June 5, 2007--The Best Job . . . Ever!

How does this ad sound to you?

Help Wanted--Someone to reside in Cremona, Italy [sounding good already] and work in the town’s Violin Museum [doing what you wonder—perhaps guarding them?]. Working hours are from when you arrive in the morning until you get the job done [sounds very Silicone Valley to me—but watch out for the all-nighters]. Usually your workday will run about three hours [I’m relieved]. Successful candidates will be self-motivated because if offered the position you will not be supervised. In addition, those who will be referred to the short list will have demonstrated a capacity to work on their own without colleagues or peers [that sounds like me].

Qualifications—Must be at least 70 years old [oh well—clearly they haven’t heard about the US laws against age discrimination], have studied the violin since at least age nine [that lets me out—I began at 10]; must be familiar with the violin music of Mozart and Bach, especially Bach’s partitas.

Applicants should submit a one-page résumé and be available for interviews and a practicum in a chapel of the Cremona cathedral where the museum is located.

References—three required.

Salary—competitive.

So you get the job. You rent a small flat with cathedral view in the Gothic center of town. Every morning, after waking up at 7:30 or so, on your way to work you stop at the Guarneri Café. The waiter, who by now knows you, brings you your regular cappuccino (very little milk), hard roll, and the Corriere della Sera. You sip slowly while glancing at the latest headlines about Silvio Berlusconi and how the Grigiorossi footballers did the night before (they lost again). After finishing your second coffee, it’s time to get to work.

You arrive at the museum at about 9:30, 10:15, whenever. One thing not in the want ad, you must wear a jacket and tie—well, nothing’s perfect. You go to your tool cabinet—oh, didn’t I mention that, in spite of the suit, manual labor is involved—and take out resin, jugs of distilled water, and some soft cotton rags.

Then you proceed to unlock one of the glass cabinets and take from it a 18th century Guarneri violin (ah, the Café of the same name) and run some scales on it. After about six or seven minutes, you put it back carefully and take out one of the museum’s 16th century Amatis, from Cremona’s initial family of great violin makers. It too gets tuned and played for six minutes. And then you turn to the three Stradivari, each one worth millions. They get special treatment—in addition to their daily tuning and the scales, they require music, real music, so you knock out some Bach.

The current official music conservationist, that is the actual job title, 75 year-old Andrea Mosconi, who has held this job for 30 years [must be because of the benefits], says that “A great instrument should get great music and a great performance.” He quickly adds that those in his charge do not get that great performance from him. (See NY Times article linked below—no, Signor Mosconi did not get his job through the New York Times.)

A conservationist is required because these instruments must be played just like dogs and cats have to be stroked in order to keep them content. No one has been able to figure out, in spite of all our science and lasers and PET scanners, why it was in Cremona three, four hundred years ago that these great families were able to make instruments that to this day have not come close to being equaled.

And no one knows why they require regular handing and playing. It’s just a job but somebody’s got to do it.