John F. Myslinski | “A Brief Encounter with Leonard Bernstein”
John F. Myslinski
“With all the publicity and press surrounding Bradley Cooper’s release of the movie Maestro—based on the life of Leonard Bernstein—I dealt with a flood of memories concerning my very brief friendship with Leonard. It is hard for me to believe, after almost 50 years, that this great legend and I share a brief chapter in my life.
It was in the early 70s. I was stationed at Cranwell Preparatory School, teaching as a Jesuit. The year was actually 1971, and that summer, before classes began, I arrived at Cranwell to settle in and begin preparing for my first teaching assignment. I really had very little to do, so I had a lot of free time (and you know what they say about having too much free time… something I think about as "the devil’s workshop") to take advantage of my love for the Berkshires, having lived there for two years at Shadowbrook, the Jesuit Novitiate.
It’s hard for me to remember how I initially made contact—or how they initially made contact with me. I vaguely recall that several Jesuit priests from Cranwell and I were having drinks at the bar in the Old Log Cabin restaurant on Route 7 in Lenox. It was a popular ‘watering hole’ at that time. One of the priests noticed a group of individuals at a table and thought he recognized someone he knew from Tanglewood. He (as was his habit after several drinks) walked—or maybe better put, staggered—over to that table, introduced himself, and informed the crowd from Tanglewood that we were all Jesuit priests. In those days, that was all it took to spark their interest.
As I remember, nearly 50 years later, they joined us for drinks at the bar, and one of them—who had been the Managing Director of Tanglewood and was now Leonard Bernstein’s manager—was included in that group. A few days later, I received a phone call from Harry Kraut, Leonard Bernstein’s manager. To be honest, I vaguely remembered him and certainly not much of our conversation that evening at the Log Cabin. He had a proposal that he wanted to run by me and was wondering if we could talk over a cup of coffee.
We spent a very enjoyable hour or so enjoying the beautiful view on the veranda of Cranwell Hall, the Jesuit residence. To this day, I still enjoy coffee on that same spot—now called, not Cranwell Hall, but Wyndhurst Manor. I actually enjoyed Harry. He knew the whole history of Tanglewood, a lot about the Berkshires, and, most importantly, he had a good sense of humor.
The reason for his visit, as he eventually explained, was that Bernstein was in the process of writing—or rather, composing—a "musical expression of a modern crisis of faith." He called this work in progress The Mass. Bernstein was Jewish, and he wanted some help with one section of his Mass—the Credo. He was hoping that he could "pick the brain" of a priest, preferably a Jesuit, to explain and clarify the theological implications and historical significance of what we, as Catholics, call "The Apostle’s Creed," which is recited at every Mass throughout the universal Church.
I was certainly flattered that Harry had recommended me to Bernstein, but my ego—not being "as developed" as it became years later—allowed me to make a very honest and correct decision. Since I wasn’t ordained and I didn’t have any theology studies behind me, I didn’t feel I would be much help to Leonard Bernstein in this project. Bernstein, at the time, was meeting with various notable Jesuits like Dan Berrigan. I did suggest a Jesuit priest from New York who was a known liturgist and published frequently in Catholic journals. His name was John Gallen, S.J. Because of that recommendation, he and Bernstein met in Washington, D.C., at the Watergate Hotel. Gallen spent a weekend—or whatever—with Bernstein explaining and clarifying this particular part of the Mass.
John Gallen was eager to let the world know it was he who was advising Bernstein. He wrote several articles for America Magazine in 1972 on this project "he shared" with Bernstein. Harry Kraut called to thank me for the contact and invited me to join him at Tanglewood as guests of Bernstein as he conducted Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis. Always, to this day, one of my favorites. I might have—I don’t remember—mentioned it in passing to Harry "somewhere along the way," as they say.
Following the performance, I was also invited to join Harry and Bernstein at a small reception that afternoon that Madame Koussevitzky, Serge Koussevitzky’s widow, was hosting in Bernstein’s honor at her estate, Seranak. I was familiar with Seranak because I had spent two years at Shadowbrook, the Jesuit Novitiate. Her estate was located about a mile up Baldhead Mountain Rd., almost directly behind Shadowbrook, facing south, with an overwhelming overlook of Lake Mahkeenac and the Monument Mountain range of hills far below Stockbridge.
It was a beautiful evening. Harry and I were standing on the patio with a magnificent view, including the Novitiate. Madame Koussevitzky made her way over, intrigued by this very young "priest" and probably wondering why I was included in this very select group. She was very gracious, and I liked her immediately. She told me how much her famous husband, Serge, loved this grand old Berkshire mansion. He was a Russian-born conductor and composer, also known for his long tenure as Music Director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra from 1924 to 1949. In 1940, he founded and left an ongoing legacy called The Berkshire Music Center at Tanglewood. It was a new and wholly American concept—bringing together over 300 of the most talented student and professional composers, performers, and writers to interact and learn from each other over the course of a summer.
Bernstein told me that afternoon that he was one of the very first students to be accepted. Even with all his success, he seemed uniquely proud of that distinction. And it was Koussevitzky who took the young Leonard Bernstein under his care and significantly contributed to the legend the young musician became. Bernstein was indeed his protégé.
I told Madame K that I was a Jesuit and that I had spent two years living at Shadowbrook. She told me why Serge wanted to buy this magnificent building and property. It is a great line that I have used so many times ever since that day at Seranak. She looked at me, then at Shadowbrook, and, with a bit of a smile, said: "Serge always, always wanted to look down at the Jesuits."
I have always loved telling that story from almost fifty years ago!
As we were leaving Seranak, Bernstein was in a very talkative mood—probably boosted by the private supply of his favorite scotch that Madame K reserved just for him. As a matter of fact, I do remember that all the guests were drinking either red or white wine—the only "beverage" being served to guests. But I noticed only Bernstein seemed to exclusively enjoy something different. Harry, almost in a whisper, informed me of the "private bar" stocked with his favorite scotch and always maintained for him by his dear friend.
And so, from Bernstein himself, I heard the story of how the present—and seemingly to many, the only—Madame Koussevitzky became Madame K. He said most people didn’t realize the great Serge had three wives. The first, a young Russian ballerina, whom he divorced shortly after their marriage. The second, responsible for financing much of Serge’s early career. They were married for many years, and when she died in 1947, Serge married the third—and by then, the most well-known—Madame K, his second wife’s niece. Bernstein said he considered her one of his closest friends.”