 It's a very good point. In fact, it was very appropriate because right after Labouin, last Wednesday and Thursday, when I saw Labouin, saying that Mimi was there, because that of this waltz was very impressive. What was that other song that was down there? Noblesseigneur from Les Huguenaux by Mara Diaz. It's not, unfortunately, it's not an opera very much, because it's got this lyric color to roll all the way through, you know, and absolutely not too many. It's almost a dramatic color tour, a lyric color tour, that particular aria. It's like the Hamlet. It's like the mad scene from Hamlet, the lyric color tour, which is about 27 pages long and a vicious thing. Yeah, well actually, you know, that record was a demo record. I don't remember now. Somebody said to me, I should take a demo record over to whatever which what, and took Shermer at that time on their 45th Street store in New York. Yeah, they had up on the mezzanine, they had a whole bunch of recording studios and rehearsal studios, if you wanted. And I couldn't get a hold of either of my accompanists that I used. So I dashed in there, there were always accompanists available, and we didn't even have a chance to go through the arias. So I just recorded it cold with this unknown pianist, particularly in the second one. I was doing this try to get him to go a little faster, because if it's too, the tempo is too slow, it's very difficult to make your breath, you know, because you learn at a certain tempo. So it was not a finished record, and I have no idea what it was for, because in those days you just see we didn't have these little tape recorder things. So you popped in, made a demo record, you know, and what it was for. And I had quite a few other records, but sadly it seems to be the, or maybe I shouldn't say perversity of movers, but records and books and things like that somehow seem to get separated, you know, from the rest of the shipment. I had three wooden boxes, oh, they were about this large and about maybe this thick, of records. And it said they were standing upright and they were packed according to what the movers insisted. But then my stuff was put in storage. Well, the storage people told me that anything that was marked records and paintings, stuff like that, went into a separate place, particularly records, where it was cold, you know, because if it was in a warm room or next to something that might be giving off heat or whatever, they, you know, they get warpy. So when I had my personal things and my metal, it wasn't a steamer, it was larger than a steamer. That didn't come and I got three wooden cases of records. But the middle case, one of the cases was not mine. There was stuff in there I never heard of and where mine went, I don't know. So that's about the last, the only record that I have, personal record, I had records that were made much later than that. And the only one I was able to salvage because the others, Lord knows where they went. There are people, relatives and friends around the country who have tapes of my singing. And actually a cousin of mine who lives up in Oregon just called me a couple of weeks ago because when I moved from over there there, my personal, what do you call it, a dress book and all that kind of thing, I don't know where it is, where they are. Because I had four dear friends who helped move and it was arm load by arm load out of that building into this one. They knew nothing about music and it took ten days as it was. And arm load from one got put on top of somebody else and the next person, you know, and that's why this stack is still sitting here. But these things, I just, where in the world, because I couldn't, you know, I was trying to keep my business going. I was over here because my, the one fellow, Mike was sort of supervising the whole situation and he wanted me over here sometimes. Where do you want these shelves put or so forth? He built the shelves. And, you know, I couldn't say, well, put that bunch here because one person would get, one fellow would get from this side of the shop and the other one might be over here, this one down in the basement. But my personal address book, so I couldn't get a hold of my cousin. And fortunately they called because they had been sending me, at Christmas they always send a letter, you know, and they had been returned. So my cousin happened to be in Portland and she looked into San Francisco telephone directory and saw that the music stand was on Linden because they had called information, of course information won't give any addresses, you know, which is so silly. Meaning if it's printed in the book, what's the harm of giving me address, you know, they won't. When did you get into sheet music? When did you start selling sheet music? Well, you've been doing it for 30 years? No, about 27 now. Actually June this year would be 27. Well, I came out here from New York. Actually I was just a kind of wit through the end of my rope because several things in my attempt to get into the med I think I told you about Stieber upsetting that, which was a crushing blow. And then... You sang in opera though, you sang at the Mooney in St. Louis and... Yeah, yeah. That was after that? I sang, oh yeah. No, no, no, I sang in St. Louis before the med audition attempt. Anyway... So you just give us, when you walked out of his studio, did you just give up singing at that point? Well, I left the Alt House studio. No, no, no, then I went into club work because I'd done every other phase. I'd done oratorio and musical shows, opera, you know, concert, cruise ships, the whole bit. And then I'd had a couple of crushing blows. Erno Rapé, who was musical director of the really city of Music Hall, had gotten together four soloists and a backup singing group and an orchestra. And we were to go on a 72-city tour. Wow. Which was going to take, if we were going to start at the end of October and would go pretty much, you know, over the winter. And my manager called me, we'd signed the contract, everything was all set. Even had, I think we'd had the club pictures taken already, I'm sure we had, because it was just a few days before we were to leave. And my manager called me and told me I'd better sit down and Erno Rapé died of heart attack last night. Oh, God. Oh, because you see, the auditioning is done two times a year, pretty largely, for practically everything, large affairs of things, August, July and August, and January and February. And so here's the end of October. Now what the hell? You know, here's the whole winter coming up. Well, Bill Taylor was my manager and he was excellent. He said, don't worry, we'll find some things. I said, yes, but Bill, my God, I've turned down other things. I've, you know, wound up and closed out this, that and the other thing. And he said, well, I guess all right, we'll work it out. And by this time I had more or less disposed of my husband. I didn't do him in. But had he was not there, so I, we were not divorced yet, but he was not under foot, at least. Then before the summer, yeah, the summer before that, the rat pay tour, ordinarily in the summer in New York, you get out of town, you know, which I usually did in some form or another. Chevrolet was going to put on a summer replacement show for one of their regular hour, whatever it was. And there were two soloists of us, tenor and myself, and a backup group, and the orchestra. We had gone in on one of the hottest days in May that I ever saw in New York City. The humidity and temperature, I think, were both 120. It was dreadful. Court CBS was air conditioned. But we had to take formal gowns, a formal dress in, and to have the pub pictures taken, you know. We had signed contracts. Everything was all set. Chevrolet decided they were just going to put on a dance orchestra. Well, people said, well, why don't you sue Chevrolet? I said sue, Chevrolet. We love insignificant. I said sue, Chevrolet. You know, that's ridiculous. So there was a summer. And then they had this big tour thing. And then the follow, I guess it was the following year, the med audition, I said, this is it. I've had it up with this racket. So, and as I say, my marriage had gone on the rocks. And I would just set up with a whole damn thing. Well, I did club work, which I had done along the way to begin with and off and on. And I just decided I'm going to get out of this town. See, I'm a Gemini and we like riding. And it really was getting down to the point you learn more songs, more arias, go on the tours, you know, come back, learn more songs, more arias, and so on. And that's routine. And I wanted to change this here. I wanted to clear my head. So I sublet my apartment. And that's why a lot of my stuff, you see, got separated, got went to storage and was put in storage in one of my closets and so forth. And I put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, packed a small bag and took off. Well, fortunately, I brought things practically all over the whole country. So I went to North Carolina, where I had a cousin, University of North Carolina, yes, in Chapel Hill. Yeah, her husband was a professor there. And then I had a sister living in Texas, San Antone. And whatever means of traveling was available that I took. And I ended up out here because I have relatives all up and down the coast. And two sisters out here, one in Oregon and one in Washington State. My grandmother lived in Washington State. I have aunts and uncles all over the place on both sides of my family, LAA and what have you. So I ended up here. And I liked it immediately. I liked to climb it because I think I arrived here late May or something. You've been in 1959, wouldn't you? Yeah. And I thought, well, I might stay a while. And you've been here ever since. Well, practically, yeah. I did, after a year, I thought, well, I'll go back and see if, you know, the bug is still kicking, the music bug. Well, you know, Manhattan is a very small town, right in the heart of Manhattan, 42nd Street up to 57th, 59th, actually. And from 7th over to 5th, well, 3rd, actually, because CBS is over there. But in that small area where everything takes place, you know, you see everybody. It's like a small town, you know everybody. And of course, I'm walking up Broadway. And, you know, right then I gave myself three weeks. But right then I began to say, This has actually been here for about a year or so. Yeah. And I just, but I said, no, I'll see my friends, you know, go around. Well, who do I run into but my manager? Now, I had to leave and not tell him because I knew Bill. He would do, you know, he'd say, no, no, no. And I know, we've been through this together and we'll work it out and blah, blah, blah, you know. And I knew I just had to make a clean break and not tell him, which was in a way kind of cool. But he just practically collapsed. Where have you been? What have you done? Come on and be at lunch. And we went in and he said, look, I can book you. I said, no, Bill, you want to know something? It might be booked. So I stayed ten days instead of three weeks. And I came back here. I was not sure what I was going to do. I decided I would coach, you know. Voice coach? Voice coach. And actually I did some piano coaching because I'd had twelve years of piano. So I did know a little bit about piano, too. But it was basically a voice. And then I started asking around it by this time. I knew quite a few musicians around here. And I said, you have a used music store. What's that? I said, well, what it says. It's music that people no longer use or maybe somebody in the family has passed on and they have it, you know, in the attic or the piano bench or closet or whatever. And most times they often throw it out because nobody in the family wants it, you know. Well, I never heard of such a thing. Well, I kept yacking about it so much that finding one, well, I think he's, is Billy now? Yeah, I think he's president of the Distance Union. He said, well, if it's a great idea, why don't you start one? Well, I had put away about fifteen hundred dollars that I just pretended I didn't have anymore. And fifteen hundred dollars twenty-five years ago was a good, good way to chunk of money, you know. So, and I had no obligations, no, no, that's no nothing to worry about. So I said, well, maybe I will. So I ran a blind ad and made Chronicle a box number. To which I got about, well, twenty-eight, thirty responses. Well, after the ad had stopped I got a call from the musicologist at Stanford University. He said he was giving up teaching. He wanted to sell his collection. Well, a friend and I went down, we took two days, and we took an adding machine. And this man had traveled all over the world and acquired music, you know, from everywhere. And being a musicologist he had all kinds of things. And he said, what I'll do is I will charge you half the printed price on music. Well, he had four, the Wagner ring, hard cover, gorgeous, gorgeous. Oh, would I love to have those gorgeous again. I've got a pretty pantybarm today. Well, I did well then. And they were guilty-ed, you know, and the gorgeous color French was a tiché, you know. Do you know what I paid for each one of those scores? Because it was a set. They belong together. Five dollars for each. I was back in 60 or 61? Yeah. Wow. And, oh, Lord, I had a trial this thick of Russian, Russian composer, that virtually nothing was to be had. And these were Russian publications. Music had been published in Russia. God, somebody had probably brought over, you know, years and years before. And I don't know what all that meant. And what did I say? It took two days. And we got there, I would say, around 9, 9.30 in the morning and stayed until like 5, 5.30 for the lunch break and the coffee break. And what a, well, Lord, that was my old shop right there almost. But among these 28 responses, there were two pop collections. One couple, an older couple, the wife apparently was not very well. And the husband, they didn't need the money, but he said, I don't need these. I don't want the music around because she used to play and it upsets her, you know. And he had very carefully gone through and stacked some, I think there were about 3,000, 3,000, 4,000 pop sheets. And they were in mid-condition. And he'd gone through and stacked them out, but they were complete. It was a beautiful, beautiful set, which I got for $10. And then there was a lady across in Berkeley, who I got a lot of views, a lot of scores from. Well, I've got a lot of things like that, you know. So, Lord, my shop was set up right off. And, well, I paid the musicologist at Sanford $800 for his collection. And it probably was worth about all together, you know. And he was very, very nice. I was not that conversant with publishers and all that sort of thing. And he said, now this is Breitkopf and that's one of the Cadillac publishers. It's a German publisher. This is Henley. They're, you know, German, very famous German publishers. All this information along the way, you know. He was handing out free. And at the end of the second day, I couldn't resist. And I said, I hope I'm not being presumptuous. And if I am, please do not hesitate to tell me. But I am curious. He was a man, I'd say, about 45. 45 was home. At the most, 50. But he was a relatively young man, you know. And I don't know how many years he'd been at Sanford. I said, you're disposing of everything. Actually, there were two or three things, pieces, music or scores or whatever, that he put over on the side. And then along the way he said, no. Everything. Everything went. Everything. Why was he, you know, I was curious. And he said, well, I'll tell you. I am taught out. He said, I have studied all over the world. I have done research. What have you? Because particularly in the summer we have the graduate students coming, you know. And he said, I would like to have something new and fresh to give them. Make it worth their while. And he said, it's getting to the point that it's a chore. And I don't enjoy it. May have been the reason and then again it may have been something else. He said, I'm going into electronics. Is that right? Whether that was true or not. And he said, please, which he had very carefully removed his name from everything. And he said, should you come across my name on any of the music, would you please remove it? With either ink remover or whatever so that it wouldn't, you know, harm the music, but remove it. It was kind of curious. And of course I have a curiosity but I always like to know why, you know, things take it with a logical, I could understand because I, what had I done, you know, I sort of kicked the habit. And so I started my way. Well, you'd be amazed, the people who were wondering, you know, what's great about that, they're flocking in. Did you open over here on this other street? Right, right there in that building. And it just grew, you know, year after year. And more and more and more music was offered, you know, people wanted to dispose of. Somebody told me that you buy used music. Well, I got, I got gorgeous things, gorgeous things, which of course I sold pretty much along the way because I couldn't keep all these things. And all that original stock from Stanford Man was gone, I would say a year and a half later it was all gone. One lady came in one day a concert pianist and she was fairly well known at that time, I forgot her name now, she was from the East. And she asked if I had Oh, what is this question? Her name is right on tip of my nose. Anyway, did I have any of his piano music? And she turned, I should turn around and on the shelf was this folder about this set, you know, she took the whole bed. Wow. Every single smidgen of it I didn't have. Well, you know, I think when I like things to go to, you know, where they're going to be appreciated and used that actually, many times I got very beautiful scores, opera scores or thick scores of some kind, you know, or very rare things. And I didn't put a price on them. And some people, you know, would come in and say, oh, oh, this is lovely. How much is this? I'd say $100. Because there were not good vibes. They didn't, they should not have it. Then somebody else would come in, you know, you could see how they lovingly turned the pages and oh, how much? 25. And I still was making money. I wasn't, I wasn't losing anything. Kind of weeded out who you wanted to get and who you didn't want to get. That's right. I wanted people who could take the things that would appreciate and use them, you know? And I still do it. I have several customers that I do it. Oh, no Dorothy, this is worth much more. No, I'm not losing any money on it. And furthermore, I'm about the only music store that has survived. Five went belly up last year in the Bay Area. Is there any? And I must be doing something right. Even though I get my keys kicked in every month and a while, like, you know, being dumped out of my store and shopping and everything over there. How come you got dumped out of there? Was that just because the rent went up? It just became much more valuable as an office? My dear, it was long before the lawyer ever took over. This was, you know, like five years ago when the realtors were going to start rabing mad in this town, and especially this town. Well, these two buildings had been owned by a private family whom I knew very well. As a matter of fact, I had three of the girls as voice students and one of the girls and the little boy at piano for several years. I knew them, you know, all the kids grew up. And they, the mother died, and she was sort of the one who ran the business. Her father worked at Stemple's Donut Place. A nice man, but he had no business sense, you know. The mother kept these buildings going. She rented out, they lived upstairs over there and they rented beach two places out. Anyhow, after she died, two of the girls, just, they had the father declared mentally incompetent. And I tell you, my dear, if either one of those girls had come in alone, I would have skinned their ears for them because their father was no more mentally incompetent than I or you. But they were greedy little girls and they promptly put this property on the market and they got, they got taken, but they didn't realize that. I did because I knew the price of property and so forth. Anyhow, the new owner came in to my place over there. Mind you, I've been in business 20 years here and I had a three-room apartment there. You have 30 days to move. I said, you have to be out of your crocs. For what reason? You know, you have to give a reason for people, of course. I never had a lease with the Murphy's. We were friends, you know, for years and years. Anyhow, I chose to challenge him. And one of my customers who had been a customer for three, four, five years, a lawyer, I began telling my customers, you know, when they came in that it looks like the handwriting on the wall says I'm going to have to move eventually. I told him and he said, well, if you need any legal help, you have my car. Which I have always understood was an offer to help me. He ended up in Cajú through the owner, dear. Oh, really? Yes. I'm telling him, giving him, you know, information, so forth. And all of a sudden, two and two make five. I can't figure, and Mike, who was sort of my right arm through it all, and he's a very busy man and he was trying to prop me up and, you know, he said, well, God, I don't know. And he, you know, Ronnie, he offered, I said, I know. And I said. The neatest story is that you're remembering chasing down pieces of sheet music and people calling from all over the world for pieces. Well, yeah, Harry Warren, of course, you know, who wrote 700, 800 songs basically from movies. He lived down in L.A., what? Pacific Palisades. And he wanted his songs with original covers, which he'd never collected. He had four daughters, and he wanted to make four collections hoping that maybe one might appreciate, you know, and keep it. Well, goodness, to make one complete set of 800 or 900 songs was quite a task. I must have told him, oh, maybe 150, 200 songs, his songs with original covers. Actually, two songs that he wrote in 1922 and 23, I sent him, he'd forgotten he had written. He was thrilled to death to get those, of course. And nobody ever asked for them since, so I was glad they went, you know, whatever his children do. And then one day, Vernon Duke, who wrote Cabin in the Sky, April in Paris, Autumn in New York, you know, I can't get started on a lot of very famous songs. I didn't know it was Vernon Duke. He called and wanted to know if I had any of those very large-sized Jerome Kerns and early Operetta, really, you know. Oh, Orva, Kalman, Kern, even Ziegler-Romberg wrote Operetta back in that era. And I suggest, I did. So he came over, and at that time, on one of the shelves, I had folders, Manila folders, named composers, their music, you know, that was for sale, standing upright along on that shelf. And I went to get these large sheets from back in the back of it. And still, I don't know who he is. He was a very imposing-looking man. And when I come back out, he's holding a folder. He said, there's one of my songs I'm looking for. Oh, dear, who's my? So I said, well, like which? A Honey in the Honeycomb from Cabin in the Sky. I said, would you be Mr. Duke? I would. Well, I got a Honey in the Honeycomb for him from one of my secret sources. And I got a copy from myself, too. Well, we became fast friends, then. And he, too, lived in Pacific Palisades. And, see, quite often, some of his musicals would be put on here at either the Geary or Curran, you know. So he, and he liked San Francisco, and he'd be up here quite frequently. Well, it got to be almost a weekly... pastime, I guess you'd call, and he'd come up. He'd call me up. I'll be up on Wednesday. Well, he didn't have to call. I would have dropped everything, you know. He was one of the most fascinating people, really, that I have ever encountered. He spoke six, seven, eight languages. He wrote both classical and pop music, and was well known in both. What is some of his classical pieces? Well, he was commissioned by Kuzovitsky, the conductor of the Boston Symphony, to write a cello concerto for the Boston, which he did. He was also commissioned by Kuzovitsky to write some other sonata or something I'd remember for the Boston. He wrote a group of classical songs, which didn't get wide circulation. I forgot who published them. They went out of print. And Vernon didn't bother, you know, renewing. I have a copy of the songs. And I'd have to look at his autobiography to see the listing of other things that he wrote in the classical. But the first day, it was pouring rain, and he sat all afternoon in a chair with these stacks of, you know, big... and he'd pick up his sheet. He knew every composer and lyricist. He knew every performer. Everything, you know, was pictured on these things. Lord Almighty, my ear is hanging out and the phone is ringing, you know. And finally I said, Mr. Duke, you should write a book. Well, I've already written two. Showing my naivety, you know. Anyway, he's in my first passport to Paris. I bought up the last 3,000 copies to give to friends, and it might be a little difficult to get a copy. But if you don't hit me too hard for this music, because he's building up a stack he wants to take, I might send you a copy. Teasing, you know. And because he was a millionaire, as well as Harry Lawrence, both of them. And he sent me the book. It's now a friend of mine is reading it. When he was 19 years old, he... he was born in Russia. His name was Vladimir Dukowski. His Russian name. Which he wrote his classical music under. Well, he went to Paris to study with Nadia Boulanger, the famous harmony, you know, whatever. And George Gershwin was there studying with her. And they became fast friends. Well, Vernon said, I want to go to New York, to America, and write your pop music, your musical shows, you know. So Gershwin said, well, when we finish the course, I go back home and you come with me. So when they got to New York, Gershwin said, now we can't put Vladimir Dukowski up on the marquee. It just won't. It just won't watch with pop music. So what is Vladimir in English? And it's Vernon. And all right, Vernon is your first name and we'll leave off the last name. And so Vernon Dukes your pop name. Which it became, Gershwin named him. And he was such a fascinating man, my goodness. Then another time, a man came in with a great big case. I wouldn't call it a suitcase. Of scores, you know, the orchestral scores, the complete scores. Some of many, some large. It was one large one that was in a shiny, simulated leather cover tied with the ribbons, you know. And I opened it up after, well, I opened it up then, he wanted to sell these things. And this was the manuscript copy of the Mahler 10th. Wow. Yes, wow. And I said, good lord. I know I bought lots of music that was stolen here. I can't say that did you steal it somewhere, but I knew perfectly well. Well, many times. Anyhow, I think I gave him $50 for the whole case of scores. Now Calvin Simmons, the black conductor, you know, the young man who was the open symphony conductor. I'd known Calvin since he was 12 years old when he was with the boys chorus. Fantastically talented young man and a very sweet young man. And I knew Calvin was high on Mahler. Well, at that particular time, Calvin was down as assistant conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. So I didn't see him much. When he came up, he would usually go over to the opera house and he would call, you know, to say hi and so forth. Well, I just put this away in the closet because I said that has to go to Calvin if he doesn't already have it. And I don't imagine he already has. So a year, year and a half later, Calvin then got the Oakland Symphony for his symphony, you know. And he, of course, showed up at the gate and I used to tease him. The biggest eyes I ever swear I ever saw when he was startled about something, you know. And he showed up and I said, yes, may I help you? Well, don't you know me? Oh, I said, you? I said, listen, I want to tell you something young man. I don't want to see any swelling head, you know, over this assignment here. Oh no, no, no. I thought it would never have happened. He always stayed the same. Anyway, he came in and he started going through, pulling this out and that and the other thing, building up a stack. So I went and got this smaller. Now, nothing was on the cover to indicate what was inside. I put it down and I said, I used to know someone who was interested in this cat's music. And he looks up at, you know, very quietly and he unties it, you know. He opens it up. What do you mean you used to know? Don't you know me anymore? I said, who's talking about you? Well, I said, of course I know you and why do you think I've been old in this thing two or three years? Well, he says, I have to have it and I said, you better have to have it. Do you think I kept it for her? So he took it and, you know, moments like that are thrills, big moments and there were others. Then in the pop thing, one man, a young fellow, called me from Detroit one night and, well, it was late afternoon actually and he said, there's a fellow playing here in a club, piano player, and I asked him if he could play this pop song and he said he didn't know it but he said, you call the lady in the music stand in San Francisco and if she has it, she may only have one copy but she'll make a quarter copy for you. So he was calling and I said, okay, shoot. She had to go and lose it at the Astor. The Astor, you know, is the famous hotel where all the show people met in New York years and years ago. It's where old porters can't lose, too. Yes, uh-huh. And I said, yeah, I got a copy. Oh, would you make me five copies? I said, yeah, I'll make you five copies. So I shipped them off and then a man called me, oh, just a few months ago. A few months, goodness, almost a year now. It was about this time of year. Last year. He wanted to know if I had this song. I think I'll marry the girl from Barcelona. I said, yeah, well, the title is just Barcelona. That's the first mine, I have it. But I've only got one copy. Did I take a photo copy? Oh, that's fine. Now, he was calling from Connecticut. His son lived in Spain in Barcelona and was planning to marry the 18th of December. He was marrying one of the local girls. And the father thought this would be fun for him to sing, you know, at the reception. Because I think I'll marry the girl from Barcelona. Maybe I will, you know, I think I will. Then the next verse he's going to marry hidden the girl from somewhere else, you know. It's a fun thing. So I made him a copy and shipped it off. He said, do you know, I called all over this country. And I finally looked in the San Francisco telephone directory and called Sherman Clay. Well, Sherman Clay had never heard of the song, but they said to call you. That shows how persistent some people are, you know. Well, that's happened many times on songs of people just, they've hunted high and low. You've been called from Australia? As far away as Australia? Well, people have come in from Australia. And they've got a list from this person, the Matt person, and the other person, you know, teachers and students and what have you. So the one person does all of the, you know. Word of mouth. Well, they bring the list in and leave the list. And very often, whoever comes in or came in would be here for a few days. So I, at that time, would pretty much be able to get most everything they wanted together. And they'd come in, pick them up then, take them back. You see, it saves the people postage and shipping and all that sort of thing. And frequently, well, even now, I get called from Hawaii. That's nothing. And it sounds like they're right next door. It's amazing how clear. I get, I have customers in Canada, Spain, France, Germany, or I've got several customers in Germany. And practically every state in here. Frequently, well, even now, I get called from Hawaii. That's nothing. And it sounds like they're right next door. It's amazing how clear. And I get, I have customers in Canada, Spain, France, Germany, or I've got several customers in Germany. And practically every state in here, in this country. That's nothing. And it sounds like they're right. And I get called from Hawaii, and I get called from Hawaii, and I get called from there. And it sounds like they're right next door. And it's amazing how clear. nothing. And it sounds like they're right next door. It's amazing how clear. I have customers in Canada, Spain, France, Germany, or I've got several customers in Germany, and practically every state here in this country. And it's very often, well, it's usually three sources. People come here for holiday or conventions, and a hobby is music, so they look in the telephone book, you know, and give a call. Sure enough, I'll have something. Secondly, these people go back home, their friends come in, or their neighbors or whatever. Where did you get that, you know? And they say, well, the music center in San Francisco, so I get a call or a letter. And then people in wherever they live, if they're near a fairly large city, where there's a San Francisco telephone directory, or directories of large cities, you know, they'll go through them, and they see. So they give me a call. And then other people, word of mouth, you know, that they, or they write and get something from me, and then their friends, they, in turn, you know, write. So it just snowballed all along the way. So you probably do a lot as much mail order as you do writing. Oh, yeah, yeah. And particularly now, well, now I do mostly mail order. Of course, you know, it's so difficult to get music since the publishers are practically all gone down the tube. But I'd say a good, good portion is rental now, because I've only got one copy and I ain't about to sell them. And even though some people will argue and I find they say, look, if I had sold this copy, you know, back five years ago to the first person who asked for it, you'd be out a lot, wouldn't you? Oh, well, yes, you know, it's amazing how many people think me, me, me, you know. And so, and it's very convenient. There's an office supply place right over here on Hayes, which opened up about two years ago. I have a copy machine, but I could never keep up today with the people, you know, and they come by, they rent, they go around the corner, make their copies and check on. Like this afternoon, these two boys were here. They're going to put on some kind of a sing-along thing for a charity function this Friday. And they had a list of about 30 songs. Well, I could say, you know, look through that stack of books or look in this particular book or look through those sheets or look here and there where. So we got all but two of them. And I could have found the other two if I could have seen a little better. And then they went around the corner and copied them. And they were just thrilled because they could never find those things, you know, anywhere. Let me ask you a few more pieces before I kind of close up shop. I'm going to have to run back over and put my brief bag back in the car and pick up your teeth. You put them I hope in the safe place. The briefcase, my briefcase? Oh yeah, I'll put it in the car so people can see it. And I'm parking, I think it's very secure in that parking lot. Two things. What is your favorite song, favorite pop song and favorite opera that you like to sing? As a former opera singer and in club artist in New York, what was your, what would you say, your favorite song is, Walt? Favorite pop song, favorite opera? The one that I'm singing at the moment. Am I wearing Mr. Puccini or? Mr. Puccini. Yeah. Who's that? Or art song? Oh, that would be terribly difficult. I have so many favorites. Anything on Mr. Puccini's, anything from any of his. Well, now, actually I would say, if you want my favorite, from Otello, there's Dennis Bigari that precedes the opera in Maria. When she cries, you know, in despair, she doesn't know what, what is wrong, what she knows something is wrong. Oh, what is it? Well, it just precedes and then the opera in Maria. I think to sing, although I like Kavisi D'Arce, a Tosca, I like very dramatic arias. Traviata was my nemesis. I just, I had no truck with her. I would have said to the father, you know, given him his walking papers. I mean, she was too wishy-washy. I couldn't sing somebody like that. I just had no time for her. My favorite pop song, oh dear, favorite out of a hundred, dear, maybe long ago in Far Away, Drunk Heron, but then again several of Bernard Duke's things. What is there to say is two or three co-porters, but I would say if I had to select the only one, I'd probably be the long ago in Far Away, all the way through, you know, the verse and all. But it's very difficult to say. And people say, well, which is your favorite kind of music? Whatever I listen to, with the exception of most rocks. There's some rock I like. What was it? How was Giuseppe di Stefano singing the duet from the Pearl Fishers that you told me about, the all-time unforgettable... No, it wasn't Giuseppe. Giuseppe di Luca was a baritone and Benjamino G.V. was the tenor. No, G-I-G-L-I. Benjamino, B-E-N-J-A-M-I-N-O. G-I-G-O, fantastic tenor. And Giuseppe, which is Joe, G-I-U-S-E-P-P-I, the Luca, D-E, capital L-U-C-A. The duet from the Pearl Fishers. Yeah. We still have to get to that. Oh, that's such a gorgeous thing. Of course, I wouldn't sing that, but... Like that was in the first act, wasn't it? Yes. The Pearl Fishers was... I was in New York a couple of weeks ago, and the Pearl Fishers was being played. It's very rarely played, and yet it was... I didn't have a chance to see it, but it was being played. It would have been nice to have seen that. Probably. The tenor might have been Doug Austin, who is... in the Caribbean, the Caribbean student who won that was... In relation to your former teacher, Alstead? Or Al House, was your former teacher? Al House, Al House. A-L-T-H-O-U-S-E? He was... Well, first, a lyric tenor, when very young, and then he became a dramatic lyric, and then he took over the Wagnerian Rose at the Met for years and years, and a fantastic feature. I also studied with Stel Easing. How long did you study voice? Twelve years piano and... About... Well, outside of, of course, college, that was one year, but... I'd say about... Well, it seemed madame, I was with her only nine months when she died. Fantastic, fantastic Russian woman. What's her name? M-E-T-C-H-I-K. Anna, A-N-M-A. Anna Macheck, a Russian lady who had created the role of the Countess in Peek-Dum. How do you spell that? Peek-Dum? The P-I-Q-U-E, capital D-A-M-E, and which is a famous record opera by Tchaikovsky, and she created the role of the Countess at the Metropolitan in nineteen-six or seven. Almost one of the most fantastic. She was a personal friend of Rachmaninoff and people like that, you know. Dad, what a teacher. Well, she died, and I had just started with her, and I was twenty years old, and a coloratura. You were a coloratura? Yes, at that time, and which she maintained that I remain. You don't, as when you're very young, you say hi, and then you come down to what your voice is ultimately going to be. And when she died, I was devastated because I adored the lady. Then you went to the Paul Allfounts? No, then I went to Stell Weebly, who was famous for musical shows, and, you know, well, she sang opera, too, the Met, and the famous coloratura. Actually, Garavidian, her couple of my customers and her students now, took my tape down and played it for her, but they didn't say who it was. They said, this is someone who would like to audition with you. And she listened to it. She's a very, very sharp lady, and she listened to it, and she said, well, who? No, she said, this is not a beginner, obviously. And she said, whoever she is, she studied with Stell Weebly. Now, that's a pretty shrewd observation, you know, not knowing who it was in the world, and then they told her. And after her, you went with Paul Allfounts? Then I went to Paul, yeah, because he was, well, he was excellent in oratorio, which, of course, is big in New York. They don't understand how to sing oratory. Well, here, I'm sorry. So you were with Animatrix for nine months, and Stell Weebly, about... Yeah, L-I-E-B-I-N-G. L-I-N-G. And Stell, is it a Stell or... Estell, yes. C-E-L-L-E, Estell Weebly. L-I-E-B-L-I-N-G. And she was very big in musical shows, and opera. Well, if Edner said those operatic areas, you know, you showed Weebly's influence, yes. She did know her opera. So you were with her for... Oh, two and a half years. And then with Allfounts? Then Allfounts, pretty close to three years. So you were there a good long time, six, seven years, man. Well, you have to have between six and eight years, if you're with the proper teachers. Yeah. Which, of course, I feel that I was in all three instances. This Russian lady, the minute she, like Toscanini, could not, she was so near-sighted that she had to hold a score like this. And therefore, she had memorized every opera, and she knew everybody far. All right, goodness. She used to prompt me on lyrics, and I used to be embarrassed to dig her, you know. But she knew. And when she started a lesson, you were a piece of clay. There was no feeling, there was no nothing between us, but that you're singing, you know. Then when the lesson was finished, then Utami Lasuchai, let us have a glass of tea. And she was all, you know, warm and human. And I simply worshiped the ground, that maybe was done, and she was. That was in New York. And such a fantastic, fantastic lady. Well, Dorothy, I really love talking to you. I appreciate you talking to me. Let's do this again sometime, but I have to, right now, I just have to.