Editor’s note: This remembrance by Camille Fairbanks reflects how a chance meeting with Erin on a flight to Paris in 2011 affected her life.
I was devastated to learn that Erin passed. I did not know her well, but we met on a flight to Paris in June of 2011, and her performance sparked one of the most beautiful memories I've ever made. I wrote about it on my blog. (After I shared the post with her, Erin commented on it, and we began to follow each other on social media casually for the next nine years.)
I'm so grateful I took the time to reflect on my meeting her, and the impact her voice had on my life. I've taken part of the post to share here, and I've added her comment as well, which I think was very sweet. Original post can be found here.
/Begin
On the flight to Paris, I happened to sit next to this really nice lady who looked a little bit like Reese Witherspoon and said she was going to Paris to sing in a concert.
“That’s cool,” I said, “where is it and when? Maybe I’ll come see you sing if I’m there while the concert is running. I’ll be your groupie!”
“It’s at the Châtelet,” she said, “and I’d love it if you came. It’s classical music, which might not be your thing, but you’re welcome to come. I might even be able to get you tickets.”
“Classical music is definitely my thing,” I said, and it was true: my parents didn’t put me through twelve years of piano and flute lessons for nothing.
“Well, let me have your email address,” she said, “and I’ll call my agent and see if I can have some tickets for you. They usually give two to the performers.”
“Sweet,” I said, and handed her my card.
As we talked more, it came about that the people sponsoring the concert (Radio France) were paying her all of her expenses to get to/stay in Paris.
Dang, I thought, she must be good or something.
YOU GUYS: Good doesn’t even come close to how amazing she was. As it happened, she was Erin Wall, and she gets paid to sing all over the world, in places like Prague, Hamburg, The Hague, Edinburgh, Montréal, Rio de Janeiro, Munich, and Houston.
And that’s just her 2011 calendar.
Of course, none of this was at all apparent to me until I actually got to the theatre the night of the concert, picked up my {free!} tickets at the box office, and moseyed my way into my seat, which, as it turned out, was most excellently located in the fourth row from the stage, smack in the middle.
Waiting for the concert to start with the only friend I made from the class, we felt self-conscious because we were terribly underdressed but since I hadn’t gotten the email about the concert (curse you, hotel with no wifi) until we’d already left our rooms for the day, we had to come straight from the Louvre without time to change before the concert. We rationalised that we were students and there really was nothing we could do about it. Nobody kicked us out.
Before long, the choir seats started filling up. I looked and looked for my friend Erin from the plane but couldn’t find her. I began to wonder if I could even remember what she looked like at all. Finally, only a few minutes before the concert was scheduled to begin, I saw four ladies making their way to the front of the stage—the very front—and take their seats right next to the conductor. “Those must be the best singers,” I thought to myself, and guess who was the one sitting DIRECTLY NEXT to the conductor?
My friend Erin Wall.
That’s her on the far right; image (and writeup of the very concert I attended) from here.
Best singer, indeed; she was like a movie star. After I got over my astonishment that I knew the principal soprano up there on the stage (and after I got over my sheepishness for not understanding how amazing she actually was when I was sitting only inches away from her for seven hours on our flight to Paris), I then had to get over my utter bedazzlement at the sight of the dress she was wearing. Did you see that gown?
At long last, the concert started. I got goosebumps.
The concert continued and I had goosebumps.
An hour and half later, the concert ended—and I had goosebumps.
It was so spectacular. The audience was outrageous when we finally were permitted to clap—we must’ve clapped, all of us, for twenty minutes. Not a word of a lie. The conductor and soloists kept going backstage and then coming out and bowing, over and over. Nobody wanted the evening to end—at least, I didn’t, and by the sounds of the thunderous applause, I was not alone.
As soon as I could, while still on my cultural high, I announced it to the world:
By the time I got back to my hotel room it was nearly midnight, but I stayed awake to record the events of the day in my journal. I am so glad I did, for even though—or perhaps because—my thoughts are so scrambled (from the late hour and emotional highs and lows, no doubt), they capture perfectly the emotions I felt that night:
"I can’t remember the last time I was so moved—it sounds corny but it’s true. I left feeling so uplifted, and I realized I hadn’t felt that in a long, long time. I would even venture to say it was a spiritual experience. I can’t remember the last time I felt so passionate—so inspired—to do some good in the world. I was grinning nearly from start to finish. It made me miss playing in an orchestra; it made me miss creating beauty. It moved me to be a better person, to do better things with my time than I’ve done in a long time."
Paris has been good to me today.
And indeed it had.
/end
Erin read the post and commented this:
"Thank you for writing this! Not just because you said nice things about me (which is always nice). I’m getting ready to sing something new, huge, and terrifying tomorrow night, and have been really getting bogged down in criticism of myself, in details. Reading your last paragraph reminds me why I really do what I do, and what its purpose is – to uplift others. If one person can walk out of a performance feeling as you did after that concert, then it is totally worth it! And for the record, that piece of music always leaves me feeling the exact same way – there really is something special about Mahler, and to me it is very spiritual music. :) Thank you, Camille! I’m enjoying reading about your trip, and the rest of the blog too!"
I remember on the flight, she was saying that because she flew often, she usually got upgraded, but she didn't on that one. She didn't seem annoyed sitting in the back with the rest of us, though! She just ordered a glass of wine and did her hair and makeup right before landing, which I thought was so fancy of her (I was just a poor student at the time, and she seemed so grown up and sophisticated).
As much as she would have appreciated an upgrade, I believe it was destiny for me to meet her and be able to attend that concert. Now, ten years later, as I read the thoughts from my journal and her comment about her anxiety for her next piece, I can remember the joy I felt that night, and it helps me stay motivated to put my own work (a book which I believe has the potential to help many women) out into the world.
Erin definitely made a difference in my life and will be sorely missed. My deepest condolences.
Camille Fairbanks - November 11, 2021