When Beethoven wrote his Ninth Symphony, containing the “Ode To Joy,” he was totally deaf. “Ode To Joy” is one of most recognized scores ever written and has been an anthem for both freedom and joy for many years. It is heard in many venues ranging from weddings to graduations to Beijing’s Tiananmen Square where it was played by the protesters before the tanks arrived in 1989.
I think people are hardwired to seek both freedom and joy. And “Ode To Joy” is the musical expression of that genetic disposition. The choral lyrics include the following:
O friends, no more these sounds!
Let us sing more cheerful songs,
More full of joy!
Listen now to two short renditions of “Ode To Joy.” One is a choral arrangement which is powerful even if you don’t understand German (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah-5wLaTwME) and the second is a musical rendition with a violin and piano (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8OKkvu8OB8). If you did not feel “joy” after listening, have someone check your pulse.
How to get from Beethoven to Pat Collins? Not so hard when you think about the essence of joy.
My college classmate, Pat Collins, just announced his retirement from the NBC affiliate in Washington DC after 34 years of reporting. He would cover stories, large and small, for over 30 years, making him one of the most recognized people in the City.
Late in his career, he may have discovered his true calling and it made him not only one of the best known but one of the City’s most beloved people.
Pat is a native Washingtonian, born and raised when Washington was a small southern town dwarfed entirely by brawny industrial Baltimore, 30 miles to the north. In the 1950s, Washington boasted perhaps 500,000 people while Baltimore housed a million people, had the largest steel mill in the world employing 40, 000, had winning professional sports teams in baseball, football and basketball. Washington had a very bad baseball team, a bad football team and no basketball team.
In 50 years, that has all changed. Baltimore has shrunk; Washington has grown on steroids fueled by federal money. Now the Washington Metropolitan area is twice the size of Baltimore.
The two cities are not alike. Baltimore is more of a blue-collar town; Washington anything but. So too, they are different television markets with one result being that I never saw Pat on the television until one snowy day about 10 years ago when, in an Annapolis hotel room, the television showed the Washington NBC affiliate and not the Baltimore affiliate. There he was.
The entire area was blanketed with snow and Pat appeared wearing a Russian winter hat with furry earflaps. He was measuring snow with the “blue snow stick” which was a yardstick painted blue. The whole routine involved him going to various areas of Washington and measuring the snow accumulation in each area.
I immediately called and a few days later requested my “blue snow stick.” Such was not to be since the snow sticks were in great demand and were not given out unless, for instance, they were auctioned off for charity netting thousands of dollars. In other words, he had created a crazy phenomenon bringing joy to Washington viewers on snowy days.
Still, I did not understand the role he played in the Washington area. A few years later, he and a number of our college classmates met for lunch at an Olive Garden in Laurel, Maryland, a Washington suburb. As usual, we recounted old stories, told new lies and were generally enjoying our old friends. At least we did, until the patrons in the restaurant, the entire wait staff and the kitchen crew appeared seeking “selfies” with Pat. He was gracious to each and every one.
It turns out that it was a lot more than snow sticks. On a regular basis, Pat would appear on television with stories that you would hear nowhere else. The best example is Pat Collins and Banana Man. This has all the hallmarks of a Pat Collins story: A funny story, made funnier by Pat in a costume with his dramatic over the top presentation. See for yourself (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR14cLx340k).
But not everyone is a fan. One critic conceded that he was funny but asked whether he stood for anything. A strange question. I’m not sure that I or anybody I know “stands” for anything. But, if pressed, I think that Pat may stand for something pretty obvious.
Pat intuitively understood that people needed joy in their lives. He was happy to play the theatrical fool and give it to them. In all these stories, like Beethoven, he exhibited perfect pitch.
And they loved it.