My first Marlboro tour was 1968. Frank (Salomon) called me saying the violist, Boris Kroyt, had become ill, and would I jump in and take his place in the Debussy Trio. There were many memorable moments on these tours, but the one I cherish took place in Buffalo’s Lenox Hotel, and we were about to rehearse. Someone said, “Where’s Don Weilerstein?” He was supposedly flying in. He’s not here! Where is he? We panicked! For some reason, I peered out the hotel window at a vast parking lot and, lo and behold, there in the middle, unguarded, was standing a lonely, isolated suitcase. I yelled to everyone, “Hooray, we’ve found Don!” Those were fun days.
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