Playing For Lunch With Mrs. Fine
I was living in Los Angeles, struggling to make a living, when Mrs. Fine contacted me. I went to her specious home in West Hollywood where she met me with the warmth and familiarity of a discredited aunt from your large family. The one you loved the most. Immediately she served me a cup of black tea with lemon and sugar, and lead me to a beautiful baby grand piano in the corner of an expansive bright sunny backroom of her home. She sat down and said, “Let’s play something”.
I remember this session like it was yesterday. I began with the Czardas by Monti, moved on to a couple of Fritz Kreisler pieces, and finished with Begin the Beguine by Cole Porter. Mrs. Fine accompanied me like she had been doing so for years. There was no sheet music in front of her, yet she knew the accompaniment to each piece of music I played. What she did not know she improvised without missing a beat. She was amazing.
I do not exactly remember how or when I was introduced to Mrs. Fine. She was an incredibly animated imposing woman, large in every sense. She did not just enter a room so much as she would make an entrance. She was always well dressed, high heels, a Hollywood tan with heavy eye make-up and spoke still with a hint of her Brooklyn youth. And Mrs. Fine was an accomplished pianist. She told me that in the 1950s and 1960s she worked as an accompanist for Radio and Television studios. As a young woman in NY, she even performed with NYC Jewish Peoples Chorus. “I was more political back then” she said with a smile.
After we played. She turned to me and said, “Well. We got a program. You available this Sunday?” I requested a little more information. So, we moved to her formal living room and sat down.
“Look” she says, “I’m semi-retired these days. I play a little, teach a little. You play the kind of music people will know and appreciate.” She went on to explain that she plays during lunchtime most Sundays and some weekdays at various Jewish Centers and Retirement Communities. She would perform some well-known classical and Yiddish music pieces and every now and then bring in a guest artist to “share the spotlight”.
I asked her what she pays. She gave me a look. Set down her cup and saucer and looked at me. “This is a great opportunity for you. Many people will hear your music. See how wonderful you play. You’re a novelty waiting to be discovered and I can help with that.”
I asked again and after a moment of hesitation and thought she said “$25 a performance and probably a meal if we play at lunch.”
Times being what they were, I took the offer.
Los Angeles in 1980 lacked adequate public transportation. I lacked a car. So, I usually had to take a cab if I could not get a ride or borrow a car from a friend or family member. A cab ride was an expense that cut deeply into what I was paid. After a performance I sometimes had only $5 or $10 left. Once after one such gig, I was left with less than $3 but made sure I ate a decent lunch they served at the Senior Center.
My last performance with Mrs. Fine was a wet late spring day at a Jewish Senior Center in Reseda, CA. I borrowed a car from a friend to get there and back. One had to experience Mrs. Fine in these performance situations. People loved her and she acted if she personally knew everyone who approached her. She was in performance mode the minute she stepped into a room and her personality and booming voice reached every inch of space. After we played, we would join the audience for either a coffee and nosh or a full lunch. Either way I was appreciative to get something to eat and paid as well. On this particular day I was in the hallway when the Events Coordinator at the Center handed me an envelope and asked me to give it to Mrs. Fine. As it was not sealed, I looked inside to see a check for $175.00. I felt the anger welling inside of me. Here I was struggling to make ends meet and I felt she was making a killing, especially as each performance she began to feature me as the soloist.
I took the envelope over and handed it to her. She quickly stashed it in her purse and we both made our way out the door. In the parking lot on the way to our cars I asked her about the amount she was receiving for each gig.
“That’s a question you should not be asking me. Don’t you think?”
“I do.” I replied. “You are being paid really well to play and I am not. I think you could share a little more with me.”
Mrs. Fine stopped and turned and looked directly at me. “My experience, my time, my reputation, is what gets me hired. You are coming along with me a sideman. Nothing more. I pay you what I think you deserve.” With that she handed me an envelope with my $25 and walked away.
Two days later Mrs. Fine called to see if I could play that Thursday at noon. I told her not for $25. There was a moment of silence and then she said that is too bad and hung up. I did not hear from her again.
As I wrote in a previous blog, I struggled in LA and left there broke and despondent. There were times in my career when I felt under compensated. There were times someone would lie to me about a gig and cheated me of what I was due. I learned from these situations and seemed to come out okay in the end. In hindsight I did benefit from playing and performing with Mrs. Fine. In fact, upon returning to NYC I started performing at Senior Citizen Centers around the five boroughs and parts of Long Island. Public transportation was much better. I was paid more than Mrs. Fine and no longer felt the need to stay for meals. And I paid my accompanist very well.
Randy Stein
March 22, 2020
