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Music Notes: Morton Gould, An American Musical Legend

By David Amos  
San Diego Jewish Times, December 16, 2005

It has been almost 10 years since Morton Gould died. He was enormously talented and a dominant force in American music. Most of you will recognize one of his greatest hits, American Salute, but he composed so much more than that. I have admired his work since I was a teenager, and later in life had the pleasure to work directly with him, and conduct several of his compositions for recordings.

Gould is a perfect example of the many flaws in our snobbish musical society. His contributions to music are endless; one of his best recognized features was his uncanny ability to take American and Latin American folk and popular tunes and rhythms, and arrange them for orchestra in a most accessible and entertaining way. At the same time, his phenomenal gifts of orchestration gained him deserved fame and fortune.

But, ironically, as one New York critic told me, “Poor Morton; the serious classical music establishment has never forgiven him for making money!”

I would like to give you a brief description of what he accomplished with his contributions to music, a glance into his personality, and to share with you my personal experiences with him and the recordings of his music.

Starting in the late 1930s (the last years of Gershwin’s life), Gould was already making his mark as a brilliant pianist, arranger, composer, and conductor. In the 1940s his radio programs were heard nationwide. They included his colorful orchestrations of popular tunes as well as his own compositions. His name was a household word.

From the 1950s until the end of his life in 1996, he continued serving music in many noble ways, as a composer of significant, important symphonic works, as a guest conductor, recording artist, and as an administrator with ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers), where he was the voice and champion of many musicians. He also contributed his time generously to the American Symphony Orchestra League.

In spite of all of the above, and against all self-evident logic, Morton Gould considered himself a failure.

In Peter Goodman’s book Morton Gould, An American Salute, there are a few revealing quotes from Gould’s diary. In 1987 he remarked that “I am so far away from what I thought I’d achieved that I have to face the fact that career-wise I have been a failure. I never made it.”

A lot of this was due to the fact that Gould, being a New Yorker, was practically ignored by the New York Philharmonic his entire musical life. He received plenty of handshakes and embraces from the N.Y. Philharmonic power brokers, but never an invitation to conduct, and his music was hardly ever performed. After being warmly greeted by Leonard Bernstein at a reception, he wrote “Seeing Lenny that day, I had such a warm feeling toward him. I know that Lenny is for Lenny, he’s not particularly sympathetic to me or my music. My colleagues are basically egos; you have to live around them. However, in Lenny’s case, he has every reason to be egotistical.”

But it was difficult for him. He suffered from frequent bouts of depression. “Happiness spoils my depression. I am not too sad when depressed, but I am less sad when I am happy, and there are times when I’m happy being happy. Happiness is a ‘sometime thing,’ a temporary state of well being, of optimism, of gratification. Happiness is a passing illusion of security and comfort that helps us survive and function.”

This is strange to hear from a person whose music is so upbeat, optimistic and playful. There is nothing somber in his compositions. Yes, when talking to him you could see a humble, modest person with a wry sense of humor. But he was nevertheless an American icon, a staple, a master in making a symphony orchestra sound entertaining and brilliant in a happy fusion of popular songs and rhythms within a polished orchestral palette.

Gould was so unhappy with his place in the serious music world that he commented after some unjust criticism: “As some of my pieces got more public acceptance, I almost felt like getting up and saying “Look, I’m terribly sorry. I wrote something that a lot of people like, and I’ll try not to do it again. In a number of instances I tried not to do it again, perhaps successfully, which I sometimes regret.”

 I felt this quite strongly in my personal visits with him. He did not possess the personal charisma that is gifted to some creative artists. He hoped that his music would stand on its own merit, which in the long run it has, and it will. He was in the habit of being self-deprecating, putting himself down, and I will give you a couple examples of this in the second part of this article, in the next issue of San Diego Jewish Times.

Although Gould clearly did not consider himself “one of the boys in the gang,” part of the power structure in American music, he was viewed by the world at large as the real establishment, and one of the most powerful composers on the American scene. I certainly considered him in this manner, taking in consideration his endless list of well-known compositions, most of which were recorded by some of the finest orchestras and wind ensembles in the world.