He did not respond verbally. Instead he began to weep.
She put her arms around him.
“Oh, Maria,” he sobbed, “I can’t play the piano anymore.”
And then he told her everything. His tragic journey that had begun at Dr. Whitney’s and ended with Dr. Weisman.
When he’d finished the story, for a long time they did nothing but cry in each other’s arms.
Finally she dried her own tears and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders.
“Now you listen to me, Daniel Rossi. As terrible as this thing is, it isn’t fatal. You’ll still have a career. You’ll still be involved in music. And most important, you’ll still be alive to be with your family. And most especially with me.
“I didn’t marry you because you could outplay Liszt. I didn’t marry you because you were a star. I married you because I loved you and I believed you when you once said that you needed me. Danny, darling, we can get through this together.” Maria kept holding him as he leaned on her shoulder, sobbing softly.
And, unlike all those audiences that clap and then go home, she would always be there.
She stood up and took his hand. “Come on, Rossi, let’s get some sleep.”
They descended the stairway arm in arm. And when they reached the second floor, she did not let go. Instead she drew him down the corridor.
“Your bedroom?” he asked.
“No, Danny. Our bedroom.”
ANDREW ELIOT’S DIARY
May 11,1978
It was ego-crushing time today. The
There were some surprises. Although, of course, I read about it last year in the papers, it was still amazing to read Danny Rossi’s entry and to see confirmed that he has actually retired from the piano. I’m in awe at the courage it must have taken for him to turn his back on all that public adoration. He’s also given up conducting in Los Angeles. And will base all his activities in Philadelphia.
Although one of the reasons he gave was that he wanted to compose more, it was evident that his primary motivation was his wish to spend more time with his wife and kids. As he put it, they’re what really matter in this life.
I’m awed by the guy’s humanity. The way he’s put his values into focus.
On the gloomy side, in addition to the handful of deaths announced, I’ve noticed that a lot of long-term marriages have lately broken up. As if one of the partners couldn’t shift his or her gears into the third decade.
I guess the Eisenhower marriages remained unchanged by the Democratic Camelot that JFK created. But probably — to keep on with the metaphor — the Nixon years made couples listen to the tapes of their relationships. To face the truth about themselves and leave.
On the bright side, several of our classmates have kids who’re freshmen.
On the dark side, my son isn’t one of them. Or maybe I should say my former son, since I haven’t heard from him at all.
Even after all this time, whenever I pick up my mail, I pray that maybe there’s a letter or a card from him. Or something. And if I see a longhaired hippie begging on the street I always give the guy at least a buck or two, hoping that wherever Andy is, somebody else’s father will be generous to him.
I can’t let myself believe that I’ve lost him forever.
Naturally, in my own report I didn’t mention that my kid’s disowned me. I simply said that I was tired of Wall Street and, in looking for a change, lucked out. I’ve been asked by the director of the new Campaign for Harvard College to come up to Cambridge and join the team that’s trying to raise three hundred and fifty million for our alma mater.
Needless to say, when Frank Harvey called me with that offer, I jumped at the chance. Not only to leave the concrete capital of all my sorrows, but to start life anew in the only place I’ve ever been happy.
Basically, my job involves contacting members of our Class, reestablishing our old rapport, and, after due ingratiation, getting them to cough up big for Harvard.
Since I really believe in what I’m doing, I don’t look at it as selling. It’s more akin to missionary work. As an added bonus, I’ve been put on the committee that’s planning our big Twenty-fifth Reunion (June 5, 1983)! It’s said to be a high point of our lives — and I’m entrusted to make sure it is.
Naturally, I spoke to Lizzie before giving Harvard my consent. She’s growing up to be a super person —I guess no thanks to me. Although the fact that Mummy lives so far away has, I think, been a help. I see her several times a month and feel we’re getting closer now.
Being a romantic (like her dad), she keeps urging me to find a wife. I kind of make a joke of it. But every morning when I look at that one lonely toothbrush in the glass, I know she’s right.
Maybe being back at Harvard I’ll regain my confidence.
But then I’m not sure I ever had any.
Alexander Haig did not win the Republican nomination in 1980. But Ronald Reagan, who did, and was subsequently elected President, chose him as Secretary of State.
Haig, then head of United Technologies in Hartford, immediately called his fellow Connecticut resident, George Keller, and offered him the government’s second-highest foreign-policy position — Deputy Secretary of State.
“How soon could you start, old buddy?” Haig asked.
“Well, anytime,” said George elatedly. “But Reagan doesn’t even take office till January.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to need you before then to prepare for my confirmation hearing with the Foreign Relations Committee. There are some guerrillas in the senatorial jungle who’ve been waiting years to take a shot at me.”
Haig was not exaggerating. For his examination lasted five days. Questions were fired at him from every angle. All the ghosts of Watergate were unearthed. Not to mention Vietnam, Cambodia, the NSC wiretaps, Chile, the CIA, and the Nixon pardon.
As he sat beside his future boss, occasionally whispering a word or two, George felt the sleeping demons in him start to wake. During his own upcoming confirmation hearing, would some hostile senator or young ambitious congressman discover his little “favor” for the Russians long ago?
But his worries turned out to be in vain. Since the committee vented so much spleen at Haig, all residual anti-Nixon animus was spent. George was not only eloquent and poised but witty. And approved by unanimous vote.
The Haig-Keller foreign-policy team started strongly and impressively, fulfilling Reagan’s promise to put new muscle into the American leadership.
And yet, paradoxically, George found the Secretary of State to be somewhat insecure in private. At the end of one long work session, George felt comfortable enough to broach the matter.
“Al, what’s eating you?”
