Schizophrenic Pianist Finds Peace
at Hotel Piano

KALAMAZOO, Mich. (March 13, 2004) -- Most of the time, when Naasson Prosper is performing at the keyboard, he hears only the notes coming from the hammered strings; he sees only the black and white of the keys.

But sometimes, something distracts him, such as an imagined flash near the elevator doors next to the baby grand piano he is playing in the lobby of the Radisson Plaza Hotel.

He shakes his head and says with a small laugh in his voice, "It was nothing. But what did I tell you about the schizophrenia?"

Prosper was recalling how his first symptoms of schizophrenia  appeared four years ago. It cost him his regular job playing for Marriott and Holiday Inn hotels.

Despite his taking antipsychotic medication, the illness still lingers, and it is his to bear until his dying days.

What he did not say is that the disease could have kept him from the piano in the Radisson lobby if it had not been for a few hotel officials willing to embrace his talent as an artist and recognize his humanity beneath the tragedy of the disease.

Prosper, 43, had just completed treatment for alcohol abuse at the Jim Gilmore Junior Treatment Center four months ago when he and a friend were walking through the lobby of the Radisson and spied the baby grand piano on the ground floor.

"Something I always do when I see a piano like that is ask for permission to touch it," Prosper said. "If it's out of tune, I won't even continue."

The Radisson piano was not out of tune, and so Prosper began to play.

When people wander through a hotel lobby and begin to tinkle the keys, they usually fall into one of two categories: They can play a little, or they really can't play but can't resist the sight of an unoccupied piano, said Marc Jacobs, general manager of the Radisson.

Only once in his 10 years at the hotel has Jacobs heard a pianist off the street sit down and impress him with a performance at a lobby piano.

That was Prosper.

"Naasson was an unbelievable find," Jacobs said. "When we first heard him, we sat down with him and said, `Who are you? What are you doing here?"'

The "we" who sat down with Prosper were Jacobs; Joe Hakim, vice president of Greenleaf Trust, which owns the Radisson; and Tony Masco, director of food and beverage marketing.

Jacobs describes Prosper as a gentleman and a gentle man. Prosper impressed the management team, and they invited him to keep playing in the hotel lobby.

Masco arranged for Prosper to perform for the big New Year's Eve party at the Radisson that was thrown by businessman William D. Johnston, owner of Greenleaf. The party included performances by nationally known pianist Peter Cincotti and comedian Jerry Seinfeld.

In early January, Radisson officials hired Prosper as a contract worker to play piano at lunchtime and during the dinner hour when there are no programs going on in the hotel's ballrooms.

Prosper plays from memory, embellishing everything from "The Theme From Romeo and Juliet" to "Ava Maria" with flourishes that fly from his fingertips.

"I hear things and I play them the best way God sees fit," Prosper said.

"Our pianos have never gotten so much work," said Masco, adding that Prosper has used some of his tip money to invest in new suits and a tuxedo to wear while performing.

Prosper grew up in Haiti, where his father was in the cabinet of Francois Duvalier, or "Papa Doc," who ruled from 1957 to 1971.

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He began playing piano when he was 13, after his family moved to the United States. His father, who was a Seventh-day Adventist minister, wanted a pianist for his church, and Prosper filled the role.

Prosper eventually earned a bachelor's degree in music from Andrews University in Berrien Springs and began performing for various hotels and resorts. Things were going well, but then his family noticed Prosper talking to himself while he was living in Miami.

When he describes it now, he says he heard voices and would answer them. He would see visions and sometimes feel nonexistent taps on the shoulder. The family brought him to Michigan so they could avail themselves of the state's public mental-health system.

He received treatment through Riverwood Center in Benton Harbor, which is administered by the Berrien Mental Health Authority, until his case was switched to Kalamazoo so he could enter the Gilmore treatment center.

He says he was not homeless when he first came into the Radisson. Then, as now, he shared an apartment with a friend -- although he has spent the occasional night at the Kalamazoo Gospel Mission, where he also performs when he has the time.

When he first walked through the Radisson's doors, he didn't dream he would end up working there. But he immediately felt comfortable sitting at the piano in the lobby.

"As soon as I came in and saw the people, I felt less stress," said Prosper, who had planned to return to Benton Harbor when he left the Gilmore center.

"I love Kalamazoo. I don't know why. There's always something happening."

He's not sure how long he'll stay in Kalamazoo, but he is grateful for the Radisson, its pianos and the opportunity to again exercise his creativity.

Every day when he sits at the piano, his medicine is within reach in his pocket. The schizophrenia is under control. He no longer sees visions. And, when he occasionally hears a voice, it is small and easily ignored.

Even so, he does not ignore the reality of his illness.

"This disease is terminal," he said. "By that, I mean the doctors say it will never go away. I am courageous enough to accept it. It will always be there. I will live with it and die with it."

Asked if he is ever scared that the disease will rob him of the music that seems to come so easily, he smiles and shakes his head. "God has given. God has taken. Bless his name."
 

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