Summer 2013 - The American Viola Society

TH: I know of two, or maybe three, who wrote
or tried to put on paper a true review of “The
Vera Barstow Method.” I don’t think it appropriate
to try to do that again here. But I can
generalize a bit about my memories as her
student. Vera was an elegant, diminutive
woman, always mature, but never old. Her
personality dominated all around her and was
the contributing factor in her success as a
pedagogue. She had a complete command of the
techniques and mechanics of playing, knowledge
of the teaching materials, and the processes
necessary to develop those skills. Her presence
was the strong influence that so many of us felt.
Her personality was pleasant but direct; open
disagreement with her was not an option for
anyone, on any subject.
Most of her teaching was done at home, in a
well-established affluent Pasadena neighborhood,
although zoning restrictions made her
move to a nearby studio or to USC in later
years. Often as not she had students constantly
around her . . . living with her and going to
concerts with her. She would listen to scale
practice before school and give lessons or life
advice at any mutually agreed upon time. Fifty
students was a workable load, but every so often
the number had to be reduced. Most of her
students were young, but many were adult . . .
musicians looking for playing jobs—orchestra
or recording studio; some were amateurs. I
remember one physician who had bought a
Stradivari violin and wanted to learn how to
play it. Vera’s lesson fees were always
something of a mystery.
Lesson procedure was almost invariable. She
would sit in an overstuffed chair and listen—
with varying degrees of attention—to a student,
who was standing at a music stand fifteen or
twenty feet away, play material that had been
assigned a week earlier. She rarely demonstrated
on an instrument herself . . . lessons
were a verbal experience. I cannot remember
her demonstrating on an instrument of her own.
But when she did demonstrate, it was always on
the student’s own instrument, and it was always
faultless. She was one of those people who did
not need to practice to maintain a reliable
technique. “Modern” literature was never her
concern, but she had an infallible taste in
musical elocution, which was founded in
common sense or musical tradition. Although
primarily a violinist, she always had some viola
students, and at one point, later in life, when she
decided to do some performing, she chose the
viola, in a chamber ensemble.
TT: We now have you as a confirmed and
committed violist. You went on to USC,
where you continued your work with Vera
Barstow and then on to Sanford Schoenbach
(Principal of the Los Angeles Philharmonic)
and Milton Thomas, both known nationally
and internationally as performers and
teachers. Can you tell us a little about the
magical influence of Schoenbach and Thomas
on your playing?
TH: Going on to more advanced viola studies, I
did my master’s degree in viola at USC with
Vera Barstow—my bachelor’s is in music
history. Before my doctoral work with
Schoenbach and Thomas, I spent the summer of
1963 at the Eastman School of Music, studying
with Francis Tursi. I was shopping for a place to
do my doctoral work.
TT: Before we return to your doctoral work
at USC, tell us something about your
experience with Francis Tursi, an iconic
figure in American viola pedagogy.
TH: St. Francis was a wonderful experience, as
a model player, as a person, as a musician. He
encouraged me to look beyond exercise and
practice to improve playing. He had a spiritual
effect on my attitude toward sound production
on the viola. I would spend unhurried minutes
playing open strings or single notes for him, just
listening to the sound or its effect on the
VOLUME 29 SUMMER 2013 ONLINE ISSUE
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