"The King and I" - A Classic American Musical Returns to New York

Spring has come (finally) to New York and with it an event all of us are celebrating.

Rodgers & Hammerstein's The King and I has arrived with a full-scale revival, and there's no better way to say it: this is one of the most beautiful stage productions ever to arrive in what many consider to true home of American theater.

The King and I opens tonight, and while I'm not qualified to make predictions in these sorts of things (I'm not a critic), we are happy we saw the show in one of the final previews. There wasn't a seat to be had in the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center last Friday, and it's my guess is that tickets for this great musical are going to be hard to come by once the box-office opens tomorrow morning. Perhaps the show will have an extended run, or be moved to Broadway (although I'm not sure I remember this sort of thing happening with Lincoln Center Theater productions). Whatever happens, we feel very privileged to have seen this remarkable revival.

What's so good about it? It's hard to begin. First of all, the production values for Lincoln Center Theater productions are extremely high (I'm remembering South Pacific from 2008-2010, and last year's splendid Act One). That tradition continues with The King and I. Or, put it another way, the show is simply beautiful to look at: gorgeous stage settings, stunningly beautiful costumes, and a "take-away" stage picture that invites anyone who sees the show to remember a lovely evening that was totally focused on "Something Wonderful." It's no wonder that song is one of the great hits of The King and I. It's all about - especially in this production - experiencing "Something Wonderful."

In this connection, there is a thoughtful essay in the current issue of the Lincoln Center Theater Review (Spring, 2015). It's an interview, with Anne Cattaneo speaking with Barlett Sher, the company's resident director (and director of this production of The King and I), set designer Michael Yeargan, and costume designer Catherine Zuber. The title of the piece is "A Modern Twist" and once you've seen the production, you'll recognize why that title was chosen.

The play has a long history - going back, of course, as far as The English Governess at the Siamese Court (1870) and its sequel Romance of the Harem (1873), both written by Anna Leonowens and combined into Margaret Landon's Anna and the Kind of Siam, the source of the several versions of The King and I with which we are familiar today. As Todd Decker notes in his later essay in The LCT Review "...despite its glistening, tinkling, burnished presentation, The King and I resonates with a deeply American theme that occupies much of the work of Oscar Hammerstein II, the lyricist and librettist: the undeniable claims of human dignity." 

So that goal of providing a "modern twist" to this iconic story makes perfectly good sense, and in the interview, Sher, Yeargan, and Zuber make clear that even though (in my own take on the production) the opulence is there, it is also controlled. Here's how they say it: "In this production, we have to try to strike a sparer tone that reflects something truthful about the inner life of the people rather than just putting them in big exotic clothes for a kind of dress parade or a gallery of exoticness." No, this production of The King and I is not a gallery of exoticness (what a good phrase, that!). And it's this attribute of the production that contributes so deeply to the overall beauty of this version.

And there's much more background, all coming together to inform us as we take our pleasure in this wonderful new experience: Margaret Landon's 1944 novel followed by the 1946 film, then the earlier productions of the musical (especially the original, with Gertrude Lawrence and Yul Brynner all the way back in March 1951), the movie from 1956, and then the many later productions, all over the world. It's no wonder we all love The King and I.

And what more of this new version? Of course the performers. Kelli O'Hara is a joy to watch as Mrs. Anna. For those of us who were at LCT back in 2008 O'Hara was a super Nellie Forbush in South Pacific. In last December's The Merry Widow at the Metropolitan Opera she made - from my point of view, agreeing with Critic F. Paul Driscoll in Opera News - a "splendid" debut as Valencienne "singing, dancing and acting with authority and poise." She brought the same professionalism and enthusiasm to Mrs. Anna in The King and I and immediately brought all the audience into her performance when she and Jack Lucas, as Louis, her young son, opened the show with "I Whistle a Happy Tune."

Ken Watanabe, who plays the King, is also extremely winning in his performance. Of course I did not know of his work (this is his LCT and American stage debut, but there's no question - from reviewing his Japanese theatre credits - that this is a talent we're lucky to see brought to our stages).

Others are excellent in their performances. Naturally there are far too many to list here, and we can see why. Sher describes the production as "huge" and I suppose that's the only word for it: "Fifty-one people are in it, plus twenty-nine in the orchestra, and only a place like Lincoln Center Theater can kind of pull this off. ... It's like having one foot in the past as deeply as we can, one foot in the present, and our eyes looking out as far as we can see."

And there's no way to get around it (not that we would want to): it's the music. We've been humming and singing these tunes all our lives, and I can attest to the fact that many of us in the audience at the Vivian Beaumont Theater were hard pressed not to sing along when the orchestra struck up the overture. What a remarkable score!

So if you're a New Yorker (or visiting New York anytime soon), make it your business to take in The King and I. You won't regret it. For me it was a very special experience and at the curtain calls it turned into a totally un-New York experience when I found myself in a standing ovation, joining almost everyone else in the theater. In the many years I've lived in New York, this was one of the few times this has ever happened; it's something we New Yorkers just don't do very much. On this occasion, there was no choice. It was spontaneous and it was totally appropriate.

We won't forget this beautiful evening. And just like Anna when she sings about her life with Tom, we join her - in quite a different context - as she sings "All of my memories are happy tonight."

Join Us in Support of Dale Stanley's Important Contribution - We Are So Proud of Him

Dale Stanley is our Sharing Guy's Journey Guest Blogger is this time out.

Dale is one of my best friends and in addition to his professional work at Gilead Sciences in Foster City, CA on a less-formal basis Dale is SMR International's Senior Consultant and Marketing and Operations Manager.

So we spend a lot of time together, working on our various and many projects (including our KM/knowledge services teaching for our students and clients) and enjoying one another's company.

I'm honored today to share with our friends, clients, and colleagues Dale's great adventure.

This is a very important cause - critical, really - and I hope you will join Andrew and me in support of this good work from the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles LGBT Center.

Let's let Dale tell you about it:

Hi there,

I’ll be riding my bicycle 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles on May 31st - June 6th, 2015. It’s a long way and it won’t be easy for this old guy – averaging 80 miles per day for a week and camping along the way.

I’m doing it because the money we raise actually helps to save lives. I’ll be participating in the AIDS/LifeCycle, in support of the life-saving services offered by San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles LGBT Center. I know I can do it, but I need your help - help with a little financial support.

Dale Stanley

Medications for HIV/AIDS have come a long way and people are living longer, healthier lives. Of course, that’s great. It’s also why the work of these organizations is so important. They provide the critical education and support systems that allow HIV victims to get and maintain the life-saving therapies. The drugs can only save their lives if they get tested and have access to all the therapies and services necessary. Our ride literally means the world to those who receive treatment. 

And your support means the world to me. Those of you who know me professionally know of Gilead Sciences and how the company I work for has been life-saving to the millions who take our HIV drugs. At work, I hear daily of the struggles and efforts to improve and to get these therapies to those who have contracted the HIV virus. Many of my colleagues in Gilead's Medical Affairs and other departments are physicians and healthcare workers who have seen first-hand the devastating effects of AIDS. I personally know several who have lost loved ones and who have dedicated their careers to saving others. My work at Gilead continues to help them and I am inspired to do more. 

Those of you who know me outside of work know that I am committed and involved in my church and in a community organization focusing on helping the "least, the lost, and the lonely" in our society. This has certainly included the LGBT community which has been disproportionately affected by this disease. You have taught me and changed me.

I'm dedicating this ride to our fellow humans who are suffering, who continue to suffer, and to my late professor at USC who in 1983 suffered and died a horrible and scary death from AIDS before we even knew what was happening.

My goal is to raise $5,000. That’s a mere $10 per mile from all of you, my friends.  I’m asking you to join me in this effort. Twenty five or 50 cents per mile would do it. Absolutely any amount would be greatly appreciated because I would know you’re with me on this journey to make HIV/AIDS a thing of the past.

Here’s a link to my donation site:  http://www.tofighthiv.org/site/TR/Events/AIDSLifeCycleCenter?px=3090257&pg=personal&fr_id=1770

Thanks.

And thanks to you, Dale, for doing this. We are all very grateful to you.

Other Voices: Mitzi Perdue Talks about How - For Frank Perdue - Knowledge Sharing Was Simply Part of Sharing - It's What He Did

[Two weeks ago, on Mon Jan 26, I posted an interview with Mitzi Perdue at the SMR International corporate blog. It was part of SMR's "Other Voices" series, profiles of leaders in knowledge management and knowledge services. Since the profile was published, several followers of this personal blog have asked to see the post. Happy to oblige.]

In our work in knowledge management and knowledge services, we speak a great deal about knowledge sharing. And not only in our professional lives. For those of us working with knowledge management (KM), knowledge sharing, and knowledge strategy, we are constantly aware of how much of what we do for "a living" carries over into our personal lives.

The foundation of our work - telling stories and sharing what we know - is what we do all the time, and from where I sit, one of the best story tellers in my crowd is Mitzi Perdue. What Mitzi has done with her story about Frank Perdue and the development of Perdue Farms is, in my opinion, in itself a super story. When we knowledge services professionals hear this story, we realize that we're in the company of one of the best knowledge-sharers (if that's a word) we've come across. And the story relates to what we do.

[And full disclosure: yes, I'm referring to Mrs. Perdue as Mitzi. This is one of those occasions where the professional and the personal come together - Mitzi and I have known each other a long time, and even though I'm writing about her professionally, she's still Mitzi to Guy.]

Mitzi - whom I've already asserted is an expert story-teller - has now taken her story-telling to a new level. She written Tough Man, Tender Chicken: Business & Life Lessons from Frank Perdue. My first reaction is, yes - a good story indeed, and in reading the book, it becomes evident very quickly that Frank was an amazing entrepreneur and manager-leader.

But he was more than that. In fact, as I read the book, I am impressed with how much of what Frank did falls into that area we knowledge services professionals think about in our work, the attention we give to management and leadership principles as they apply to what we call "the knowledge domain." Mitzi's describing of those "business & life" lessons demonstrates clearly that the management and leadership drivers in Frank's work came from his own private desire to share with others.

Mitzi puts it this way: "When you ask people to share with you what - for them - are life's greatest pleasures, you get lots of different answers. With Frank, it was sharing. Sharing was in his genes, it was built in. It was the way he thought about his life and his work. He was, in fact, a teacher, and it was his great strength that he could teach and inspire. For Frank - although he wouldn't have characterized it this way - Frank was a practitioner of the Socratic method. He asked questions. And he listened."

Did he like conversation?

"Of course," Mitzi says. "He was known for his egalitarian ways, possibly from his background of growing up as a boy on a farm. For Frank it wasn't a case of 'I'm the boss and you'll do what I tell you to.' Even when he knew how to get from here to there, he wanted to hear what other people had to say, what they thought about whatever was being talked about. And listening was his way for conveying that. Everyone was important to him, and no matter how big the company became, he engaged in conversation. With other executives of course, but also with people on the line, truck drivers, distributors.... With whoever needed to speak with him. And he was teaching then too. One of his big ideas was what came to be known as the 'Perdue model' for education: teaching people while they are working."

It was all part of sharing, and one of Frank's techniques for sharing was paying attention when other people were speaking with him. Frank's role in a typical conversation, she says, was 10% speaking and 90% listening; the person he was in conversation with was the focus of his attention. That, from my perspective - as we think about our work as knowledge strategists - seems to be the primary management and leadership principle that applies to our work. If, as knowledge services professionals and as knowledge strategists, we're going to manage and lead the knowledge-development and knowledge-sharing framework in our organizations, we're going to do it by listening. Then, when we've heard what our colleagues have to say, like Frank Perdue we'll consider their advice, combine it with our own knowledge-services expertise, and go forward with a framework that contributes to the success of that organizational mission we speak about so much.

Mitzi agrees. As she talks with me about Frank's listening skills, I can't help but wonder how he put it all together: the personal life, his own interests, the business. I want to know about Frank's vision, about how he came to be the person he was. She explains it very well:

"Frank wasn't doing what he did for himself," she says. "Naturally he was a businessman and that was his career. That was how he earned his living. But he was an extremely modest person and - hard to understand in the business world as we've come to know it - he wasn't particularly interested in what's called the 'trappings' of success. We lived in a fairly modest home (but one big enough to entertain Perdue staff on those occasions when he wanted people to come over - Frank loved that!). We lived in a middle-class neighborhood with neighbors who included a retired teacher, a personal trainer, and a guy who sold vending machines. Even when he traveled he didn't make a big deal about his company and his success, and he always traveled economy. And when we went to London we got about on the tube. That's just the kind of person he was. He was not interested in showing off how successful he was."

Did that contribute to his sharing, sharing both his knowledge and his success.

"Oh, yes," Mitzi says. "He had a tough job and he knew it, and even though he was working hard to make Perdue Farms the success it became, he was very proud that he and the company were providing jobs for people. He truly cared about the people who worked for him. Here's an example, coming from of his personal life, the many times he spent week-ends calling on Perdue staff when one of them, or one of their family, was in the hospital. Or visiting them in their homes after they had retired from the company. Sharing who he was and talking with people about what was important to them was critical to Frank. While I don't think he thought of it this way, one of his greatest successes was that when he communicated with people, they understood - they knew - that they were important to him."

Following from that was what he did for others, not just for people but for institutions and communities as well. For many management leaders, part of the management/leadership scenario is this idea that not only do we manage and lead the business - or the knowledge services effort - or whatever it is that we've been given responsibility for. Of course it's our job to make that activity successful, and certainly Frank Perdue exceeded most people's expectations in that respect. An equal challenge - handed down throughout management history and given particular attention by Peter Drucker and others a few years ago - is that managers and leaders also have a responsibility to give back, to ensure that their organizations or businesses contribute to the greater good. The current buzzword (one we've been using for the last decade or so) is corporate social responsibility, sometimes just abbreviated as "CSR."

Was Frank Perdue - the man who made Perdue Farms the success it became - into that? With so much focus on sharing in both his personal life and in his interactions in his business career, how did he feel about "giving back"?

As we speak, I can hear the smile of pleasure and recognition in Mitzi Perdue's voice.

"It was a great joy to him," she says. "Indeed, Frank's life was truly given over to doing for others. But there was a contradiction."

Which was?

"Frank was modest," Mitzi says. "He didn't want attention, and even though in some situations he found himself in deep conversation - often about books they had both read - with people like one of our local judges, or even with Dr. Billington, the Librarian of Congress - Frank never allowed himself to - as people used to say - 'get above himself.' So the sharing at the personal level, interacting with his friends and his employees, was easy for him and he was comfortable with it. Not so much the publicity that comes with making big contributions."

And, story-teller that she is, Mitzi has a couple of good examples.

"There was the one time, when we were first married, when he did something terrific for the Girl Scouts, giving a substantial contribution or something like that. I found myself caught up in the idea of all the lovely publicity that could come from that effort and I approached a friend who worked with the company's public relations effort. Well, I found out quickly that it wouldn't happen. Nope, 'we don't do that.' My idea for the lovely publicity didn't go anywhere. Frank's way of doing what we now call CSR was not discussed because, as I was politely told, 'Frank gives quietly.'"

But isn't the Perdue School of Business at Salisbury University in Salisbury MD named for Frank?

"Yes," Mitzi says, "but that wasn't the way it was going to be."

It's a story well told in the book:

"Anonymous giving was usually his pattern. ....the part about founding the school was a fairly easy sell; Frank valued education and he particularly liked the idea that students could learn things that had taken him years or decades to understand. The harder part was getting Frank to agree to having the business school named after him. Frank didn't want this and resisted it strongly. He and I talked about this, and I know that he didn't like anything to do with 'self-aggrandizement.' However [Salisbury University President] Bellavance persuaded Frank that if he allowed the school to be named Perdue, the brand itself would help attract students and faculty and, perhaps even more important, a public gift of this sort would signal to other potential donors that investing in education in our region was a good thing to do."

So there you are. Mitzi's book is subtitled "Business & Life Lessons" for a reason. And I will recommend the book for those very lessons. I will particularly recommend it to people thinking about careers in any of the fields related to our work with information, knowledge, and strategic learning. Careers in these fields are the future of information and knowledge sharing, and I'm going to tell people in knowledge work about it, especially young people thinking about entering our profession. Whether we're speaking about knowledge services as a stand-alone management methodology, about general management and organization development principles, or about any of the many sub-topics that make up the knowledge domain, fields like research management, records and archives management, technology management, specialized librarianship, or any of the other related fields, these are lessons we want to teach. And learn.

Guy's Homage to WWI (3): Holiday Greetings from the Front

A reference in Mark Bittman's column yesterday (An Atheist's Christmas Dream) reminded me of a special World War I moment I had earlier in my life.

Here's what Bittman wrote:

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the “Christmas truce” of World War I, when soldiers from both sides left their weapons in the trenches and met in neutral territory to embrace, play soccer and no doubt drink to excess in the spirit of humanity. Although the acts were officially condemned, these “live and let live” moments were repeated throughout the war.

And here's how his comments connected in my (much more recent, of course) memory:

Among the precious little treasures I have tucked away is a group of three World War I post cards found in a shop somewhere down about Hythe or Folkestone, in the time when I lived in England. I was mostly in Canterbury (although my research work took me all over the country), and in Canterbury, my best pals were Sandra and Colin Ward. When we could, we would take a day off and drive to the sea (as the English liked to say in those days) and poke about in different shops and markets in the several seaside towns we liked to visit.

Hythe and Folkestone were favorites of mine, and I remember how pleased we were when Sandra found these cards, one cold winter day as we were walking around, mostly stopping in the shops just to get warm. We weren't really interested in buying much of anything, but Sandra had heard about these and I was very pleased when she told me the story behind them.

Apparently these cards were not all that unique, and I gather that during the 1914-1918 time period many of them were created (they show up - I understand - for sale to postcard collectors as simply "vintage sweetheart embroidered fabrication française" Paris postcards). Of my three, one card has a company name on it ("Paul Heckscher, Paris").

I gather the designs were embroidered on a fairly lightweight, sheer fabric and inserted in a cardboard-like frame to make a postcard. The embroidery work was done - I learned - by the ladies in France, and then sold (for hardly anything, I imagine) to the English soldiers stationed in France, to send home to England.

So like the more-famous Christmas truce, the postcards represent another of those humanizing aspects of an otherwise inhumane situation, the horrible wartime environment these people were experiencing. Even today I have a few friends - my generation or a little older - who had fathers who fought in World War I and they still talk about the awful effect the war had on their parents.

So I'm happy I have these little "pieces" of sentiment, and it pleases me to share them here.

This card (above) is very special because I'm able to read the message on the back. No date, sadly, but the message - in pencil - reads:

From Dad
To Willie
Wishing him a Cheerful Xmas and a Bright New Year
     With best Love

This one (above) is another Christmas card but all the writing on the back is gone. I would love to have known what it said.

And the final one (above). Not really a Christmas card I suppose, because the embroidered design is mostly spring flowers. I'm guessing this one is a birthday card. It, too, has a message, one that is now hardly legible because it's so worn. 

I've been able to make it out, I think, and here's what it seems to say:

Dear Olive,
Just a card to wish you many happy returns of the day
With love from
     Tom

It's nice to have these, now somewhere about 100 years old, and to think about what the men in the trenches and on the battlefields were thinking about. These notes now are, at least, some tiny remembrance of these men, as they wrote these messages to their sweethearts and children. Very poignant and, in a very different way, very lovely for us to have them as reminders of how much we and our loved ones mean to one another.

Guy's Homage to WWI (2): The Very Fine Exhibition at The New York Public Library

There aren't many times we get so caught up in an exhibition that we're afraid we'll get locked in.

That's what happened to me the afternoon I spent at "Over Here: WWI and the Fight for the American Mind."

And just to get my complaint out of the way first: This wonderful exhibition - one of the NYPL's best - is crammed into a tiny space, and if there are more then ten people in the room, it is really hard to move around, much less learn much from viewing the objects on display and reading the legends. The site is the Sue and Edgar Wachenheim III Gallery, on the main floor of the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building (what we used to call "The Main Building" or "The 42nd Street Building") of the New York Public Library. Many thanks to the Wachenheims and to Mr. Schwarzman for the space. It's fine for some exhibitions but, sadly, the space is really cramped for an exhibition as full of content and learning as "Over Here."

OK. Complaint over. This is truly an amazing exhibition and it's on until February 15, 2015. And from what I've written, you can see that I think it's worth the effort to get into the exhibition and spend time taking it in. Visit the exhibition, and if you're able to go when there aren't many people about, you'll find yourself caught up in massive amounts of content about what was going on in the United States in the years leading up to and during our country's involvement in World War I.

The subtitle for the exhibition tells us what it's all about, the huge public debate at the time, as Americans struggled (and argued, sometimes not very pleasantly) about whether or not the country should be involved in the war. As the exhibition guide describes what was going on, the debate "was facilitated by an unprecedented array of media and performance outlets, including such recent inventions as recorded sound and motion pictures."

The result is an intellectual exploration - using materials from the NYPL collections - that teaches us a great deal about how public relations, propaganda, and mass media were used to "shape and control" public opinion. As you spend time with these items, you get the idea that such methods had not previously been used - at least not to such an extent - in any situation in which Americans found themselves. We learn about how "100% Americanism" became the popular phrase of the time, building a "hyperpatriotic" attitude (in the words of the exhibition guide's writers), and the whole shift from absolute neutrality (personified by the activities and leadership of Jane Addams) to total involvement (led by former President Theodore Roosevelt).

And needless to say, I loved that the cover of one piece of sheet music (left) was used as the wall-size poster to lead visitors into the exhibition (right). An impressive transfer indeed.

[Note: all images courtesy of The New York Public Library.]

For me, there were three special conclusions I took from the exhibition. The first - which I had not realized before - was that idea of "100% Americanism" I referred to above. Again taking a leaf from the exhibition guide, I was surprised to learn that "never before in the country's history had Americans been so widely, and energetically, courted. And never in its history had the concept of Americanism - of what it means to be an American - been so hotly contested." Is there, I might ask, some sort of connection between what in our time we hear referred to as American "exceptionalism" and this extreme pro-and-con discussion about patriotic loyalty? Did this sort of thing start with our citizens up to and during World War I? Certainly that subtitle ("WWI and the Fight for the American Mind") clues us in that this sort of thing had not been done before. And look where we are now, in the "fight" for the American mind.

The second conclusion I reached has to do with the amazing role of advertising, public relations, and similar citizen-influencing activities. While many of these started out - as noted - as individual or group activities taking advantage of the various new communications techniques, the effort became "official" on April 14, 1917 with the establishment of the Committee on Public Information (known as "the CIP"), created to bring the American people - willing or not - into supporting and participating in the war effort. And a result of this effort - again a new revelation for me, as I had not known this before - was the birth of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). Founded in 1917 as the National Civil Liberties Bureau (CLB), the organization's main purpose was freedom of speech, especially anti-war speech, and on defending conscientious objectors. I had no idea this was where ACLU came from, but after viewing "Over Here" and learning about the particular tenor of the times, it's no surprise.

And the third thing that impressed me? No surprise here. I just hadn't thought about it before: the amazing growth and influence of posters as a means of communicating a particular point of view. The exhibition notes point out that the American government became especially proficient in communicating "targeted information to large numbers of people," using such artists as James Montgomery Flagg, Joseph Pennell, and Howard Chandler Christy. Not only proficient but prolific: by the end of the war, more than 20 million copies of some 2,500 distinct poster designs had been produced. As George Creel explained it in his 1920 book How We Advertised America, even those of us of a later era can see why posters were so important:

I had the conviction that the poster must play a great part in the fight for pubic opinion. The printed word might not be read, people might not choose to attend meetings or watch motion pictures, but the billboard was something that caught even the most indifferent eye.

So I suppose visiting "Over Here: WWI and the Fight for the American Mind" supports what I learned at the program (described here on December 11) at the Morgan Library and Museum, that World War I - despite what we think about it and read about and attempt to learn about, that war really did move us as a society from a way of life to one that was totally different after the war. Nothing was to be ever the same anymore, especially - as evidenced in this fine exhibition - how we've learned to live with a vastly different way of life as we moved toward and into the 21st century. Lots to think about.

Guy's Homage to WWI: Starting with "The Piano in Wartime: 1914-1918"

It has been a month now since we had what we used to call Armistice Day, and I have decided the conduct my own homage (if that word isn't a little overblown) to World War I. There isn't any particular reason. It's just that - in my opinion - this amazing and horrible event in Western history had such influence on our collective experience that it seems appropriate to stop and think a little about what it meant to us as people. How did the World War I affect us, as human beings? How have we spent the past 100 years? Has anything been gained from lessons learned from World War I (and, of course, what about the lessons learned but ignored)?

It's an awesome subject, isn't it? And none of these questions can be answered, not even - with any satisfaction - by the historians and the scholars who pour so much time and attention into their efforts. And certainly non-specialists like most of us can't add anything to the mix. We studied it, we read about it, we watched the films, but we amateurs can't really figure out what went on or what the results have been. But we can - if we pause a bit - pay our respects and try to connect what came from World War I with what we learned about humanity's history before 1914 and where we've come since 1918.

The Morgan Library & Museum

My own little tribute begins with an appealing program announced for last Tuesday at The Morgan Library and Museum. The Morgan happens to be around the corner from where I live, and anyone who knows me knows the role music plays in my life so I could not resist The Piano in Wartime: 1914-1918. Fifteen students from The Julliard School gathered to perform music composed during World War I, and these performances were interspersed with dramatic readings by actors from the school. It was an altogether satisfying evening, and I'm happy I had the opportunity to experience it.

The program was put together by Aaron Wunsch, Julliard faculty member and director of the PianoScope, the Julliard Piano Department's program that enables performances and other activities around a particular theme. Certainly that format came together for this program, with Wunsch providing a fine pre-performance talk on "Making Music during the Great War" and the performances of the splendid group of pianists and two actors (Therese Barbato and Max Woertendyke) grabbing (and keeping) our attention throughout the entire evening.

As it happens (as noted in the program notes) the period covered was a little more than the dates 1914-1918 usually associated with World War I because, as Wunsch pointed out, it was the overall era that provided the "range of creativity" that the program invoked. What was really being described (as pointed out also by Andrew as we were leaving the hall) was the impact that, a hundred years later, seems to be somewhat forgotten, that the war not only brought about "a gradual aesthetic change" (as Wunsch put it) in the creative endeavors of artists and like-minded people. The war, truly, changed how society was structured, with a totally different way of life emerging after 1918.

Because of the number of selections - both musical and written (poetry and letters) - it isn't possible to list everything and everyone involved, but I can provide a flavor of the program by mentioning the we heard performances of works as varied as Alexander Scriabin's Vers la Flamme ("Toward the Flame") of 1914, Igor Stravinsky's Souvenir d'une marche boche ("Souvenir of a German March") of 1917, and wrapping up with an almost-unbelievably athletic performance of Maurice Ravel's La Valse of 1919-1920. The readings, too, were equally varied, from the Anonymous "Shattered Illusions," from The BEF [British Expeditionary Force] Times of December 25, 1916 to an excerpt from Edith Wharton's Fighting France (1915), to Wilfred Owen's "Anthem for Doomed Youth" (1917).

A remarkable program, and I am happy to record here my gratitude to the PianoScope Program of the Julliard School's Piano Department and the Public Programs Department of The Morgan Library and Museum.

Personal History: Knowing Ralph Walker (2)

Today I honor Ralph Walker on the 125th anniversary of his birth.

Born on November 28, 1889, Ralph lived until January 17, 1973.

My friends and colleagues have heard me speak about Ralph recently, since I participated in the Ralph Walker documentary back in October (still online here). And a few weeks ago - on October 15 - I shared a few thoughts about my friendship with Ralph, memories from back when I was a very young man (and he was a very old man). These were published in a previous post, also called Knowing Ralph Walker.

It was a lovely experience, knowing this remarkable man, and the fact that he was an eminent and highly respected architect and one of the New Yorkers who helped define the shape of our city continues to impress me. I feel very privileged to have known him, even though he has now been gone for many years.

Much of Ralph's professional success was detailed in the documentary and, particularly, in Ralph Walker: Architect of the Century, by architecture scholar Kathryn E. Holiday and published by Rizzoli in connection with the 2012 exhibition of the same name. As it happens, I am in possession of several of the more "professional" (we might say) artifacts from Ralph's career, as he kindly gave me a collection of a number of things he wrote, including his self-published book The Fly in the Amber: Comments on the Making of Architecture. And of special interest to me was his fascination, from early childhood (thanks to his mother's influence) in the theater and the larger concept of the place of theater and theatrical performance and theater architecture in society. Perhaps I will write about these.

Today, though, I want to write a little about the more personal side of Ralph Walker, for (as might be guessed from his love of anything having to do with the performing arts), he was a great patron of the arts. What we used to refer to as the "liberal arts" played a big part in his personal life. He did indeed love the "softer," non-engineering side of life, and in his later years he gave full expression to this interest by composing "little" (he called them) poems about some of what he thought about.

One of these has special interest for me now (see The New York Summer Winds Down with a Special Happy Memory, about the Caramoor Summer Music Festival). Written in 1970, Ralph called it "Musique de Table by Georg Phillip Telemann 1681-1767: A Study in Baroque." He gave me a signed copy because, I suppose, of our many conversations about music and the place of music in our lives and I'm pleased to reproduce it here.

Ralph introduced the poems:

"At Caramoor in Westchester County the work was given under the direction of Julius Rudel. I felt the concert was muted and slow in tempo. I realized it was meant to be performed indoors and therefore some of the vibrancy was lost. The following is no attempt to adjust thought to the music. The music is light and gay with frivolity."

The poem is in eight sections, each with its title. The titles correspond, I gather, with the sections of the piece as played at Caramoor but as I'm not very familiar with the structure of the famous Musique de Table I can't confirm that. Perhaps Ralph made them up, or adapted them from the evening's program (the Britannica tells us that the piece, published in 1733, contained "three orchestral suites, three concerti, three quartets, three trios, and three sonatas." So I'm not sure how Ralph came up with eight titles for his poems).

As Ralph chose to print his poetry compositions in all caps, I follow his style.

Musique de Table by Georg Phillip Telemann 1681-1767: A Study in Baroque.

OUVERTURE

HOW INVITING IS THE MOOD
SHOULD I WONDER
     THAT I CAME
THESE LARGE AFFAIRS
     ARE SUCH A BORE
YOU SIGH AND SAY
     OH LORD HOW LONG

THE STRANGE PAUSE
     SOMEONE TO SAY
          GRACE
A BISHOP PERHAPS
          OR A RABBI
MAY HE WELL BE BRIEF

"MAY THE BLESS'ED BLESS US"

HOW QUAINT HOW OFFBEAT
      WHO ARE THE BLESS'ED
WHO ARE THE BLESSED
ONE OF THOSE OVERTURES THAT
WITHOUT REASON REQUIRE
     STILL ANOTHER AMEN

ATTUNED WITH DESTINY
A MUMMY HAS BEEN PASSED


BERGERIE

AS I LEFT
     AND THE DUSK CAME DOWN
A LONELY SHEPHERD LED HIS FLOCK
     TOWARD THE ENCLOSING FOLD
WHERE MOVING FAST THEY SOUGHT
     THEIR EVENING'S REST
THE LAMBS IMPATIENCE NUDGING
     SOUGHT THE TEATS OF DAMS

THE SKY WAS BRILLIANT
     AND THE RAYS
OF THE DYING SUN
     LEAPT TO AMBIENT BLUE
THE SHEPHERD ON HIS LITTLE FLUTE
SIGHED A THRENODY
     FOR THE PASSING DAY
TO END IN THRILLING NOTES
     ALMOST IN ELEGY
FOR THE EVENING'S QUIET

AS WE MOVED TOWARD
     THE SCRUMPTIOUS TABLE
HOW LIKE SHEEP WE SEEM
     EAGERLY SEEKING
OUR NAMES AND PLACES AND THOSE
     WHO BUT BEFORE WERE STRANGERS
NOW WE PLAY OUR PARTS
     SEEK THE SAVOR
           OF THE MEATS
     PERHAPS OUR MINDS

ALLEGRESSE

WHY WHEN IDEAS

     FLOW FLUENT AND SPARKLE

     RIPPLING IN DELIGHT

MUSIC STRIKES GAY BLATANT NOTES

     DISTRACTING THOUGHT

     ALL EARS AS WELL

A SIGN TO THE LEADER

     FLUTTERING HANDS DOWN

SAYING WHAT HE CANNOT HEAR

     DOLCE DOLCE

MISTAKES THE GESTURE

INCREASING TEMPO - VOLUME

IN EGOTISM OF VIRTUOSITY

     'TIL MINDS ARE SHATTERED

     IN ANGUISHED HOPED FOR

          SILENCE

CAN FAINT APPLAUSE MEAN PRAISE

     DELIGHT AT ENDINGS

NOW GRIM THE SILENCE

GONE FOR NOW THESE MOMENTS

     BOTH WIT AND NONSENSE

POSTILLONS

THEN FAIR IS SILENCE

     FOREGONE THE CHATTER 

           THEN COMES

THAT WELLCOMED PAUSE

     THE MYSTIC O'CLOCK

     WHEN ALL SPEECH WANES

MUSICIANS RETIRE

      SEEK REFRESHMENTS

IN A CORNER

      PLAYING SOFTLY AND LOW

A VIOLIN AND A CELLO SING

     THE SONG OF THE BIRDS

     THE WARMTH OF SPRING

EACH NEAR COMPANION

     IN SOFTENED MOOD

          LISTENS

HOPING TO FIND 

     IN THIS MOMENT'S PEACE

          ANEW TO SAY

AGAIN THAT SPARKLE

          SO WISTFULLY LOST 

FLATTERIE

OUT OF THE REVERIES OF THESE FEW MOMENTS

     RECALLS A PRESENT

A GLITTER OF SILVER A GLINT OF GLASS

     AN AWARENESS 

OF THOSE PRESENT NEARBY

AS FROM A DREAM YOU TURN AND SAY

     THERE IS SOMETHING FAMILIAR

SURELY I HAVE MET YOU BEFORE

     YOUR IMAGE IS CLEAR AND SAFE

WITHIN THE BEAUTIES OF MY THOUGHTS

     YOU SAY NO - BUT 

YOU SEEM THE SOURCE OF SATISFACTIONS

     BEYOND THE DAY'S REALITIES

WE MUST HAVE PASSED BRIEFLY

     AT LEAST NEARBY  APART

     EYES HELD BUT A MOMENT

AND THE FRAGRANCE OF THAT MEETING 

ENCLOSED YOU FOREVER WITHIN MY WORLD

A GRACIOUS WORLD OF LONGING

          AND DELIGHT

BADINAGE

          MARRIED

WITH HUSBANDS PRESENT

THE BIG ONE THERE

     WITH THE GREAT BEARD

THE SLENDER ONE

     A CURT MUSTACHE

     BOTH VERY HANDSOME

     SO OUTSTANDING

YOU DID VERY WELL

     HAPPY EVER AFTER

IF NOT IN HEAVEN

     AT LEAST QUITE NEAR

          FRIENDS

DID YOU EVER THINK

AND WONDER IF INSTEAD

YOU HAD THE OTHER'S SPOUSE

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES

     HE'S ALL RIGHT - BUT NO

NO WHISPER BEHIND THE EAR

     OH LADY WHY BE GOOD

NO PARTING HAND

     GIVING INVITATION

ARE THEY ALSO SO CONTENT

     NEVER MAKE PASSES

NO DARK CORNERS TO AVOID

THEN YOU ARE

          THE BLESSED

BUT YOU I WONDER

     REFLECTING NOW 

     AS YOU SEEK

          ACROSS THE CROWDED ROOM

WOULD YOU HAVE SOUGHT

     A MUSTACHE OR A BEARD

MENUIT

A LOVELY THEME

     STATELY IN ITS CADENCE

COURTLY BOWS PLEASANT CURTSEYS

SWEET INVOLVEMENT OF MAN AND WOMAN

A DANCE CREATED IN TIMES OF VIOLENCE

WHEN NO STREET WAS SAFE

     PERFUME PREFERRED TO WATER

AN AGE OF MANNERS

MADAME

     MAY I ENJOY YOUR FAVORS

SHALL WE SEEK A FRAGRANT BUSH

YOU WILL BE WARM WITHIN MY ARMS

HOW SLOW THE  MOTION

     HOW SWEET THE INVOLVEMENT

HOW STACCATO THE BEAT

     'TIS ROCK AND ROLL

GONE THE FESTIVAL IN SILK

     UNSOUGHT THE FRAGRANT BUSH

COME CHICK

     UNDER BLANKETS

          ENRICHED IN MUD

LET'S SHOW THEM OFF

OH SOUL - OH FLOWER

UNDER UNBEARABLE BURDEN

          THE ELECTRIC GUITAR

GIVES HARSH SHRILL SONG

      TO BIRDS CAUGHT

IN CAGES OF DISMAY

HOW IRRELEVANT THE MOMENT

SANS ELEGANCE

          SANS BEAUTÉ

MAIS TOUT EN LA BOUE 

CONCLUSION

SO STRANGE THAT QUIET

     NEAR MUSIC'S END

MIND AND BODY ASK REPOSE

EACH SPIRIT ONCE AGAIN

FINDS ITS OWN RECOURSE

WORDS LAG - WIT LONG GONE

IN SHALLOW GRAVES

          OF LAUGHTER

GAY MUSIC LULLS

     DOLCE FAR NIENTE

WARM CELLOS SOB, OBOES SIGH

SEEM TIRED AS THEY CLOY

O'ER HIS HARPSICHORD

FINGERS LISTLESSLY SEEK

          FINALITY

ON SHARP ASCENDING CHORDS

     AN EVENING CLOSED

MANNERS ASSERT COMPLIMENTS

     TO ACCUSTOMED PATTER

         IN PARTING

SELF-STARTERS HUM AND SIN

SONGS OF TUNED CONTENT