Schizophrenia in F Sharp Minor

Bernard Grodzinski had been a renowned conductor of classical music throughout his working life, and being particularly highly praised by the music critics of the New York Times, Boston Globe and London Daily Telegraph for his “beautiful inspired tranquil renditions” of the Symphonies of Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky and Shostakovich as guest conductor of the L.S.O, at the Henry Wood Proms in London, England, as well as his highly esteemed exciting interpretations of new orchestral works of Tavener, Lutoslawski and Glass in Carnegie Hall, New York City.

But music lovers were deeply saddened to learn at the age of sixty five the famous conductor had suffered a mental breakdown and had been sent by his physician for diagnosis and convalescence at the Pine Oaks Psychiatric Hospital in the Catskill Mountain region of New York State. It was while inside the hospital that Bernard first met Joey Riviera who had been assigned to look after him, having himself been a patient and being diagnosed with a severe mental health problem, certified by the doctors as having an incurable condition known as DSM-IV and personality disorder for nearly twenty years. In addition to this Joey had all the characteristics of a condition known as schizophrenia which would quite often send him into a state of uncontrollable frenzy.

Rather amazingly it seemed, both Bernard and Joey looked alike, almost as if they were twins, and it was also remarkable that these two elderly gentlemen seemed to have struck up a genuine liking for each other. Anyway, as their friendship grew stronger Joey related to Bernard that his most cherished wish was to escape from Pine Oaks, thereafter to be admired by people of America for his wonderfulness and charisma, even if it was for just a short period. In fact the urge to escape was overwhelming. Bernard however was getting rather irritated by the constant presence of Joey in his life and had developed a strong desire for a period of relaxation and peacefulness in order to regain his composure by being alone. So one day an idea suddenly manifested itself in Bernard’s brain-stem.

“Look Joey,” Bernard began, “why don’t we swap rolls, you take up my position in society, thereby take over my role as a classical musical conductor and I can sit back here and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. It would be really great if you could finish up in Carnegie Hall or even Radio City. I always get applauded and shouts of “encore” that sometimes goes on for five minutes or more after performing. It’s because they love me so much. You see Joey; I could really do with a break from all the accolade. Let me put it this way, if by chance you could get yourself out of here, perhaps one day you’ll finish up in New York and there go about conducting the New York Philharmonic.”

It soon became evident that Bernard’s outlandish remark made his doppelganger burst out laughing.

“The reason I say all these things to you, Joey, is because we look so much alike,” Bernard smiled. “In fact you could pass off for me no trouble. Believe me you’ll be admired and applauded for the rest of your life for being such a wonderful and successful impresario.

“But Bern” Joey sighed, “I don’t know nuttin about classical music nor orchestral interpretation,” Joey replied in a strong Brooklyn accent, “how the hell could I possibly do anything like that.”

“Don’t worry” Bernard replied, “I’ll teach you all there is to know about conducting. Moreover, I’ll show how to move your hands in the appropriate manner at the different sections of the orchestra just like I used to do. If it’s contemporary music with discords, the strings, woodwind, brass and timpani performers all know how to play their instruments to make the music sound wonderfully magnificent and impress those nerds from the New York Times who always seem to slag me off. Its child’s play. Look I don’t want to hear another word, you’re going and that’s final,” Bernard insisted.

All things considered, it was altogether a thoroughly satisfying arrangement for both parties.

In the days that followed the two inmates slipped into a regular routine, and bearing in mind that complete secrecy was needed if their scheme was to work. So the boiler-house would be the obvious choice. In fact their steamy hideaway provided the ideal location for their macabre plans. By far the most notable feature about the boiler-house it was noisy, steamy and damn right convenient. Every so often the two inmates would emerge from their solitary retreat and come up for air. However, within the sanatorium itself a particular discomfort reigned amongst several members of staff that strange manifestations had been heard, coming from the vicinity of the boiler-house - but seemingly the matter was not investigated. Joey meanwhile was busily taken up with a constant bombardment of music and elocution lessons, and of course Bernard rose to the occasion by becoming his teacher of classical music, and, as a result Joey was taught the different orchestral groupings and where the sections of each group of instruments would be located.

“All you have to do” Bernard said forcefully, “is to make each piece of music you are doing by using your baton or your hand. The beat of the music is indicated with the conductor’s right hand which identifies each beat with a change of either an upward or downward motion. Move the baton up and down and don’t forget the baton is an extension of your arm. Therefore you need to relax your fingers and wrist so it will give you just enough tension to control the speed.

Once the orchestra kicks off your baton will do the talking for you. Furthermore, try to emulate the speed and tempo required and don’t forget preparatory beats should not be given with facial expressions, and under no account should your feet leave the ground. Furthermore, try and keep a steady ship at all times. And for God’s sake don’t start waving your tackle about, it could be most embarrassing.

By focusing the tip of your baton your hand it will get the orchestra to play louder or softer, or play faster or slower. Increase the beat with either your hand or your baton. So in other words, conducting is a means of communicating artistic directions. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Bernard illustrated. “It is so easy you can’t possibly get it wrong.”

Joey wondered if Bernard’s teachings were right or was he telling him a load of rubbish. Nevertheless, it is impossible to overstate at this point that Joey knew all too well how wonderful he was and had gathered that Bernard must have also realised what a total genius he was. Quite often Joey would unashamedly boast to Bernard that he was quite capable of learning any new skill in the world, especially conducting orchestras. Meanwhile Bernard was thinking, “I wish that schizoid would just say he understands everything and go away and leave me in peace. I’ll get great satisfaction when the moment comes when he is identified as a fraud and a con artist for making a total prat of himself, but who the hell cares, if he gets caught that’s his lookout.”

Giving the situation a considerable of thought, Joey decided he was definitely of the genius mould, and so ruddy wonderful in fact that he would turn out a more brilliant conductor than Bernard. It was clearly evident that Joey felt he was destined for much greater things. In the days leading up to his escape Joey decided it was time to depart from Pine Oaks and start a new career for himself a full time conductor. Meanwhile Bernard chuckled to himself. “Thank God he’s finally decided to bugger off.”

Joey’s master-plan was to sneak out of the sanatorium in a laundry truck that arrived each morning to pick up the dirty linen. His intention was to hide in a skip and there keep a low profile till the opportunity came along when he could break out and enter New York, proper. But little did Bernard know that Joey had no intention of returning to Pine Oaks. Once he’d escaped from the sanatorium there was no going back. So on a brisk sunny morning Joey bade farewell to Bernard for the very last time. Undoughtedly, Bernard was more than convinced his buddy in crime was a complete nut. So consequently, as a result of Joey’s forthcoming escape it was inevitably it would lead to a major security alert. But that certainly didn’t the inmate off. Joey had too much to lose. The escape I am pleased to say passed off without incident.

It was one of those razor-sharp, bitterly cold, wintry days. A cold wind was blowing in from the Hudson River, turning everything into a blanket of frost, which made his escape even more precarious. While the drama of escaping was being played out the bogus conductor fought his way through complexities of New York before finally arriving at the forefront of a house. It was undoubtedly the one he was looking for. It was Bernard’s house, looking the more impressive than any other on the street. Joey’s first instinct was to do a runner. But no, he had come this far, so why back out now? With nerves of steel he eventually plucked up the courage to knock on the door. Anxiety suddenly crept in as to whom or might answer it. All was revealed when the door finally came open when the figure of a man appeared. There stood a distinguished looking man of his later years, and dressed would you believe in a butler’s uniform. It was Bernard’s man servant, Osborne-Bates, a rather refined English butler who on seeing Joey beamed with joy, together with a twinkle in his eyes. However, the butler hesitated for a moment, and somewhat bewildered at the figure standing on the step, for he was slightly puzzled by his master’s attire, for he was still wearing his sanatorium attire.

“I’m sorry Bates to have turned up unannounced and I hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient hour.”Joey said with a cunning little grin.

“Oh, welcome home master,” Osborne-Bates beamed with joy.

“My word sir the rest has certainly done you good and you look so much fitter and younger than you did. Do pray come in sir. I was just about make dinner, but before I do, may I suggest a glass of wine to celebrate your return.” Bates continued. “But first I would like to draw your attention to something of great importance.”

Bates led the way into the drawing room. The decor beamed with a mixed blessing of magnificent portraits of famous composers, past and present, along with stuffed heads of defunked animals. Acting on impulse Joey eased himself into Bernard’s favourite armchair, the recliner. As he rocked to and fro and from side to side, he was still trying to get to grips with his amazing his good fortune. On the other hand Bates was composed as ever, although a little surprised as to his masters sudden appearance.

For several moments Joey looked on spellbound by the sheer extravagance of the place. Bernard’s residence boasted six bedrooms, all en-suite, and a space-age kitchen with two servants, a study room, filled with numerous books and priceless pictures, along with a beautiful dining area fit for a king. Judging from the surroundings, money it seemed was never in short supply.

As the grandfather clock rang its chimes, Bates slowly but surely made his way over to the writing bureau and switched on the standard lamp. It flickered and crackled before it finally burst into life. It had the desired effect of lighting up Bates most striking features. From the writing bureau Bates produced a piece of paper which he began to read its contents.

“Sir, I would like to draw your attention to a communiqué which I received this week from the famous composer Otto Schweinhaund. He has pacifically requested if you were free to conduct the first performance of his latest work, “Metamorphosis on the mountains of Tierra del Fuego in F Sharp Minor with your favourite orchestra, the New York Philharmonic. Would you like me to confirm your availability, sir? I’m afraid there won’t be any time for rehearsals but I’m sure it will be no problem for such an experienced musician as your good self, sir.”

Giving a nervous little cough there was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Joey cleared his throat. “Of course I don’t need to rehearse,” Joey boasted as he flexed his hand and articulating his most brilliant imitation of Bernard’s voice, together with an accent which became so familiar at Pine Oaks. However, Bates began to ponder. “The master really does sound and act much weirder than he did before he left, but I suppose being banged in the loony bin for so long does strange things to one.”

After a hearty meal Joey decided to retire to the smoke room. As he sat there puffing away on a big cigar, he began to reflect. “I’ve certainly got to hand it to Bates,” Joey smiled, “the meal was amazingly delicious, the wine old, but drinkable, the cigar and coffee just perfect. Oh yes brother, this is the life for me”

Nevertheless, it is impossible on overstate the true exhaustion Joey must have felt after such a hectic day. With a water bottle in hand the bogus conductor he was duly escorted to his living quarters. Bates opened the door to his bedroom. The real surprise came when he feasted his eyes on the extravagant taste of decor. To make his day finish on a high note Joey was introduced to a magnificent four-poster-bed of imaginable magnitude. It was plainly obvious that Joey’s new lifestyle, would be taking on a whole new meaning. But what was more remarkable, Bates, did not for one moment catch on to the switch; therefore, Joey concluded he was such a brilliant actor, that he felt certain he would play out the roll of Bernard to a tee.

For the first time in his life Joey slept like a log and did so until the following morning. However, when he woke it was to the realisation that he was still highly intoxicated and in a state of drowsiness after downing three bottles of Bernard’s favourite vintage wine, and, at two hundred dollars a bottle he surely had one hell of a good time. His only other companion was two empty bottles of French wine. Anyway in the course of his slumber he was abruptly woken up by the sound of a knock on his door. But who should walk in proud as you like. It was Joey’s new-found butler friend, Osborne-Bates. In he walked, holding up a highly polished silver tray and bearing on it full English breakfast.

“Good morning sir, did you sleep well? I’ve brought you your breakfast, and I’ve cooked it just the way you like it. Your eggs are done sunny side up, your bacon and toast, done to a crisp, and to go down with your coffee, I’ve taken the liberty of leaving a box of your favourite cigars.” Bates said in a rather shaky, old boy, public school accent.

“Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh”, Joey mumbled, holding his head in a slurred voice. “Why gee thanks Shultz, I mean Manny, I mean Bates.”

“Furthermore sir, I’ve taken the liberty of laying out your wardrobe for tonight’s concert, and by the way a car will be arriving later on to take you there.”

At precisely four in the afternoon two hoots of a car horn heralded the arrival of a car waiting to take the famous conductor to Carnegie Hall. As it swept through the metropolis of New York Joey felt like a man of great importance as he pulled away on a cigar. Sometime later the car entered the complexities of Carnegie Hall and was quickly ushered through by the security people. Its sudden arrival however sparked a scene of panic. Out scurried two uniformed security men. “You’d better get your man in quick,” one of them said, thereafter, the famous conductor was hastily ushered inside. The problem which had caused concern was that a handful of boisterous autograph hunters, mostly young ladies, had it in their minds to grab hold of Bernard’s autograph, in addition to grabbing anything else they could lay their hands on. Then came the biggest surprise. The guy manning the reception desk was amazed to see the great man in person, and just like the butler he’d been totally deceived into presuming it was none other than the real Bernard Grodzinski.

Our aspiring hero was hurriedly escorted to his dressing room, whereby the make-up people went about their work. While all this was going on people began to arrive. One by one Bernard’s cronies gallantly marched in to wish their conductor lots of luck for his forthcoming performance. But who should walk with arms outstretched, it was none other than the flamboyant figure of Otto Schweinhund, who of course was the highly celebrated composer of classical musical, and of the highest esteem. To Joey’s amazement Otto greeted him like a long lost friend.

“Bernard! It vas so wunderbar to zee you again and I must say you look so much fitter and younger than you did. Ah, but no doubt Bernard, you’ve been taking the rejuvenated fluid, again.” Otto joked in a strong German accent.” Otto continued. “Vat first I must tell you I vasn’t very keen on that zat Pillock, I mean Trevor Pillock conducting my music! So therefore I am most delighted you were able to take up my offer and take up the baton for tonight’s second performance.” Bernard again hugged Joey, much like a soccer player who had just scored a magnificent goal in a world cup match.

Arm in arm both conductors made their way into the vast auditorium to take up their seats. The mighty hall thronged to a fine selection of well-dressed gentlemen, accompanied by fashionable attired ladies, eagerly waiting for the concert to begin. A surge of excitement ran through the mighty hall as the audience relished the prospect of the great Grodzinski about to deliver one humdinger of a performance.

The first performance would be taken up by the dreaded Trevor Pillock who was conducting Rossini’s Barber of Seville Overture, followed by Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto with Daniel Barenboim as soloist. While in the course of the performance Joey watched intensely at the way Trevor Pillock moved his hands in time with the music and hoped and prayed he would be able to swoon the audience into raptures with his own version, which in hindsight was sure to bowl them over. So therefore he concluded it was clearly going to be a piece of cake, that was of course if he executes the same tactics as the great Pillock, and by doing the exactly the same things, thus moving his hands in such a way that the beautiful sounding music would come through and make the orchestra perform to the highest standards. Not that he any idea what the hell it was supposed to sound like as the poor man couldn’t even read music.

Once Trevor Pillock had finished doing his version of Beethoven’s concerto it was Joey’s turn to let rip with his piece of music. The moment of truth came when he apprehensively made his way to the rostrum. As he climbed the few short steps to take up his position a feeling uncertainty came over him.

Then it was all systems - go-go-go. A quick shuffle of the feet accompanied by a shake of the head, followed by an almighty blow on his handkerchief, gave the cue for the concert to begin. With two gentle taps of the baton the orchestra roared into action. Joey remembered what Bernard had taught him back at Pine Oaks and was determined to raise the standard of conducting to unprecedented levels. Complete with baton in hand and to the hysterical clapping from the New York audience, Joey began his performance with an exciting new contemporary work, which apart from the toilet attendant, nobody had the foggiest idea what it was. Therefore the audience felt pretty sure that the great Grodzinski was about to deliver a magnificently original interpretation of classical music, thereof.

Meanwhile back at Pine Oaks the real Bernard Grodzinski was monitoring the situation on his radio, feverishly tuned in to the classical concert at Carnegie Hall where his understudy was performing - and oddly enough, it began to dawn on Bernard from what he was hearing that Joey had presumably mastered the art of conducting.

Back to the concert and all was going well till some lunatic in the brass section hit a bum note in F Sharp Minor. This unfortunately drove the bogus conductor into a state of uncontrollable madness. For a moment there was utter pandemonium. The conductor of notable standing suddenly leaped in the air like a frog on heat as the music reached an almighty crescendo. For whatever reason, the bogus conductor had become mentally stimulated by the ear piercing note in F. Never before had the people of New York seen the sight of a half-witted human being who uncharacteristically began flapping his arms about and trying in desperation to impersonate a flock of finely reared chickens and singing to a chorus of cock-a-doodle-doodle tunes. There was one final moment of silence when all hell broke loose. The concert was rapidly diminishing into a scene of barbaric madness. A tremor of nervousness ran through the audience as they witnessed the sight of a monster type zombie whose eyes bulged from their sockets and had a twist of madness about them. Grim-faced, the orchestra looked on in horror as Joey’s hand went this way and then that way and seemingly totally out of control. He grunted, and grunted, snuffed and snorted, more like a pig going to market. It was painfully obvious that the conductor had completely lost it. Furthermore, his two-fingered gesture that was pointed with furry, and I might add with some ferocity at the perpetrator who dare give him a bum note. In the middle of this madness and mayhem was a section of the orchestra, who by the look on their faces were having the times of their lives. The outrageous sight of people rolling about on the floor and in the process smashing their instruments against the rostrum was pure savagery. Never before had the music lovers of New York witnessed such amazing scenes in the course of the night. But there was worse to come. A bald headed guy on the trombone had suddenly sprouted hair, along with the fastest growing beard, you ever did see. The lady violinist had used her bow to fire with some vengeance at her ex-husband on the trombone. There were also strong overtones from the saxophone player who reeked of a rather nasty smell of swamp gas. The conductor by this time had turned into a zombie-like, paranoid creature. What turned out to be a great night at the proms became one hellish night to remember. The conductor throughout I must mention displayed a show of skill and tenacity that would encapsulate universal praise of the most hardened music lovers.

From the audience came a cry of anguish. “For God’s sake man,” Otto Schweinhaund shouted, “pull yourself together.”

Almost immediately there was a flurry of activity going on inside the vast hall. The mayor of New York stood up and proclaimed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to say a few words of thanks to our beloved conductor, Bernard Grodzinski. In recognition of your magnificent performance in tonight’s concert I would like therefore to offer you the freedom of New York City. The smuck!”

With the concert in total disarray Joey was taken back to his dressing room, pale-faced but unruffled. There to greet him was a rather innocuous Otto Schweinhaund. However, far from being displeased with Joey’s performance he seemed quite happy about the situation.

“My dear Bernard,” Otto began. “The effort and commitment you put into tonight’s performance was truly Wunderbar! In fact your interpretation of a rather highly strung free range chicken was simply outstanding.

(Joey was thrilled by Otto’s compliment)

“Why gee thanks thanks Otto, you’re a real pal.”

“Tell you what, Otto smiled, “why don’t we have return concert sometime in the near future. And hey, how about doing a completely new concerto, entitled, “Herbert the Frog.”

Joey smiled, told everyone to stand back, cleared his throat, opened his mouth and gave a hideous grin, followed by.....

“Quid-ip-quid-ip-quid-ip!!”

Joey left Carnegie Hall in a blaze of glory. The following day at the Pine Oaks sanatorium the real Bernard was reading the New York Times and was amazed to read the music critics account of the previous night’s concert at Carnegie Hall.

“Grodzinski’s interpretation of contemporary music composed by Otto Schweinhund achieved new realms of profundity, audacity and immortality, never previously attained, and even the experienced performers of the New York Philharmonic seemed discombobulated but still coped magnificently with Grodzinski’s interpretation of the Funky Chicken.”

During the weeks that followed Joey had plenty of time to think about his future. It was therefore a choice of returning back to Pine Oaks or having all this marvellous freedom which up to now he had grown so deliriously accustomed too. After all, the great conductor had much work to do. The offers of forthcoming tours and concerts came in thick and fast. The truth of the matter was: Joey didn’t give a damn about Bernard - for all cared he could simply rot away in Pine Oaks. There was no doubt about it, Joey had become the most celebrated conductor in living memory.