John Grimes will be performing with Coro Allegro at our February 23rd concert. Mr. Grimes received his M.M. from the New England Conservatory of Music. His teachers included Vic Firth, former principal timpanist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. For the past three decades, he has been solo timpanist with Boston Baroque and Handel & Haydn Society orchestras. Mr. Grimes also performs with Boston Ballet, Boston Lyric Opera, Cantata Singers and other Boston organizations. An advocate for intellectual property rights and economic fair play for musicians, he serves as Vice President of the Boston Musicians Association, Local 9-535, and teaches at The Boston Conservatory.

John Grimes: Thank you very much for asking me to participate in this interview by Coro Allegro to help tell a story from the perspective of those of us who were close friends of Daniel Pinkham. I think that there will be many folks throughout America who will have personal Daniel Pinkham stories to tell because he was such an amazing, capacious, loving and kind individual towards so many different people. Over the years, the real story of the truly generous nature of Daniel Pinkham will eventually be pieced together by an interview here and an interview there. It's an honor; truly humbling for me to be asked to remember Dan.

I think, importantly, it's poignant that Coro Allegro has asked me and others to speak about Dan. The interesting thing is in your mission statement, your intent when founding Coro Allegro, was to create a safe space for GLBT persons and friends. And I think that the one thing I believe most clearly characterized the image and persona of Daniel Pinkham from the very day I walked into New England Conservatory (NEC) as a graduate student, was his making me feel that Boston was a safe place for me, and for my work as a musician. And whereas in other parts of the country where there might be a hostile community toward an emerging young talent who as it happens might have been struggling with coming out or accepting being gay, whatever…. this feeling we were welcome here certainly conveyed a clear message to me as well as countless others.

Coro Allegro: How did Dan convey that?

He did it by just being himself, by the honest twinkle in his eye, the candidness of his jokes, and he had so many jokes, many of which of course are eminently forgettable! (laughter) So corny! But at other times one just would absolutely remember a joke that probably was not funny to others but would have a particular resonance with you. Dan was that kind of individual. I met Dan when I arrived in January 1973 at the start of the 2nd semester at NEC. I had been in Caracas playing timpani in the Orquesta Sinfonica de Venezuela. I decided I wanted to take my playing to another level, so I contacted Vic Firth at NEC and was accepted. In the meantime, composer Frank McCarty, a colleague from earlier days at University of California, San Diego said a close friend who lived with Dan had introduced them and that Dan was a unique individual I must meet. He insisted I meet Dan as soon as I got to Boston and I recall saying, "Why not. I'll look him up".

So, I remember going into registration and spotting Dan and thinking, that's got to be Dan Pinkham. He was just all style….tall, gangly and funny. He just had this charisma that one would find instantly attractive. And of course I was a student in my mid-20's, he a professor in his early 50's, so naturally there was a certain professional distance, but in time we overcame that.

The interesting thing was a deep friendship as well as a professional collaboration began almost instantly. He was so, welcoming… he allowed people to just be themselves around him. And Dan embraced his friends, no matter how different they were. He enjoyed bringing his friends together so they could get to know one another. He was especially fond of combining his older friends together with younger friends in many social contexts. Another thing--people who had been his significant others in earlier years - well, even after those relationships were over, Dan continued to nurture very close relationships with each individual as if he truly believed in the idea of once a friend, forever a friend.

He regularly invited his closest friends for informal (but for everyone included) symbolic gatherings at 150 Chilton Street, Cambridge. Thanksgiving or Easter dinner were annual rituals. I think I probably went to Dan Pinkham's house on Easter for at least 35 years without fail. The same friends continued to return to Dan's year after year. Of course he outlived several, but what a well-balanced and curious collection of interesting folks: The late Ted Schultz, acoustician with Leo Beranek (Ted helped me do a spectrographic analysis of Baroque timpani for a future paper); Carol Wood, retired Harvard botanist with whom I was mostly recently engrossed in a discussion of rare Pernambuco wood from Brazil; Carroll Wales and Constantine Tsaousis, renowned art restorers who regaled me with stories about how they worked on Vizcaya in South Miami, a castle in Spain and the Mt. Aptos monastery in Greece; Donald Outerbridge, a native Bermudian who had taught art history at Boston Conservatory, Robert Light, art collector and benefactor of musicians on the west coast and Robert MacWilliams, Dan's music publisher at E.C. Schirmer. In later years, as his contemporaries started dying the group around the table began to change as more musicians….organists James David Christie, John Finney, Heinrich Christensen, tenor Michael Calmes, flutist Fenwick Smith and of course Dan's long-time partner, Andrew Paul Holman eventually came into the fold.

Over the flow of so many years, the connections Dan facilitated took on a special meaning for all of us. His friends became my friends. They came to concerts and supported our musical endeavors. Talk at table often floated from subject to subject, with Pinkham jokes and reminiscences interspersed throughout. Each one of them usually sharing a factual tidbit here, an anecdote there related to their travels or associations. But always, always the afternoons were full of laughter. We were truly blessed.

Dan had always liked my playing and he had expressed the desire to write more for percussion, so I said "Why not, feel free to experiment and ask me all the questions you like about percussion and timpani technique. I'll let you know what works and what doesn't." In 1974 he composed "Liturgies" for timpani, tape and organ. At the time, he was going through an electronic tape music phase - composing works on his home synthesizer. First he crafted a tape in his studio and then composed a score that lined up the organ and timpani parts in coordination with the tape sounds. After reading through the piece and suggesting a change here or there, Larry and I played it on my graduate recital. Actually, I did not premiere the piece. It was commissioned by the late Leonard Raver for a first performance in Hartford. (Leonard Raver was a highly resourceful and innovative organist who taught at Juilliard and also served as organist with the New York Philharmonic.) At Dan's suggestion, Leonard contacted me and we began collaborating on a number of concerts at Methuen Memorial Music Hall. Our repertoire often featured pieces for pedal timpani and percussion (lots of it). These were very effective works by William Bolcom, Ron Pereira, Gardner Read, Elliott Schwartz and of course Dan. Before the term "networking" even became fashionable, Dan was ahead of the curve doing it for his friends.

Dan introduced me to composers, musicians and music critics throughout New England such as Ben Zander, John Heiss, Thomas Dunn (then conductor of the Handel & Haydn Society), Donald Teeters (Cecilia Society), Daniel Stepner, Laura Jeppesen, Tom Lehrer ("Poisoning Pigeons in the Park and "The Vatican Rag"). He saw to it that I made important connections, teaching this idea of networking by example so you could not help but follow in his footsteps. Naturally, I played some auditions for contractors and what not, but Dan's connections were helpful in overcoming needless hurdles.

An important aspect of Dan's legacy was his long career teaching at New England Conservatory and what should possibly be viewed as his most significant contribution to that institution. Dan was a very important part of the Early Music movement in Boston although people tend to forget that. He doesn't get enough credit for this accomplishment…but, the Performance of Early Music Department which he created at New England Conservatory in the early-1970s dealt a strong impact. The musicians turned out by this program essentially created a base for instrumentalists and vocalists still playing important roles in the Historically Informed Performance scene in Boston as well as in other parts of the country.

It's interesting that in his career Daniel Pinkham is composing progressive, modern music and also being a leader in early music …

He did not distinguish between the possibilities. It is rather uncommon (to do both). And I think he and Boston Baroque's Martin Pearlman were "Renaissance' types. Marty not only composes contemporary music, but plays elegant Rameau on the harpsichord and will some day no doubt rack up a Guinness World Book statistic on most Messiahs conducted)….these two were "Renaissance" types long ago. This kind of polarity of affinity for compositional styles is most unusual, but some might argue the similarities. Dan went through periods of experimentation with synthesizers or aleatory ideas, but they were short-lived and ultimately he rarely strayed from traditional. He no doubt sensed there were still lots of good old-fashioned harmonic ideas to work with.

From 1968-70, I attended the University of California, San Diego where I studied with Pauline Oliveros, Robert Erikson, Kenneth Gaburo, Bert Turetzky and Tom Nee. I was exposed to musicians who were truly committed to new music, but in time I grew bored. Later in Boston, I found that this background in listening to and performing contemporary music had really taught me to open up my ears to all kinds of music. I was soon struck by the realization that Boston wasn't really very much on the cutting edge of contemporary music performance, but rather the epicenter of the American early music movement. The musicians I met through Dan were the ones who were really on the cutting edge of experimentation then. I found their enthusiasm and spirit of inquiry drawing me in and thought…well, I like old instruments, I like Bach and Baroque trumpets and timpani, so why not start expanding into an area about which I know nothing. That's what made me decide to take related courses at New England Conservatory under Anne Hallmark, Julia Sutton and Dan. These associations and other important ones exposed me to historic performance practice pointing to a whole new direction in my life that has played out for over 35 years. Dan was the key influence opening those doors for me. In retrospect, I now know it was something he did for so many other musicians with whom he came into contact.

[John Grimes' performing works by Pinkham emphasizing percussion:]

In 1974, Ellis (Larry) Phillips and I performed together in my graduate recital. Larry was an accomplished organist and sometime trustee of New England Conservatory. In recent years, he has headed the Phillips Foundation. Back between 1973-75, we were both grad students at NEC. I asked Larry to collaborate we me in playing Dan's piece, "Liturgies" for timpani, tape and organ. The following year we recorded it for New England Conservatory Recordings Series; it came out on one of the last vinyl recordings I think I ever made.

In January of 1978, Dan Stepner (violin) and Laura Jeppesen (viola da gamba) and I gave the premiere of Dan's "Sonata da Requiem". Though I was only playing handbells and Dan and Laura had the difficult parts, this piece is a lovely little nugget. We did it in Jordan Hall and the acoustics and setting were just right. As I can recall, that was the next piece of Dan's that I performed. Later, in February of 1979 and then again in 1981, I performed Dan's "Masks" commissioned by Phillips Academy, Andover for harpsichordist Carolyn Skelton. Basically, Masks is a mini-harpsichord concerto with chamber ensemble consisting of flute, oboe, clarinet, violin, cello and percussion (1). It is really beautiful and isn't performed as much as it should be today. I suggested to Dan he should record the piece along with the Manuel de Falla Concerto for Harpsichord, flute, oboe, clarinet, violin and cello (1926). I thought those two works would make a good pairing on an album, but it hasn't happened. [Masks] has a very nice timpani part, sporting tricky pedaled passages which relate tonally to the bass line.

In 1981, Larry Phillips and I co-commissioned Dan again. I had asked Dan to write something in memory of my friend, Al Hubbard, who had died from injuries sustained in a fiery motorcycle accident. Less than 10 years earlier, I had lost my 17 year-old step-brother Randy under similar circumstances, so my friend Al's death had hit me hard.

On this occasion, Dan composed "The Death of the Witch of Endor," for contralto (Pamela Gore), harpsichord and vibraphone. "Witch" is really an extended recitative based on biblical text detailing the encounter of Saul with the Witch of Endor, a seeress. In that encounter, Saul pays the Witch pieces of silver in compensation for her prophecy together with the proviso that he will not harm her, although fortune telling is forbidden. In her vision, the Witch foretells Saul's legendary fate. The story itself is a remarkable tale and I'm not surprised it captivated Dan's interest as did so many Biblical texts throughout the body of his life's output. The piece is deep and dramatically poignant, yet direct and spare as can be in its use of musical materials. Pamela Gore delivered her role with elegance and characteristic aplomb.

This concludes actual commissions and premieres I did of Dan's music. At that point Dan had new associations with new musicians in Boston such as current BSO organist James David Christie and a steady stream of musicians, far too many to mention in this column. As Jim began to commission many organ pieces together with a continuous demand all over the country for his accessible choral works, we thought Dan would never stop. The breadth of his repertoire is so comprehensive! But always, he found time to provide new pieces for new and old friends. His list of works is just amazing (http://www.danielpinkham.net/catalogPage.html). Why, its almost as long as Bach's! (laughter).

[Highlighting Pinkham's Generosity:]

Something I feel compelled to share is a revelation that Dan as your friend was sensitive to a person's economic circumstances. I wasn't doing well when I came to Boston. Starting out anywhere is hugely difficult for a young musician. Doors were closed because jobs regularly went to better-known musicians who had already established themselves. Many times Dan would say, "Come out to Chilton Street for lunch." Or, "Come to dinner." I could count on a meal many a time when at times eating and good company made the difference in whether or not I chose to stay in Boston and struggle on.

I remember two instances where Dan wanted to compose something for me and I didn't have the instrument. In the case of "…Witch of Endor", I had said…. "You know, I'd love to the do [the piece]. What instruments do you want to write for?" And he said, "I'd like to write for vibes." I replied, "Well, I'll have to borrow or rent a friend's set. And he said, "How much are they?" I answered, "I think between $1,000-$1,200." A few days later I got a check in the mail [from Pinkham] for $1,000. Ironically, two years ago while Dan was still alive since I don't play vibes much anymore, I decided to sell the instrument. Actually, I sold them for almost the same amount or a little more than I initially paid. I decided then and there to donate that specific money to the Daniel Pinkham Music Fund at King's Chapel. Because…he always said, and I will always remember this more than anything else he ever said… "When you get to the top, don't forget to send the elevator back down." I tell that to my students all the time. Help others in music who clearly need your help to get to the next level. Dan did that for me and I will be grateful to my dying day.

On one other occasion he wanted to write for tam-tam (a flat-faced gong) and I said, "Well, I don't have a tam-tam, I'll have to get one," and he said "How much is a tam-tam?" And I said, "No Dan, this has to stop." (laughter) "No more…if I need a tam-tam, I'm doing well enough, I can afford it." That sort of stopped that. This was the kind of largesse, kindness he bestowed upon many of us. And he did not play favoritism towards gay or straight folks. He loved people in general with a universal heart. I still marvel at that quality. Nowhere else had I felt that sense of community until I came to Boston. As soon as I got into the freelance scene playing early music and working with many choruses, subbing with the Boston Symphony, playing with Sarah Caldwell's Opera Company of Boston, I thought ….this is definitely home for me. And there was no leaving. So I am very indebted to Daniel Pinkham, his legacy of kindness, his loyalty to his friends and colleagues and the community of musicians that he nurtured. This has been a great era in Boston.

["Faculty Advisor":]

Oh yes, then there is this very funny story which occurred one day in 1975 toward the end of my time at NEC. It was nearing the end of the day at school and I was leaving class, heading downstairs. As I passed "Beethoven" (statue of the composer), I ran into Dan. He was also about to leave, and said…"Well, what's going on?" I said, "actually…a handful of us are going to meet at Chaps (a former longstanding gay bar) for Happy Hour. As students are wont, we had a small community of kindred spirits at school. By then, everyone knew each other and that day over lunch, we decided to get together later in the day. (Of course, nowadays it's politically incorrect for a professor to be very "out" with their students or the human resources office has a field day with them and their careers.) But, those were the 70's and so Dan replied, "Well, who are these students?" I rattled off about 10 names. Dan then said, "Uh! OK…I'd like to go."

So he showed up. I got there first and sat down at a long table joining my friends. In walks Dan and the first thing out of his mouth was…."Hi, I heard tell around the campus that you guys were going to get together and have a meeting, so I thought I'd invite myself along as your faculty adviser!" (laughter) And it was fun all around from there - someone said, "let's call this the Gay Organization of New England Conservatory, or GONEC for short." (laughter) We still laugh about it years later. That was the extent of our militancy because we were too busy practicing and playing concerts.

You continued to work with him even after he wasn't producing so many commissioned works that highlighted timpani/percussion?

Absolutely. Dan hired me many times to play with the choir at King's Chapel for the Five O'Clock Concert Series as well as for Sunday morning services. He continued being my fan and advocate for many years. On occasions in the city when other organizations were going to premiere his pieces, he might say to a conductor…. "Have you heard John Grimes play?" He was shameless about promoting his friends…Sally Pinkas, Carol Baum, Jim Christie, Fenwick Smith, John Aubrey to name a few for whom he had a soft spot.

In later years, we didn't speak as much over the phone, but there would be occasional checking in where each would ask the other what we were up to. I always loved hearing from him and he loved to tell his friends about the latest commission he was working on. He used to sit at the kitchen table and basically cradle the phone while composing. This was before headsets and blue teeth were in vogue. I can imagine him going on about the terms of the commission while sketching with his free hand! (laughter). I think it was thrilling to him, especially during his 60s and 70s, to brag about having five or six commissions pending. It gave him an immense boost of energy, a real sense of purpose.

Another story comes to mind: He liked to write pieces wrapped around good texts. He found an immense variety of inspiring texts because he was inextricably bound to literary things and plumbed those resources for his many text settings. His love of text was scholarly, yet always striving to be faithful to the sources. He was also very pragmatic and knew exactly how to set words with a real minimalist's precision. I am particularly fond of the works he wrote on Norma Farber texts and never fail to be moved by "Love can be still and still be love."

Dan's concept of compositional technique was….just 'say what you have to say and be done with it. For example, he was commissioned by NEC to write a processional/recessional for a graduation ceremony. As he was telling me about the commission, I asked "Well, what's it for?" And he said "For a brass group." I said, "What are you going to call it?" And he said (in clipped fashion) "In and Out." (laughter) Now, I don't know if he ever ended up calling it that…but, I laughed and laughed thinking, that's Dan Pinkham for you…brevity to the nth degree.

A lot of humor and quirkiness to his pieces…

Yes. Occasionally he liked to poke fun at the most serious of sources. He wrote pieces like "Garden Party" (based on the encounters of Adam and Eve and the snake), "Cannibalism in the Cars" (Mark Twain story about cannibalism on a snow-stranded train in the Rockies) and a piece called "The Saints Preserve Us." Do you know this piece? He invented new saints, such as the patron saint of dishwashers (laughter).

He had a slightly evil twin, too. He loved to set people up and then have a good time sometimes at their expense. The late Robert J. Lurtsema interviewed him on a radio program about a new work he had recorded. Robert J was about to play a bit of it along with interviewing Dan. Before they got started, Dan said "Now, Robert J., I'll answer anything you like, really, anything you ask me, but there's just this one question I really detest, please don't ask me what inspired me to write this piece. It'll just make me uncomfortable." And of course he knew that Robert J. was going to ask him just that. So it's the middle of the interview and Robert J. says, "Now Dan, what exactly inspired you to write this piece?" And Dan - without missing a beat - said, "The money." (laughter)

Dan was all these things and more. Yes, we miss him but when I think of him it's usually in connection with something that made me laugh. And so, these things remind me not to take life so seriously all the time because ultimately we are remembered for the happiness we bring to others. Now that makes me smile with pride that I knew Daniel Pinkham.