by Michael Lynch
Winston Morris reminded us in a recent issue of the ITEA Journal that this year marks the 40th anniversary of the First International Tuba-Symposium-Workshop, held at Indiana University in May of 1973. For many of us, having become accustomed to the many opportunities for euphonium and tuba players to gather together that have become relatively commonplace over the years since 1973, it can be difficult to appreciate what a watershed event the FITSW was for the tuba/euphonium community.
It seems safe to say that never before had there been so many euphonium and tuba players gathered together to hear both performances and panel discussions on a wide variety of pertinent topics including playing, performance opportunities, tuba history, tuba design, and repertoire for the instruments. For five days, the almost 350 registrants had the opportunity to expand their knowledge and appreciation of the activities, knowledge, playing, and camaraderie of colleagues.
The FITSW was conceived of by Harvey Phillips and was planned and realized with the assistance of Dan Perantoni, Winston Morris, Les Varner, Barton Cummings, Jim Self, and Bob Tucci, with numerous additional panelists and contributors.
The performers were memorable and provided many participants their first opportunity to hear them. The program of the second evening’s recital provides a glimpse into the caliber of the programs and artists who performed during the FITSW:
Suite No. 5 for Unaccompanied Cello – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – J. S. Bach
Donald Harry, tuba
Two Together – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -Bruno Amato
Olga Sambuco, soprano; Lesley Varner, tuba
Suite No. 1 for French Horn, Tuba, and Piano- – – – – – – – – – – – – Alec Wilder
James Self, tuba; William Bommelje, French horn;
Pat Montgomery, piano
Encounters II for Unaccompanied Tuba – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -William Kraft
John Turk, tuba
Divertimento No. 1 – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -Paul Zonn
Dan Perantoni, F tuba; Randall Eyles, percussion;
Edward Krolik, double bass; Frederick Fairchild, percussion;
Paul Zonn, conductor
For many participants, the FITSW was the first time they had the opportunity to hear live performances by many of the artists present or such things as full recitals by tuba-euphonium ensembles or Arnold Jacobs discussing “Breathing, Breath Control, and Tone Production.” There were a number of panel discussions to address a variety of topics. As at all other times, a primary objective of Harvey’s was to encourage new compositions for the instrument. So not only did he secure the attendance of many composers at the symposium, but for topics relating in any way to the literature, the panels had several composer participants. He thereby assured that the composing community would be exposed to both the interest in new literature as well as to the capabilities of the instruments.
To provide just a brief overview of the panel discussions, here are three panel discussions that provided perspectives on tuba heritage and history in different eras:
The Tuba Heritage: ?-1900: “Origin and Purpose”
1900-1940 “Creation of an Image”
1940-1960 “Doors are Opened”
Additional sessions had panels discussing performance in a respective context: in recital, in tuba-euphonium ensembles, in orchestra, in band and wind ensemble, in chamber music, in jazz, and in the freelance world. Bob Pallansch chaired a discussion on instrument design that presented observations on possible improvements that could be made. A program of the panel discussions identifying the panel members will be available on the ITEA website for those interested in further information.
The TUBA became an official structured organization at the FITSW with the presentation and adoption of a constitution for the organization.
In addition to vendors’ displays, which are common now, Robert Sheldon, then of the Smithsonian Institution, and Robert Eliason, then of the Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum, provided a display of historical instruments. Don Butterfield had a small display at which he displayed his King tuba and discussed its modifications that he recommended.
An unfortunate irony occurred after all of Harvey’s work in planning and organizing the event and securing participation from others, in that he was unable to be there for most of it. After a performance of the Hindemith Sonata on the first recital of the symposium, Harvey had to be hospitalized. In his absence, others jumped in to mange the symposium including Dan Perantoni, Winston Morris, Les Varner, G.R. Davis, Joe Ray, and undoubtedly others whose contributions in those days are undocumented.
On the final day, there was to be news coverage of the event, and those managing the event in Harvey’s absence recognized that such coverage required a piece to be performed in order to get the message about the tuba out to the public. Nothing had been prepared, but after a recollection that Bill Bell had once indicated that Komm süsser Tod (“Come, Sweet Death”) was his favorite chorale, famed arranger Ed Sauter, who was attending, was enlisted to do a four part arrangement overnight. And on that last day, with TV cameras rolling, many participants gathered together on the lawn of the MAC center at IU to perform that arrangement for the first time.
The Gala Concert provided an apt coda for the five days with a first half of chamber music, opening with the Gunther Schuller Five Moods (for tuba quartet), written in memory of William Bell, with Mr. Schuller conducting and Toby Hanks, James Self, Sam Pilafian and John Turk on tuba. This was followed by the New York Brass quintet, with Toby Hanks on tuba. The second half of the concert shifted to jazz, with performances by Singleton Palmer, Red Callender, Don Butterfield, Bill Barber and Rich Matteson, assisted by David Baker and members of the IU Jazz Ensemble. This was followed by Howard Johnson with an ensemble including Don Harry, Ellis Wean, Bob Stewart, Sam Pilafian, Toby Hanks, and Red Callender.
The FITSW was the start of the many opportunities that ITEA International and Regional conferences provide us today. There have been numerous developments and growth for the organization and its members. The FITSW had only one session devoted specifically to the euphonium (addressed there as a discussion on the “tenor tuba”). That limited specific focus for euphonium has clearly changed. Another dramatic shift is visible from even a quick glance at the group photo from the FITSW, which shows a group that is about as predominantly male as one can imagine. But the FITSW provided a guide and a springboard for future meetings; the organization had a constitution and a mission, and both the value of such meetings and the interest in them had been proven. That interest continues to be demonstrated by the activities of the ITEA as well as those of other organizations such as the U.S. Army, which just had its 30 th Tuba-Euphonium Workshop this winter.
Next year, ITEC will return to Indiana University and will be hosted by Dan Perantoni in celebration of the FITSW’s 40th anniversary.
Scans of FITSW materials including the conference brochure, programs, and discussion materials will be available on the ITEA website. Following are recollections of the FITSW written by various attendees.
After hearing of the upcoming first TUBA conference in 1973, a friend and I loaded up our tubas and struck out for an event of unimaginable magnitude. The first sounds heard from the parking lot were of Jack Tillbury practicing the Persichetti through an open fifth floor window. I immediately went up to meet the sound. And so it went all week, meeting individuals who would prove to be lifelong friends and colleagues. Never before had so many significant players and teachers gathered from such distances to share sounds, ideas, and philosophies. And share we did. From the recitals and concerts, to Arthur Benade’s presentation on brass acoustics, to the Phillips horse (Tuba) ranch, there were opportunities to listen, learn, and reevaluate concepts. Harvey’s fame will live on, and to me, this was his most significant accomplishment. It provided catalysis for building a unified effort toward advancements in literature and instrument design. We went to the event out of love for the tuba and euphonium. We returned with something even more important- relationships with people. Long before the development of social media communications, this group established a network of individuals readily willing to communicate and share resources and inspiration. After this meeting, no matter how geographically isolated a performer/teacher might find themself, they would never again be alone. I miss seeing these people.
– V. Andy Anders
Arkansas Tech University, Retired
I was at the symposium in Bloomington in 1973. I was just finishing my freshman year and was agog at all the goings on there. I remember [Don Harry’s] Bach Cello Suite as well as a funny story about Barney Childs. He was a composer who wrote music for us and the big topic of the day was “going to New York to freelance.” People were talking about life in New York and making it sound like New York was Oz, when Barney stood up in the audience and said in a booming voice, “All of you people think the streets of New York are paved with gold. I’m here to tell you that the streets of New York are paved with dog sh$t!” The bubble was burst and laughter ensued.
The other thing I remember from that symposium that had a huge impact to this day is Bob Tucci raking the instrument manufacturers over the coals. At that time, my recollection was that you could buy any one of seven CC tubas currently on the market. Mirafone had the 184, 185, and 186. Meinl-Weston had a standard model and a Bell model. You could get an Alex and you could get a Holton. Bob publicly called the manufacturers out and said that makers of trumpets, horns, and trombones were working to build better and better instruments and the tuba manufacturers were in the stone age with their R&D. After that session, the manufacturers were walking up and down the halls fuming, “how dare he say that,” and “where does he get off….” In a very short time, we were getting fine product offerings from Rudolph Meinl, Peter Hirsbrunner, B&S, and when Gerhard Meinl came into the picture, Meinl Weston. Fast forward to today and ask yourself how many tubas can you try out at any international tuba/euphonium symposium? I don’t think anybody could make the claim today that Bob made in 1973 and I believe it all started with Bob throwing down the gloves in 1973.
My most vivid memories of the 1973 First International Tuba Symposium were of the Arnold Jacobs presentation. To hear, in a live setting, his amazing tone playing the Scheherazade violin solo was a life changing experience. I had heard him on records with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, but in that wonderful auditorium the buoyancy and clarity of his tone was like no tuba sound I had ever heard before. Speaking of tone, I will never forget hearing Chester Roberts, the former tubist with the Cleveland Orchestra, speak from the audience. I don’t believe I had ever been within firing range of a bass voice that had so much resonance. I was enthralled by the stories of Philip Catelinet, the British tubist who premiered the Vaughan Williams Concerto, and treated to a wonderful performance with him as pianist accompanying Tucker Jolly on the Andante and Rondo from the Capuzzi Bass Concerto, a work I had studied with my bass teacher Keith Robinson.
Other memorable moments included Don Harry’s rendition of a Bach cello suite where he made extensive use of circular breathing. The circular breathing was amazing, but what impressed me most of all was Don Harry’s wonderful tone and the musicality of his interpretation. I also remember the excellent tuba ensembles of Connie Weldon and Winston Morris and an extremely energetic tuba trio performance of Vaclav Nehlybel’s Ludus by Dan Perantoni, Les Varner, and Bob Tucci. I will never forget Toby Hanks’s performance of a wild piece for solo tuba by David Reck and then later when David made a wrong turn and walked through one of those gigantic panes of plate glass in the lobby of the auditorium. My, those were extraordinary times!
On a personal level, I remember the lyrical sound and amazing range of Thomas Beversdorf, who played a euphonium recital that included the Trauermusik by Paul Hindemith. My longtime friend, Andy Russell, had studied with Dr. Beversdorf and, just on that basis, Mr. Beversdorf took me out to lunch at a very nice steakhouse in Bloomington. What a generous and gracious man he was! We had a great time talking about his days when he played trombone in the Houston Symphony. I remember my disappointment at not getting to see the great tuba legend, Harvey Phillips, who missed [much of] the symposium because he had pushed himself to the limit in organizing this historical event and was flat on his back under a doctor’s care. I did not then realize the role that so many of these impressions would play in my life. I will always treasure these memories and the friendships that I made during that week.
It is a very interesting moment to look back forty years [on the 40th anniversary of the FITSW]. My experience at the first convention was truly fascinating. My lessons with Harvey Phillips, Bill Rose, Joe Novotny, and Bill Bell all carried parts of an overall theme.
Harvey had called me in Oklahoma while I was with the symphony there and talked to me about the convention but I didn’t know what was going to happen or who was going to be there. When he asked me to perform I had been focused immediately on the Bach [cello] suites.
I knew that when I got to Indiana for the convention I wanted to give something back and that is why I chose the fifth suite. I had learned to circular breathe from seeing someone do it and I had heard about Chester Schmitz having played suite number two, and that he had never stopped because of his circular breathing, so I was inspired to get it done. It was reminiscent of when I first heard Roger Bobo’s first record and just had to get to work on Encounters II and the Galliard and anything else I could get my hands on. Each of my teachers had something inspiring that I felt compelled to get figured out for myself. Harvey was particularly instrumental in steering me away from a life of brass jockdom. He showed me ways to approach music sensitively, and with deep care about how the overall music worked. I wanted to give something back to Harvey. I pity anyone who didn’t have a chance to play duets with him.
The other thing that really affected me about the convention was the wide range of arrangers, composers and performers. Red Callender, the legendary bass and tuba player, was a thrill to get to talk to. He was one of the few who could keep up with Art Tatum, and there he was in the flesh. Manny Albam, the great arranger, Eddie Sauter, and Bill Finnegan, all heroes of my secret desire to learn how to arrange music for various ensembles, were there. The Howard Johnson ensemble was there, and also Don Yaxley, the Stetson, Florida teacher who had about a third of Indiana University’s brass sections filled with his players. He was the only brass teacher that could teach every instrument to where these guys were the shining advertisement for that university. Bill Barber, one of the great jazz tuba players from New York, Tommy Johnson, Jim Self, and a whole host of people I had known from the audition circuit who are now the leading teachers in the country today were all there. My listening habits had followed many of these people from nearly the beginning of my awareness of music, and sometimes I only found out who they were years later. Alec Wilder, who I knew from studying with Harvey, was the nicest person one could hope to know.
Those are my primary memories from that convention but there were so many it would have taken a written diary for me to sort it all out. I was dirt poor, driving a $90 Volkswagen with the heater stuck on, and I performed in some old fatigue pants I had, but it was a great way for the organization to get started. And of course, only Harvey could have put it together.
[The FITSW] was some event. It certainly is one of the most memorable of my playing career for a number of reasons.
I played on the first recital there. Harvey played the Hindemith and then I played the Capuzzi String Bass Concerto that Phillip Catelinet had arranged for F tuba and piano, with Phillip playing piano. He was a fine tubist and incredible pianist. I remember that experience like it was yesterday.
It was so great to not only meet and hear all the great players but to meet and talk with all the composers that were there. Harvey had just about everyone who was alive and had written for the instrument.
I also remember going to see Harvey in the hospital after he had collapsed from exhaustion. He put so much in to making that a success. It really became the model for all such conferences no matter what instrument.
It was also a workshop that had some young players that would become very prominent. Warren Deck was a freshman at Michigan. I heard him trying out horns and thought “my goodness.” I played duets with Sam Pilafian and thought “Oh My.” I talked a lot with Howard Johnson and he really opened up my thinking about music and the instrument. I also heard and talked with a young Brian Bowman, who was in the Navy at the time, I think.
[The FITSW] should not be forgotten since it really set all of us on a much better path.
I have always been grateful that I attended the ’73 Symposium-Workshop at Indiana, as it was truly an eye-opening experience for me. It has to be difficult for many players today to imagine just how isolated many of us were in that pre-internet era from all that was going on in other locations (at least that was the case for me in Texas, far away from hotbed locations like New York and Chicago). When I went to the Symposium-Workshop, I had just graduated from college in Texas, yet when I look back, even by that time, I had heard only a handful of professional players in person other than my original teacher, Bill Rose. I had heard only a few counterparts at other schools, and had little insight into what was actually happening in programs at other schools outside of Texas. Being immersed with so many professional and collegiate players in Bloomington gave me a new perspective on the instrument and its capabilities.
The most vivid memory of that week has always been hearing Don Harry play a Bach cello suite with circular breathing. As he played, others around me were looking at one another with puzzled expressions as the music just continued without interruption. That week was my first exposure to the observations (and sound) of Arnold Jacobs. And I have always remembered the powerful playing of Bob Tucci. I got to speak with so many players, but particularly fondly remember conversations with Connie Weldon, Les Varner, and Singleton Palmer.
I loved the sound of the tuba euphonium ensembles present, which demonstrated the capabilities of such an ensemble beyond anything I had previously envisioned. While I recall greatly enjoying a recital by the University of Miami Tuba Ensemble, the details of that performance have slipped from my memory over the years, but for one memorable bit of stagecraft. As they played Stars and Stripes Forever, one euphonium player (Tuck Woo, I believe) put down his euphonium, stood up with a piccolo, and when the solo came, played oom-pah on 1 and 3 while the solo was (of course) played at a much lower pitch elsewhere in the ensemble.
For those five days of the Symposium, virtually everywhere I turned there was someone I wanted to speak with, or a discussion or performance (or even just someone warming up), that I wanted to hear. Even with all of the electronic connectedness that we enjoy today, there is no substitute for hearing live performances; the performances in those 5 days vividly opened my eyes (and ears). Adding to that the presentations, conversations, and other personal interactions, the tuba world really opened for me in May of 1973.
The 1973 Symposium came at a critical time in my life. In fact, to attend it at all did not seriously come onto my radar until Barney Childs, music professor at the University of Redlands (California) where I was a sophomore at the time, told me I was going to go. He said I was to premiere a piece by a young student composer from the Eastman School, William Penn. So, this I did.
Two weeks or so before the Symposium, I had just heard the Mahler Symphony No. 5 for the very first time…and it was a live performance played by the Chicago Symphony while they were on tour in San Diego. That particular performance caused me to re-dedicate myself to performance rather than to music education where I had been focused. My life was changing, seemingly by the minute. I was making arrangements to study much more regularly with Tommy Johnson. Plus I had the good fortune to play in the coming summer months with the All American College Band at Disneyland. While I am sure the 1973 Symposium was like being in a storm of amazing activity for many attendees, I found it to be the eye of a massive storm where I could calmly observe amazing things about the tuba, the people who played it, designed it, wrote for it, and loved it.
Being one of the very few people from California to attend the Symposium, I had a chance to experience many things that I had not as yet seen or heard out West. There were shocks at most every turn it seemed. Two of them: 1) different makes of instruments that I never saw in California, and 2) composers, players, teachers, and manufacturers in the flesh that I had seen only in photos in the young, fledgling TUBA Journal, The Instrumentalist, etc. It was such a whirlwind week at the Symposium that when I met players later on in life and found out they were also in attendance at the Symposium, I would look at the big group photo from that event. Some of those people were standing right next to me!
I came back from that 1973 Symposium experience with a distinct perspective of the general level of playing which was, at once, very inspiring but also gave me an appreciation for the teaching I had received in Los Angeles from Tommy Johnson and Roger Bobo. Southern California was an isolated place in “tuba-dom” back then but it had a distinctive approach to the instrument that many places did not have. While tuba ensemble was happening in many places as was displayed at the Symposium, I never saw it in California. On the other hand, I found that low register playing, which was approached with abandon and power in Los Angeles, was not an active part of discussion or approach at the Symposium.
I think the big thing I took back from that week in Bloomington was the chance to experience the camaraderie of community. We all came in with different backgrounds, different beginnings, and different allegiances to teachers and their styles of playing and approach. However, the 1973 Symposium gave a chance for everyone to become students of everybody else… if they chose to. Yes, allegiances to our different ways of playing (and in some cases the discipleships to specific teachers) can be close to the surface, but I believe one of Harvey’s dreams for that event was that it would give a chance for all to see and hear for ourselves what others were doing with the art form. By being open to it, we could become more than we ever could on our own.
Anecdotal memories that stick: 1) Barney Childs’ outburst while the composers’ panel discussion was taking place. Someone on the panel noted that the only place new composers could be recognized was by getting their works played in New York City. Barney’s outburst (from the darkened auditorium) declared that great new music did not have to be introduced in New York City; it could happen in other places. To the point, Barney said that he had been told as well that the streets of New York were paved with gold for the composer but then, as he stated so memorably, “No. The streets of New York are paved with dog sh$t.” Some amazing facial expressions ensued from the distinguished panel of Gunther Schuller, John Downey, Walter Hartley, Manny Albam, etc. Completely unforgettable. 2) Don Harry circular-breathing his way through a Bach cello suite. 3) A one-on-one discussion with Abe Torchinsky speaking about the balance used in Philadelphia Orchestras recordings that were going on at the time. I became much more empathic to what he had to deal with. 4) The TubaRanch picnic at the conclusion, watching as the time for my plane departure back to California came and went. Eventually I got to airport, sharing a ride with a fellow named Lew Waldeck. Everywhere I turned, there was a new experience to cherish.
I am very glad I went to this amazing event. I think it made a big difference in my life.
I had just graduated from the State University College at Fredonia, NY and was very excited to attend the First International Tuba Symposium Workshop in May of 1972.
On the first day of the conference and as it was almost ready to begin, my first goal was to find Harvey and to say hello to him. We had met a year before when he was a guest soloist at another school. I found my way backstage figuring Harvey would be there to get the conference started. Sure enough, I found him getting ready to warm up for his opening recital. We spoke briefly and he was glad I was able to attend. Then, he excused himself saying he had to warm up before going onstage. He invited me to stay and listen, which I did. Harvey started on a nice fat pedal CC and then slowly did a half valve glissando up to g (I think) above the staff. He put his horn down and said to me, “I just played every note I know.” Then, he just picked up his tuba and walked out onto the stage to address the attendees. That was the first time in many, over the ensuing days ahead, that my jaw dropped.
Arnold Jacobs’s lecture demonstration at the conference is now well documented and appears on you-tube and other media. I was astounded to hear what he had to say. So, after his lecture, I made my way backstage to meet him. After the small talk introduction and being only 21 yrs. old, I found myself struggling to find words to say in the presence of this great man.
One of the many highlights I remember is hearing Don Harry perform Bach’s 2nd cello suite. Using a rotary CC Mirafone, he performed the piece in the octave written and he employed circular breathing, which not too many of us in attendance had ever seen before. He also used multiphonics for the stopped chords. It was an amazing performance. My jaw dropped once again.
While I was watching one of the panel discussions (I can’t remember which one), Walter Hartley sat down next to me. He asked me how I was enjoying the conference. Then, he took out a manuscript pad and began to compose something. I was more interested in watching him than listening to the panel. He would write, erase a little and write some more. He had more than a page written when that segment ended and the audience got up to leave. Dr. Hartley put his pad away and said, “I’ll see you later.” He walked out. The piece he was writing was what was to become Music for Solo Tuba, his second unaccompanied tuba work. I was fascinated to see him composing without the aid of any keyboard and with discussion going on around him. He later told me that he already had those musical thoughts in his mind. I did eventually get to perform the piece.
In a panel discussion on the tuba in orchestra many spoke, and I was probably getting drowsy, until the voice of God spoke. That voice belonged to Chester Roberts. What a powerful voice this man had. Put a microphone in front of him and the room shook!!
The closing Gala Concert on the Friday evening was another amazing performance. Although I don’t specifically remember what either of the two ensembles performed, both were outstanding and a perfect close to an amazing, first of its kind, conference. How fitting to have the New York Brass Quintet perform on this occasion. Unfortunately, Harvey became seriously ill immediately after his opening performance and spent the duration of the conference in the hospital. Harvey’s successor, Toby Hanks, performed with the NY Brass Quintet that evening.
The second half of the Gala was The Tuba in Jazz and Rock, which featured Howard Johnson. Although the tuba was used in jazz for decades, Howard blazed new trails in rock and jazz. I know my jaw had dropped upon leaving that performance.
Little did any of us know at the time that this was the beginning of a new era for the tuba and euphonium. It was Harvey’s idea to organize such an event. It gave way to many new works for tuba. Manufacturers ware made aware of the need for better instrument design. Composers were inspired and made aware of what the tuba was capable of. Everyone got to see the various ways the tuba could be used in various ensemble settings. After that year, conferences would take place yearly all over the world. Just look at how far we have come since those days in 1972. Thank you for all that you did for the benefit of all of us, Harvey!
One of the primary purposes of the Symposium was to get composers and arrangers more involved with the tuba and euphonium. Many new works were written and some were performed for the first time that May. Harvey saw the Symposium as a double-edged sword. Not only was it to get the tuba-euphonium community together for the first time on such a scale. Harvey wanted the composers to attend, to see and hear and be inspired by our musical possibilities, not to only write solo works for the instrument but also to write more musically important parts in all their compositions. I no longer remember how many composers were in attendance but it was a surprisingly large number.
On more than one occasion Harvey remarked that Bell, as great a tuba player as he was, never had any compositions dedicated to him. On the other hand Harvey went out of his way to cultivate the friendship of composers and encouraged them to write for the tuba. The First Symposium was as much about the composers as it was the performer.
Harvey had invited George Kleinsinger to the symposium and it was my task to go to the Indianapolis airport and bring him to Bloomington. During that trip George enthusiastically recounted his story of being requested to set to music Pall Tripp’s story of Tubby and how it had been by far his most commercial success. For the Symposium he had composed a concerto for tuba and full symphony orchestra. He expressed disappointment that it would not be premiered at that time but fully understood the limitations at that time.
I had two works written for me for the Symposium. A work by Morris Knight for solo tuba and double wind quintets, and Two Together for tuba and soprano by Bruno Amato. Bruno later wrote another work, The Bells, for tuba, soprano, and two percussion, based on Walt Whitman writings.
Harvey had pulled all of the stops for this event and national media coverage, both print and television, are just one more example. [Ed. note: this included an article in the Wall Street Journal on Wednesday, May 23, 1973].
Late the night before the final day several of us were in my room coordinating the next day in Harvey’s absence, and we realized that we did not have music for the TV performance that basically concluded the Symposium. The discussion was what to play. I remembered that in 1963 Bill Bell had told me that Komm susser Tod was his favorite chorale, so it was decided to arrange that for the TV performance. I got up the next morning and was on my way to get started on the arrangement but Winston had gotten up much earlier, found Eddie Sauter, and had the situation under control. That is a good example of how much of the event took place-short preparation time but executed well with all the talent that was available. The performance of the chorale on the lawn of the MAC center saw all of Bill Bell’s former students in the front row.
Gunther Schuller was interviewed by the national media and I will never forget how well and succinctly he described the “tuba renaissance” to the interviewer as that of “moving the tuba from the back row of the orchestra to the front row, not physically but musically.” With such comments, and his status and reputation, Gunther Schuller provided valuable gravitas in Harvey’s absence.