Maestro Paul Quotes

The sweep of the hierarchy’s betrayals, in scope and depth, is staggeringly new. And to gauge the likelihood of that hierarchy’s facing the truth of what it has done and what it has become, consider this: The two contemporary maestros of denial, Pope Paul VI and Pope John Paul II, have, in the very years of the scandal they enabled, been named as saints of the Catholic Church.

Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing’ Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle’ Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk’s row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw’s outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle’s two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob McKenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro’ Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy’s cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that’s lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard’ Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie’s tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing’ Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he’s crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page.

But the maestro’s biggest project during the second half of the season was the first North American production of Paul Dukas’s Ariane et Barbe-bleue, on 29 March 1911. Ariane, a forward-looking, brilliantly orchestrated work, had had its premiere in Paris four years earlier, and had since been performed in Vienna, conducted by Alexander Zemlinsky and admired by Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg, and Anton Webern, among others. Toscanini,

He wouldn’t attract flies,’ was the verdict of a club owner invited to book Sinatra for a week of performances. Most believed that and because he’d angered so many people in the movies and recording industry few were willing to help including those who had made good money from his career. His friend Mickey Cohen stepped in with a ‘testimonial dinner’ in early 1951 at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the pink palace standing proudly on that tributary for fading stars, Sunset Boulevard, but it was a disappointing affair. Cohen had to outfit his own bodyguards and assorted other hoods in evening wear to make up the numbers. The invited ‘girls’ got more attention in the hotel’s Polo Lounge. Most of Hollywood thought it was all over for Frank Sinatra but across the country in New Jersey, which has a warm approach to all things Italian, was a pal who always believed the best was yet to come. Paul ‘Skinny’ D’Amato, a maestro of the entertainment business in Atlantic City, a Mafia indulged fixture of the Boardwalk, a gambler, and a fixer and, importantly, an entertaining and loveable man, met Sinatra in 1939. He proved a valuable connection and loyal ally.

Y sobre esta última, y acaso la más ingrata de mis peregrinaciones a los santuarios de la gloria, formulaba para mí esta tristísima moraleja: «He venido tarde. El gran poeta está muy viejo para maestro y yo también para discípulo: él ha perdido la fecunda actividad del genio, y yo el puro fervor de la juventud.»

Pero no hay quien se atreva a perturbar la muda y al parecer honda abstracción del maestro taciturno. Se le ve, por momentos, dejar caer sus párpados sobre la incierta mirada; y cuando, a ratos—engaño melancólico que en otro movería a sonrisa,—percibe un sonido articulado en algún grupo, suele inclinarse a medias en vago ademán de agradecimiento. Por efecto de la costumbre, la última noción consciente, que sobre su adormecimiento queda flotando, es que toda frase ante él pronunciada ha de contener una alabanza; y por eso—detalle entre ridículo y tocante—saluda en torno suyo, a la ventura. Tal se prolonga, como sobreviviéndose a sí misma, esta augusta y precaria vejez, rodeada

13. Un Buda En Tokyo, en la era Meiji, vivían dos destacados maestros de características opuestas. Uno de ellos, Unsho, instructor de la secta Shingon, observaba escrupulosamente los preceptos budistas. Jamás tomaba bebidas embriagadoras ni comía después de las once de la mañana. El otro maestro, Tanzan, profesor de filosofía en la Universidad Imperial, jamás observaba los preceptos. Cuando le apetecía comer, comía, y cuando tenía ganas de echarse a dormir en pleno día, lo hacía. Un día Unsho visitó a Tanzan, quien estaba bebiendo vino, del cual se supone que ni una sola gota debe entrar en contacto con la lengua de un budista. –Hola, hermano –le saludó Tanzan–. ¿Quieres tomar un vaso? –¡Jamás bebo! –exclamó Unsho solemnemente. –Quien no bebe ni siquiera es humano –replicó Tanzan. –¿Es posible que me llames inhumano sólo porque no tomo líquidos embriagadores? –dijo Unsho, encolerizado–. Entonces, si no soy humano, ¿qué es lo que soy? –Un Buda –respondió Tanzan.

A fin de proteger los pilares de ese régimen, en las áreas ocupadas por los rebeldes las víctimas inmediatas no fueron solo los maestros de escuela, los masones, los médicos y los abogados liberales, los intelectuales y los líderes de los sindicatos, es decir, los posibles diseminadores de las ideas. La matanza se extendió también a quienes habrían podido recibir la influencia de sus ideas: los miembros de un sindicato, los que no iban a misa, los sospechosos de votar al Frente Popular, las mujeres que habían obtenido el sufragio y el derecho al divorcio...

En esta determinación de pasar incógnito, disfrazado, habrá un enmascaramiento tan bien realizado, que nada permitirá localizar en él al venezolano, ni siquiera al suramericano; su identidad real la conocerán en Europa sólo Bolívar y el grupo de éste, en Francia. Cuando llegue a París, un poco más tarde, se registrará como nacido en Filadelfia. Y aun de regreso ya a Suramérica, por mero afán de burla, esta vez, le dirá al viajero francés Paul Marcoy, en el Perú: “Soy hijo de Sanlúcar de Barrameda, cerca de Cádiz. Salí muy pronto de mi noble Andalucía, para recorrer el mundo y ver lo que hay en él de bueno”.[