Dear Marion,

If I write to you before receiving your answer to my
most recent letter, it's because I feel a need to put
my mental house in order, - and putting on paper what's
on my mind helps me do just that.

Nathaniel's second concert this afternoon, like the first
one yesterday, was a triumphant success. The concert hall, -
the multiuse room at the Senior Center which served that purpose
was filled to capacity with about 150 listeners, an audience
most of which was past retirement age.  At a rehearsal Margaret
overheard one of the ladies preparing senior lunches in a remote
section of the hall, confess: I don't like the music, but I love
the energy. The audience which had come to hear Mozart and
Beethoven, however, was more appreciative. They loved it. They
were sophisticated and knowledgeable, familiar with the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, amazed at the Nathaniel's orchestra's 
unimpeachable performance and enchanted by Nathaniel's obvious
empathy with the music. It's hard to imagine that this event
was anything other than a turning point in Nathaniel's life.
He is already planning a repeat performance next summer,
intending to establish the tradition of a Belmont Summer Music
Festival.  For me, understandably, at age 80, with a faltering
memory, a year seems too long a delay. I suggested to Nathaniel
that a Christmas concert might be very rewarding, and was
pleasantly surprised when he seemed receptive to my suggestion.

For the three rehearsals I availed myself of my grandfather
privilege of sitting behind the orchestra where I could see
the conductor's face rather than sitting behind the conductor's
back in one of the many empty seats for the audience.  Using
a somewhat imperfect camera, I took as many as 118 digital
pictures of Nathaniel at work. From earliest childhood,
Nathaniel has liked to clown. As recently as last month,
I took pictures of him on parade wearing an empty carton of
Quaker Chewy Granola bars like a bishop's mitre. (cf.
attachment 434.JPG.) I find him wonderfully childlike and
spontaneous. I interpret his conducting as the apotheosis
of his clowning, as the translation of an uninhibited
immediacy into the realm of the spirit. Much of the time
while conducting, he was smiling, (531.JPG, 563.JPG)
reminding me of the ecstasy with which I frequently
respond to music. In pensive moments (575.JPG, 576.JPG)
as well, when I looked into his face, I saw a mirror
image of the adolescent that still lives within me.
My narcissistic meditation was unexpectedly confirmed
this afternoon, at a post-concert outdoor supper for
the musicians which Laura had organized, when the mother
of one of the players who had also attended the rehearsals
told of having observed a striking similarity in Nathaniel's
facial expression as he conducted, and mine sitting in
back of the orchestra as I listened to his music.

A remarkable facet of Nathaniel's achievement is his
assembling a highly qualified orchestra, all of whom
played without remuneration. Nonetheless, my realistic
assessment is that Nathaniel's powers of persuasion 
require sooner or later to be supplemented with cash;
and to this end I am about to start drafting for him
the charter for a 26 USC 503(c) tax exempt non-profit
corporation which would provide financial support for
future concerts.  I was successful in organizing such
an entity in 1980. I called it the Cambridge Glaucoma
Foundation. The project was technically successful,
but it failed because of my reluctance to promote myself
and my reluctance to solicit funds. Nathaniel's situation
is different.  Publicity and showmanship are inseparable
from the conductor's calling, and judging from the
unsolicited donations of today's audience, obtaining the
financial assistance of admirers should not be a problem.

Maybe all this is more than enough self-promotion for
a single letter. I'm sympathetic if you turn away in
disdain from my vanities; but false modesty is no virtue,
and one has no choice but to do the best one can, even
if the best is not good enough.

Jochen