![]() That’s how I learned about audience development.” The symphony was waiting in a bus outside a closed building. When I showed up for the performance not a soul was there. ![]() ![]() I remember getting a grant for a symphony performance in a small town. “I had a lot to learn,” Jim said, laughing at the memory. “I had never seen anyone drink Coca-Cola for breakfast,” she said to me once in horror. Jim and Irma would periodically set off in his vintage Volkswagen convertible, bound for the cornfields and rural counties in southeastern Ohio to stump for money and support for the arts, with Irma packing a Thermos of coffee and hard-boiled eggs and Jim drinking Coca-Cola from an old-fashioned green bottle into which he’d dumped a small bag of salted peanuts. “Irma liked Southerners, Episcopalians, and gays,” he recalled, smiling. Years after her death, Jim still spoke of Irma Lazarus with amusement. ![]()
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