Anonymous yet personal, this Blog chronicles
the daily events and musings of Jim.
It provides an easy way for his friends and family to check in on him,
and serves as a online repository for his random
thoughts, kaleidoscopic flashbacks, and writings on an array of diverse topics.
“Deconstructing Jim” is simply here to
entertain you, but not intended for college credit.

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Showing posts with label Obit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Obit. Show all posts

Friday, January 1, 2010

2009 Composer Death Toll

Scanning the Boston Globe this first morning of 2010, I perused the front page article "Recalling the Many We Lost: A lasting impact on history and culture" by Joseph P. Kahn. While sipping my coffee I looked at the small-print list of "other notable deaths" of 2009 on page A12 - which is broken out by category.

After checking to see if my name was on the list, I then studied the 34 names under the music category. To my surprise, not a single "concert music" composer was on the list. Good news, I guess, if you are a composer.

As it turned out, under closer scrutiny the main body of the article did mention the passing of a "quartet of versatile and prolific composers" in 2009. Namely George Perle, Leon Kirchner, Lukas Foss, and George Russell.

For the record, I've blogged about all four of them in Deconstructing-Jim over the past year.

I'd like to add to the official composer death toll list a few additional names of people who left the planet during the past calender year. French film composer Maurice-Alexis Jarre, Russian film composer Isaac (or Isaak) Schwartz, Boston's own Joe Maneri, Nicholas Maw, and Svatopluk Havelka. (I blogged about Joe Maneri).

Other notable deaths I'd like to add to the list include pop-oriented composers Vic Mizzy (composer of the famous Addams Family TV show theme) and Angela Morley. Morley - whose birth name was Wally Stott - was born in England but moved to and lived in Arizona in her later years. She was music director for the "Goon Show" and wrote scores for TV dramas such as "Dallas." Later she made numerous arrangements for the Boston Pops.

May they all R.I.P.

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Friday, October 23, 2009

The Soupy Sales Show

TV personality Soupy Sales (1926 – 2009) died last week. He was a wacky comedian, actor, and host of a well-known New York area television show for children called “The Soupy Sales Show.’’ He died at Calvary Hospice in the New York at the age of 83.


He had a hit song around 1965 called "The Mouse" and I've included a copy of the sheet music cover below.








The song's words and music by Sandy Linzer and Denny Randell are not very impressive. The main lyric was the word "Yeah!" I don't recall if Soupy actually sang pitches or not, but here is a sample of the opening music.


While his TV program was ostensibly for children, the show attracted older views who enjoyed his madcap, vaudevillian comic style. At times his programs verged on theatre of the absurd. Soupy would push the envelope on live TV in ways that wouldn't be tolerated today. For example, on one program he told his young audience to sneak into their mothers’ purse, extract all the pieces of green paper bearing pictures of presidents, and mail them to him. It resulted in Mr. Sales getting lots of envelopes of cash, and being suspended from his job for a week.

The show ran for many years, and I grew up with the earlier programs. I loved the hand puppets and skits.

On YouTube you can find various clips from the programs, but here is a later program from the 1970s where he had rock star and composer Alice Cooper as a guest. Cooper is not someone you would normally associate with children's programming. His concerts featured guillotines, electric chairs, snakes, fake blood, and children's dolls. His heavy metal music is grandly theatrical, violent, and designed to shock.

Here is the YouTube of Soupy Sales together with avant garde composer/musician Alice Cooper...


















Links:




http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soupy_Sales




http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Cooper




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Friday, September 25, 2009

Remembering Alex Ulanowsky

I seem to be recalling a lot about my former teachers...

Alex Ulanowsky (1942 - 1993) was a cool instructor I had at the Berklee College of Music for Jazz Harmony and Ear Training. He was a very skilled jazz pianist who had toured with the Buddy Rich Band in 1973. He performed with Pat Metheny (a fellow Berklee student) and many other well-known popular music groups and singers. He was a very serious person, and appeared to be somber most of the time.

I knew that Alex was the son of Paul Ulanowsky (1908 - 1968), the great pianist who had collaborated with singers such as Lotte Lehmann. I knew about Paul Ulanowsky, since I had heard my mom's 78 rpm recordings of Lehmann and Ulanowsky performing works from the German lieder repertory.

Before my time, Paul Ulanowsky accompanied the leading instrumentalists of the classical music world - including Gregor Piatigorsky for a command performance for President and Mrs. Franklin Roosevelt at the White House. He also accompanied William Kroll, Bernhard Greenhouse, Joseph Fuchs, and renown vocalists Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, George London, Hans Hotter, Herman Prey, and Elizabeth Schwarzkopf.

So it was great to have Alex Ulanowsky (Paul Ulanowsky's son) as my instructor at Berklee. We did talk about his famous father on more than one occasion, but I don't think most people (students or faculty) had any idea who Paul Ulanowsky was.

Alex Ulanowsky began his teaching career at Berklee in 1971 and was appointed chair of the harmony department around the time that I enrolled. He held that position until 1981. Later he was promoted to head of core studies department and oversaw 90 faculty and 2,000 students. In 1983 he returned to teaching piano and jazz harmony full-time at Berklee, and authored a text titled "Harmony 4" that was published by Berklee Press. Alex was born in New York NY, graduated from St. Paul's School in Concord, N.H., Dartmouth College, the New York School of Music, and Berklee College of Music.

Once in his class, I had made a comment that wasn't well conceived or thought out. I said something like, "Jazz harmony and classical harmony are different animals. They are unrelated."

Alex Ulanowsky perked up and strongly objected to my over-generalization about harmony. He had grown up playing the popular jazz standards and thought about all of this music in the context of a unified traditional harmonic structure.

After I thought about it, it does seem true that classical and popular music dating from a short period of time between the 1930s and 40s existed in worlds that were very close to one another. At that time composers did virtually share a common language and conception of musical organization. Works by Ellington, Gershwin, Stravinsky, and Ravel could be be analyzed and heard in the same context, although there were stylistic differences too.

Perhaps my narrow mindset in the early 1970s regarding jazz was influenced by the post-Bebop trend of musical aesthetics of that time. In my mind Miles Davis' album Bitches Brew was a long way from the 17th and 18th century harmonic practice of Mozart and Haydn.

Alex Ulanowsky died on Sunday February 28th, 1993 of an internal hemorrhage at his home in Concord at the age of 50. Berklee has established a Jazz Composition award in his name.

Let's listen to the great German soprano Lotte Lehmann sing Franz Schubert's "Winterreise" D. 911, No. 15 "Die Krähe" (The Crow) with Alex's dad, Paul Ulanowsky, on the piano (recorded February 26th, 1940).


Links:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Ulanowsky
________

Monday, September 21, 2009

Remembering Leon Kirchner



Last Friday around 1:30 in the afternoon I switched on the radio. I immediately sensed that something was wrong, since my local public radio station was untypically playing a lengthy piece of modern music. I could tell that it was "Music for Cello & Orchestra" by Leon Kirchner. It was from a well-known recording on Sony by David Zinman conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra with Yo-Yo Ma as the cello soloist.



There is an unfortunate tendency in the classical radio biz to pay special attention to the work of a contemporary composer either when they have an upcoming local performance, or when they have passed away. I was not aware of any upcoming concerts in the Boston area featuring Kirchner, but I knew that he was 90 years old and had been in poor health in recent years.

After the music concluded, the radio announcer confirmed my worst fear. Leon Kirchner died the day before at the age of 90 at his home on Central Park west in Manhattan of congestive heart failure.

It was not a total shock, given his poor health. But my sense of loss was not as much for the individual as for the passing of an entire generation of composers. The number of surviving composers who studied directly with Arnold Schoenberg has diminished to a mere hand full, and the musical aesthetics of Kirchner's generation and the music they created is regrettably becoming a fading memory in 21st century musical culture.

Not everyone is familiar with the work of Leon Kirchner (1919 - 2009), but for me he was a Boston landmark - a fixture at Harvard University for 28 years where he taught music composition and conducted the Harvard Chamber Orchestra. The Harvard Chamber Orchestra concerts at Sanders Theatre were really something. His selection of works was superb, and it often included some of his own music, or a piece by one of his students at Harvard (e.g. Three Pieces for Orchestra in 1985 by the Harvard undergraduate Eric Sawyer).

Kirchner had been an influential teacher to at least two generations of composers that I know. A lot of what I learned about him was indirect information derived from a patchwork of stories told by his students. For example composers such as Ezra Sims and Bob Ceely worked with him in the 1950s at Mills College in Oakland, California (Stravinsky had recommended Kirchner for that position).

During my student years in Boston, dozens of my composer colleagues at the New England Conservatory crossed the Charles River to work with Leon Kirchner or his arch rival the late Earl Kim (also a former student of Arnold Schoenberg) for their graduate studies at Harvard.

Kirchner's composition students at Harvard included at least two prominent composers: Richard Warnick and John Adams. However, he also taught a course in analysis and performance of chamber music, and violinist Lynn Chang ('75) and cellist Yo-Yo Ma ('76) were students in his class.

John Adams wrote recently about his former teacher in his memoir "Hallelujah Junction: Composing an American Life." He wrote: "I began to notice that the act of composing for him was something akin to self-immolation. I got the feeling that composing was meant to be a painful activity, a ferocious wrestling match with inner demons."

Kirchner described it himself when he said, "You keep working at it [until] it becomes a thing that really grips your whole soul. And it has to in order for it to be real music."

Kirchner left behind a worthy catalog of scores, including orchestral pieces, two piano concertos, an opera, and numerous chamber works.

His String Quartet No. 3 won the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1967. Oddly, this is not among his best works. It's a piece that utilizes electronic sounds created on the Buchla synthesizer. Although he had guidance and assistance from his colleague Ivan Tcherepnin (1943 - 1998) at the Harvard Electronic Music Studio, the work does not integrate the two sound worlds very well at all. Aside from some incidental electronic sounds in Kirchner's opera Lily, I don't believe he ever worked in the electronic medium again. The score for the String Quartet No. 3 was published in color, which was a a gimmicky innovation at the time.

Aside from the Pulitzer, Kirchner received all of the major awards and memberships commonly bestowed upon composers in his league: the Guggenheim Foundation, the American Academy of Arts and Letters, The American Academy of Arts and Sciences, the New York Critics Circle, and a Naumburg Award.

It's not the awards, but his music that interests me. I am a big fan of the majority of his work, such as: The Duo for Violin and Piano (1947), the Trio for Violin Cello and Piano (1954), his Piano Sonatas, 'Flutings' from Lily (1973), Triptych (1986/88), Concerto for Violin, Cello, Ten Winds and Percussion (1960), Five Pieces for Piano (1987), and Music for 12 (1985). His earlier music has the qualities of Béla Bartók, but later there are influences of both Stravinsky and Schoenberg.

I own the score and have studied Music for 12 in detail. I play through it often and marvel at Kirchner's harmonic language. He has a way of exploiting the material of the symmetric octatonic scales without duelling too much on them. He modulates from one area to another to create the experience of harmonic motion and contrast in his work, and creates well-defined regions of associated harmonic identity. Kirchner was also skillful at composing fast and exciting music that was rich in thematic material and always expressive. His music flows, but there is evidence of a struggle within it. His pieces to some degree hint at a tormented soul.

The demons that Kirchner wrestled with when struggling to compose music were also part of his intense personality and psychological makeup. By all accounts he was a very difficult person to associate with at times, and his commanding stature induced fear in some. He was known to have had personal frictions with a few of his colleagues. But when he got behind a issue or cause that he believed in (such a supporting a student), he was a force to recon with

I really had only one substantial face-to-face encounter with Kirchner. It was at a reception at Harvard after a new music concert sometime in the 1990s. Overcoming my shyness, I walked up to the composer and struck up a conversation. I explained that I was at the world premiere of his opera Lily at Lincoln Center in New York on Thursday evening April 28th, 1977.


We spoke about the performance, and how it was poorly received in the press. He explained that the staff conductor didn't have the ability to rehearse and conduct a new contemporary work, and he had to jump in at the last minute. He didn't recall the conductors name, but I recalled that it was probably Julius Rudel, the music director of the NY City Opera at that time.


Kirchner (left) with the cast of Lily (photo, Martha Swope - NY Times)


We talked a lot about the music in his opera, and he seemed strangely puzzled that I had such a clear memory of his music since it was performed decades earlier and had not been recorded commercially. In particular I recalled the fabulous singing of the title role by Susan Belling (who by the way is the daughter of Cantor Norman Belink). Belling was just amazing in the role of Lily as she navigated Kirchner's extended Italianesque soaring coloratura passages from memory while staying rock-solid on pitch. Her sound was penetrating in the large hall of the NY State Theatre, even in the upper balcony where I was sitting in the budget seats.

I also relayed to Krichner a funny story that has to be one of the more bizarre coincidences that ever occurred to me. The night after the world premiere of Kirchner's opera Lily, the singers and musicians had a break while another opera was performed. At that time I resided in a small NY suburban town with my parents, but often visited a local bar in the neighboring village of Hastings on the Hudson. The bar was famous for their 20-cent glasses of watered down draft beer. The noise, grunge, and generally sleazy ambiance of the pick-up joint was the price one would put up with in exchange for inexpensive night of inebriation and questionable social interaction.

In the dark and sleazy bar I bumped into an acquaintance by the name of Nicholas Evans. Nick was a friend of a friend who I knew very well from High School named Laura. I knew that Nick was a bassoonist who once performed the Stravinsky Octet live on WBAI radio with new music conductor Arthur Weissberg (also a bassoonist). But during the day, Nick worked as a carpenter. Today Nick has a business where he does bassoon repair (see his link at the bottom of this post). Anyway, Nick introduced me to his lady friend sitting on the bar stool to his left, "this is Susan" he said.

It turned out that Nick's friend was Susan Belling, the soprano who I had heard sing in Kirchner's opera Lily the evening before. She was resting her voice and decompressing over a beer with her friend after her widely anticipated premiere opera performance the night before. I suppose she just wanted to get away from the intensity of the NY scene.

Belling studied at the Chatham Square Music School (1958-60), at the Manhattan School of Music (1960-63) and at the Opera Studio of the Metropolitan Opera New York (1964-67). In 1966 she won the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. She sang an arrangement of Schoenberg's Second Quartet with Eric Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony. Her 1968 debut took place at the San Francisco Opera. A new music specialist, she sang the title role in the opera Melusine by Aribert Reimann with the Santa Fé Opera. I've heard her from time to time perform with new music ensembles, such as Speculum Musicae where she sang Henze ("Being Beauteous" on 1/8/76) and later the work of an emerging Boston composer by the name of John Harbison.

And here we were chugging beers in Hastings. It was bizarre, so bizarre that I later wrote a new work for soprano and bassoon and dedicated it to Susan and Nick, but I don't think they ever performed it.

Kirchner thought my story was humorous. But he looked looked at me with a puzzling glare, and started to inquire about my background, musical training, and connections. He seemed to be suspicious about my comprehensive knowledge about him, when he know nothing about me. "Who did you study with? Why have I never heard any of your music?" he asked.

The conversation and mood in the room shifted. I soon felt as if I was being interrogated by Kirchner about my political alliances and associations. To make matters worse, I could sense the ears and eyes of my former composition teacher in the room behind me tuning in to hear what Kirchner and I were talking about. There was plenty of paranoia to go around in those days, and that's just one reason why I dislike the fishbowl of academia.

In recent years Kirchner retired from Harvard and moved to New York. He would return to Boston on special occasions, such as the recent Boston Symphony Orchestra performance conducted by James Levine of his commissioned work The Forbidden. The piece is good, but it's basically an orchestration of an earlier work.

While I never warmed up to, studied with, or got to know the composer, I do have a great appreciation for the music of Leon Kirchner. His work has had an influence on mine, and I think we share many common ideas about the nature of new music and what it should sound like.

When a like-minded composer departs the earth, I can almost feel a slight tremble in the ground. It's as if I'm not confident that my colleagues and I can carry on the touch with the same confidence and ability that our predecessors were able to. We are losing our best of breed, and their shoes will be difficult fill.
Links:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leon_Kirchner

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,918881,00.html

http://www.evansbassoon.com/

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Friday, August 28, 2009

Joe Maneri (1927-2009) RIP


I last saw him on May 10th when his beautiful work Kohtlyn (2000) was performed by soprano Jennifer Ashe and trombonist Will Lang at a concert organized by the Boston Microtonal Society.

Composer, theorist, reedsman, poet, and educator Joe Maneri died on Monday August 24th at the age of 82 of heart failure. His presence on the music scene will be sorely missed.

Lee Mergner of the JazzTimes wrote (8/27/09), "For most of his life Maneri toiled in obscurity, spending his time as both a student and teacher of creative music."

In 1995 Ran Blake said of his colleague at the New England Conservatory, "Joe Maneri is one of the 20th century's greatest clarinetists."

What I find amazing about Maneri's career is how he worked in so many different musical genres.

Jazz enthusiasts will know him from his early work with Gunther Schuller's 20th Century Innovations Ensemble performances of "Third Stream" music at Carnegie Hall.

Schuller had arranged a record deal for Maneri with Atlantic, but the 1963 recording was not released by the record company.  In 1988, the Atlantic recording session tapes were made available to the Avant label and released under the title "Paniot's Nine."  In the 1990's Joe Maneri released 14 additional attention grabbing albums on the ECM, Hat Hut, Leo labels, often in collaboration his his son Mat - a free-style violinist/violist.

He taught many students the art of composition, often using Arnold Schoenberg's harmony and counterpoint books as his method. One of Maneri's notable music students is the prominet composer Richard Danielpour (who I knew from my days at NEC).

As a composer, Joe Maneri was mostly self-taught. He dropped out of school in the eighth grade - perhaps because of an undiagnosed attention deficit disorder - but went on to develop his musical abilities with intense private study. He studied the works of Stravinsky, Schoenberg, and Webern under the tutelage of Josef Schmid (a student of Alban Berg) over a period of ten years.  His compositions were featured at Carnegie Recital Hall in 1961, including his "Divertimento" for piano, drums, and double bass.

Maneri was hired to teach 16th-century counterpoint and music composition at the Brooklyn-Queens Conservatory of Music in NY, and it was there that he met Sonja Holzwarth, whom he later married.  From 1970-2007 was on the faculty at the New England Conservatory in Boston. He was very active organizing concerts of new music during his tenure at NEC. Joseph Gabriel Esther Maneri was awarded an honorary doctorate from NEC in May of 2009 for his lifetime of work in the field of music.

Maneri composed for a time in a pointalistic serialist style. Robert Ceely, a Boston Composer and colleague of Maneri at the New England Conservatory recalls watching pianist Zita Carno at Tanglewood sight-read through Maneri's piano concerto Metanoia. Carno played both the piano and orchestral parts, which was an accomplishment since Maneri's concerto is rather complex. The piece was commissioned by Boston Symphony Orchestra music director Eric Leinsforf, but never performed by them. However, in 1985 Metanoia did receive its' long awaited premiere performance by the American Composer's Orchestra at Alice Tully Hall in NY. The piano soloist with the ACO was the late and great new music advocate, Rebecca ("Becky") la Brecque - who died much too soon.

Returning to his Sicilian roots, Maneri became interested in European folk music, particularly that of Eastern Europe. The microtonal inflections of Greek folk music fascinated him and led him on a new path of musical exploration.

Joe Maneri began composing with the 72-note scale developed by his colleague Ezra Sims. His microtonal improvisations and composed pieces are remarkable. As a dedicated teacher and co-founder of the Boston Microtonal Society, Maneri inspired a whole generation of composers to work in the microtonal system. He invented a keyboard the had 588 notes: 72 pitches per octave.  Maneri is co-author (with Scott Van Duyne) of a theory book titled "Preliminary Studies in the Virtual Pitch Continuum."

I understand that a private Roman Catholic funeral will be held for Maneri this morning in Framingham, and that a public memorial service and concert will be scheduled for the future. He is survived by his wife Sonia, five children, and eight grandchildren.

His presence as a musical force and teacher in Boston will be missed.

Links:

http://www.joemaneri.com/

http://deconstructing-jim.blogspot.com/2009/05/concert-review-boston-microtonal.html


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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

R.I.P.

Merce Cunningham, Michael Steinberg, and George Russell all passed away over the past few days. All three men made their mark in the music and dance world, and I'm sure that they will receive fitting tributes, lengthy obituaries, and memorial services that are commensurate with their significant achievements.

While I do not claim to have known them, I did meet each of them briefly.

Merce Cunningham had provided a public question and answer session at Harvard around 1978. I always appreciated how he always used contemporary and experimental music for his dance works, and did not revert to pop or older music in his work as so many choreographers frequently do today. I recall one little detail about his comments that evening that have stuck in my mind all these years. He said that he is always very careful to organize works so that dances will not injure themselves by crashing into one another on the stage. He was willing to experiment with improvisatory structures, but not at the expense of personal safety.


Michael Steinberg was Director of Publications, editor, author, and annotator for the Boston Symphony Orchestra when I first came to Boston in the 70s.. I recall talking with him in the second floor cafe at Symphony Hall during the intermission. He had written program notes for the Berg Violin Concerto, and Steinberg and Gunther Schuller were looking at a photograph of the famous portrait of Alban Berg on display in the room (where Berg is looking out of a window above a painting of himself). Of all things, we spoke about the unusual circumstances surrounding Alban Berg's death.


George Russell was a fixture at the New England Conservatory. He was the quintessential jazz composer, and did not shy away from new techniques, electronic music, and avant garde methods of music making. He was a formative mentor to musician friends of mine (e.g. Marc Rossi), and I had met him around the time he won the MacArthur "genius award." His theoretical treatise "The Lydian Chromatic Concept of Tonal Organization" was developed in the 1950s, and had evolved into a significant jazz movement with a dedicated following of practitioners.



R.I.P.

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Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Uncle Arnold and Aunt Aurelia

I come from a large family. Each of my parents had many sisters and brothers.

My dad's siblings included Louis (b. 1900), Charles (b. 1902), Frank (b. 1910), Victor (b. 1916), Helen (b.1917), Elia (b. 1914), Jean (b. 1912), Aurelia (b. 1906), and Mary (who was born in 1905, but died that same year of influenza).

Aurelia’s husband was Arnold Johnson, but they had no children. They were fixtures at our family celebrations, along with other uncles, aunts, cousins, neighbors, friends, and various guests.

Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving were times when our large family congregated.










This photo of Aunt Aurelia (or "Aunt Ray")
was taken in Florida in 1975



















Here is Aurelia with my cousin Audra












Uncle Arnold was a quiet, soft spoken and gentle man. He and Aurelia lived in Greenwich Village, but they liked to come visit us in the “burbs” to escape the heat of NYC in the summertime. Arnold in particular loved the outdoors, and would volunteer to pull weeds from the garden while Aurelia would collect fresh tomatoes and make her famous tomato sauce with a recipe that she inherited from her mother.

Arnold had a voracious appetite, and could eat us out of house and home, although he somehow managed to remain thin as a rail throughout his life. He also had a fondness for good wine and scotch whiskey, but never acted or displayed his intoxication. My mom theorized that “he had a wooden leg.”
My uncle Arnold, in the center of the photo, eating voraciously

Arnold listened more than he talked, but when he said something, it was deliberate and well-considered. He had the aura of a learned professor, but also seemed down-to-earth. Arnold had an interest in art and music, and sincerely wanted to learn more about what my brothers and I were up to. On one visit, Uncle Arnold had read the liner notes of a John Cage album I had left lying around. He found it fascinating, and wanted to listen to the music to hear what “Chance Music” sounded like. I found him to be very open minded, clear-headed, and logical.

Thanksgiving dinner. Seated in the back row (left to right) is Arnold, Aurelia, Larry, aunt Elia and her husband Joe. Seated in the front (left to right) is my mom, Ricky, me, and aunt Helen

Arnold and Aurelia had vacationed in Florida at Sanibel Island where together they amassed a large collection of sea shells. Arnold, an amateur painter, skillfully created collages with these flowers or shells, and also painted numerous more traditional landscapes of the Florida coastline in both oil and watercolor. He loved fly-fishing, a sport he had acquired during his youth in the Pacific Northwest. It was obvious that he found solitude in painting and enjoyed the fresh air of the outdoors. They were both avid bird watchers and naturalists. This collage titled "With Love" was made with dried flowers...



Up to my teenage years, that is all I knew about my uncle Arnold. He was a mystery, and I had no idea what he did for a living. My parents had done a very good job of suppressing that part of his history.

One summer day, while the family sat on the back porch sipping lemonade, I asked uncle Arnold how he got interested in painting. He replied, “I picked it up in prison.”


I didn’t understand. “What? You were in prison? I can’t believe it!”

The cat was out of the bag. My father blushed and uncle Arnold looked at him with an expression that indicated “Sorry, what do I say now?”








Over time I gradually learned more about Arnold’s past, and his political activities as a leftist.

They say that blood is thicker than water, and my parents (registered Republicans and rather conservative) liked my uncle as a person, but were not in agreement with his views. There was probably a tacit agreement between them to avoid all discussion of his activities and politics in an effort to “protect” us from any possible repercussions.

Vestiges of McCarthyism still existed in the late 1960’s and early 70’s. Folk singer Pete Seeger was banned from performing in my town by the American Legion because he had been a member of the Communist Party. The scars, pain, and ruined careers of people associated with the party were still fresh in people’s minds. Frankly, the Communist Party was a hot potato that no one wanted to touch, and its’ leader in America was sitting on my porch sipping lemonade.

To be more accurate, uncle Arnold wasn’t THE leader of the Communist Party USA, but he was the number two man, working closely with Gus Hall who held the title of General Secretary. The CP-USA had 60,000 members and was growing as a major legitimate American party in the early 1920’s. It was closely associated with the labor movement and the creation of trade unions in America. During WWII many Americans identified with Socialist ideals, and sided with our nation’s ally against Hitler, only to be disillusioned later when the atrocities of Stalin became known.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Communist_Party_USA

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gus_Hall

One day I did a simple library search, and found a US Government publication with a report from a Senate investigation. It had a photograph of my uncle Arnold and Gus Hall standing along side Leonid Brezhnev in the Soviet Union.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leonid_Brezhnev

I made a photocopy of the document had showed it to my parents, who grabbed it out of my hands and tore it up in anger.

We rarely spoke with Arnold and Aurelia by phone, since it was assumed that their line was tapped. Even letters to and from were mentally self-censored since we would never know who was reading them.

I would learn more about the life of my aunt and uncle when I visited them at their apartment in New York. Uncle Arnold, weak and in ill health, had retired in 1979. Matters of family always overshadowed politics. But as they attempted to clear the enormous clutter of their one-bedroom apartment, interesting items would be imparted to family various members. For example, I have a commemorative booklet of mint postage stamps that Arnold received as a memento from the first Communist Party Congress in Cuba in 1975. It contains postage stamps issued by Cuba in the 60’s and 70’s. I’m sure he met Castro, but he never dropped names or bragged.

However, my aunt did tell a story about how her husband had been at an International Congress in Leningrad, and afterward wanted to visit the Hermitage Museum to view the artwork. He was disappointed when he learned that the museum would be closed that day, and he would not be able to return. Senior Communist Party officials then arranged for him to have a private viewing of the artwork in the Hermitage, for which uncle Arnold was very appreciative.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermitage_Museum





Aunt Aurelia with my dad in January of 1989. Arnold's artwork hangs on the walls of the NYC apartment


My uncle Arnold and aunt Aurelia both combated illness in their final years together, but they managed to maintain close contact with family members, friends, and neighbors. There were some difficult years after he had a stroke and had to go into a nursing home. Aunt Aurelia fell into depression, but was supported by her sisters – Helen in particular. “A&A” as we called them always maintained a kindness and compassion for the disadvantaged. They also never gave up believing in the party line.

Cousin Robert, Aurelia, and Willemien looking at photos in 1989

Sometime after my aunt and uncle died, the CP-USA held a memorial service at their dingy headquarters in NYC and invited my family. There were speeches by party officials and some of my relatives. Behind the podium stood a large poster of Karl Marx. I remember a humorous story that Gus Hall told about my aunt Aurelia… “She was a city girl, but one time when she and Arnold were meeting with farmers in Kentucky, Aurelia asked the farmer about his livestock. She said, ‘I see the chickens, pigs, goats, and cattle, but where are the veal?’” My brother Larry spoke emotionally about his aunt and uncle, and the changes the world had gone through. The memorial service featured an art exhibit with the many paintings my uncle had made over his lifetime, and Gus Hall mentioned that they could be purchased and all funds would go to support the operations CP-USA.





Gus Hall speaking at the memorial service





On the right is a painiting by Arnold Johnson of a sunset. It was on display and for sale at his memorial service at CP Headquarters in NY.




In 2006 the CP-USA cleaned out the non-descript large Manhattan building they owned on 23rd street, and donated all of its’ documents, photos, and memorabilia to the Tamiment Library of NYU. Speaking to the Associated Press, Michael Nash, director of the Taminent Library indicated that 20,000 books, journals, pamphlets, and a million photographs had been removed from the party’s offices. The Tamiment Library specializes in scholarly research documenting the history of American labor and the Left. Among the documents donated are directives smuggled in from Moscow with secret code words used for communication during the Cold War.

I have written a short bio about my uncle Arnold based on information drawn from a number of different sources.

Arnold Samuel Johnson was born in Seattle Washington on September 23rd, 1904. His parents had moved west from Minnesota, where both had come as immigrants – the father from Sweden, the mother from Finland. When he was twelve, the family moved to Hoquiam, Washington where he graduated as the valedictorian of this 1922 High School class. The family moved to Los Angeles where he entered Christ College (now Chapman College) and graduated magna cum laude. He then left for Washington D.C. where he worked nights in a legal office while studying law for a year at Washington University. Later, he took a degree at Teacher’s College in New York and a Bachelor of Divinity degree from Union Theological Seminary (B.A. 1932), where he was drawn to Christian Socialist philosophy.

In 1929-30 he was secretary to the lecturer Sherwood Eddy, who conducted a series of tours – including to the Soviet Union – for Congressmen, educators, and others. In 1931 he visited the Soviet Union for the first time.

In 1931 Johnson went to Harlan County, Kentucky as a representative of the American Civil Liberties Union. The backwoods miners of Kentucky, hard hit by the depression, had attempted to organize to improve their conditions. The coal bosses fought back viciously, bringing in squads of hired killers, and bribing police and judges to ride roughshod over their most basic civil rights. Blood flowed freely. Johnson naively decided to talk with the mine operators to improve conditions. He was issued a warning “Get out of the county within 24-hours or stay here forever.”

He ignored the warning. As Johnson was walking along a Harlan County road, a man driving a horse and wagon overtook him. “Want a lift?” the driver asked, and Johnson mounted the wagon. They rolled along for several miles, and John told the man what he’s learned of the Kentucky miners struggle. Then Johnson looked at his watch apologetically, and said to the driver, “my time is up.” The driver then replied, “Yeah, I know your time is up, because I’m the guy that’s supposed to bump you off. Now get down.” Johnson got off of the wagon and expected to be shot. But after a moment, the man said “but I guess I’ve plumb changed my mind” and drove off down the road. However, Johnson was later arrested in Harlan County on criminal syndicalism charges.

As the Great Depression intensified, Johnson decided to work with the quickly mounting ranks of the unemployed. In 1932 he became the Ohio organizer with the Unemployed Leagues. Johnson officially joined the Communist Party in 1936, and was the Ohio State party secretary from 1940 to 1947. In 1943 he ran for the Cleveland Board of Education as a Communist candidate and received 43,000 votes. He later ran for Mayor of Cleveland. In 1947 moved to New York and became the party’s National Legislative Director.

On June 20th, 1951, he was arrested on the Smith Act. The indictment reads that he authored an article on the Fourth of July that contained a quotation from Abraham Lincoln: “All that serves labor, serves the Nation. All that harms labor is treason to America.”

The nine-month federal trial began on March 31st, 1952. He was convicted, and sentenced to 29 months in jail by Judge Edward J. Dimock in the Federal Court at Foley Square, NY. On February 2-3, 1953, at the end of his extensive closing remarks at sentencing, Johnson said to the court “your decision to jail us does not make us guilty. I am confident that the American people will not yield the Bill of Rights and their desire for peace so easily. They will know that we are innocent and that they are also the victims of this frame-up.”

Johnson served his sentence on the Smith Act conviction from 1955 to 1957. He took up painting in prison to pass the time.

He was indicted on two other occasions. In 1962 under the McCarran Act for refusing to register as a Communist Party member, and in 1970 by the House Internal Security Committee for refusing to cooperate with the investigation of the New Mobilization Against the War in Vietnam.

He served as Vice Chairman of the New York State CP, where he ran for Governor of the State of New York.

While Public Relations Director for the CP, he received and responded to Lee Harvey Oswald’s inquiries about the CP-USA in 1963. These letters are at the focal point in various conspiracy theories about the JFK assignation. They support the view that Oswald acted on his own initiative.

After suffering a stroke and a heart attack, he retired form the Communist Party USA in 1979, and died in 1989.

His papers are maintained at the Tamiment Labor Library, at New York University.

http://dlib.nyu.edu/findingaids/html/tamwag/johnson.html





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Sunday, July 13, 2008

About my friend Lou

To follow up on my previous post, my good friend Lou died on January 3rd of this year. I was invited by his family to speak at his memorial service on 1/19/08, and the text below is excerpted and adapted from my prepared remarks...


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...I had been in contact with Lou by email just recently, and we were about to schedule a lunch or dinner meeting to just talk and get caught up on things. But over the past years, he and I had communicated often by email. I knew that he was finally retiring and was looking forward to spending more time with his family and playing on his prized Steinway.

I first met Lou in August of 1993, where he designed and taught a three-month comprehensive Novell training course for a now defunct company in Waltham. He was an amazing teacher, and he had an in-depth grasp of the subject-matter and an innate ability to communicate it. It was one of the best organized and run classes I've even taken. Over time, we stayed in touch, and Lou brought me to the investment house Scudder, Stevens and Clark to work on his team. Lou's technical and interpersonal skills were immediately evident to senior management. Not only did I have the best time of my life working under him, I learned volumes about what a manager should be, and what professionalism is.

One day he asked me fill out an evaluation of him that was related to a Steven R. Covey Leadership and Management program he was taking. I was amazed that on every single evaluation point - from time management, to communication, to ethics - he got my highest rating. He was exemplary, to the point where I almost wondered if he had any faults at all.

The powers at Scudder knew that they had a live one in Lou. While not born into the same social class as them, he was such an expert communicator, clear thinker, and natural leader, that he in affect rose to the top of the company's hierarchy in no time. He had an ability to defuse tense situations, and the skills to mediate between warring parties. He transcended the entrenched corporate culture to work effectively with everyone - at all ends of the spectrum.

At one point management offered him the position of "Chief Technical Strategist" which essentially would have put him in the technical driver's seat for this enormous international company. He declined that offer, feeling that it would not allow him to build and nurture his hand-picked team.

Working in both stressful and relaxed situations for a long time with an individual, such as I did with Lou, allows one to see a person's character. Lou had plenty of it. I'm not understating myself when I say that Lou became my mentor. He was about 10 years my senior, so this was a natural, almost "big brother" role. I learned much from him about how to deal with a complex and changing world, and to balance work-life with one's personal and family obligations and aspirations. For example when I missed a day of work because of back trouble, he immediately made time to call to see how I was doing.

Of course we discussed and explored any and every subject of interest – including, but not limited to - technical concerns. On many occasions (post Scudder) several of us would meet at Bertucci's (our regular hangout) for dinner and to engage in a free-ranging soirée. We'd have these incredible, long-winded, and in-depth discussions about music, philosophy, politics, education, micro and macro economics, cyberspace, and culture that were simply mind-blowing. Whatever subject came up, Lou not only had a well-thought out position, but had done his research and conveyed his thoughts with an erudite elegance that one could simply not argue with.

When the topic turned to sports, I had to concede my ignorance, but it was clear that Lou was not an amateur in that arena either.

A life-long commitment to self-education was another one of Lou's trademarks. After an exchange of some fascinating email regarding late Stravinsky, I was impressed with how informed he was on the subject (I did my doctoral studies in music composition at Brandeis). After inquiring how he had learned so much about the topic, he replied that he had taken an audio course while driving in his car. It was yet another example of his using time efficiently. Lou was a good model for how one should structure and utilize one's resources efficiently and to good use.

He also read profusely, and enjoyed history in particular. His experience as a jazz musician was yet another communality between us. Lou's writing skills were just as sharp as his verbal skills. From corporate to personal communications and to the technical book he wrote but never got published - he had a gift for words.

Recently, Lou volunteered to serve on the IT Advisory Board for the college that I work at. His contributions were extremely insightful, and everyone was elevated by his intelligence and dedication.

Whenever I needed encouragement, advice, or just plain help, I would pick up the phone and give Lou a call, or fire off an email. The response was both immediate and valuable.

Just the other day Lou had kindly offered to help me by being available as an employment reference.

There are probably only a handful of people I have met over the course of my life that have impressed me as much as Lou did. I had nothing but the utmost respect for him, and came to rely on his caring and persistent nature.

It is sad to know that a diabetes-related heart attack prevented him from living longer than he should have, but the wide and dramatic impact that he made on the world is far more than most people can hope for. We are all enriched by the time we had with him.

Going forward, I feel privileged to have been associated with Lou, and I will take those fond memories and wonderful lessons with me into the future.


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