| |
Click
on any thumbnail to see a larger photo.
 (Thurbnail,
left, is Ron at age 17 at the piano)
We moved to Montclair,
New Jersey, in 1953 to live in and superintend a house with
tenants inherited by my grandmother, Edith, from her deceased
sister, Florence Stevenson. This geographical/social change
brought problems for Glenn and me. Fortunately, music provided
the necessary identification tag I needed with my new peer group,
most of whom were the sons and daughters of professional people.
There was much of the usual (and pointless) taunting, testing,
and teasing. The ensuing struggle to settle into this alien
environment drew Glenn and me even closer.
In 1957, at fifteen,
I saw the movie The Seven Year Itch with Marilyn
Monroe and Tom Ewell. The use of  Rachmaninov’s
Second Piano Concerto (music which I knew well)
in this romantic comedy mysteriously prompted my decision to
become a musician. (The thumbnail, right, is of Rachmaninov
and his daughter.) It was a commitment seriously made. Buddy
and Mom approved heartily and we looked for a suitable piano
teacher. I auditioned for Mr. Robert Riotte. I could not read
music very quickly anymore, since I had forsaken piano lessons
when we moved to Montclair, but I had continued improvising
and providing accompaniments for home quartet-singing made up
of myself, my father, Uncle Jim, and Willy (“Shine
on Harvest Moon” ... .etc.) Mr. Riotte was not
impressed by my by-ear impromptu renderings of themes from the
works of the romantic masters. He judged that I had no talent
for music and no chance for success. Anger and discouragement
fueled my determination.
 (The
thumbnail, left is of a drawing of Ron in a rocking chair, smoking,
made during this time.)
We found another
teacher living in Montclair, Marthe Morhange-Motchane, a
pupil of Alfred Cortot, a friend of Ravel’s, a classmate
of Darius Milhaud’s, and the grand-niece of 19th century
composer-pianist, Alkan. Mrs. Motchane believed I had talent
and she set to work training me as a concert artist. This work
was disappointing for her because it eventually became apparent
that my talent for the preparation and performance of piano
literature was not really impressive, yet I continued working
very hard for her.
 One
day in 1957 or 1958 a pianist on the faculty of what was then
Montclair State Teacher’s College gave an all-Debussy recital.
Mrs. Motchane obtained a ticket for me and encouraged me to
go. (Thumbnail, right, Ron and father at the piano). My family
preferred Russian and American music to French and German music,
and so I knew none of Debussy’s music. Its effect upon
me was shattering. As the first half of the program proceeded,
the sounds coming from the piano frightened me and I became
so agitated that I planned to flee the building at the earliest
opportunity.
 Somehow
I managed to stay for the second half, during which I was
completely captivated by Debussy’s revolutionary sound
world. Returning to my lessons, I insisted on studying a piece
of his in spite of their difficulty. I hand-copied his “Poissons
D’ors” because I could not afford to buy it.  (His
music was not yet in the public domain.) I took a try at writing
some music myself. When I entered the Manhattan School of Music
as a Piano Major studying with Mildred Dassett, I think I missed
Mrs. Motchane more than I knew, and my own early efforts at
composition gave me much solace and comfort in view of my increasing
disillusionment with my practicing. It was clear to me I had
no future as a concert pianist. But what was I to do? I submitted
copies of my compositions to Ludmila Ulehla (the thumbnail,
upper left, is a recent photo of Ludmila and Ron). I was speedily
admitted to the composition program,  studying for the next four years with her, Nicolas Flagello, (thumbnail, above right) andVittorio
Giannini, (thumbnail, left) then head of the composition department.
The memories
of my days at the Manhattan School sweeten with the passing
years. At the time, I fancied myself quite the superior
sophisticate to my teachers and peers. Once I had discovered
Debussy back in high school, I promptly explored all the 20th
century music I could find. Giannini and Flagello exalted Strauss
and Puccini; Ulehla pressed forward the example of Brahms and
Bartok. I preferred Mahler and Bruckner over Brahms, and Schoenberg
and Stravinsky over Bartok. I was already attracted passionately
to the works of Boulez, Stockhausen, and Varese. Adolescent
posturing notwithstanding, I submitted myself wholly to my studies,
 even augmenting them with private study with Bill Karlins (thumbnail, right) with
whom I studied both Hindemith’s Traditional Harmony,
and twelve-tone serial music techniques. Bill was also attending
the Manhattan School working towards a Master’s in Composition.
I traveled to his home in Brooklyn frequently between 1961 and
1963. We analyzed the Symphony of Psalms, pieces by Varese,
Schoenberg, Webern, and Stockhausen’s Kontrapunkte.
With Bill’s direction and counsel, I began to write the
first works to appear in my catalog, Five Miniatures for
Flute; Clarinet and Percussion; Sextet; and String Trio.
 Michael
Steinberg taught Music History courses at Manhattan. He
introduced me to Elliot Carter’s music whose String
Quartet No. 2 had an enormous impact on my writing. During
a period of illness, Michael sent pianist Paul Jacobs in to
teach his classes for him. I knew that Paul had worked with
Boulez in Europe and he agreed to meet privately with me to
play through and analyze piano works of both Boulez and Stockhausen.
His classes were marvelous. Michael also brought in Milton Babbitt.
We attended rehearsals and performances at the Philadelphia
Art Alliance of Babbitt’s Vision and Prayer and
Philomel for voice (Susan Belinck) and computer generated
electronic-tape, and had many dinner sessions and discussions
with him.
Dr. James Shenton
came once a week from Columbia University to teach a course
in Western Civilization. He is a brilliant and colorful lecturer
and I enjoyed his course tremendously. (After one lecture, I
too became a philosopher!) A professor from New York University
(whose name I cannot recall) came to teach American Literature.
His exegesis of, among other things, Faulkner’s Sound
and the Fury, resulted in a permanent addiction to literature,
literary criticism, and the history of Ideas. His course required
some creative writing and I had my first try at poems and short
stories. My life-long passion for Literature and History began
in my classes with these two professors.
By
the time I graduated in 1963 I was the designated avant-gardist
at the Manhattan School, identified with the work of Cage, Stockhausen,
Boulez, Wolpe, Carter, as well as all Electronic and Serial
Music and, of course, the dreaded aleatoric music.
 During my last
year at Manhattan, my brother Glenn (thumbnail, left)
began his first and only year of art study at the Pennsylvania
Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia. He came often with me
to school in New York, my mother frequently writing excuses
for him from high school in order for him to do this; I too
visited his classes while he studied at the Academy and became
acquainted with his teachers and colleagues, Morris Blackburn,
 Hobbson
Pittman (thumbnail, left), Murray Desner and  Steve
Heimel (thumbnail, right). I was a member of the little circle
of searching young painters at the Academy that had formed around
the personality and the teaching of Hobbson Pittman, the only
instructor there who understood and approved of historic 19th
and 20th century avant-garde work. A very strong and warm bond
formed between Glenn, Steve Heimel, Hobbson, and myself. While
I was in Philadelphia to study with Stockhausen the following
year I regularly attended Hobbson’s now-legendary Open
Criticism class on Thursdays.
Click
here to continue | Back to top
|
