Happy New Year, friends! Having arrived safely in southern Brazil, I'm feeling pretty lucky to have a string of days with nothing on the calendar but for time with family and friends, walks with Rudy, naps, enjoying the beach and otherwise decompressing from what was an incredibly full and rewarding fall semester at home.
Today I'm thinking about a man I was lucky to call friend, colleague and mentor, especially in the few years between his arrival in Indianapolis and his untimely passing just about one year ago. It fact, it was in January of last year that his cancer diagnosis was made; just a few weeks later, he was gone.
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| Maestro Joe Flummerfelt, after our MESSIAH performance at the Palladium in December, 2018 |
Joe Flummerfelt was rightly a giant in the musical world. Masterful conductor, beloved teacher, and inspiring musician to all who passed through his orbit. To my great fortune I was one of those who knew and revered him, since my early musical days as a senior in Wabash College. And though I couldn't know it at the time, my early interactions with him meaningfully came full circle many years later.
With just over a semester left in my undergraduate career, one of my music professors, Jim Ure, suggested I consider Westminster Choir College for a Master's Degree in choral conducting. There, I would be under the tutelage of the College's director, Joseph Flummerfelt. My curiosity was piqued when Professor Ure told me of Joe's unorthodox approach to conducting patterns and gestures. I was even more intrigued upon learning Joe was a fellow Hoosier, born in Vincennes, and studied and taught at DePauw University before eventually landing in Princeton, NJ as the head of one of the most prestigious music schools anywhere.
So in February 1988, I hopped in my trusty Honda Civic and began the long drive from Crawfordsville, IN to Westminster, where I had been invited to audition. My day on the Westminster campus was a revelation. Having decided to focus seriously on music relatively late in the game (the end of my freshman year of college), I hadn't ever been anywhere so thoroughly populated by talented and eager musicians. I loved it. And I'll never forget the experience of getting to sit in on a rehearsal of the Westminster Symphonic Choir that morning, as they rehearsed Beethoven's Ninth Symphony for a performance with the New York Philharmonic. First, warmups, led by esteemed vocal pedagogue Frauke Haasemann. A legend in her own right, she vigorously, joyously put the choir through its paces. Nearly 200 singers in all, I had never heard such a sound. Simply incredible. Then it was Joe's turn. Watching him mold the group, encouraging their musicianship, their collective and synchronized breath, the commitment of the voice/heart/soul/being was astounding. I resolved right there that, if I were accepted at Westminster, that's where I would be going.
That afternoon was my audition. I stood before the Westminster Choir, about 50 singers, and led an excerpt from the Verdi "Stabat Mater" and several verses of a Brahms part-song. Those singers were so generous. Although I was intimidated starting out, it quickly became obvious they wanted to help me do the best I could. They responded to every gesture, from the slightest wiggle of my pinkie finger to the most subtly raised eyebrow. I was in heaven! Later, however, came the musicianship portion of the audition. Not quite as heavenly. A written exam, some aural dictation, and finally, a one-on-one interview with Professor Flummerfelt in his teaching studio. But, I did as well as I could. And though I was nervous to meet him face to face, Joe was kindly nurturing in his questions and conversation with me.
Then I waited. And waited. Checking the mailbox everyday, looking for an envelope that might contain an acceptance letter from Westminster. Weeks passed. Then a month, then two. Finally, I got my letter. But it wasn't the one I wanted...
Fast forward to six months later, October that same year. I was a first semester Master's Degree student in choral conducting at Indiana University. Having licked my wounds and gotten on with it, I was very happy in Bloomington, under the wise and caring wing of Professor Jan Harrington. Partway through the semester, it was announced that, because of the absence of Robert Porco during his sabbatical, they had engaged several outside conductors to come for short residencies at IU. The first was to be Joseph Flummerfelt, from Westminster Choir College. Small world!
During Joe's time at IU, he taught conducting classes, and spent one whole week working with University Singers, the amazing 40-voice choir I was lucky enough to have been invited to join. During Joe's work with our choir, he introduced us to a work that has become one of my lifelong favorites, "Ein deutsches Requiem" by Johannes Brahms. Singing that piece with him was foundational for me...his organic treatment of the phrases, how we sang the harmonies, the meanings of the words...what a gift! Although I was thrilled he was there, I was still feeling a little sheepish about being in the same room with him. Being the recipient of a rejection letter from Westminster Choir College, I didn't want to press my luck.
So I kept to myself that week, a choral wall-flower, soaking up the Maestro's wisdom from the periphery.
Then it happened. One day in rehearsal, he looked right at me, and I knew he remembered. I was even more nervous when later he caught me on my way out of rehearsal. "You auditioned for Westminster last winter, didn't you? I remember you!" he said. "If you have time, come see me after you get done with class today."
Two hours later, I was knocking at his door. "Come in!" he bellowed. He offered me a seat, and then began. "I wanted to tell you I remembered your audition, and that I was very impressed with your candidacy. You and I both come from small, liberal arts schools in Indiana. And you did a fine job in your conducting audition." Whew. "I think you were a little behind in the ear training and musicianship, but I'm sure you're already on your way to learning what you need to know." His words were so kind and reassuring. "In the end, it was really a tough call, but one that came down simply to how many students we could take in at one time. And it was a very large pool of applicants."
He went on. "I am so glad to know you are here at IU and working with Jan Harrington. I know you will have a wonderful experience, and that you will go on to do great things."
It took me a while to process all that he said. At first, it was surprising enough to think that he remembered me and my audition. But to have such a generous, kind-spirited conversation of encouragement really blew me away. As I have learned, that is just the kind of person he was. (And he was right about my experience at Indiana University, too. I ended up earning two graduate degrees there, where I had the great fortune of being taught by brilliant and effective artists including Jan Harrington, Robert Porco, Carmen Tellez and Tom Dunn.)
Big fast forward...probably more than 25 years, and I am teaching at Butler, and have been conductor of the Symphonic Choir for at least 10 years already, when I receive an invitation to join a select group of Indiana musicians and friends for a luncheon to welcome Joe upon his post-retirement relocation to Indianapolis. Having bought a condo not too far from Butler's campus, he would be our neighbor. The lunch was delightful. And though we hadn't seen each other in many years, he congratulated me on my success, and told me how proud he was to see how strong the Symphonic Choir had become. He would later repeat these remarks in a private lunch we had a year later. Sitting together at a small table at the Meridian restaurant, he returned to that Westminster audition day, now decades in the rear view mirror. "We don't always get every decision right."
It was my honor and joy to have Joe in attendance at so many of our ISC and Butler performances. He was always a true advocate for the choral art in any form, and made quite a wonderful impression upon my own students during a masterclass he gave at Butler. And backstage after so many concerts...
Saint John Passion, Festival of Carols,
Elijah,
Messiah...he was usually first in line to offer one of his all-encompassing bear hugs.
I have been blessed to receive incredible teaching, mentoring and encouragement from so many, including dear Joe. And I know I'm not the only conductor reflecting on the one-year mark this month; just in Indianapolis I have many dear colleagues who worked much more closely with Joe than I did...how proud he was to see the incredible impact they are making in our community.
Though it's impossible to believe it's been nearly a year already, Joe is always close to my conducting, my teaching, my art. There's still sadness at the loss of one with so much yet to give, but there's even more gratitude at having had the opportunity to be his student, mentee and friend. While it didn't happen the way I might have predicted, I can't imagine it having been any more meaningful.
