Courtney and I have been close friends for over thirty years, even though she now lives in Alaska and I live in Boston. When we recently met up in Paris and started sharing memories, our teenagers were fascinated by how different our perspectives were, So we decided to have some quarantine fun by writing down our own versions of shared memories. First up? The night we followed Andrea Bocelli’s voice into the Hollywood Hills for an unforgettable adventure of music and magic and moonlight.
Courtney’s Memory
Andrea Bocelli
I was wearing sweats and shopping at Trader Joes in the Valley one evening when I got the call from Marci.
“Come pick me up, we’re going to see Andrea Bocelli at the Hollywood Bowl tonight!”
I was beyond excited. I had tried to get tickets but was deterred by the $500 tickets. Marci must have gotten a perk from a client or a miracle must have happened I thought.
“Really? How did you get tickets?” I exclaimed with delight.
“Get over here right now – I’ll fill you in on the details when you get here,” she said.
As we were driving there I lamented I wasn’t dressed properly because of the short notice and I noted she still hadn’t told me how she scored tickets. I looked sideways at her suspiciously. I hadn’t even seen the actual tickets come to think of it.
We had a long history of getting into concerts without tickets but we’d never dared do that at the stuffy Hollywood Bowl with assigned seats.
As we got closer she told me to put the windows down and listen for his voice and follow it.
I glared at her until she broke down, “Ok I don’t have tickets but we can park up in the neighborhood behind the Hollywood Bowl and listen to him in our car”, “what? It’s not like you had anything else going on tonight,” she stated… glancing at my sweat pants.
I started driving in the neighborhood around the Hollywood Bowl until we ran into a security check point. The security guard asked for my ID. Only people with an address in that neighborhood would be allowed he said.
As luck would have it, I had lived in the hills behind the bowl briefly and my old address on Glencoe was still on my license! We were cleared past the guards.
Andrea Bocelli’s voice was audible in our car and with each turn it was getting louder. Marci had her head out the window and was telling me which way to turn. She was so excited to hear his operatic voice she could hardly contain herself. Finally, we ended up on a cul de sac and could hear him singing clear as a bell.
We got out of the car and made a little Trader Joes picnic on the hood and listened to him sing. A few minutes later, an Angel on earth disguised as a man approached us.
“You ladies look like Bocelli super fans, how would you like to have the best seat in the house to watch the concert?”
He led us into his house where he was having a big party. His backyard overlooked the Hollywood Bowl stage and he led us to a spot in the trees he’d filled with twinkling lights. Below us was the audience, and there was blind opera singer Andrea Bocelli pouring his soul out. Our party host handed us champagne and a blanket.
Marci and I looked at each other – “I told you we were going to see Andrea Bocelli tonight – you doubted me?” She said. I just glared at her.
We wept at Ava Maria and called our friend Gabby and was holding the phone up for her to hear the concert as well.
Where there’s a will there’s a way.
Marci’s Memory
And even all these years later, when the world seems so sad, I love to think about that transcendent night: sitting under the stars with a beloved friend, a bottle of wine, and singing so exquisite that it took my breath away, filling me with irreplaceable treasures that money could never buy.
But let me start at the beginning of the night. Earlier that day, I was standing in the Royal Palace in West Hollywood, that’s what we called our little house, when I learned Andrea Bocelli was performing that very night at the Hollywood Bowl. I was/am a huge opera fan, and I especially adore Andrea Bocelli, so when I learned that the tickets were going for $500 each, way beyond my reach, I decided I would find a way to hear him sing, even if it meant sitting in a tree outside the Bowl.
This was the 90’s, before the internet or cell phones, and I thought of my friend, Courtney, who was always up for an adventure, as long as you left the actual details out. I called her and asked if she wanted to go see Andrea Bocelli with me that night at the Hollywood Bowl, to which she replied, “YES!”
I didn’t tell her that I had not procured actual tickets and we may be sitting in the trees.
Courtney came right over to pick me up, and we drove the ten-minute drive up to the Bowl. Once we were up there, I told her to turn up a side street. She asked why and I said because we are going to find a place where we can hear the concert. Courtney is always a good sport with my antics, and she usually barely bats an eye, but might sigh for a moment before jumping right on board any adventure with me. I was so happy that didn’t get mad and kick me out of the car. She pulled up a side street where a policeman asked where we were going. He said only residents were allowed up the street. As luck would have it, Courtney had a driver’s license that listed a street in the Hollywood Hills as her address since her Mom had lived there. He let us pass and as we drove, Courtney said, “Now what?”
“Just follow the sound of his voice!” I said, rolling down my window and sticking my head out so I could listen for his lush gorgeous singing.
The air smelled like jasmine and honeysuckle and the warm wind whipped my hair around my face as I shouted, “This way! Turn here!” We found a cul-de-sac where his voice was loudest, and we parked and sat down on the curb. Courtney had been at the grocery store, and she pulled out her wine and cheese and we toasted to our success at being able to hear him sing. A door opened and a man came out and invited us into his backyard where other people were sitting and listening. We carried our wine and cheese and walked into the trees at the back of the Bowl and found a place to sit.
When Andrea Bocelli sings, my heart aches with the gorgeous tenderness of his voice. When the first notes of my favorite song, Con Te Partiro, started, I looked at Courtney. Both of us caught our breath, and when his lush voice poured through the trees, bathing us in its extraordinary beauty, the tears spilled down our cheeks and we put our arms around each other and listened.
Such a tender memory full of the exuberance of youth & friendship at its most finest!