(GK: Garrison Keillor; TK: Tom Keith; SS: Sue Scott: TR: Tim Russell; JK: Joel Krosnick; JS: Joel Smirnoff; RC: Ronald Copes; SR: Samuel Rhodes)
(THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but on the 12th floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions.....Guy Noir, Private Eye. (THEME UP AND OUT)
GK: It was June, and the city was in the midst of a heat wave that had a lot of us thinking menopause. I was thinking how nice it'd be to get out of town and up in the mountains someplace and then I got a call from somebody named Julie at Tanglewood.
JS (ON PHONE): It's Joel Smirnoff from the Juilliard Quartet.
GK: Fine. Put her on.
JS (ON PHONE): I said Juilliard.
GK: I got all her records, I love her work.
JS (ON PHONE): We're not talking about the same thing!
GK: I'm talking about the same thing. But never mind. What can I do for you, Mr. Smirnoff?
JS (ON PHONE): You're from the New York Times, right?
GK: I thought for a moment. It occurred to me that I ought to go along with the man. --- I could always correct him later. --- Yes, I am.
JS: Some New York developer is talking about putting in a twenty-story high-rise at Tanglewood. A retirement home called The Dotted Rest. It has to be stopped. Tanglewood is not a high-rise type of place.
GK: Well, for Julie, I'll do it. (BRIDGE) So I flew out to the Berkshires. Beautiful countryside. Nice towns. If you like wicker and petunias and macrame and old barn wood. A place where the Dead End sign spells End e-n-d-e. ----- I headed for Tanglewood and found my way to a parking lot behind the music shed ---- (BRAKES) Hey-----
TK (GRUFF) : Yeah?
GK: This Tanglewood, right? You mind if I park here?
TK (GRUFF): No. Get your butt out of here. Beat it. (CAR ACCEL)
GK: We Midwesterners often make that mistake of asking permission. Bad strategy.----So I drove around the block, spray-painted the car dark green (SPRAY), put on my dark glasses, and came back---- (BRAKES)
TK (GRUFF): Yeah?
GK: Whaddaya mean, 'yeah'? Where's my space? I'm with the Times. It better not be taken. Look it up. You got the clipboard. What do I have to do? Look it up for you? Come on. I don't have all day. Times. T-i-m-e-s.
TK (GRUFF): New York Times?
GK: Of course, New York Times. What? Do I look like L.A. to you? Huh?
TK (GRUFF): Sorry. Go right in.
GK: That's better. (CAR ACCEL, SCREECH, TURN, BRAKES. DOOR OPEN) ---- Confidence. It's better than an I.D. (FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL)
JK: Hey. You from the New York Times?
GK: Yeah. Who are you?
JK: Krosnick. From the Juilliard Quartet.
GK: What about it?
JK: How come you said that our performance of the Ives Quartet No. 2 was luminous but it lacked brilliance. Huh?
GK: Did I say that?
JK: "Luminous but it lacked brilliance."
GK: It was just an impression, okay. One guy's opinion.
JK: If something gives off light, then what does that mean, to say it lacks brilliance? I don't get it.
GK: Well, luminous can mean sort of a soft light. Brilliance means a hard defining light.
JK: What does that have to do with our performance? Were you there?
GK: Yes, of course. When was this?
JK: 1978.
GK: Nineteen seventy-eight???? You've been thinking about this since 1978?????
JK: Over the years, your review has come to really upset me.
GK: I'm sorry. (FOOTSTEPS)
JS: Hey--- Guy Noir, right? The private eye.
GK: Who are you, Mister?
JS: Joel Smirnoff from the Juilliard Quartet. Nice to see you.
GK: Hey. I remember reading about you. You were the guy who solved that murder of the guest conductor at Ravinia.
JS: Tough case.
GK: He was a tough conductor, as I recall.
JS: Exactly. So the moment he died, there were more than a hundred people with a motive----
GK: They were rehearsing Beethoven's Ninth.
JS: The bottom of the Ninth and the basses were loaded.
GK: But the cops arrested the first chair violist.
JS: Who couldn't have done it. I mean, the guy couldn't even play spiccato, how could he stab the maestro?
GK: Right.
JS: The cops arrested him because he was the only musician left at the scene. Everybody else had run away.
GK: He was still sitting in his seat.
JS: He didn't run away because he hadn't looked at the conductor in twenty years anyway, so he had no idea the maestro was sprawled across the podium.
GK: Turned out he'd fallen on his own baton.
JS: One of the cellists had smiled at him and he fainted away and the baton pierced his heart.
GK: Nice piece of detective work.
JS: So what line of work are you in, Mr. Noir?
GK: Journalism. The Juilliard Quartet. That's one of the famous ones, right?
JS: Come and meet em. (FOOTSTEPS) Our dressing rooms are right back here.
GK: Very nice. Carpeted and everything. I like the wainscoting. Mahogany, right?
JS: Yeah. ---- Right in here. --- He's with me, Arthur.
TR (BRIT): Yes, sir. Very good, sir. Watch your step, sir. (DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS, CLOSE)
GK: You have a doorman for your dressing room?
JS: Former conductor. Lost his confidence. Needed the work. ---- Here's our steam room in here. (DOOR OPEN. STEAM.) It's nice for warming up the instruments. (DOOR CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS) Swimming pool is in here. (DOOR OPEN. DIVING BOARD, SPLASH) That's Sam Rhodes, our violist.
SR: Hey. Somebody said you're from the Times.
GK: Yeah, I heard that myself.
SR: You wrote a review of a concert back around '81, '82 ---- you said, "The Beethoven was marred by a slight uncertainty in the middle voices."
GK: That was a long time ago.
SR: It's been a stone in my shoe ever since.
GK: It's only one man thinking out loud.
SR: "Slight uncertainty in the middle voices" ---- what exactly was that supposed to mean?
GK: I think I heard someone humming back in the 30th row ---- he didn't seem to know where he was. Anyway, it's good to see you guys doing so great. A swimming pool backstage.
SR: It's written into our contract. (FOOTSTEPS) Right in here is our masseur. Sergei. (DOOR OPEN. TR RUSSIAN. DOOR CLOSE.) And this is our hair stylist, Misty. (DOOR OPEN)
SS: Oh hi. You ready for your final spray and gel, Mr. Rhodes?
SR: Not yet. This guy is from the media, Misty.
SS: Pleased to make your acquaintance. About your hair ---- may I be frank?
GK: I'd rather you wouldn't, but thanks for the offer. See you, Mr. Rhodes. (DOOR CLOSE, FOOTSTEPS) What's down here?
JS: This is the green room. (DOOR OPEN) (LIGHT JAZZ TRIO, PIANO, BASS, DRUMS) Nice to have music to take your mind off music.
GK: Man, this is a great dressing room.
JS: Like you to meet Ronald Copes, our second violin.
GK: Pleased to meet you. Don't let me interrupt your game. (SLAP OF CARDS BEING DEALT. )
RC: No problem. Listen, Mr. Noir. You're with The Times. You gotta help. We're worried sick about this high-rise going in. The Dotted Rest.
GK: I looked around, I didn't see anything.
RC: It's a retirement home for old string players. It's going up across the road from the music shed. Right over there. Twenty stories. Assisted living. Here's the brochure. Take a look.
GK: Hmm.
RC: We'll sit on stage and look out and see old violists lining up for their medications. Elderly oboists doing stretching exercises. Geezer horn players playing pinochle. Depressing.
GK: So that's why you guys work so hard to stay in shape?
JS: We travel with our personal chef, Rico ---- (TR ITALIAN, BIG, JOYOUS.......15 SECONDS) He loves tossing salads.
GK: So you eat before a show?
RC: A light salad. ---- Then afterward, a couple racks of barbecued ribs, throw back some beers, and we climb into the Juilliard Jet and take off for the next gig.
GK: Quite the life. Somehow I imagined four guys in a cinderblock room with folding chairs and a lot of coat hangers.
JS: Well, it's all thanks to her. Our manager. Allison. Allison Wonderland.
GK: Miss Wonderland----
ER: Mr. Noir.
GK: You did pretty well by these guys.
ER: You got a problem with that?
GK: None whatsoever.
ER: You think a string quartet deserves less than some bunch of punks with purple chest hair jumping around playing heavy metal?
GK: No, ma'am, I wasn't even suggesting----
ER: You think people who play Mozart and Debussy and Haydn ought to go around with a tin cup asking for spare change?
GK: I'm sorry if you got that impression----
ER: The steam room, the pool, the masseur, the hair stylist, the chef, the personal jet ----- you see this as frivolous, don't you.
GK: No, ma'am----
ER: Let me warn you: I'm no pansy, I'd do anything for these guys ---- one more carping review out of you, I'm on the phone to the publisher and you're on your way to Nowheresville. You'll be in Utica, reviewing the high school marching band.
GK: Sorry I got you riled up, Miss Wonderland. My carping days are done.
ER: See you around, Mr. Noir. (WHISTLE, HORSES HOOVES APPROACH. WHINNYING, CHUFFING.) Easy, White Star. Easy, girl! (SHE LEAPS UP) Giddup. Giddup. (SHE WHOOPS) (GALLOPING HOOVES AWAY)
GK: Some agent you got.
JS: The best.
GK: Hey, this senior citizen high-rise in Tanglewood? The Dotted Rest?
JS: Yeah?
GK: I looked at the brochure. That's not Tanglewood, that's the Tumbleweed Music Center. In Berkeley. Where am I supposed to send the bill?
SR: The bill for what? The slight uncertainty in the middle voices? Huh?
GK: Never mind. It's on me.
(THEME)
SS: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers...Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2001