“Maria, Maria, I played one of your daughters in my high school production,” gushes a young girl, her hand thrusting forward a well-thumbed Stagebill. The recipient of her enthusiasm is a gentle, plump elderly woman in a peasant frock. She looks over the Liz Phair look-alike from Palatine. “Ja, zo you did, my child,” she answers, obliging with an autograph.
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Earlier in the evening, at a dinner hosted by Austrian Airlines, von Trapp had serenaded the guests with “Edelweiss” and a few other ditties identified with her celebrated family. Putting the accordion down in her lap, she reminisced about Rodgers and Hammerstein’s last musical. “I think Mr. Hammerstein and Mr. Rodgers picked our story because they wanted to show a large, happy family that acted with conviction. They also wanted to make money, of course. And they did.” She let out a hearty laugh.
“My father is portrayed wrong. He was a lovely man, nothing like the strict disciplinarian in the musical. He played the guitar and mandolin and taught us how to sing. He wasn’t even Austrian. When the Nazis wanted him to join the navy, he begged off. My family left Salzburg out of conviction; we did not have to escape. But playwrights like to fabricate, they like to make things more exciting than they were. My mother was like the Maria in the musical, more or less. She was a postulant but her headaches kept her from becoming a nun. Then she took the job of our nanny.
“Oh, really?” says von Trapp. “Well, you and Marie must come to Salzburg. There are beautiful mountains and lakes. Take the Sound of Music tour. It’s very worthwhile to take. You know, the hills there are alive with…”
