fresh snow, lit by street lights, piled up outside the emerson cultural center

Emerson Cultural Center

Posted on | Shot on at 21:02:38

Six or so inches of fresh, early spring snow, piled up in the street outside the Emerson Cultural Center on a quiet night in Bozeman, Montana.

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  • Woow the snow suddenly surprised me………its like the first of the season as it were…….. I like the color and sort of magical glow……. those trees are wonderful …….very clean composition……….. love it !!!
    cheers Jez XX

  • In 1936 and ‘ 37, I attended 7th and 8th grades at (then) Emerson Junior High School. In ’37, our class presented an exciting production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s famous Pirates of Penzance. I was in the chorus and played the role of one of her Majesty’s sailors, and was given the opportunity to dance a solo hornpipe. I will never forget the rush I felt as waves of applause washed over me from a standing ovation.

    About ten years ago, at Christmas time, I was visiting Bozeman and staying with relatives, I happened to mention the wonderful experience of being in that show. A cousin asked, “Would you like to take a peek at that old auditorium again?

    “You mean now?” I enthused.

    “Yeah! It’s open tonight for a dance in the gym.”

    It was an evening just like the one your website picture. Snow everywhere and the temperature somewhere in the 20s. Ice crunching under our feet, we
    walked over, found the front doors unlocked, crossed through the lobby, opened an auditorium door, found the house lights on, and with a strange, mix of deja vu and reality, walked down the aisle and out on to the bare stage to the very spot where I’d once horn piped.

    I stood there for a minute or two in silence thinking about all the years and events that had disappeared into the darkness of the past .

    One of the double doors at the rear of the house swung open and a custodian
    entered and seemed a bit startled to find someone standing on the stage.
    I cheerily called out, “Good evening, sir!”

    He just stared for a second, and vocalized a kind of growl, “Hmmm.”

    I tried again, hoping to engage him. “You know something…?” I continued
    in what I hoped was an inviting tone.

    “What’s that..?” he responded flatly.

    I began affecting my faux narrator voice. “Sixty-one years ago,… when I was 13 years old,… I danced a sailor’s horn pipe,… in a production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta, ‘Pirates of Penzance’,… right here in this very auditorium, on this very stage, on this very spot!” I paused for a reaction.

    He continued staring at me for a beat, then grunted a flat “Ohhh.” Now he reached into a pocket, fished out a large bundle of keys, sort of jangled them at me as a badge of authority, then spoke again “Yeah,” delivered an eloquent ‘Whatever’ shrug, and began fingering through the keys as he said, “Well, gotta close up now.”

    Another thrilling and memorable moment in the history of American theater.


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  • Camera: Canon PowerShot A70
  • Shutter speed: 8/1 sec
  • Focal length: 173mm
  • Aperture: f/6.0


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