Southern Bookman

Mark Harris gives in-depth portrait of Mike Nichols in major biography

Mike Nichols presided over some of the greatest successes and most spectacular failures in American film and theater history.

Film historian Mark Harris' "Mike Nichols: A Life" exhaustively details Nichols' work on each production from start to finish.

While the testimony of actresses, actors, producers, playwrights and others grows repetitive, Harris makes Nichols' triumphs and disasters compelling.

On the set of each production, he's a dynamic captain either bringing his ship safely home or wrecking it on the rocks.

Nichols, who came to America from Nazi-ruled Germany as a young boy speaking no English, was a Gatsby-like, self-invented personality.

After a reaction to a childhood vaccine, he was unable to grow hair and donned wigs and false eyelashes until the end of his life. His immigrant experience gave him an uncanny insight into American life.

While self-conscious about his odd appearance, Nichols enjoyed unlikely success as a lady-killer. He stole two of his wives from Robert Graves and John Osborne, and squired Gloria Steinem, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Lillian Hellman and Rose Styron. 

Unlike many Hollywodd/theatrical mavens, he wasn't a serial sex abuser. Women collaborators from Meryl Streep to Julia Roberts, Natalie Portman and Emma Thompson testify to his empathy.

Portman says that Nichols was the only director who didn't make her "feel creepy" as a young actress. He mentored Nora Ephron in her film career.

Harris, a New York magazine writer and author of "Scenes From A Revolution: The Birth of a New Hollywood," gives an engaging account of how the aimless young Nichols moved from New York City to Chicago, where he met the equally adrift Elaine May.

They discovered an instant rapport, creating an improv comedy act that rocketed them to fame in the Camelot years of the Kennedy Administration. The duo ended up with a smash Broadway hit, "An Evening with Mike Nichols and Elaine May," before pressures of performing led them to quit at the height of their success.

After an brief separation, Nichols maintained a lifelong partnership with his brilliant, beautiful co-star. May directed several classic films and notorious bombs like "Ishatar" and gained renown as a script doctor and quirky actress. She also worked with Nichols on several projects, and they reprised their act several times.

Nichols after leaving the partnership landed immediate success directing Neil Simon's first hit, "Barefoot in the Park," with Robert Redford and Elizabeth Ashley, one of the few actresses who didn't wish to work with Nichols on new projects. Her husband, George Peppard, kept trying to sabotage the play. Nor did Redford seek to work with Nichols in the movies.

Insisting on the laughs coming naturally from the script rather than from the actors mugging for the audience, Nichols set a new standard for Broadway comedy.

Guiding Simon's "The Odd Couple" cemented Nichols' reputation for directing popular middle-class comedies. In making "The Odd Couple" a success, Nichols withstood the rancor of Walter Matthau and the fragility of the alcoholic Art Carney.

To counter his image as the master of superficial fare, Nichols later in his career took on more challenging plays, from Chekhov to Beckett, Miller and Stoppard. He apparently didn't care much for Shakespeare. 

Although he had no knowledge of the technical side of movie-making, Nichols in his first at bat scored a major hit with the film version of Edward Albee's landmark play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," pushing Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor to scorching performances.

Then, he directed "The Graduate," considered one of Hollywood's most accomplished films. As with Elizabeth Taylor, he persuaded Anne Bancroft to play a much older woman.

Still in her late 30s, suffering from cramps, Bancroft delivered a convincing Mrs. Robinson, seducing the young college graduate Benjamin, played by the then unknown Dustin Hoffman, accused of sexual harassment by co-star Katharine Ross.

In retrospect, "The Graduate" doesn't seem as revolutionary as it did when it burst upon the scene. Considered satirically fatuous and insensitive at the time, the pompous businessman's advice to Benjamin to go into plastics turned out to predict the future.

After the well-publicized failure "Catch 22," Nichols rebounded with the Jack Nicholson/Art Garfunkel/Candice Bergen rendering of Jules Fieffer's "Carnal Knowledge." From then on, Nichols had a steady film career of moderate successes and box office failures. His Broadway career also rocked along. Yet he never reached the heights of his earlier work.

At the top of his fame, Nichols suffered a major collapse brought on by a failing marriage to Annabel-Davis Goff, depression and addiction to cocaine and halcion. Harris, in a searing interlude from the production dissections, examines Nichols' despair and recovery.

Cocaine is a constant presence on Nichols' sets, as was the case with other Hollywood productions of the era. While the work is often brilliant, a sense of waste underscores those years.

Nichols kept going through a range of successes and failures, leading an opulent New York City/Los Angeles lifestyle. Tutored on how to live while rich by Richard Avedon, Nichols enjoyed fine meals, travel to exotic places, and social appearances.  Outside of the theater, his passion was raising Arabian horses. Avedon claims he had a sexual relationship with Nichols, but Harris expresses his skepticism.

Late in life, Nichols found joy and peace in a loving marriage to the TV news star Diane Sawyer. He finished with a smash of successes, most prominently the HBO production of "Angels in America," written by Harris' husband, Tony Kushner. Kushner is among those who give warm memories of Nichols, countering the withering criticism of others.

Nichols epitomized the Hollywood/Broadway legacy of white privilege, continually receiving new projects after failures that would have wrecked the careers of black and women directors.

In the exhaustive litany of actors and actresses who worked with Nichols, only one black is mentioned in the book: Morgan Freeman. He's maligned for lack of preparation in a failed production of Clifford Odets' "The Country Girl," which also starred Frances McDormand, one of the few actresses who didn't find bliss with Nichols.

Harris succeeds in restoring Nichols legacy, which had faded even before his death in 2014 at age 84. "The Graduate" was fresh and vital when it appeared in 1969, but falls short of movies like "The Godfather."

Unlike Woody Allen and Martin Scorsese, Nichols didn't contribute as a writer to screenplays, but built upon the scripts of others.  In the theater, he polished the work of Simon, David Rabe, Tom Stoppard, Eric Idle and other playwrights.

And, May is credited as the main creative force in Nichols and May, in which he already played more of a director's role. But his improvisations  displayed verbal inventiveness, and he showed strong acting talent in several roles.

At times giving a fractured portrait of Nichols, Harris at last reveals the depths of the showman's personality. Nichols' power to entertain comes through, in each of the nearly 600 pages.

 

 

 

Farewell, Hal Holbrook, known for uncanny portrayal of Mark Twain

Mark Twain was a central figure in American culture when Hal Holbrook began portraying him in the 1950s.

Holbrook, who won acclaim for a range of TV, movie and theater roles including "Deep Throat" in "All the President's Men," died at age 95 Jan. 23 in his Beverly Hills home, according to media reports.

His portrayal of Twain was a TV and theater sensation, bringing back to life for postwar audiences a 19th century cultural titan.

Twain, the author of "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Sawyer," was a superstar lecturer in the late 19th century, delighting audiences with his sardonic barbs exposing human frailties.

His witticisms endured for decades; educated Americans once knew a variety of Twain quotations, some falsely attributed to him.

Beginning in his 20s, much younger than Twain at the height of his fame, the World War II veteran Holbrook revived the writer's act, donning a wig, false moustache and white linen suit.

Holbrook went on to play Twain for more than six decades, winning a Tony award for a Broadway production. As Holbrook's New York Times obituary noted, he needed less makeup to perform the role as he grew older.

The five-time Emmy winner received an Academy Award nomination in 2007 for his performance in "Into the Wild." At the time, he was the oldest actor to receive an Oscar nomination. Along with Twain, he played Lincoln several times.

In one of his best-known roles, Holbrook shone as "Deep Throat," the long unnamed source for Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. "Deep Throat" was later identified as FBI official Mark Felt.

In "Magnam Force," Holbrook was the vigilante boss of police inspector Clint Eastwood. Holbrook also appeared in "Wall Street" as the old-school stock broker Lou Mannheim.

Familiar on TV commercials, Holbrook with his resonant voice was one of those American Dads who exemplified an honest and fair-minded but pragmatic American masculinity.

As Twain, Holbrook spawned a mini-genre of one-person theater. I myself have seen portrayals of William Faulkner, Dorothy Parker and Patsy Cline. Surely, someone has played Charles Dickens, and Lincoln.

Along with Twain's witticisms, the appeal was Holbrook's uncanny ability to realistically channel Twain. Twain acolytes after seeing the performance believed that the writer had come back to life. Wide cultural familiarity with Twain's work boosted Holbrook's renown.

But younger generations no longer know Twain's books. He's one of the deadest members of the Dead White Males club.

In recent years, "Huckleberry Finn," considered by Hemingway and others the first great American novel written in the country's vernacular language, has been removed from school reading lists.

As kids turn to video games and social media sites, they no longer read books of any kind, much less classics.

Although the young Huckleberry's friendship with the escaped slave Jim is a testament to their shared humanity, the book has been attacked as racist because of its frequent use of the word "nigger."

Black and liberal intellectuals condemn the account of Huck and Jim's raft journey down the Mississippi River as a totem of white supremacy.

Holbrook's portrayal of Twain was more than a novelty. Critics saw the performance as innovative theater. Holbrook in drawing upon the deep well of Twain's work was the show's playwright and actor.

In an endearing letter to the editor in The New York Times Wednesday, novelist Anne Bernays says that her late husband Justin Kaplan was inspired to write his celebrated biography of Samuel Clemens/Twain by watching Holbrook's performance.

It's doubtful that Holbrook's work would be produced now. Holbrook's death marks the fading of a generation that knew and revered Mark Twain.

 

 

 

 

A Christmas wish for the return of live performances

For my wife's Christmas gift last year, I purchased tickets to Tony Bennett's Valentine's Day concert at Atlanta's Symphony Hall.

Bennett gave a great performance before a festive, sold-out audience. Before the show, we enjoyed a romantic dinner at the Arts Center's packed 1280 Restaurant.

Covid-19 was a small cloud on the horizon. In a few weeks, the virus had grown into a vicious storm, closing down all public events.

For Christmas last year, we also received tickets to see Wynton Marsalis perform with the Atlanta Symphony in March. We also planned to attend the Atlanta Opera's production of "Porgy and Bess" in late February. Both events were canceled as the coronavirus spread. I've imagined the performances taking place in some alternative universe.

In previous years, we've found under the tree tickets to "Hamilton" and "To Kill a Mockingbird." But no such gifts this holiday season, with Broadway dark and its return unknown. No concerts at Atlanta Symphony Hall to give as presents. The 1280 is closed.

With such a damper on Christmas joy, I was cheered at AJC stalwart Bo Emerson's recent report on the return of the Fox Theater's Mighty Mo organ after a renovation.

My Christmas wish is that one day we'll gather again to hear those majestic sounds.

 

Rosebud? "Mank" looks at Herman J. Mankiewicz Jr.-Orson Welles' making of "Citizen Kane"

It's ironic that "Mank" will be presented on Netflix after a brief theatrical run.

David J. Fisher's movie examines the eternal inside-Hollywood debate about whether Herman J. Mankiewicz Jr. wrote "Citizen Kane" alone or collaborated with director/star Orson Welles, who received co-credit for the Academy Award-winning script.

The movie about old Hollywood will receive its largest viewership on the streaming service disrupting the American film industry, especially with Covid-19 devastating theatrical audiences.

Too bad Welles didn't have Netflix: Hollywood after giving the young wunderkind complete freedom to make "Citizen Kane" crushed his directing career.

Lately, Welles has had a posthumous resurgence on Netflix with the showing of his last film, "The Other Side of the Wind." Welles fought Hollywood for years to get the movie made.

Whether anyone will be interested in "Mank" beyond engrained cinephiles is questionable. New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael began the controversy in the 1960s with an essay declaring that the alcoholic Mankiewicz wrote the script alone. After "Citizen Kane," Mankiewicz's career declined.

Often considered the greatest Hollywood movie, "Citizen Kane" was the young Welles' first Hollywood project after a dazzling career in New York theater and radio, where he gained notoriety for panicking citizens with a fake Halloween news report that Martians had invaded New Jersey.

Although the 1941 film received a number of Academy Award nominations, it was strangled in the cradle by William Randolph Hearst, the model for "Kane."

Hearst's newspapers and magazines launched a successful campaign to sabotage the movie. Fearing Hearst's power, distributor RKO Radio Pictures pulled the movie from theaters. Afterwards, Hollywood derailed Welles' directing career. 

Written by Fisher's late father, Jack Fisher, "Monk" represents a new trend of movies about movies, according to a Wall Street Journal article Thursday.

Also in the works are movies on the making of "The Godfather" and "Chinatown," in both of which the late producer Robert Evans figures, the article said.

But scripts for other films about films have been shuttered, the article said. Apparently director Steven Spielberg torpedoed a green-lighted movie about the making of "Jaws."

Also in the deep freeze are projects about "Star Wars," "Gone With the Wind" and "The Streetcar Named Desire."

Hollywood's self-gazing is not new; "Sunset Boulevard" and other films have long examined the film industry.

Only last year, "Judy" showed the abuse the young Judy Garland suffered from MGM's Louis B. Mayer, who shows up in "Mank" along with other Hollywood titans.

Gary Oldman, who won an Academy Award for playing Winston Churchill, portrays Mankiewicz, who wrote the script while recuperating in Palm Springs from a severely broken leg suffered in a car accident.

Mankiewicz was assisted by Welles' close friend and colloborator John Houseman, played by Sam Troutman. Tom Burke is Welles.

Along with the macho battles of Hollywood alpha males, the movie offers the glamour of Amanda Seyfried playing Hearst's mistress, Marion Davies. Hearst was particularly upset by "Citizen Kane's" portrayal of their relationship.

As the pandemic's autumn wave builds, the movie's unlikely to receive much box office success, echoing "Citizen Kane." But even non-cinephiles will find "Mank" diverting during the brutal winter months.

 

New York Times drama critic Ben Brantley says goodbye

When a major production opened on Broadway, I couldn't wait to read Ben Brantley's review in The New York Times.

I almost felt like I was a character in "All About Eve," devouring the newspaper in Sardi's.

Brantley connected me to the excitement of New York City's theater world. Along with rendering his judgment on well-publicized plays and musicals, Brantley gave attention to emerging playwrights and off-Broadway productions.

With New York's theaters darkened by Covid-19, Brantley left the Times last week after 24 years as its chief drama critic. Co-chief critic Jesse Green remains to write about whatever theater news comes along with the theaters shuttered.

In a farewell interview with Green in Sunday's New York Times, Brantley looked back on his career and his immense power over a production's success and failure. He recalled memorable performances, feuds with famous actors and the magic of the theater.

Despite the rise in touristy jukebox musicals and Hollywood-star vehicles, Brantley noted an increase in artistically ambitious Broadway productions before the pandemic. Brantley's work played a significant role in raising the level of quality.

Brantley in departing expressed hope that a vibrant New York theater will return. His career is a testament to what we've lost.

 

 

"Hamilton" close up

We found ourselves by good fortune watching "Hamilton" streaming on the Disney + channel on Independence Day.

The "Hamilton" film shows the orignal cast in an edited version of three live performances of the musical recorded in June 2016. We'd seen the production at New York's Richard Rodgers Theater at about that time, so it was thrilling to see close-up stage views of what we'd witnessed from distant seats.

For the first time, we saw the show's creator Lin-Manuel Miranda playing Alexander Hamilton; he'd been ably replaced by understudy Jon Rua for our performance, with the rest of the cast present.

While Miranda's acting is superb, his singing falls short of the other cast members. But the emotional depths he reaches overcomes the deficiencies of his voice.

Miranda's music is amazing, especially his ability to translate complex historical material into jaunty song lyrics. I'd forgotten that the play's narrative is almost totally conveyed by songs. The frequent rap numbers take the place of spoken dialogue, but many of the pop-oriented songs also progress the story, reminiscent of Rodgers' own "Oklahoma."

As New Yorker writer Lauren Michele Jackson pointed out, "Hamilton" succeeds as a musical, with even politically oriented songs like "In the Room Where It Happened" and "It Must Be Nice to Have Washington on Your Side" as infectious as pop romantic ballads.

The love song "Helpless" recalls the confections of 1960s girl groups, and Jonathan Goff's "You'll Be Back" sounds like a 1950s hit from Dion or Neil Sedaka.

Andy Blankenbuehler's choreography blends with the show, with an admirable absence of ostentation.

Seeing the faces of  the dynamic performers Leslie Odom Jr., Daveed Diggs, Christopher Jackson, Phillip Soo, Renee Elise Goldsberry and Okieriete "Oak" Onaodowan was overpowering.

The closeup camera revealed the inner workings of stagecraft, yet the theatrical magic remained.

 

 

 

Discovering "Law and Order"

I never watched the old "Law and Order" show when it ran for 20 years on network TV.

But now I'm hooked on the police/trial procedural, whose episodes run in a continuous loop Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Sundays on the We TV channel, which offers vintage crime serials and trashy pop-culture productions.

"Law and Order," like "Naked City" before it, is known for actors who appear in unexpected roles before they gained fame.

Recently, I've seen a selection of eventual "Sopranos" cast members: Michael Imperioli, Dominic Chianese, John Ventimiglia, Vincent Pastore, Edie Falco and Burt Young. I've been hoping for James Gandolfini to show up, but he never appeared on "Law and Order." Nor did Tony Sirico, who played "Paulie Walnuts."

Eventual "Gilmore Girls" star Lauren Graham appeared in fetching mini-skirt suits during a three-episode saga in which she played a striving Hollywood insider smitten with detective Ray Curtis, played by Benjamin Bratt. A young Ron Cephas Jones, memorable as Randall Pearson's biological father in "This Is Us," has played roles in several episodes.

Already well-known stars also appear. I was so excited to see Elaine Stritch as a defense attorney that I had to watch the midnight episode rather than going to bed.

The rotating cast of cops and district attorneys allows fans to divide the show into different eras. Before the long reign of Sam Waterson as the driven prosecutor Jack McCoy, Michael Moriarty held the chair as Benjamin Stone. Chris Noth stood out as detective Mike Logan, but Jesse Green and Bratt also deliver strong performances. S. Epatha Merkerson gives subtle personality shadings to her role as police supervisor Anita Van Buren.

Following Steven Hill's years as the cryptic D.A. Adam Schiff, Diane Wiest comes in, raising one of the show's many cross-references. Waterson and Wiest portrayed an ill-fated couple in Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters."

And then there are  the savvy and beautiful young assistant district attorneys:. Jill Hennessey, Amy Harmon, Carey Lowell, Alana de La Graza. Their professional competence always comes with a dark side.

As with Gandolfini in "The Sopranos," the show's biggest draw is Jerry Orbach as Lenny Briscoe, the street-hardened detective with a heart of gold. Orbach's cynical wisecracks contrast with his compassion for crime victims, devotion to his different partners and worldly wisdom. A Broadway star who originated the show-stopping  number "Try to Remember" in "The Fantasticks," Orbach brings an enigmatic dimension to the role.

Briscoe's like King Lear turned New York City detective, a poignance heightened by the realization that Orbach battled prostate cancer for years doing the show.

I wish show creator Dick Wolf could have found a way for Stritch and Orbach to do a musical duet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

456 years after birth, William Shakespeare still our most vital writer

William Shakespeare still excites audience's rapture and stirs political passions, 456 years after his reputed birth on this day in 1564.

Cities from New York to Montgomery, Ala., support prosperous companies that perform his works. Noted Shakespeare scholar James Shapiro in his recent "Shakespeare in a Divided America" recounts the heated political and social controversies Shakespeare's plays have generated in this country from the nation's founding until today.

Wall Street Journal polemicist Barton Swaim in a review Thursday skewered Shapiro for his account of the Shakespeare in the Park production of "Julius Caesar" in which the Roman emperor appeared in a Trumpian wig and suit and tie. In a heavy handed gesture, Caesar's followers wore "Make Rome Great Again" caps.

In a well-argued but tendentious review, Swaim faults Shapiro for accepting without question the production's implication that Trump like Caesar seeks dictatorial power. In Swaim's placid view, Trump is more of a Falstaffian entertainer, whose danger is overstated.

Showing conservative bias, Swaim also claims that Shapiro insufficiently questions liberal assumptions in analyzing other recent Shakespearian controversies.

Swaim praises Shapiro's historical look at Shakespeare's influence in America in the 19th and 20th centuries. He cites Shapiro's examination of a late 19th century production in New York City that touched off a riot between anti-British Tammany Hall thugs and Anglophile fans of the playwright.

Shakespeare's London theaters were at times shut down because of the plague, and now theaters across America are closed because of the coronavirus pandemic. New York's Shakespeare in the Park recently announced the cancellation of its summer schedule. Sidelined companies like Nashville's Shakespeare Festival are marking his birthday with live-streaming events.

The playwright also reportedly died on this date in 1616, at the dawn of the modern world he did so much to shape. Mystery surrounds his life, with a few tantalizing glimpses and much that's unknown.

After more than 400 years, his plays seem new.

Alan Bennett in annual diary remembers Jonathan Miller

Noted British playwright Alan Bennett in his latest diary in the London Review of Books pays homage to fellow "Beyond the Fringe" member Jonathan Miller.

For years, Bennett has brightened the new year with his annual chronicle of the previous 12 months, published in the LRB. Bennett's record of his life in 2019 runs in the LRB's Jan. 2 issue.

The polymath Miller, who died Nov. 27, excelled in medicine, the theater and television. He was especially known for his opera productions, and hosting the TV documentary "The Body in Question."

Rising from their college days at Oxford and Cambridge, Miller and Bennett joined Dudley Moore and Peter Cook in the satirical revue "Beyond the Fringe," which eventually played on Broadway.

Along with serene depictions of the London literary world and unhurried life in suburban Yorkshire, Bennett can be cutting in his views. An entry in his 2019 diary gives a chilly assessment of Miller.

"Ours was a not unrivalrous relationship, with neither particularly generous about the other's work," Bennett says. He confesses to never seeing one of Miller's operas, and suspects Miller never watched one of his plays.

Bennett ends on a warmer, regretful note. "Now that he's gone I feel remorse as well as sorrow. But, jokes apart, it was a question of survival. I needed to write. Jonathan needed one to listen."

The diaries increasingly chronicle Bennett's aging. This year's entries often reference Bennett lying on his couch or in bed, suffering from severe arthritis. He also gives an alarming account of a fall on his bicycle, from which he suffered bruises but no broken bones or head injuries.

A disturbing sign of Bennett's looming mortality is that the diary is much shorter this year; he missed several months during the spring and summer because of open-heart surgery.

With all of his suffering, the diary is again a treat of refined thinking, with references to obscure films, actors and British writers. The diaries reflect his cultured life in suburban Yorkshire, where he enjoys gardening, old houses and reading. Bennett's at times fussy writing reveals a disgust with conservative politics, an enjoyment of small town life and an appreciation for small pleasures.

His diaries mirror my own aging, giving me encouragement and comfort. I hope to read Bennett's annual missives for years to come.

Wyatt Prunty made Sewanee Writers Conference special

Sewanee Writers Conference founding director Wyatt Prunty is stepping aside after 30 years running the "summer camp for adults" with uncommon grace and professionalism.

Tributes to Wyatt in the Sewanee Review's current issue brought memories of my participation in the first two conferences, funded by a legacy from Tennessee Williams. A noted poet, critic and Sewanee professor, Wyatt made the conference a success from the start.

He was a genial, quiet presence at the conference's many social events. A generous host who kept the conference running smoothly, Wyatt rarely interjected himself into the mingling of poets, novelists, playwrights, agents and publishers. When he did, such as suddenly playing harmonica at a sing-along around the piano, or enlivening a conversation for a sunlit moment with an astute comment or observation before moving on to the next group, participants felt blessed. Those brief interactions made us feel as if he knew and cared about each of us.

The two-week midsummer stay at Sewanee's secluded mountain campus inspired a deep commitment to writing and literature. Sharing breakfast and dinner with luminaries like John Hollander, Howard Nemerov, Tim O'Brien, David Justice, Mona Van Duyn and Robert Stone made us feel part of a literary community. The workshops, individual tutorials and readings raised us to a higher artistic level.

I'll never forget Peter Taylor's courageous reading. Mr. Taylor, still recovering from a stroke, read from one of his marvelous stories. He at times got stuck on a word, but pressed on to the end. I'm honored to say that Mr. Taylor took a liking to me, inviting me to his house in Sewanee for a reception for writing conference faculty members. Talking with him and his wife and wonderful poet, Eleanor Ross Taylor, and intermingling with writers like Ernest Gaines, I thought i had gone to heaven without dying.

The writing conference co-existed with a gathering of high-school musicians. Walking to a workshop or lecture along one of the school's Gothic archways, a writer would come upon a young flutist or violinist practicing. Those brief interludes of music lifted our hearts with the joy and beauty of art.

Before saying farewell to Sewanee, we gathered in the school's magnificent chapel for the young musicians' final concert. They played on each side of us, their Bach and Mozart enveloping us. Such a gift from them as we returned to the world.