Do you hear music playing in your head?
If so, it would be wise to carry a pen and paper. Alan Hovhaness heard music in his head and thought everyone did, although this may not be common, subconsciously you may very well be a great composer yourself.
My name is Bill Holst, I am a retired Avionics System Engineer who worked in the aircraft industry for thirty-eight years, with minimal musical background and knowledge. Little did I know that the elderly gentleman invited for a family dinner in the summer of 1973 would share and influence the remainder of my life. This blog is not about discussing and understanding Hovhaness music, this blog is about sharing some short stories about Alan Hovhaness and my mother Hinako Hovhaness, before they are forgotten and lost.
The book Alan Hovhaness: Unveiling One of the Great Composers of the 20th Century, was the challenge my mother Hinako Hovhaness faced to open the door to the personal side of Alan Hovhaness. Most classical music enthusiasts know some of his compositions and a brief underlying of the thought behind his music. The book however allows the reader to understand Hovhaness’s childhood upbringing, struggles with being ridiculed about his “ghetto music”, and following his own vision, although great resistance from his peers. This blog contains personal stories that were told to me by Alan and/or Hinako Hovhaness, or experienced with them.
Boston Short Cut
This story takes place in Boston sometime in the very late 1930’s. Alan had been playing the organ at the Armenian Church and working on one of his compositions. It was late at night and dark as he left the church. Alan decided to take the quicker route home, which unfortunately required taking a short cut through one of the back alleys in one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. On this particular night, it was a risk he was willing to take.
As he was about halfway through the alley, he suddenly made out some dark figures jumping out from the shadows and appearing before him. Alan quickly calculated if he was fast enough to turn around and run for the open street and get help before these thug-like creatures could catch him. As he turned, he noticed that the alley opening behind him was now also occupied by the same type of individuals.
As they surrounded Alan, the leader of the group took charge and forced Alan against the brick alley wall. The leader offered Alan an option, his money or his life. Suddenly a gang member challenger stepped forward and confronted the leader to claim his turn at a victim. The leader was not happy with this unexpected interruption while he was performing his business, and without further notice a fight broke out between the two, to decide who was the superior hoodlum. Now all of gang members’ attention was on the leader and challenger’s fight, as Alan stood alone against the brick wall. Suddenly a small voice in Alan’s head said “Now, you go”. Alan took a quick look around and noticed the path out of the alley was clear and he exited as quickly as possible. This was the last time Alan took that short cut home.
Shakespear Concessions in Whistler
In the Summer of 1995, Alan Hovhaness, my mother (Hinako Hovhaness), grandmother (Jun Fujihara), and my Family (Coleen, Xenia, William Jr., Gregory, Tracy and I) decided to take a weeklong vacation from Seattle, through Vancouver to Whistler British Columbia. During that time of year, the weather in that region is very warm and sunny and perfect for a drive. Therefore, my mother decided to take the scenic drive to Whistler, while I followed in our family car. Whistler is known as a skiing town, and thus not so populated during the summer months. When we got there, we went directly to our hotel, which was very nice, and we acquired 3 separate rooms. One for Alan and my mother, one for my grandmother and one for my family. That night we went to a Thai restaurant, and everyone was disappointed with the food. The next day we took the ski lifts to the top of the ski runs and did some hiking towards the top of the mountain. Once we came back down into the village, we were all exhausted and hungry.
The village was lined with small shops, restaurants, and hotels. The main street also had a lower level that was cool and comfortable. We found a large concession area that seemed to be secluded and open with only one entrance/exit. There was no one in that concession area, so we had the place to ourselves. We ordered lunch and sat at a large cafeteria type table that was perfect for a large family. As we were eating our lunch, a group of about 10-12 construction workers entered the concession area and got inline to order. The large number of construction workers blocked the entrance/exit. As they waited in line to order they noticed our family a few rows over from where they were ordering. Hot, tired and hungry, they decided to make suggestive language and whistle at my mother and Coleen. Ridiculously outnumbered and cornered we pretended to ignore the cat calls, until it was just too much. At the time Alan being approximately 84 years old and walking with a cane suddenly jumped to his feet and raised his cane over his head in a very aggressive manner and yelled “I shake my spear at ignorance”. We got up and tried to restrain Alan from making any further advancements, as the construction workers looked in astonishment. I’m not sure what was going through their minds, Alan’s threat during certain defeat? Possibly a crazy man on the loose, or perhaps they knew Alan’s expertise with the Japanese Death Blow? Whatever it was, it certainly worked as there were no additional incidents, and we escaped the concession area with our lives.
Monk vs. Nun
After graduating from high school, and after a failed rental agreement with friends, I moved in and lived with Alan and my mother for about two years. Luckily our rooms were located on the other side of the house, and remarkably, Alan and I became very close. I recall Alan saying frequently to my mother, “Give Bill money”, and my mother would respond with, “No, what has he done to deserve money?”. Very rarely would Alan and my mother argue, however one argument stands out in my mind.
One night Alan and my mother were arguing bitterly, but I cannot recall what the subject was (probably about giving me money). At the crescendo of the argument, Alan declared that he was leaving to become a Buddhist monk, my mother responded that she would become a nun. Abruptly, Alan stormed out the door into the night, probably on a long walk to Tibet. I spent the next few minutes calming my mother down, then headed out to my car to find Alan. Without any idea which direction Alan would head, I spent a couple hours searching the surrounding neighborhood. Finally, I located Alan, and it took a few minutes to convince him to get into the car. When we got home, my mother had already gone to bed, and Alan headed in the direction of the bedroom.
The next morning as I headed for the kitchen, I found that Alan and my mother were already up. Alan sitting at the table drinking his orange juice and my mother behind the stove preparing his scrambled eggs, as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred the night before.
