, when the owner came by to get our opinion about the dinner, we were not “happy campers.” He apologized profusely and to our surprise whipped out two tickets from his pocket. “I hope these two tickets to Carnegie Hall will make up for the bad experience,” he said. “You have to rush because the performance starts very soon.”
Out of breath because of a fast walk, we entered the beautifully lit lobby of Carnegie Hall. It is one of the world’s finest venues for music. Throughout its history it has presented, among others, Tchaikovsky, Caruso, Mahler, Sinatra, and the Beatles.
The excitement was palpable. There were throngs of very elegant people and beautifully coiffed women. Considering that the venue has no dress code and even allows jeans with holes, they were somewhat overdressed. The excitement was caused by the performance of a new tenor, who, according to the critics, was the “new Pavarotti.” Several people tried to offer us up to $200, but we held on to our tickets. This was an adventure and a totally unexpected pleasure.
The tenor was indeed superb, singing one of Verdi's lesser-known operas. The applause was thunderous. Tired, but happy, we returned to my parents’ apartment feeling uplifted.
Situations like this one do not happen too often, so—in the meantime—if you want to get to Carnegie Hall, you better “practice, practice, practice.”
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