A strolling musician by Knez Jakovac

I had come to Dallas to play at the il Sorrento restaurant with Mr. Bernardi, an Italian accordian player who in the past played the piano in a very successful group from Italy that had toured the world. Mr Bernardi had been on the Ed Sullivan show, performed at Carnegie Hall, made movies in Mexico and, in the late 40's, performed for Juan and Evita Peron in Argentina. And now, in 1982, here he was. Six nights a week, four hours a night, five hours on Saturday. We made an unlikely pair for , along with the great difference in our ages, the sad fact was that he didn't want me. The owner had hired me to replace a violinist who had left two years before, and Mr. Bernardi had grown used to playing alone and not having to split his tips.

It was difficult at first because I think that Mr. Bernardi hoped that our "duo" would be a short term situation. I can't say that he was supportive of me or encouraging but his sense of decency won out and after a time he accepted me. And, I admired him. After all of his adventures and a wonderful career he seemed happy with his lot and displayed little ego. While we made very good money at il Sorrento it had to be quite a comedown for someone who once played for Edith Piaf!

He had such wonderful stories and I just could not get enough of them. During our breaks he would tell me about playing at Eisenhower's inauguration or opening at the Waldorf in New York. Or late nights spent in Las Vegas with Antonio Carlos Jobim after performances. He was an integral part of a show group called Quintetto Allegro, five musicians all from Italy who rose to the upper echelons of show business. At my urging, (I was always the one wanting to talk about his career), Mr. Bernardi brought some press clippings to the restaurant one night. In 1950 the reviewer for Newsweek magazine wrote that Quintetto Allegro was "one of the greatest acts I've seen in 30 years". They were managed by the prestigious musical entertainment agency MCA, and so appeared at the finest venues and supper clubs across the nation. Through his travels he knew many people in the entertainment world. Many celebrities came to il Sorrento and, while they may not have recognized Mr. Bernardi by sight, they responded warmly when he introduced himself and would have their own stories to offer about their times together in years past.

He taught me how to maximize our tips. He was never obvious and always conducted himself with dignity but there is a technique in being a strolling musician that does not concern the musicianship. When playing for a table of two couples frequently both men will pull money out of their wallets at the same time. If you take from one the other will put the money back in his pocket. So when either of us had a clear view of a large bill we would say the word, "tremolo" as if it were some musical direction. Nodding in the direction of the man with the larger currency we would pay sole attention to him after the song, giving him the opportunity to give us the bill that we sought. On some nights we might end up with as much as $200 to split between us, which in addition to our salaries, made for a very good payday. I can still remember the delight we had pulling bills from our tuxedo jackets at the end of the night. Mr Bernardi would pull several bills crumpled together and announce, "ahhhhh , a nest of fives", and if it had been a good night we would both laugh at our success.

He had a wonderful sense of humour. As a rule, a table with a very good bottle of wine, say a Dom Perignon, will be very good tippers. And usually a table without any liquor will leave a small tip. As we would approach a table with nothing to drink but glasses of iced tea, Mr. Bernardi would turn to me and say under his breath, "Look, Dom ICEDTEAnon." Another time I had broken the stems off my eyeglasses and had the glasses in the pocket of my coat. When I needed to see something across the room I would take them out and hold them in one hand, perching them on my nose. A cocktail waitress asked what type of glasses these were and Mr. Bernardi responded, "oh, with these glasses he sees women without clothes!"

He could speak several languages and had a charm that endeared him to people. One evening a large group came in and there were several Italians that had good voices. They would request songs and sing while we played for them. One man in the group had a large roll of bills and after every one or two songs would give us each a twenty dollar bill. After about an hour we each had over $200 and it was past closing time when Mr. Bernardi said in his Italian accent , "Sir, we have enjoyed playing for you but if you don't put that roll of bills away we will be here all night!" Everyone laughed, and after another $40 was offered our evening was over.

I've played a lot of music since then and have travelled to many of the magical places that Mr. Bernardi told me about. Even so, I still revere those two years with him as a romantic and wonderful time of my life. In the end, I got an offer that I could not turn down and left Mr. Bernardi and Dallas. I think Mr. Bernardi was glad to see me go as he played for many years after that on his own. While I believed he liked me, I never realized how much until years later when I called him out of the blue just to talk. We talked about many things and then as I was about to say goodbye he said, "Knez", and I heard him softly say, "I love you."