Lina Lalandi

 

As often happens, I discovered much more about my first boss Lina Lalandi after she died than when I knew her. For example she had modeled for Chanel and had hidden Allied airmen under her bed in Athens during the war.

Lina taught us how not to do everything. Her way of putting together a programme for her 'English Bach Festival' (you couldn't speak of 'organising) was to call every prominent musician in the world from numbers in her little black book about 3 or 4 months before the opening concert and ask them if they had any availability in the period. Of course 90% did not but of the 10% who didn't end the conversation there she would invite to give a concert, adding that she didn't have any money.

Another 90% of the respondents would put the phone down then and there, she then added that in the case of an artist of their standing and importance the festival would also ask if they migh be able to give a donation.

The astonishing thing was that there were a few artsts who went along with this. My first experience of concert management was of Henryk Szering and a student of his, Jean-Pierre Wallez with the Northern Sinfonia at Blenheim Palace. 

There occurred a potentially disastrous event which I am still proud today of having diffused, green as I was. An afternoon rehearsal had been called for 2.30 but Szering was enjoying a lunch at The Bear at Woodstock, just outside the gates of Blenheim Palace with the lovely Annabelle Whitestone who was working with the Van Wyck agency representing Szering at that time. The lunch was clearly leisurely and enjoyable because a message was sent to the effect that the rehearsal would begin half an hour later at 3.00. 

I told the orchestral manager who informed the players who were perfectly happy with the news. At about 2.50. I spotted the Napoleonic Szering with his overcoat over his shoulders (always a sign of danger) walking in stately manner up the long gravel dive towards the imposing flight of steps up to the palace with the much taller vision of ,loveliness, Annabelle at his side. I went to greet the maestro and was joined by the orchestral porter/van driver of the Northern Sinfonia who stood with his arms akimbo, fixing the great man with a beady stare. As soon as he was in earshot the N.S. man said in a broad Geordie accent 'Yer late!' 

No one had thought to tell him about the change of rehearsal time. Szering stood as if thunderstruck at the lese majeste of this underling. At that moment I had an inspiration and rushing to clasp his hand told the great man that we had secured the actual room where Sir Winston Churchill was born as his dressing room. This seemed to distract the maestro and I ushered him into the relevant room which by chance was right next to the great doors of the palace. In fact as many will know, this was the downstairs toilet and indeed it had been the room where Churchill first saw the light of day.

The concert was a great success and a photo even appeared on the front page of The Times. I like to think it could have been all so different without my brilliant inspiration. Unfortunately, such occurrences didn't happen often in my subsequent career.