Music in My Life
Musical genes are quixotic.
They refused to enter some families – like my fathers’ family.
They appear spasmodically and with differing degrees of force in other families – like my mothers.
The musical gene hit hard on my 1st cousin 1x removed – Miriam Gordon Landrum (1893-1967). Among others, she studied in about 1920 with Isidore Philippe in Paris and with Robert Casadesus at the American Conservatory at Fontainebleau, France. She taught piano at the University of Texas.
It also hit hard on my niece, Nancy (Chapman) Dufresne. Nancy was Miss Oklahoma and 4th runner up Miss America and wowed the judges by playing an excerpt for Debussy’s Estampes which was difficult beyond belief. Instead of following a musical life she has become a minister.
By the time I came along the musical genes were tired. I muddled along and got a degree in vocal music education; however, those genes hit me hard when it comes to loving classical music – especially when it comes to opera and its singers – at which I fancy that I am an expert.
I have no idea how this happened. When about 13 or 14 years old, I bought a copy of “Victor Book of the Opera” which I studied diligently.
On Saturday I would listen to the Metropolitan Opera Saturday afternoon broadcasts. On Saturday evenings I wanted to listen to opera and operetta on “Colonel Robert R. McCormick’s Chicago Teater of the Air”; however, this conflicted with my dad’s listening to The Grand Ole Opera from Nashville, Tennessee. I bought myself a radio and got to listen to my program in my upstairs bedroom.
During several years, the Metropolitan Opera company of singers and musicians undertook a six-week tour of American cities following its season in New York. These annual spring tours brought the company and its stars to cities throughout the U.S., most of which had no opera company of their own.
I wanted to go to Dallas, Texas to see their productions there.
At 15 years old my parents took me to Vernon, Texas where I caught the train to Dallas, staying with an uncle & aunt, I went to two on the road presentations and saw La bohème and Boris Godunov. These were wonderful beginnings to my opera going.
My town, Olustee, Oklahoma (population 570) was 11 miles from Altus which, in those days, had about 30,000 inhabitants. At that time, it had, by subscription, a fabulous fine arts program, that brought in top drawer musicians such as Ballet Russe de Monto-Carlo where I first learned that women’s legs go all the way up. A memorable recital for me was the pianist Menahem Pressler. I was completely enthralled and felt transported to another level of awareness.
At the University of Oklahoma, I sang in both the men’s glee club and the university choir. We were invited to be part of the Oklahoma City Symphony Orchestra’s Verdi Requiem. It was one of the most memorial experiences of my life. I still remember the names of the soloists: Hervi Nelli, Anna Kaskas, Brian Sullivan, and George London. The Requiem begins with 2 quiet movements – the Introit and the Kyrie. Next came the Dies Irae (day of wrath) with all sound barriers breaking loose beginning with the kettle drum. I jumped out of my skin.
My first wife, Dorothy Ho, had front row tickets to the Washington Opera, which I kept for many years after her death.
After her death, I subscribed to the Metropolitan Opera which took me to New York every 2 weeks. After I married Pat (Shaughnessy) Schiebel, I dropped that subscription. She shares my love of Opera – but not with the same intensity.
I was a music teacher for 2 years before becoming a librarian. Other than that, my chief music experiences have been as a choral singer – primarily singing, with orchestras, some of the great choral works. Verdi’s Requiem (many times), Brahms’ Requiem (many times), Faure’s Requiem (many times), Mozart’s Requiem (many times), Brittten’s War Requiem (once), Berlioz’ Requiem (once) [1], Mahler’s 8th Symphony (once), and one of my favorites – Mahler’s 2nd Symphony (known as the Resurrection Symphony). Should there be a memorial service for me after I die, I would like the last 2 movements played – with a recording Leonard Bernstein conducting.
The 4th movement, sung by a mezzo-soprano has this text.
O little red rose!
Man lies in greatest need!
Man lies in greatest suffering!
How much rather would I be in Heaven!
I came upon a broad road.
There came an angel and wanted to block my way.
Ah no! I did not let myself be turned away!
I am of God, and to God I shall return.
Dear God will grant me a small light,
Will light my way to eternal, blissful life!
—From Des Knaben Wunderhorn
The choral 5th movement has the follow text (in part):
O believe,
You were not born for nothing!
Have not for nothing, lived, suffered!
What was created
Must perish,
What perished, rise again!
Cease from trembling!
Prepare yourself to live!
—From Des Knaben Wunderhorn
Those tired musical genes that I was dealt, have been have done a great service for me!
Do you suppose that my interest to create can be related to the music gene?
1 This was at the Washington Cathedral. When Pat saw 6 men in black going in the direction of the orchestra, she immediately thought that they were Seret Service; however, they took their places behind 6 sets of timpani. What a sound! It helped to add to the Cathedral’s long reverberation time.
