Carl Ruggles and the University of Miami

 

 

Marilyn J. Ziffrin

 

 

Carl Ruggles, the irascible, contradictory, and distinguished composer and painter, had tried on several occasions to get teaching positions, the earliest in 1902 while he was studying with John Knowles Paine, who wrote a letter of recommendation for his young student. Nothing came of that. However when Carl made his big move to Winona, Minnesota, in 1907, it was for a teaching post at the Mar d'Mar School of Music where he taught violin and music theory. Not long after he arrived, the school failed. Then Carl concentrated on conducting the Winona Symphony Orchestra.

 

He made these early attempts at teaching because he needed a steady paying job. But even after he had found a patron who provided him with a secure income, teaching was still in the back of his mind, only now he wanted a college or university position. There were other reasons, in addition to the financial one, that kept him interested in such a possibility. He wished to propagandize and further the cause of modern music, especially his own; and he felt that he would gain a certain amount of prestige if he were attached to an institution of higher learning.

 

He tried to get a position at the new Bennington College, which opened in 1933, asking his great good friend, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, to write to the president recommending him. But it was not to be. Then late in 1936, when he and his wife Charlotte were wintering in Coral Gables to be near their son, Micah, a student at the university, his luck changed.

 

Bertha Foster, an indomitable and courageous woman, was Dean of the Music School. She had been one of the original members of the Board of Trustees, as well as the founder and director of the Miami Conservatory. When the university opened its doors in 1926, she simply moved her Conservatory with its 678 pupils to Coral Gables, and it became the University School of Music with Bertha as Dean.

 

She seems to have been a decisive person with little or no fear, and when she heard that Carl Ruggles was in town and seeking out the musicians at the school, she arranged to meet him. She kept abreast of the musical world, knew about the International Composers' Guild and the avant-garde movement in modern music, and had heard of Carl Ruggles. At their meeting she suggested that Carl teach a seminar in modern music during the spring term of 1937. Since the President, Bowman Ashe, was on sabbatical leave that year, she made the offer without consulting anyone and arranged to pay his small salary with the funds from her School of Music.1

 

Carl would have growled his affirmative response because he didn't like the idea of a woman hiring him - and he often referred to her as "an old bitch" - but in truth he was delighted. Although the salary was only $450 a year, he was attached to a university, and he had some interesting colleagues. Arnold Volpe, the first conductor of the summer concerts at Lewisohn Stadium in New York, was the director of the university symphony orchestra made up of students, faculty, and townspeople. Volpe, who did not much like modern music, was never one of Carl's favorites.

 

Carl preferred Walter E. Scheaffer, a former solo clarinettist with John Phillip Sousa, who conducted the band. Scheaffer developed a fine organization, and, more to the point, he liked Carl's music and was very much in accord with his colorful language and storytelling.

 

Another colleague Carl enjoyed was Franklin Harris, the director of publicity for the university. Harris had studied piano and composition in Germany and was nicknamed "Tuner" because of his love for the piano. He also liked to swear as much as Carl did. More than once Bertha had to ask Scheaffer, Harris, and Carl to soften both their voices and their language as they stood in the halls laughing, swearing, and telling off-color stories. Even President Ashe reprimanded them - all, of course, to no avail.

 

Joseph Tarpley became another good friend. He had been a student at the original Miami Conservatory and moved along with the school to the university. When he graduated, Bertha hired him to teach piano and music education. Over the years he and his wife, Marion, a visual artist, became close friends of the Ruggles's.

 

Because there had been so little time to announce Carl's seminar, only two students took the first course. There may have been others who wished to enroll, but he had stipulated that entry to the class was "by permission of the instructor," so he could screen each applicant. 'For that first seminar only two passed inspection; one, a music student named Lawrence Tremblay, who remembered much about the class; the other, the daughter of one of the language professors.

Classes were held in the Anastasia Building on the University Drive in Coral Gables. Designed originally as a hotel, it had been quickly and cheaply converted into a classroom building whose walls were far from thick or soundproofed. They were, in fact, constructed of beaver board or cardboard, and the students called it the "cardboard college." Carl's classroom was small, with a few student chairs, a table, and a baby grand piano.

 

Carl was not at all intimidated by the thin partitions. He would immediately begin banging away on the piano with dissonant chords and shouting to his two students about the merits of ultra-modern music, especially his own. They were charmed. The seminar met twice weekly for fifty minutes, but if the bell rang announcing the end of class when Carl was still enthusiastically carrying on, he simply ignored it. So did the students, who were almost always caught up in his excitement.

 

Tremblay remembered that sometimes he would try to hold down Carl's noisy enthusiasm by pointing to Marie and Arnold Volpe's offices across the hall. "To hell with them!" Carl would respond. "He doesn't know anything about the real great composers like Charles Ives and Edgard Varese, and he wouldn't know anything about Ruggles if he couldn't hear my voice."2

 

But they had to work in Carl's class, too. He insisted that they write short pieces in modern style in which no note could be repeated until a minimum of five different notes had been used. And he was a strict taskmaster.

Sometimes he would bring in short motives and figures of his own on scraps of brown paper bags. (He was working on Evocations, a set of piano pieces, at the time.) Then he would demonstrate how one could expand from these seemingly insignificant beginnings.

 

The students' delighted approval of Carl was soon obvious to the rest of the staff, and Bertha knew she had been right in hiring him for the university. At the end of the term she invited, him to return for the following spring. This time she promised there would be suitable publicity to attract more students. Carl accepted, and he and Charlotte thought it was a grand thing.

 

Bertha kept her word, and on January 6, 1938, at the beginning of the winter term, The Miami Hurricane, the weekly university newspaper, carried a major story on the front page about Carl with his picture. The headline read: "Famous Composer of Modern Music to Conduct Winter Seminar Here."

 

Carl Ruggles, distinguished American composer," it continued, "will conduct a seminar in the composition of modern music at the University during the winter term which began this morning...." (Since Carl's course was a special seminar, it did not have to coincide with the school calendar, Tarpley explained to this writer.)

 

The article gave Carl's background and the performances of his compositions. Then it went on:

 

Requirements necessary for entrance to the University seminar include: 1. A groundwork in harmony and counterpoint. 2. The ability to play some instrument, preferably the piano. 3. An original composition in any form or scope must be submitted....

 

In commenting on the University seminar, Mr. Ruggles said, 'The main object of this seminar is to develop a modern intervallic consciousness, a harmonic and contrapuntal consciousness and a dissonant rhythmic consciousness. It is to be hoped,' he continued, 'that this seminar will inspire a desire in the student to say something in music in a new way.

 

Those were high hopes for the class and stiff requirements, but it says much for Bertha Foster and her staff that there were students who qualified - even if Carl trimmed the requirements a bit when a student showed a desire to enroll.

 

This time the class numbered ten. Carl's official title was Part-time Lecturer, and he received $450 for the two-credit course. His salary still came from the Music Department. It was not until the following year.that he was on the official university payroll.

 

Several weeks later, after the course had begun, Joe Title, who wrote a column called "The Music Box" for the school newspaper, included this:

...Last but not least, if I may use the bromidical expression, is the addition to our faculty of that great contemporary composer, Carl Ruggles. Mr. Ruggles is giving students an insight into modernism such as they have never had before. The main purpose of his seminar is to develop a modern intervallic and especially a dissonant harmonic consciousness.3

 

Carl had a fine time with his class. There were some bright students among the ten, and all of them were interested in him, if not in the work. One student, Carl Fein, remembered that during this term class began at 4 p.m. (doubtless when most of the other classes had concluded). If Carl felt especially enthusiastic, he would continue until 8 p.m., and the students stayed right with him.

 

Joseph Tarpley, who visited his classes as often as possible, remembered that once a student who was an admirer of Sibelius tried to defend his favorite after Carl had said that Sibelius was a bad composer. "But surely, Dr. Ruggles, you think the 'Swan of Tuonela' is a good work?" Carl chewed on his ever-present cigar, scowled, and finally said: "That's no swan; it's a goddamn duck!"4

 

Unfortunately, at the end of February he became seriously ill and had to enter St. Francis Hospital for an operation. Since no one else could give his course, the seminar was cancelled, to everyone's regret. Bertha resolved to try again the following year.

 

Beginning with the 1938-39 academic year, the university at last fully absorbed the School of Music, and Carl was finally listed on the staff as Part-time Lecturer. His seminar was for the two credits as before, and his salary remained the same $450. That was not a bad salary, when one considers that in those days it was possible to rent a house for the entire season for around $400. His monthly stipend from his patron, of course, continued unabated.

 

He and Charlotte arrived in Coral Gables in early fall, and even though his seminar did not begin until spring term, he frequented the university. With the help of like-minded faculty he organized Sunday readings of modern music. This was in part to make up for his illness the previous spring, and furthermore, to see if he could somehow get some of his own music performed. Sometimes he arranged the music for the readings; sometimes others would perform; and there were always a few students and faculty in attendance. One was a student poet named Ralph Nelson, who published this poem in the newspaper:

 

"Modern Music: To Carl Ruggles

 

Deep in the cavernous depths of sound' Where swirling chordal peaks are found, A mighty genius blew his breath

And Life rose up and strove with Death, Clashing in dissonant modal 'strife

Till Death gave way and sound took Life, Spiraling upward in spear-winged flight."5

Carl's Christmas letter to Ives describes those Sunday musicales:

Every Sunday at the University we have a little concert of semi-modern and ultra-modern things. What have you for a small group? Not too difficult. We have to lead them along gently. There are 3 fine cellos, a nice horn, a good clarinet and bassoon, and plenty - 5 at least - good Vlns. Also a pretty fair flute. I want to play something of yours very much....

P.S. Perhaps you have heard some new music as fine as ours, but I haven't. By the way, I wrote Otto Luening, [at Bennington College] asking if he had the record of your Gen. Booth. I want the students to hear it, and I want to hear it again. It's a swell song.6

 

Meanwhile Carl had set about seeking a performance. Volpe's lack of encouragement cancelled the hope of a performance by the symphony orchestra. Scheaffer, however, thought a performance was a fine idea, and felt that there were just as good musicians in the band as there were in the orchestra. During the fall term, the band played for the football games, but during the spring it was transformed into a concert band, giving a regular series of well-played and well-attended concerts.

 

He and Carl agreed that "Angels" for muted brass was the most suitable piece of Carl's for the band members, and by the end of the year Carl had made a new and more playable edition. The entire piece was transposed down a minor third, and it was rescored for four trumpets and two trombones. The middle part was extended by four measures, making the last section more musically satisfying. Carl was so pleased with his new arrangement that he sent a snatch of it, the new measures, to his old friend, Edgard Varèse.

 

By mid-January, he was teaching his seminar, and many of the participants in the Sunday readings took his course, Thanks to the generosity of a rich friend, Frederick Clay Bartlett, he had a piano in their rented house, so he could hold his seminar at home if he chose, as both he and the students preferred to do.

 

Angels was scheduled for performance at the fourth and final concert of the season on Monday, April 24th. Originally it was to take place on April 10th, but Scheaffer became ill and a student conductor had to replace him. The young man, Robert Hance, consulted Carl, and they agreed to postpone the event for two weeks. That would give them both more time to work with the band. Carl was conducting Angels, and his own arrangement of the Prelude and Siciliana from Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana.

 

As the concert date approached, everyone grew more nervous and excited. Carl had the rehearsals for Angels at his house, and they were lengthy, often much too long, as he drilled his student ensemble over and over again. He admitted as much in a letter to Ives: "...We had 14 rehearsals of two-and-a-half hours each. It took 10 rehearsals before it became flexible. After that we went to town..."7

 

The problem was not so much notes as balance and intonation, and getting the students used to hearing close dissonant harmony. But because they admired him and felt they were at last playing important new music, they all worked hard.

 

The university publicity department did their part, too, arranging for Carl to be interviewed by the critic of the Miami Daily News, Wanda MacDowell. On the day before the concert, the story appeared with bold headlines and Carl's picture. It was a long piece with lengthy quotations by Carl, who was described as "...one of the greatest of contemporary composers, ...a rugged and sturdy figure in the field of modern music...."

 

After a brief but colorful description of his background, he went on to discuss composing and his work, Angels.

 

Discipline! Discipline! That is the great essential. Nothing can be done without it. Technic must be mastered.... The technic and discipline required in writing modern music is colossal. The technic of the classics is child's play in comparison. Conducting modern works is a terrific task. And yet you hear people say we modernists just write down any old note.

 

How did I acquire this modern technic? It is an accumulation of 40 years of work and study.... I longed to say something new....

On Angels he said:

 

My symphonic suite, Men and Angels, composed in 1921, was my first successful attempt at saying something new.... It is without doubt the most difficult composition ever written for brass instruments. It is in dissonant contrapuntal strands, closely woven, and ultramodern in texture.

 

Asked how he worked, Carl replied:

 

I sit down to my task every day and write what I can, whether I feel like it or not. In a half hour I do feel like it anyway. I stress discipline above everything else. Given a creative talent, where can you get with it, without discipline? Every new composition you start should present a new problem. If it doesn't, it means you've attained a facility of which you may well become suspicious. Stumbling blocks are stepping

stones,8 he concluded.

 

Another article in the same issue told of Carl's arrangement of music from Cavalleria Rusticana, which he dedicated to the university band and Walter E. Scheaffer, the director.

 

The program took place in the auditorium of the Miami Senior High School, and that night all the seats were filled. Carl's part in the program came just after intermission, when he directed- first the selections from Cavalleria, and then the brass ensemble in Angels.

 

Any negative reactions to his music were drowned out in the wildly enthusiastic applause, shouting, and stamping of his adherents; one part of these were the entire athletic department sitting in the balcony whom Micah had corralled into attending, and the other part, the members of the local fraternity, Delta Sigma, who had made Carl an honorary member.

 

Both Micah and Carl remembered it well. Delighted with the tumult, Carl came before the audience with a grin and said: "Thank you for that wonderful applause. And now we'll play it again." Years later in the nursing home he reminisced about that evening and that "wonderful applause." When they had finished playing the second time, there was more tumult. "There all those fellows were clapping wildly," he laughed remembering, "and they didn't have any idea what it was all about."9

Here is what the critics said" "Mr. Ruggles first appeared as conductor of his own arrangement ... bringing out the full facilities of the band in his most colorful orchestration...." wrote Wanda MacDowell.

 

Of Angels, she wrote:

 

The composition embodies the ultra-modern ideas of dissonant polyphonic music, and although exceedingly difficult to follow for ears unaccustomed to this intricate form, it was nevertheless intriguing because of its utter newness and difference from any music ever heard before. Because of its strangeness, it was played twice, and even upon a second hearing, it began to clarify. This is doubtless the music of the future and it is well to hear it occasionally. The work has been played by leading orchestras in Europe for the last 14 years, so has apparently stood the test of time. Miamians should begin to learn what it is all about.10

 

 Bond Bliss, the critic for the other local paper, wrote:

 

...'Angels,' from a symphonic suite, a unique, modernistic, or perhaps, 'surrealist,' composition by Mr. Ruggles and directed by him, was played on six muted brass instruments, cornets and trombones, and was repeated in response to an encore. Undoubtedly it was harmony in dissonant rhythm but sounded to the layman more like a musical. group warming up....11

 

By contrast, the student critic, Al Teeter, writing in the Miami Hurricane thought it was all quite wonderful.

 

The most publicized selection on the program was the modern Angels of Dr. Ruggles, .... arranged for four trumpets and two trombones, the student musicians participating being Bob Hance, 'Drifty' Dalman, Kenny Snapp, D. L. Loves, Curly Snider and Chuck Buehrer.

Angels is as different from the music we are used to as day is from night. It is written in a new idiom and is a real creative work which is perhaps a hundred years ahead of our time. It was brilliantly performed and I believe that when our ears are trained to this type of music that it will supersede much of the music now held in esteem.

 

Taken all in all it was an excellent concert and a fitting conclusion to a really successful season. The Delta Sigs were out in full strength to cheer their honorary brother, Dr. Ruggles ....12

 

Joseph Tarpley remembered that there were also detractors at the university. In a letter written nearly thirty years later, he wrote that most of the audience was "completely bewildered and failed to respond.... Later," he continued, "Marie Volpe, quite distraught, said to me, 'How could he repeat such a terrible piece?'"13

 

But Carl had made his mark on the university. When the yearbook, IBIS, came out, his work was mentioned. In addition, Ralph Nelson, the student poet and composer, wrote an essay for the volume entitled "Modern Music." Clearly influenced by Carl, it was sheer propaganda for the dissonant ultra-modern music which Carl championed.

 

Shortly after the concert, Carl became ill, though not seriously enough to enter the hospital; but he was clearly not up to teaching any more. Quite possibly he had overstretched himself preparing for the program. In any case, the last few classes were cancelled, and soon he and Charlotte returned to Vermont.

 

While he had been working with the band, he had written John Kirkpatrick:

 

When properly .written for, it [the concert band] has a much greater sonority than the orchestra, which is now mostly for the bourgeois. A band is a democratic thing, and reaches millions, whereas the orchestra reaches thousands. Very few know how to write for it.14

 

By September he was enthusiastically making plans for his return to the university and to working with the band again.

 

What have you for Band?" he wrote Ives. "I'm going to conduct another concert this winter - if I feel strong enough -and I should love to do a work of yours. The Symphonic Band has a great future I'm convinced of that. The orchestra of today is a stuffed shirt proposition. Of course the music must be conceived for the band, not arranged from an orchestration. Our band at the U- is a good one, 87 pieces.

And some really fine players....15

 

Mrs. Ives, responding for Charles, said that there were only early works of little import for band. So there was no Ives for the programs, and no Ruggles, either.

 

Walter Scheaffer, the band director, was still not well enough to resume his duties that year of 1939-40. So for the spring concerts the conducting duties were divided. Arthur Pryor, from Sousa's band, agreed to conduct the first one, with Carl taking charge of the second. It was hoped that Scheaffer himself would take over the final one.

 

Carl and Charlotte returned to Coral Gables in late September, to the same house they had rented the previous year. During the fall he painted, worked on Evocations, and began arranging the music for his band program.

 

Once the holidays were over, he began teaching the seminar; but the band concert was his big project. Meanwhile, Arnold Volpe, the orchestra director, died suddenly just before the February 19th concert. Everyone, if not saddened, was shocked and surprised by his untimely death. Joel Belov took over, and the concert took place as scheduled, with the pianist, Harold Bauer, as soloist on the Emperor concerto of Beethoven. Bauer was one of the master teachers there, and he and Carl eyed each other warily. Their musical tastes were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Also on the program were two contemporary works: the Romantic symphony by Howard Hanson, and Arabesque, a suite by Gregor.

 

Neither pleased Carl or the reviewer for the university newspaper, who wrote of the Hanson: "It is the kind of music that we hear, but seldom notice, in the movies...." As for the Gregor work: ,"It is a successful and interesting experiment in modern technique, and nothing more...." Then he added ruefully:

 

However, it is disheartening for a serious student of music to compare the reception given these works to 'the reception given the work of Carl Ruggles whose music will be vital after Hanson and Gregor have become the musicologists' private

province.16

 

The band concert under Carl's direction was to take place in mid-March, but it was postponed twice because of "Dr. Ruggles' illnesses" according to the university newspaper. These were clearly not serious illnesses. Carl never went to the hospital because of them, and one suspects that they were really excuses for additional rehearsals. Finally the concert was announced for Monday evening, April 8th, at 8:30 p.m. in the Miami Senior High School. Arturo de Filippi would be the tenor soloist.

 

Dr. Ruggles, who is one of the foremost of contemporary composers," the Hurricane article stated, "has arranged all of the music to be performed on the program. He is making a gift of the scores and parts to the University band library.

 

This concert ... promises to be one of the outstanding events in an already brilliant season.17

 

The program consisted of an opening March, Up the Street by Morse, with Scheaffer (apparently recovering from his illness) conducting. Then Carl took over with: Canon from the 95th Psalm, by Mendelssohn; Under the Lindens by Massenet, a duet for cello and clarinet played by Florence Geschwind and Lawrence Tremblay; and Prelude to Cavalleria Rusticana by Mascagni, with Arturo de Filippi as soloist.

 

Following intermission, the program continued with: Vienna Forever, a March; Prelude to Faust by Gounod; an aria, "La Fleur que to m'avais," from the opera Carmen by Bizet, with Mr. de Filippi; and the church scene from Cavalleria Rusticana by Mascagni.

 

There was a full house for the concert, and Carl was exultant, justifiably proud of the band and his own arrangements: The audience, even without the support of Micah and the athletic department, was warm and enthusiastic; and so was the reviewer, Harry Estersohn.

 

It was a remarkable concert," he wrote on the front page of the newspaper, "if for no other reason, than because the soloists did not steal the show. This is no discredit to Miss Geschwind and the Messrs de Filippi and Tremblay. They did their parts extremely well, but the concert was the Band's.

A little more than a year ago, Dr. Ruggles, working on the assumption that a good band is no better than the arrangements it has to play, started to score popular classics for our symphonic band. Monday's concert showed the results of his work. I've never heard any band sound better!

 

It is only recently that serious composers, Dr. Ruggles included, have begun considering the symphonic band as a vehicle for serious music. Dr. Ruggles has ably demonstrated that in the hands of a master of sonority, a symphonic band need sound neither like a drum and bugle corps nor yet like an imitation of a symphony orchestra, but can achieve an individual and truly remarkable quality....

All the band music on this program with the exception of the warm-up marches, was scored by Dr. Ruggles and dedicated to Mr. Scheaffer and the band. 'Shafe' himself conducted the marches. He has sufficiently recovered from his recent illness to conduct the third, and final, band concert later this season.18

 

Carl certainly knew the music that, he had arranged. He had first used these pieces in the original orchestral versions as far back as his Winona days. He owned the scores, and they served him at the Rand School in New York, too.

 

The seminar for the next year, winter-spring 1941, was the largest Carl ever had. Moreover, Dr. Ashe had raised his salary to $500. Carl felt he was at last appreciated by the administration and faculty, as well as by the students.

 

He and Charlotte returned to Florida in late September, and he spent the fall painting and working on the Evocations. In his Christmas greeting to the Ives's, he asked for a copy of Ives' score, In. the Night, explaining that he wanted to study it with his students and perhaps have it performed.

 

Harmony Ives, Charles' wife, who now handled his correspondence, replied that "Charlie" would send out the score and parts, too. She added, "There are about 40 pieces of Chamber Music and you will let us know what groups of instruments you 'want them for and he will be glad to have some sent...."19

In Carl's reply we get a detailed description of his classes and his teaching methods.

 

Every Thursday evening I have a class of about 30 of the best players of the symphony here. The class is for the study of new music. I have had to prepare their ears - in a way - to the sound of 'strange intervals,' also the technique of playing them. Exercises like this:

 

                                             

 

"They have a tough time with this rhythm," he wrote in reference to the second example.

 

We tried over the Cage. [Another work by Ives.] I had to make the parts. It sounded beautiful. The harmony -of chords founded on 4ths -was a new experience for them. First the English Horn played the solo, then a young singer sang it very well. I wish you had been here, Charles. They were all so happy about it. It is, I think, the way to make music.                                                    .

I shall be more than glad to have anything Charles thinks I can use," he continued. "I think the short pieces would be best at first, as it takes many rehearsals to balance dissonances. I had 16 rehearsals of my Angels. [In a previous letter it was 14.] They all want to let go of the tone. If one plays C sharp and another C# sharp its (sic) just too bad, or if one plays louder than the other.

If you can send me the following instrumentation it will be o.k.

Flute

Oboe

E. Horn

CIs

Bsns

Hrns

Trpts

Trombone

Piano Bells

1st Violins 5 parts 2nd Violins 5 parts

Violas                                                         3 parts

Cellos                                                         3 parts

C. Bass                                                      2 parts

 

I hope we can give a little concert later, perhaps in May.

Just Ives and Ruggles. The New England Renaissance. I've always thought how wonderful it would be to have a n orchestral concert of Charles' and my works. It would knock them cold....20

 

This was Carl's best time at the university. With this class he experimented with orchestration, using Ives' music as well as his own. He wrote John Kirkpatrick that he was trying out Portals "with 15 strings." He was thinking of some revisions to the score though

 

It's a swell, swell score if I did make it. Pardon my ego....l'm after a vast simplicity," he wrote. "...there are too many notes in most of the modern music. Notes that have no time to sound.21

 

The future looked bright, too. John Bitter, the new conductor of the university symphony, was more willing to perform modern music than his predecessors. Carl talked with him, and they planned to include both Men and Mountains and Portals on the symphony programs the next year.

 

One of Carl's colleagues during this time was Harold Bauer, the distinguished pianist. The two men had a wary respect for each other and generally kept their distance. However, when Bauer heard that Carl was writing piano pieces and that Kirkpatrick was publicly performing them, (Nos. 1 and 3), Bauer asked to see them.

 

Years later Joseph Tarpley described the encounter in a letter to Julian DeGray, pianist and a mutual friend of his and Carl's.

 

Bauer persuaded Carl to let him have a copy of one [of] his compositions (Evocations, I believe). Harold had spent quite a lot [of] time making a new copy of the piece in what he thought was a more logical and pianistic form. The two of them came into my studio where Bauer proceeded (sic) to demonstrate at the piano his concept of the music. Carl listened for a short time, becoming more and more livid, and finally said in Rugglesonian rage: 'Stop! Get out! You can't change one goddamn note of my music!'22

 

Carl himself wrote of the encounter to Kirkpatrick:

 

You should have heard his [Bauer's] reactions to the Evocations. He was 'greatly disturbed' by it all, he said. Couldn't understand how I could leave things up in the air. He wanted a finality to things. I told him there was no finality to anything. He couldn't understand Ives rhythms. I said I'd like to see how his - Bauer's tempo rubatos would look on paper. Do you know how his left hand works? That spiked

his guns. Curious brain...23

 

Meanwhile, Carl continued to take advantage of his big class. Late in the spring he arranged the Crucifixus by Antonio Lotti for full orchestra. In another letter to Kirkpatrick, he wrote that the piece was

 

Amazingly beautiful. And extraordinary in its revelation of the dissonant counterpoint of that time. It had a quality that was like the Angels. Well, anyway, I made it over for the full orchestra in a new way of scoring which I've been working on the whole winter. We tried it on a Wednesday. It sounded wonderful. Wait till you see it....24

 

Carl and Charlotte returned to Arlington thoroughly satisfied with the term at the university and confident in the future. Only world events stepped in. Micah, their son, was inducted into the Army on Sept. 11th, and things were so uncertain at the university that Dr. Ashe did not write to confirm Carl's appointment until very late in the fall.

They did not arrive in Coral Gables until late January, stopping first to visit their son stationed in Tampa. Virgil Thomson delivered a lecture at the university shortly after they arrived, and Carl and Charlotte renewed their acquaintance with him from New York days. Carl respected and approved of Thomson's writings, especially since Thomson had good things to say about his music. He was not that sure of Thomson's music, so he generally ignored it.

 

Harold Bauer returned, too, and shortly after his arrival, he sent Carl the following letter:

 

Dear Dr. Ruggles,

Last night in speaking to a group of students and others I made a reference to you which, it seemed to me afterwards, was somewhat unfortunate, as I feared the possibility of its reaching you in a distorted form. I am writing therefore to tell you exactly what I said, in order to avoid the least risk of misunderstanding.

 

Clearly Bauer remembered their encounter the previous year. He continued:

 

My talk turned upon the desirability of personal participation in music making and, at that particular point, upon the kind of participation which the audience shows in manifesting its feelings openly during a performance. I criticized the practice indulged in by many orchestral conductors today in forbidding the audience to applaud, and I expressed my opinion that it was a good thing for the audience, to display feeling to the extent of giving signs of disapproval as well as approval at a performance. My listeners laughed. heartily at this suggestion, upon which I said that I was not joking but referring (sic) quite seriously to the relation between performer, composer and audience -to which I had been accustomed in Europe and which I added, was practically non-existent here, at least as far as showing any contrast between approval and disapproval was concerned.

Some exceptions had been noted in this country, I continued, and I did not doubt that my honored friend, Carl Ruggles, a great pioneer in modern music, would prefer to be received with groans and hisses rather than with the polite silence of uncomprehending indifference!

 

I wish I had not made the remark for I don't think that they understood the spirit in which I meant it. You will, I am sure, and these few lines are just intended to forestall any silly gossip.

 

Very sincerely yours, Harold Bauer.25

 

So gracious a letter required an equally gracious response, and on the day following its receipt, Carl and Bauer went out to lunch together. Although they never became good friends, this incident helped to develop a mutual respect.

 

That first spring of the war, student enrollment was already down, and Carl did not have the full range of instruments as in the previous year. He loved to put on airs, but he kept his classes open and easy­going. He sat with his feet up on the desk, smoking his cigar, and talked informally to the students.

 

Frequently he would go to the piano to illustrate, and even if he was no pianist, he was able to make his points clear. Mostly he would use the music of Bach, Beethoven, and especially Brahms - or his own music. According to Tarpley, who continued to visit his classes, he worked from memory and made his examples understood by everyone. He encouraged the students to write in a modern vein; but any style was permissible, and he would criticize whatever they brought to him.

 

At one point he took a private student, a woman from Chicago who wrote piano pieces ranging from third- to fourth-grade level 7 Tarpley remembered. It was a way of. making a little extra money.

 

That spring for the seminar, Carl orchestrated the latest Evocation, number 2. It opened with the piano and clarinet, then was followed by the oboe and flute. He brought in additional members of the orchestra to try it out, and he wrote proudly to Kirkpatrick: "You should have heard how wonderful the canon sounded."26 (There is a brief canon in the middle of the piece.) None of the hoped-for performances by the university orchestra took place, however. Carl had to be content with this one try-out.

Late in the spring just before the semester ended, the university announced the appointment of a new conductor for the orchestra. Bitter had joined the armed services. That gave Carl the impetus to begin revising Men and Mountains, for he was determined to get an orchestral performance, there at the school.

 

The new conductor was Modeste Alloo, a Belgian, who had originally come to the United States to play trombone with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He had moved on to become the assistant conductor, with Ysaye, of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, and at the same time the conductor of the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music Orchestra. He also directed the Cincinnati Municipal Band. Later he became professor of music at the University of California in Berkeley.

 

When Carl and Charlotte returned to Coral Gables in late October 1942, Bertha Foster invited them to a faculty party, and Carl lost no time in becoming acquainted with Alloo. Happily the two liked each other, and in early November Carl wrote to Kirkpatrick:

 

We have at last a magnificent conductor, with very poor orchestral material. He is Dr. Modeste Alloo, a Belgian, with a world of experience and a great ear. He is keen to do the new Men Mountains ....27

 

According to Kirkpatrick, Alloo even suggested the added drum parts to the introduction and coda of the final movement Marching Mountains. But Carl's phrase "with very poor orchestral material" says it all. The war was taking its toll, and no performance took place.

 

Total enrollment had dropped dramatically from 1504 students in 1941 to 1122 in 1942, and Carl knew there would be few students qualified to take his class. When he began interviewing for the seminar in December, he found only three, two students and Joel Belov, a faculty member. One of the students was a bright young freshman who never forgot his classes with Carl and who later became not a composer but the distinguished poet, Donald Justice.

 

During the summer, Justice had taken a music theory course with Tom Steuenberg who then entered the service in the fall. Justice decided that he would go on with Carl if he would have him, though no credit would be given for the course because he was a freshman. Despite this, the young man had already heard a great deal about Carl and wanted to meet him and continue with his studies.

 

He remembered that the initial interview took place in a large room with several pianos on the second floor of the old building.

...he asked me simply or at least mainly to show him some music I'd written, and I had some fragments or things with me which I seem to recall trying to demonstrate at the piano....28

 

I think he was judging in part by attitude, responsiveness, alertness, etc. I can't remember any quizzing at all – nothing about what I might or might not have known....29

 

When classes began after the holidays, they were generally late Saturday mornings when the building was quiet, and they could have that big room for as long as they liked. Nearly always the lessons began with four-part harmony exercises, generally completing given phrases from the Bach Chorales. Then Carl would look at the students' original work. He would scrutinize it carefully, sometimes writing in one or more notes or corrections, but Justice emphasized that he was not rigid. There were two rules for compositions that Carl impressed on the students, he recalled: 1) never repeat a note until at least five others had intervened; and 2) minor ninth, a dissonant interval, should be resolved to a consonance right away.

 

After Carl had looked at their work, he would show them what he had done. He would sit at the piano and play like a "two finger typist" -holding down notes with his elbows sometimes to get the sonorities, and singing, too - with a cigar in his mouth or on the piano. When he came to a passage that especially pleased him, he would shout, "God, isn't that marvelous!" or "Now you're hearing something!"

 

Justice remembered that he spoke with authority and self-confidence. If he spoke of others, it was of Henry Cowell who was publishing his music, or of John Kirkpatrick who was performing it.

 

When Justice brought an orchestra score for Carl's perusal, he was advised to be wary of doubling the parts too much. Carl also suggested that the instrumental lines should be spaced apart from each other, explaining that such spacing would make for greater clarity of the lines, an important goal in writing.

 

Later in the school year, Carl would occasionally invite the students for sessions at his house. There was a long living room and dining room at one end of the house, Justice remembered, with an alcove containing Carl's easel. They had brought some of his paintings with them from Arlington, and those were hanging on the walls around the house. There was a small upright piano on which Carl and the students worked. Justice also remembered copying out some of the parts to Portals, Carl's revision for big orchestra, on the dining room table of the little house.

 

From the time the war began, soldiers from England were sent for training to this country, some to Coral Gables. About this time one such lucky soldier was a young man named Erich Harrison, who happened to be a superb pianist and organist. Once settled, he soon 'made his way to the music building of the university and quickly became friends with the musicians.

 

He was an outstanding sight reader, and Joseph Tarpley remembered an evening at his home when Harrison, then in his early 20's, and another young violinist entertained them by sight reading violin sonatas, one after the other.

 

Perhaps Carl and Charlotte were also there. In any case, it did not take Carl long to find the young pianist and ask him to read through the Evocations. He did, and Carl was bowled over, as much by Harrison's ability as by his own extreme pleasure at hearing his pieces played so well. Years later both men recalled their meeting with much pleasure.

 

Harrison went on to become the distinguished organist at the Church of St. Martin's-in-the-Field in London as well as a teacher at the Royal Academy of Music. He did not, however, perform, the Evocations professionally, or ever see Carl again after that meeting during the war.

 

When the school year was over, Carl was notified that due to loss of enrollment, his seminar would no longer be offered. He was not surprised; but since he and Charlotte enjoyed Coral Gables, they continued to winter there for the next several years.

 

Donald Justice wrote a few times to Carl over the summer. He even sent a poem expressing his gratitude. When Carl and Charlotte returned to Florida in the fall, Justice returned to study privately with him away from the university. By that time, however, Justice had decided on poetry, and the lessons came to an end. Carl was never again attached to an institution of learning, and after the spring of 1947 never returned to Coral Gables.

 

 1 Charlton Tebeau, History of the University of Miami, unpublished MS. Much of the history of the institution comes from this source, which the author kindly permitted me to read.

 2 lnterview with Lawrence Tremblay, Feb. 25, 1975.

 3 The Miami Hurricane , Jan. 20, 1938.

 4 Letter from Joseph Tarpley to Julian DeGray, Oct. 5, 1968.

 5 Hurricane , Oct. 6, 1938.

 6 Letter from Carl Ruggles to Charles Ives, Dec., 1938. This letter and the following ones by Ruggles are in the Ruggles Collection at the John Herrick Jackson Music Library, Yale University.

 7 Ruggles to Ives, Sept. 8, 1939.

 8 Miarni Daily News , April 23, 1939.

 9 Interview with Carl Ruggles, Nov. 7, 1966.

10 Daily News , April 25, 1939.

11 Miami Herald , April 25, 1939.

12 Hurricane , April 27, 1939.

13 Tarpley to DeGray, Oct. 5, 1968.

14 Ruggles to John Kirkpatrick, March 27, 1939.

15 Ruggles to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Ives, Sept. 8, 1939.

16 Huricane , Feb. 22, 1940.

17 Hurricane , April 4, 1940.

18 Hurricane , April 11, 1940.

19 Leuer from Harmony T. Ives to Ruggles, Jan. 6, 1941.

20 Ruggles to Harmony and Charles Ives, Feb. 1, 1941.

21 Ruggles to Kirkpatrick, April 13, 1941.

22 Tarpley to DeGray, Oct. 5, 1968.

 23Ruggles to Kirkpatrick, April 13, 1941.

24Ruggles to Kirkpatrick, June 2, 1941.

25 Letter from Harold Bauer to Carl Ruggles, Feb. 9, 1942.

26 Ruggles to Kirkpatrick, March 7, 1942.

27 Ruggles to Kirkpatrick, Nov. 1942, as quoted in John Kirkpatrick, "The Evolution of Carl Ruggles," Perspectives of New Music, 6, No. 2 (Spring-Summer, 1968), 161. 

28 lnterview with Donald Justice, July 12, 1977.

29 Letter from Justice to Marilyn J. Ziffrin, Nov. 4, 1977.