A tribute to John from Cal Wiersma, longtime colleague and member of the Board of the Fund
I first met John in the summer of 1984. My first quartet, the Meliora, was playing a concert at Music Mountain, where the Manhattan Quartet was in residence. It was a brutally hot day, really humid, and we had over programmed. My memory was that we started with 18#1, and then Webern 5 pieces, and then a Haydn Quartet and then Bartok 2. We made it through, soaking wet by the end, and backstage the members of the Manhattan Quartet greeted us. I’ll never forget John’s graciousness and enthusiasm, and the comment that I still remember, “ you took all the repeats, I love that!” He loved, sitting in the audience on an insufferably hot day, that we took all the repeats!!
John always wanted to take all the repeats.
John loved playing quartets. There was once a discussion in the MSQ about the possibility of only playing one concert at Kent Music instead of our usual two. Something about it being a really hard week with coaching and organizing and socializing, etc., and maybe just one concert would be better. John couldn’t bear the thought. Why would we want to only play one concert? That’s three less quartets we get to play!
John also loved coaching quartets. He loved talking about them and dissecting them and yelling at people about them and arguing about them. He could be a tough coach - sometimes at a conference after I would post the following days coaching assignments on the board I would hang around for a little to see people’s reactions. More than once a participant would see their name, see that John was their coach the next day, and say “crap, (or some similar expletive), I gotta practice tonight…” But he was tough because he cared. He cared so deeply about the music, about the art, and it mattered to him that we all took this seriously.
It mattered.
It matters.
John felt that way about a lot of things. When the quartet would go on tour or to Europe I would cram all my clothes into a soft carry-on and prance off the plane, and then wait for John’s huge pale blue suitcase that was so old it looked like it should have a Pan Am sticker on the side to lumber onto the carousel. Why John, why the huge suitcase? “Well, I have to have my French press coffee maker, and my pewter beer stein, and shoes for the concert, and shoes for the restaurant, and shoes for walking, and a suit just in case, and, and, and…”
It mattered.
It matters.
It mattered that every detail was right. It matters that you treat people right. It mattered that the beer for the parties was not “ some swill” as he called anything that wasn’t what we deserved, what everyone deserved. It mattered that you were on time. It mattered that things got done. Karan told me that in his final hours, when he was too weak to talk, he wrote things to her on a pad, a “to do” list. Remember about that, don’t forget to do that. John had an outsized responsibility in the MSQ. We tasked him with many, many things. Because we knew they would get done right, with honesty, and integrity, and care.
And we loved him for it.
If you are like me, you might have spent some time thinking about how you would like to die. For me it is something like, at a time when I am still relatively physically OK, and still have my wits about me, going peacefully in the night, or being hit by a bus, ( although if I had my wits about me, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten run over). In any case, something short, unexpected, quick. But I came to see in the last 18 months, some other way, another possible path.
What was so wonderful over this last time was to see the tremendous outpouring of love for John, the expressions of appreciation for him from all of you. It was, for him, a little overwhelming. He often commented to me about how it had taken him by surprise, made him a little uncomfortable, he wasn’t so good about seeing that side of himself, but he saw in all of your love and caring how much he had meant to all of us. We had known it all along, it was just so great to see that he now saw it so clearly. And although I wouldn’t wish all the pain and fear or darkness that John felt this last year on anyone, it was so heartwarming to experience with him all of your love. He saw that he mattered to us, and that his life, full of joy and energy and caring, made all of us better for it.
He mattered.
He matters.
And please, next time you play a quartet, take the repeat.