It was so fun every time Dad brought out the records to play. We heard Jay and the Americans, Harry Belafonte, Tijuana Brass, Beethoven's 6th symphony, Gospel quartets, Tommy Dorsey, soundtracks from Guys and Dolls, Oliver, Camelot, Music Man, and many others. As I got a little older and perhaps a little more sophisticated (whatever that means!), we heard Scheherazade, Brahms First Symphony, Mozart Horn Concertos, Maynard Ferguson, Woody Herman, Mannheim Steamroller, Bill Watrous, and Barry Tuckwell recordings. But inevitably, during family listening times, Dad would pull out two fun recordings: Gossamer Wump and Florence Foster Jenkins. I still find Gossamer Wump insanely funny and ironically musically advanced. In a way, however, the greatest laughs were reserved for Florence Foster Jenkins, the laughingstock of the musical world.
It was an old record, showing her in a silly angel looking costume. On the back was the story of her life and the famed recording that took place in Carnegie Hall. As a child in a musical family, I recognized at an early age that the voice was off-key and lacked in quality on many levels. The poor diction, awful tone quality, guttural attacks, inaccurate note placement, and shockingly bad interpretation of the musical lines made its way into my memory, resulting in continual humor. In a strange way, the familiarity with the bad, enhanced the good, helping shape me into a musician with high standards of performance. Although an instrumentalist more than a vocalist, I have worked diligently to avoid being laughed at or accused of having low standards of excellence. Always in the back of my mind, I did not want to be, nor do I still want to become Florence Foster Jenkins. The name alone typified humor, poor performance, musical disaster, and finding false joy at the awful noise. It was fun to imagine the musical joke known as Florence Foster Jenkins.
But all that changed this past Friday night when I saw the movie. Outstanding film with excellent acting, line delivery, music, accuracy, and historically portrayed. Bittersweet presentation with a nice balance of humor, confusion, human foibles, and character growth. In the midst, we find characters we like and those we don't. The problem is that suddenly the brunt of my humor and a strong, albeit negative, influence on my career, became a real person with real emotions, challenges, confusions, insecurities, false confidence, energy, fear, and all the qualities that make us human.
A child prodigy on the piano, Florence married at a young age only to have her husband give her syphilis. Defying medical odds, she lived with the disease all the way to her death at the age of 76. When her husband died, he left her in good financial condition which she used to live comfortably while being a generous patron of the arts and the musical society. Loving music but unable to continue to play the piano due to an accident, she turned to singing. Voice lessons and contacts with famous people led her to have an inflated view of her own talent. Unable to tell her the truth, her friends and acquaintances fed her own fragile but desperate desire to be known as a great singer.
Her charm, her positive demeanor, her love of the arts, and her ability to spread good cheer likely caused much of the falsehood and deferment that was offered to her. Although conjecture, it is also possible that the syphilis affected the nerve center in her brain that caused a lack of discernment and self-awareness. Whatever the outside and inside influences, Florence Foster Jenkins was a very poor singer who thought she was outstanding. Funny, yes indeed, but not really. Her sold out concert in Carnegie Hall was filled with those who laughed inwardly and cheered outwardly. The one critic who told the truth destroyed her and she died within a month of the concert. Would hiding the truth have been preferred? Perhaps.
Do I regret the laughs? Mostly yes. Was I laughing at her expense...yes in a way. Was my joy at her terrible singing, sincerely joy? Maybe so. But now, these many years later, I no longer can laugh with any kind of sincerity. After all, she may have been quirky, but she supported the arts. Mostly she was a special person in many ways and it is time to put aside the laughs and embrace the great qualities.
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