Historian and Scholar
A Conversation with Bruce Duffie
Philip Gossett, Robert W. Reneker Distinguished Service Emeritus
Professor of Music, is a music historian with special interests in
19th-century Italian opera, sketch studies, aesthetics, textual
criticism, and performance practice. He is author of two books on
Donizetti and of Divas and Scholars:
Performing Italian Opera (2006, Chicago), which won the Otto
Kinkeldey Award of the American Musicological Society as the best book
on music of the year. He serves as General Editor of The Works of Giuseppe Verdi (The
University of Chicago Press and Casa Ricordi of Milan) and of Works of Gioachino Rossini
(Baerenreiter-Verlag, Kassel). One of the world's foremost experts on
Italian opera, Gossett is the first musicologist to be awarded the Mellon Distingushed Achievement Award;
he also holds the Cavaliere di Gran
Croce, the Italian government's highest civilian honor.
Professor Gossett has served as President of the American Musicological
Society and of the Society for Textual Scholarship, as Dean of
Humanities at Chicago, and as lecturer and consultant at opera houses
and festivals in America and Italy. He was the musicological consultant
to the Verdi Festival in Parma during the Verdi centennial year (2001).
He has been at the University of Chicago since 1968.
-- From the University of
Living in Chicago has always been exciting for many reasons, not the
least of which are the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Lyric Opera of
Chicago. Being brought up with these two giants as well as myriad
chamber groups made for a wonderful life
— not just for me, though I would selfishly like to think so, but for
anyone and everyone who lives or visits here. So it is
fitting that Chicago is also home to the scholar who is editing the new
editions of the operas of Verdi and Rossini, Philip Gossett.
Besides being ensconced at the University of Chicago, Gossett has given
his time and expertise to the publishers of these new scores.
In June of 1988, when the work was in full swing, I was able to have a
wonderful chat with Gossett. He was frank and earnest about his
work and his ideas, and we simply discussed many of the topics of
Much of what was said appeared in an issue of The Opera Journal, and now it has
been slightly re-edited and gains new life on this webpage. The
photos have been added, as have the links which refer to my interviews
elsewhere on my website.
Here is that conversation . . . . . . . . .
You’ve done a lot of work with the scholarship of Verdi, and are now
involved with the new edition published by the University of Chicago
and the House of Ricordi. How much alteration is there in the new
scores from what’s been used for all these years?
It varies, of course, from score to score. On some occasions, the
differences are small. We like to think that even though they are
small, for the performers the differences are palpable. The
performers know where they are, and are used to other notes and rhythms
and words. Occasionally they will come to us and ask how we know
that our version is correct, and in some cases we do know that Verdi
did approve or even want a change here or there. He even made
occasional mistakes and corrected them! But in many cases, the
differences arose because of errors by copyists, or failure to read
what the manuscript said.
Verdi’s manuscript particularly hard to read?
PG: No, it’s not
that hard. It’s not like Beethoven or Janáček, but unless
you know the autographs very well, you can be misled. There are
many places where there are changes in Verdi’s own hand, and it’s
important to know them from changes made by somebody else. Some
of the most interesting changes are done for reasons of censorship.
BD: Is there
any possibility that you are restoring a version that Verdi decided was
better after the change, even if it’s by another hand?
PG: We always
worry about that, and we try to get it right. We don’t have Verdi
to tell us what’s right and what’s wrong, and to an extent we have to
penetrate the whole process. There are scholars who work on
textual questions in literature, who are becoming more and more aware
of putting into historical perspective the whole history of the
text. In some cases we know why the changes were made.
Perhaps the most famous is in Rigoletto.
The Duke comes to the inn in the last act and orders from Sparafucile
two things right away. He always used to say “una stanza e del vino” (a room and
some wine). At this, Rigoletto turns to Gilda and says, “You see
what a terrible man he is!” In fact, the Duke’s words were never
Verdi’s. He never put them in himself. His score and the
sketch are very clear “Tua sorella e
del vino” (your sister and some wine). That line makes
Rigoletto’s remark much more reasonable. The change was made by
the censor. Verdi’s words are crossed out in the autograph and
the new words are written in. So Verdi himself led a production
with the new words, and everybody has been singing those new words for
all these years, but it is our feeling that it is not what Verdi wanted.
this be a case where the stage director would have the Duke grab
Maddalena while singing “una stanza”
to indicate slyly the original intent?
PG: She’s not
onstage yet, but directors can do all kinds of things like that.
In this case, however, it seems clear to me that there is no reason to
do anything but what Verdi originally wrote. Other cases are more
problematic. The end of Ernani
has two texts in the autograph, and one is a great deal more powerful
than the other. It’s the one he originally wrote. I’ve
worked with the autograph and can tell you it’s best described as some
half-hearted attempt by Verdi to put in some different words.
They’re not written throughout, just a few hints. But it’s that
half-hearted attempt which ended up in the printed vocal score, and
from which the opera was learned. Ernani was not published in
full-score until ours appeared. We don’t have evidence, but it
seems as if the original text was objected to, again, by censors.
It’s the moment when Ernani expects total happiness, but he hears the
horn and has to kill himself. The original text is “È questa per noi miseri, Del cielo
la pietà.” (This is the pity that heaven feels for
us poor miserable ones.) It’s a very powerful line, and has the
kind of power that is almost blasphemous. It is changed to “Non ebbe di noi miseri, Non ebbe il ciel
pietà.” (Heaven had no pity on us poor ones.)
The whole way the line is sung has to be affected by that change in the
BD: Was he
perhaps thinking of possible problems with the censors, or do we know?
PG: We don’t
know that. Censorship or self-censorship is very
problematic. In this case, perhaps the impresario in the theater
thought they’d better watch out for trouble, and suggested that it be
softened a little. Verdi was always willing to make some
compromises, but not if they changed the basic sense of the
story. His artistic conscience allowed him to go a certain
distance in order to get the work performed, so in this case we offered
both texts. In the score, we put the alternative and explained
the situation in the introduction, and will let each producer make a
choice. A third case arises in Nabucco.
The entire text of the big chorus at the end was changed. Verdi’s
hand, we believe, simply blotted out the original words. It took
some fancy footwork, but we finally reconstructed the entire version of
text, and it is really very powerful. Not only that, but it makes
sense with the music which the revised version doesn’t. The text
we all know goes, “You spread a rainbow, everybody is smiling; You cast
a thunderbolt, man is no more.” The music under the word
“smiling” is about as un-smiling as you’ve ever heard. The
original text goes, “Often to your people, you gave tears; But you
broke the chains of those who believed in you.” So the sad music
supports the word “tears.” Is this a censorial change? We
don’t have any evidence. Nabucco
was later considered a very patriotic opera, but it doesn’t seem to
have been such immediately. The fact is we just don’t know the
answer, and it’s doubly complicated because when he made these changes
in the text and the music, he also made some musical changes that are
really improvements. So to just do the ‘original’
version will gain some powerful statements, but also lose some
improvements in the score. So we give both versions and let the
producers decide how to present it. We may put a re-constructed
amalgam as an appendix and call it a suggestion, but it cannot go into
the full score. It’s important to always bear in mind these
different possibilities, to not presume too much, and to try to
understand the history of a problem. Gradually you come up with a
text you can believe in.
BD: Is there
any chance that Verdi is looking at your efforts and thinking he would
have made things even more powerful before changing them, knowing that
you would put them right eventually?
PG: When I
work with the Rossini operas I often feel he’s sitting over my
shoulder, and every once in a while he tells me what he really
wants. Verdi’s scores are generally very beautifully written and
very clearly marked. With care and attention, I think one can
come close to resolving most of the problems in a responsible and
musically correct way. We had a wonderful experience with Luisa Miller which was done in
Cincinnati under the direction of James Conlon.
He took the
operation very seriously and went through the score with the greatest
detail. My colleagues who were there told me he was simply
delighted with the opportunity of being able to see exactly what Verdi
had written, and commented that corrections made clear problems that
had puzzled him all along. A musician looks at a score and
wonders about something, but there is no court of last resort short of
going to the autograph. If the edition doesn’t discuss things and
make it all clear, they have no way of knowing if the pages they’re
working with are accurate. I believe in the performer coming face
to face with the work. What I don’t believe in is the performer
having to come face to face with something that is not the work, or
what he thinks is the work but really isn’t. I believe in the
genius of the composer. These are people who were very special,
and they had something very special to tell us. That’s why I
think critical editions are so important. They allow us to get
that message as closely as we’re ever going to get it.
BD: Do you
view these new scores as the end, or a beginning? Do you see them
as jumping off places for conductors and producers?
exactly what they are. When people say they’re performing the ‘Critical
Edition’, I say that’s impossible. We
reconstruct Verdi’s scores and try very hard to make clear what we
think his intention is. However, if you ask me what a certain
accent mark means, I respond that there are hundreds of ways of
performing an accent. No musicologist can say to a performer that
this mark means exactly such-and-so. Verdi couldn’t have said
it. Every performer breathes differently, holds a bow
BD: But the
fact that there might be two different kinds of marks means that there
will be a differentiation.
Exactly! It suggests how one should go about thinking about a
passage. These are things that may have been lost in earlier
scores, or were put together in ways that made no sense. In one
of the duets in Rigoletto,
Verdi uses two kinds of accents — one upright,
the other horizontal. How do you render them? Muti will do
it one way, Levine another, Conlon still another. The important
thing is that it’s there, and that it be clearly marked in ways that
allow the performer to make use of that as part of an interpretation of
the music. It’s only by having that kind of detail carefully
spelled out that one can really begin to work in that way. It’s
my hope that this is what the Critical Edition allows performers to do.
BD: Is it
safe to assume that Verdi put more markings into his scores than, say,
Bellini and Donizetti?
PG: The only
things that those earlier composer left unwritten were the
ornamentation, the variations that singers were expected to apply to
the music themselves.
there a more standardized convention of what constituted proper
operatic performance in the earlier years?
PG: Yes and
no. Certainly by the time you get to the later operas of Verdi,
the extent of the information he provides is greater because, as you
suggest, the range of his demands is more than had been expected in his
youth. But the level of the earlier time is really greater than
we often give it credit for. We have, I think, misunderstood a
great deal of the music of the first half of the 19th century of
Italian opera. It is not ‘singers-opera’,
but rather you need good singers to do it. You can’t do it
without singers who are able to do it, but Bellini didn’t think he was
writing opera just so the singers could canary. That’s not what
he was doing. He left us hundreds of letters spelling out in
detail what his music was about and the kinds of dramatic things he was
after, and the formal things he was dealing with. It is clear
that Bellini was a composer who thought he was doing something original
and new, and musically and dramatically significant. He was, but
what we tend to hear are canaries who think that if you warble this
stuff, somehow or another you’ve captured the spirit of it. We’ve
had too many terrible performances of bel
canto operas by divas who don’t know that these are
dramas. You can argue that the dramatic conventions of Italian
romanticism are such that a modern audience may find more difficult
than in earlier periods, but even that argument is worth
re-examination. I found that if they are done as ‘singer-operas’
you end up with people coming out saying, “Isn’t she wonderful?
It’s a pretty dull piece.” I was delighted a few years ago 
here in Chicago when Lyric Opera did I
Capuleti e i Montecchi. It was exactly right. They
understood the piece and took it seriously, and wonder of wonders, with
fine singers who did their performances within the context of the work,
it worked as a drama. [The cast included Tatiana Troyanos,
Cecilia Gasdia, Dennis O’Neill, and Dimitri
Kavrakos, conducted by Donato Renzetti
and staged by Giulio Chazalettes.] And that’s one of the most
unlikely of the operas to work because the audience constantly thinks
Shakespeare even when they shouldn’t. It’s based on one of the
Italian sources for Shakespeare.
conductors and directors must know about all these editions and
details, and certainly the singers should learn about the ones in the
opera they’re singing. How much do you expect the public to be
aware of all this scholarship?
PG: In a real
sense, the public doesn’t have to know about the details. The
public is there wanting to have a wonderful performance. I like
to think that performers who are working with better materials will
give better performances because generally the composer knew better
than the people who fixed him up. Generally, if you have
authentic sources, you get musically and dramatically superior
readings. Except for a very few obvious mistakes, I’ve never seen
a secondary source that improves on the original.
BD: How much
does this assume that the operas you’re dealing with are masterpieces?
PG: Since I’m
directly involved with operas of Verdi and Rossini, and to a lesser
extent those of Bellini and Donizetti, I’m willing to argue that at its
proper level, pretty much all of these pieces are masterworks.
These are composers who really knew what they were doing.
BD: Then when
we get used to this kind of scholarship in these works, what happens
when there are productions of lesser operas by weaker composers?
PG: I see
what you’re saying and it’s hard to tell. Certainly if you’re
going to perform an opera by, say, Mercadante, it’s good to know what
he wrote. Then, after you really know the piece, producers will
take liberties. They do that with our editions as well. Our
Rossini editions have all of the secco
recitative, but we don’t really expect people to perform all of
that stuff. There are occasions when it works, others when it
won’t. Lyric will be doing my edition of Tancredi [which would conclude the
1988-89 season] and I’m working closely with them on it. [The
cast would include Marilyn
Horne, Lella Cuberli, Chris Merritt, Kenneth Cox, Sharon Graham,
and Robynne Redmon, conducted by Bruno Bartoletti, staged by John
Copley, and designed by John
Conklin.] One of the first things I did was to cut about half
of the secco recitative.
Rossini wrote all of it – or almost all of it – and I say that because
he didn’t write a single note of the recitative in the Barber of Seville, nor of Cenerentola, nor of Italiana in Algeri. He
assigned them done by someone else in the theater, and we don’t know
who actually wrote them. But an American audience today, even
with the supertitles, is not going to want to sit through all of those secco recitatives.
BD: Let me
ask the big philosophical question. What is the purpose of opera?
mortal injury, and both laugh before returning to the topic]
Opera is an art form on the level of the greatest of art forms, and it
affects us as an audience in ways that are close to us at many
different levels. There is the beauty of the music itself, there
is the drama which I take very seriously, working within the
conventions of the periods. Without too much trouble, an audience
can put itself in different frames of mind in order to be able to
accept different messages. We react to this combination of music
and drama in a very special way.
BD: Do our
reactions evolve still to this day?
PG: Our reactions
change. Remember that for a long time, the public accepted very
little except the very latest operas. The notion that there was a
history of maybe 300 years with each period producing masterpieces was
inconceivable. There was no repertory in the sense that we think
of it. Rossini was one of the very first to have his music
survive. Not a lot of it did, but Barber and Cenerentola and William Tell didn’t completely fall
out of the repertory the way the operas of Cimarosa and Paisielo and
Hasse did. They disappeared completely. The ‘museum
situation’ we have today in opera houses allows
us to see the whole history simultaneously. We have a 17th
century opera one night, a 19th century opera the next, and I hope more
and more, 20th century operas. I’m somewhat encouraged by the way
audiences respond to some new works. Whether they are operas I
personally love or not is not the point. What is important is
that opera houses continue to make an effort to do the new as well as
citing specific titles, are there works being written lately that are
on the level of Rossini and Verdi?
PG: It’s very
difficult to answer that question today. At the time Rossini was
writing, every theater in Italy — major and
often minor — was committed to playing two or
three new operas every year. That amounts to an enormous number
of works, most of which haven’t survived, and rightly so.
shouldn’t dig them up at all?
PG: We can
look at them and see if they’re interesting. Occasionally we will
find one that is. I know a whole bunch of works from the early
19th century that would be delightful in community or college
presentations. More and more, 18th century operas are being dug
up, and we now realize that Vivaldi knew how to write opera, as did
Handel! For a long time, people presumed that they didn’t, but
that just meant we had different criteria of a way theater should work.
should be the percentage of a year’s repertoire of masterworks, and how
many from the next level, and so on?
than talk about percentage, I would say that a theater should strive to
create a balance of different kinds of works. San Francisco will
be opening their season with our edition of Maometto II [with Marilyn Horne,
Simone Alaimo, Chris Merritt, and June Anderson,
conducted by Alberto Zedda, staged by Sonja Frisell,
designed by Nicola Benois, and the prompter was Joseph De Rugeriis],
then they’ll do The Rake’s Progress
of Stravinsky [with Jerry
Hadley, Susan Patterson, William Shimell, and Victoria Vergara,
conducted by John
Mauceri, staged by John Cox, and
designed by David Hockney], and after that Meyerbeer’s L’Africaine. [with Placido Domingo,
Shirley Verrett, Justino Diaz, and Joseph Rouleau, conducted by
Maurizio Arena, and staged by Lotfi Mansouri].
What a great way to start off. Later they’ll do some Puccini and
Wagner, but think of those first three in one season! It’s
delightful. We need to keep up this mixture of the known and
unknown, the old unknown and the new works as well, never forgetting
that there are certain works the public wants to hear over and over
again, but rationally.
BD: What are
some of the strains that contribute to making an opera great?
PG: [Pauses a
moment] I hesitate because different works have different kinds
of strengths. What makes a Mozart work great is different from
what makes a Bel Canto work
great, or indeed a 20th century work great. One of the things
that I look for, and is crucial to me, is the interaction of the music
and the drama. There has to be a rightness about the mix no
matter what the style. I think the greatest works are those that
create characters that we care about, and there are many ways of doing
that. There is also a level of sophistication that exists in the
best operas. It is something that we can come back to again and
again and never feel we have completely grasped. Mozart’s comment
in a letter to the effect that a certain work will be loved by the
public and also respected by musicians speaks to this idea. It
makes a difference when there are depths to be plumbed.
BD: Is the
judgment of history always right about a work?
PG: Oh no,
absolutely not. There are many reasons why history can be
wrong. In the case of Rossini, I think history was particularly
protesting] We never lost sight of the fact that he was a master.
PG: But we
did lose sight of much of his music, particularly his serious
music. I’m not the only one saying this. Il Viaggio a Rheins got three
performances in the 19th century and then disappeared forever as far as
anybody knew. It’s a wonderful work. A great deal of Maometto II became the Siege of Corinth, but to my mind, Maometto II is a much more
interesting work. He made the new work because it couldn’t stand
the way it was. Italian audiences were not ready for it, and by
increasing certain spectacular elements — such
as ballets, and taking out some of the more difficult vocal music
— he could create a work that would function at the Paris
BD: Was he
PG: In one
sense you could say he was. He believed in the work so much that
he wanted to make it function on some level. He didn’t have the
ego of a Wagner, who was willing to wait around for 30 years until the
work would be performed again. But getting back to historical
judgment, in Verdi’s case, with one major exception, history has been
pretty right. I’m delighted that we get to hear more of the works
now because there isn’t a single work that doesn’t have something to
tell us. The 19th century wasn’t ready for Don Carlos, and it’s only in the
last few years that we’re discovering what a masterpiece that is.
With all the versions, that is a very difficult opera for the
edition. There is no question that it should be done in French,
just as Rossini’s Guillaume Tell
should only be done in French. The third one like that is
Donizetti’s La Favorite, and
that’s being prepared, finally. These works were composed in
French and even though Verdi made an Italian version of some parts, the
translation was not by him. He had to fool around with it because
at that time (1868), the idea of doing an opera in French in Italy
didn’t exist. So he had no choice if he wanted his work to be
done there. But everything was translated then — even
BD: Do you
believe in opera-in-translation?
Absolutely. In our vocal scores, we provide singing translations
into English, and some of them are very good. There are times and
places for different kinds of things. A major international house
should do things in the original language, especially with the
supertitles now available.
supertitles mean the death of translations?
PG: I hope
not because it’s a different kind of thing. I adore the
conception of St. Louis Opera and Chicago Opera Theater. They are
absolutely right to do opera in English with direct theatrical values
front and center. I hope there is more and more of that.
The translation should make an effort to duplicate the structure of the
original. Every word doesn’t have to be the same, but the shape
must agree. If the line is, “Felicità, felicità,
felicità, felicità,” (happiness) I don’t want to hear,
“And in my ear, I think it’s right, I’m telling you, I love her
so.” That kind of crap is simply unacceptable.
to keep the general idea in the exact meter] Do you want, “I’m
really glad, I’m really glad, I’m really glad, I’m really glad?”
PG: You need
to hold onto the structure. The music is conceived in that way to
work with the repeated text. People say you don’t understand the
words. Well, you don’t understand every word, but that’s why in
Italian opera there is a lot of text repetition. When Verdi
wanted a word to be understood, what he called the ‘words
that counted’, you bet he made sure you could
understand them. And the fact is that you can. If you sit
in an opera house, the important words come through.
BD: Where is
opera going today?
PG: I think it’s
going in wonderful directions. I’m very positive about the
present state and the future of opera. Some of my friends
constantly lament the lack of singers, but they are really complaining
they were born too late to hear in-person those voices they grew up
with on their 78s. I don’t lament that at all. We have
wonderful singers today both older and younger. There are some
problems in the way our operatic world is constructed, particularly in
the way enormous pressure is put on some singers to fly from one house
to the other, and on others to do too much too soon. But there
are many singers who are not allowing that to happen to them and are
not leading that kind of life, and there are more different works being
performed now than at any time in the last 50 years. The
repertory is probably broader now than it has ever been, and that, to
me, is a great, positive sing. The kind of involvement by
stage-directors that we find today is not something to be afraid
of. There can be abuses and things I don’t approve of or don’t
like, but the fact that directors are taking opera seriously is
something that I treasure. To have Sir Peter Hall working
with Marriage of Figaro and Salome, or Lubimov doing Lulu gave Chicago wonderful
experiences. Ponnelle is also very exciting, and even though I
don’t like some things as much as others, I respect his ideas, and
we’ve worked together at the Rossini festival in Pesaro. But he
has given so much of his time to opera right along, whereas the others
I mentioned work mostly in straight theater. Peter Sellars gets
me mad at times, but one of the things theater can do is get us mad
sometimes! I don’t mind that as long as he’s not a charlatan and
directs without thinking about the work at all. Then I’m not just
disappointed, I’m angry, especially when the opera is essentially
unknown and can be ruined by a production that doesn’t make any sense.
BD: Do you
think opera works well on audio recordings?
Recordings have done wonders to make operas known to an enormous
public. I grew up listening to operas on records, but I also grew
up standing at the Met, and that combination was wonderful. In
recent years I’ve done less listening and more reading of scores and
trying to go to performances. But the recordings, and now videos,
are wonderful tools. It’s not ideal, but it’s brought opera to so
many parts of the country and the world, and to people who have never
had the opportunity to go in person. More people can enjoy a
broadcast than have ever heard the piece since it was written.
BD: Is opera
PG: I can’t
answer that in any serious way, so I won’t begin to try.
BD: OK, then,
from another angle... Where is the balance in opera between the
artistic achievement and an entertainment value?
clearly always is in a state of flux. I hope that treating these
works with the utmost seriousness and respect and really trying to
understand them makes them more entertaining. Our simple
enjoyment of them is increased the more we take them seriously.
If we treat them as trifles, they seem to be just that — trifles.
Attitudes have gone through tremendous changes. Suddenly the
depths of the classic period, for instance, are very real to us.
They weren’t real to every generation.
BD: Were they
real to those who wrote the music?
PG: Oh yes.
advice do you have for someone who wants to write operas today?
PG: First of
all, to know opera, to know as much as they can, to hear and to see, to
know theater. All the great opera composers were people who knew
theater. Verdi went to every play he could get to. Wagner
directed all kinds of operas while he was in Riga, getting to know the
theater, what it meant and how it operated. Being involved is
crucial. The choice of libretto and selecting what to represent
is fundamental. We live in a society in which so many things
coexist, that the style a composer chooses to frame the musical ideas
doesn’t have to be one thing or another. One can work in a wide
range of stylistic universes, but the important thing is to master the
problems of music and text. Verdi told one of his librettists
that they could not make words or music, but they had to make it all.
BD: Is this
idea of an opera house having a composer-in-residence a good one?
PG: It’s a
very good idea. There should be similar programs
everywhere. The use of workshopping pieces is very important, and
I’d like to see much more of it. But the composers shouldn’t be
in the limelight, and the public should not expect that they will
produce masterpieces. They should be able to go about their
business, and learn and work with the theater, and produce things and
have them performed. But the expense of mounting an opera
behooves managements to look for only great works. With
imagination, an opera can be staged without breaking the company’s
BD: Thank you
for working so hard on all of this material for us.
PG: I’m very
fortunate that I came along at a time when the performers are around
who take it seriously and perform it well, and when the publishing
houses are interested in these scores... and when Lee Freeman is
willing to make it financially feasible to do these editions.
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
© 1988 Bruce Duffie
This conversation was recorded in Chicago on June 22,
1988. Portions were broadcast on WNIB the following October,
and again in 1996.
The transcription was made and published in The Opera Journal in September of
1991. It was slightly re-edited and posted on this website in 2016.
To see a full list (with links) of interviews which have been
transcribed and posted on this website, click here.
Bruce Duffie was with WNIB, Classical 97 in Chicago from 1975
its final moment as a classical station in February of 2001. His
interviews have also appeared in various magazines and journals since
and he now continues his broadcast series on WNUR-FM, as well
on Contemporary Classical Internet Radio.
You are invited to visit his website
for more information about his work, including selected transcripts of
other interviews, plus a full list of his guests. He would also
to call your attention to the photos and information about his
grandfather, who was a pioneer in the automotive field more than a
century ago. You may also send him E-Mail
with comments, questions and suggestions.