Pianist Philip Sabransky
A Conversation with Bruce Duffie
In mid-November of 1994, I had the pleasure of spending a few minutes
with Philip Sabransky. Our discussion centered on his recent recording
which was made on the Horowitz piano, as well as other aspects of his career.
Bruce Duffie: You mentioned that a pianist today
has to have a wide range of repertoire. Is it more now than twenty,
thirty, fifty or a hundred years ago?
Philip Sabransky: I am thinking about that a lot
now, and it’s created a transitional and creative period for me.
I’ve been told by several musicians at various levels in the business, very
different and conflicting things about what is important to do in music and
in your repertoire. I can remember having a conversation with Alfred Brendel at Orchestra
Hall, and he asked me what my specialty was, and if I had one. I
thought about getting one, and he suggested Mendelssohn, which was not
a bad suggestion.
BD: He implied that you have to have a specialty?
Sabransky: Right, and I’ve had several conversations
with other successful and outstanding musicians who feel this way.
Many artists do specialize these days. Mitsuko Uchida specializes
in Mozart, and it’s worked very well for her. But one is risking
quite a lot by specializing in one composer, especially if it’s not the
one that works for you.
BD: Is it not good to specialize in the instrument
and its literature, rather than in a composer and his ideas?
Sabransky: Absolutely! That’s what I’m thinking
about, and the literature of the piano is tremendous. It is all-encompassing,
not only just in the area of what we think of as classical music today
— the Renaissance, the Baroque through the
twentieth century — but
also in its ability to be useful in jazz, and pop, and rock, and all the
different kinds of statements of cultures that have come together in this
country. They are all being performed, and all are very important to
different listeners. So, what I’m thinking about, and what I have been
doing, is a concept which I call ‘designer programming’. My first CD
is based on that. It’s based on the salon style of performance, and
it’s an overview of the romantic repertoire, but it has a specific listener
in mind, as opposed to just simply a style of music, or a single composer.
BD: Is this a record that you put on and listen
to while you’re eating dinner, or is it something you put on and listen
to while you’re concentrating on it?
Sabransky: I would like to think that you can do both,
and that’s exactly what I have in mind. It’s music which can be listened
to in many different frames of mind. All music can be listened to
like that, and if it’s a good enough performance, which hopefully this is,
you have that ability to listen to it in any situation.
BD: Even to minds that are going at lightning
Sabransky: Even in that case it could be applicable.
But the idea that I’m trying to have is about this communication
with my audience. This is more than just presenting a program which
I have thought about, and that I like and want to play. It is music
that I think is interesting. This is something that orchestras and
musicians are grappling with today. Perhaps we need to be niche players,
and we need to address specific listeners and specific audiences, but the
most successful players will be the ones that can do this over a wider range
of audiences. For instance, when you have a major symphony orchestra,
like the Chicago Symphony, they are so wonderful and so capable that they
can play anything from movie scores to very serious classical works, modern
works, and even pops concerts. Their version of The Stars and
Stripes Forever brings you to your feet because their musicianship is
BD: It’s their virtuosity.
BD: What is your virtuosity?
Sabransky: What I am trying to bring about is a combination
of the various influences that I have experienced in my life, which range
from American pop to Euro-centric very serious classical music. When
I say that I’m thinking about ‘designer programming’, I’ve been playing some
programs in smaller settings in which I have a central host who has friends,
colleagues, and people either in the business world that they have been
working with, or something more intimate with family, where I have a sense
of who I’m playing for, and what they like, and the atmosphere of the evening.
I bring these things together, and I will program specifically for this
audience. It’s been very effective.
BD: Just as the caterer will prepare food for
a certain gathering?
Sabransky: I hate to think of it in that way, but in
a sense that’s what it is. It’s just as a person who plans an evening
or an event, and thinks about what it is, who is going to be there, what
the intention of the evening is, and then brings it all together.
BD: Are you the event, or is the evening the event,
or is the event the event?
Sabransky: I’d like to think of myself as the high point
of the evening! [Both laugh] Whether or not I would consider
myself the entire event depends on what the host has in mind when bringing
together the evening, and is paying me my commission. For example,
in one that I did recently, the repertoire ranged from the first few works
on my CD — which
are Debussy’s The Girl with the Flaxen Hair (which is the title
of the disc), the Rachmaninov Prelude in G, and the Chopin Fantasie
Impromptu, which seems to work well in many circumstances. Then
in the middle of the program, I was playing k.d. lang and a Beatles tune
in my own arrangements. It also gives me an opportunity to play some
of my own music. I like to compose, and I’ve been composing since
I was in my teens. I call my music ‘post-Russian romantic American
pop’, trying to bring into the picture all of the various influences which
are unavoidably part of my musical language.
BD: Do you write for an occasion, or are you writing
because you have to write?
Sabransky: I’m writing because I have to write. Then
I choose from what I’ve written, finding something which might fit a particular
BD: When you go to someone’s home, or a small
banquet hall, you’re going to be faced with different instruments, just
as you would in any concert hall. I’m making the assumption that
the variability of the piano is going to be much wider than if you were
giving a concert at Orchestra Hall. Are you able to cope with all
of these changes, and make the instantaneous adjustments?
Sabransky: One has to. That is probably the most
difficult thing a pianist has to face, and that is one of the wonderful
things about my CD, which was done on the Horowitz piano. It is
such a wonderful instrument, and in such finely honed shape. Everything
was attended to very carefully. The piano spoiled me! The
disc was recorded live, so the majority of the music on the disc is in its
original live form. We sometimes would go over it once or twice,
just to make sure, and I don’t want to spoil any illusions. I had
a full day on the piano, first practicing on it, then playing the performance,
and then having a few run-throughs afterwards. When I finished, I
was spoiled. It is such a marvelous instrument.
BD: Have you played on other instruments that
come close to that one?
Sabransky: Not really, I have to say.
BD: It’s far and away above all the others?
Sabransky: Yes, I would say that. I don’t know
whether all pianists would agree, but that is the way I felt.
BD: Is it perhaps that you had about the same strength
and touch Horowitz had, so that it was comfortable for you?
Sabransky: I was very surprised. I expected to
have to wrestle with this piano. I thought that there would be a
stiffness or heaviness to the action because it seemed like he was so
powerful. He got this breathy sound in the bass. I imagined
the strength in this man’s hands and fingers, but to my surprise, it was
like butter. The action was so gentle that you could just slightly
depress a key and get a sound. There was a very subtle pianissimo,
or even triple piano sound just by depressing the key ever so slightly.
That created this wide range of sound. I began to realize this
was his genius. He created this instrument, and this is partially
how he created this tremendous variety of sound, and color, and tonal quality
when he played it.
BD: He had everything at his command, but the
variety was in his hands and arms?
Sabransky: Yes, yes, exactly.
BD: Do you think he would have been able to do
the same kind of thing on another piano, or was it peculiar to that instrument?
Sabransky: That is what was behind his desire to have
his own instrument, and to have this instrument in the kind of condition
that it is in.
BD: As a younger pianist, you have to make adjustments
all the time for the different instruments you use.
Sabransky: Right, which is horrible sometimes.
It’s a terrible thing that the pianist has to go through.
BD: But once in a while, it must be a wonderful
thing when you come to a fine instrument.
Sabransky: Yes, and when you play with a major orchestra,
they have a music director and a staff which has gone to great lengths
to find the best instruments. That is when you often have a very fine
instrument to play on, but I still wish I could afford to have my own
instrument to bring around with me... as well as a personal physician, a
shrink, my wife, and the entire entourage that one could travel with when
you’re in the league of a Horowitz! [Much laughter]
* * *
BD: Has the life of the wandering musician become
Sabransky: That’s a very good question. Indeed it
has become very difficult, and that is because the audiences are changing.
There are fewer opportunities, especially for a soloist, and especially
in a recital format. In the traditional recital format, there is
a lot of truth to it being complicated, and that is why someone such as
myself has to become creative, and think about what exactly a musician
can do to survive, and to prosper in this environment.
BD: [With mock horror] You mean, you actually
want to prosper???
BD: You don’t just want to give Great Art?
Sabransky: Absolutely not! [More laughter]
BD: You’ve already indicated this a little bit
by your choice of repertoire, but where is the balance between an artistic
achievement and an entertainment value?
Sabransky: I’m kind of radical on that issue. I
believe that music ultimately is entertainment, although it is created
as an art form with the artistic seed, and with the inspiration that is
behind what someone might call Art and Great Art. What I have found
hard to do in my life is define what Great Art is.
BD: Do you know it when you hear it or see it?
[Vis-à-vis the program shown at right, see my interviews with
Kenneth Jean, Daniel Barenboim, and
Sir Georg Solti.]
Sabransky: I know what I think Great Art is, but very
often that is very different from what someone else thinks is Great Art.
This is another aspect of the changing face of music, and performance,
and art in the twentieth century.
BD: But you’re in a position where you are presenting
this as Great Art. Whether you think it’s all Great Art or not,
you’re presenting it, so presumably you’re giving it that quality.
Sabransky: I’m not sure that I am presenting what I
think is Great Art. What I strive to present is a great performance
of a particular work of art, and there is a difference in my mind.
Thinking of art in this way allows a personal approach from a more objective
point of view. If one insists that the art a person likes is Great
Art, then it loses a sense of objectivity. What happens for me as
a performer is that I’m getting old enough now to have experienced the
swing of the pendulum in terms of what I think is great, and what is not.
What I thought twenty years ago, and what I think now, and my conception
of what Great Art is, is always changing.
BD: Is it expanding or contracting?
Sabransky: It’s expanding. What I’m finding is
that the expression of human emotion can be achieved in so many different
ways, and given the mental equipment that we have, and the perception
that we have of these emotional conditions that we live with and are trying
to express, there are infinite ways to go about realizing them in any art
work. The nice thing about music, as someone else told me recently,
is that what happens with music is that you are required to step into the
art work on its own terms, and you can do this without the subjectivity
of someone else telling you how to do it. You may decide to listen
to someone else telling you how you should approach a work of art, or how
you should look at it, but you don’t have to. It involves giving up
of oneself, and getting involved in a kind of religious doctrine and fanaticism
that it involves. Then, in order to really understand what the religion
is all about, you have to accept the principles, and live by them to a
certain extent. You can do this with music, and with all works of
art. You can give yourself up to them, but you don’t have to accept
this doctrine. You don’t have to have the same brainwashing.
You can move into it on your own terms.
BD: How far have you taken this into your own
personal beliefs? I’m assuming that because you’ve said it is about
worshiping at the shrine of music, this is what you have devoted your
Sabransky: I would move in the other direction.
What it has done is created a sense of atheism. It has created an ability
to not have to cling to one set of principles, meaning the music itself,
including one particular composer, or one particular style.
BD: You embrace all music, and all the styles?
Sabransky: Right. If you can approach them on these
terms, they indeed can be a rewarding experience. That’s why we have
the pluralism that we have today in this society, because it’s rewarding
for people. The rock music and rap audience get the same emotional intensity
that the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven gives to a classical audience.
BD: Should we try to get the rap audience to understand
Sabransky: Ideally, I think it would be nice, yes.
BD: Shall we get the Beethoven audience to understand
Sabransky: Ideally, yes, I think so.
BD: Great! Now we’ve horrified everyone.
Sabransky: That’s part of accepting the Global Village
that everyone talks about, with the crossing of borders, and the ability
to understand cultures. It’s probably very different than the idea
which has been so controversial when it was expressed in the recent book
The Bell Curve, by Richard J. Herrnstein.
|Measured by the media attention and controversy
it has attracted, The Bell Curve by Richard Herrnstein and Charles
Murray was the publishing event of the decade.
The book presents a disturbing and highly pessimistic view of trends
in American society. The United States, according to the authors, is rapidly
becoming a caste society stratified by IQ, with an underclass mired at
the bottom, an elite firmly ensconced at the top, and only a limited scope
for public policy to boost the disadvantaged. But the bulk of the attention
and controversy that swirled around the book focused not on its sweeping
vision of what is happening to U.S. society, but on the authors’ application
of their theories about IQ to the question of race.
Charles Murray complained in the Wall Street Journal last December
that the critics’ focus was too narrow. We sympathize with Murray’s frustration
over the content and tone of some of the criticism that the book received.
But the book may have fared even worse had the discussion of race and genetics
not distracted attention from some serious problems of analysis and logic
in its main arguments. There are indeed some useful messages in the book.
But there is also much wrong with it.
[* * *]
While most criticism of The Bell Curve has focused on the
authors’ claim that racial differences in IQ test scores are, in part,
genetic, many of the book’s most important claims have escaped scrutiny.
They shouldn’t. The book’s basic premise–that IQ is becoming the decisive
force in determining economic rewards and social position–is demonstrably
false. Herrnstein and Murray’s evidence on the difference between black
and white test scores in various occupations does not show what they imply
it does–massive reverse discrimination. In fact, their own evidence showing
blacks and whites with the same test scores earn the same wages contradicts
such a claim. Further, differences between blacks and whites in annual
earnings, and the employment discrimination revealed in employment audits,
suggest that blacks continue to be disadvantaged in the labor market. Because
the authors sharply exaggerate the importance of I.Q, the book is excessively
pessimistic about the potential role of carefully selected government
programs in improving the lives of the disadvantaged. In all the controversy
over the authors’ claims about race and intelligence, these points should
not get lost.
[The opening and closing statements of a long article
T. Dickens, Charles L. Schultze, and
Thomas J. Kane, posted June 1, 1995, on brookings.com]
BD: Everyone must make choices for themselves,
and you have obviously made some choices for yourself. How do you
make those choices?
Sabransky: It depends on what is important to me at that
point in time. My choices may change...
BD: Do you think your repertoire will change?
Sabransky: Yes, and that is what allows me to design
the program, and enjoy the program. I identify with my audience, and
relate to them, and then design this program with the same kind of feelings
that they might be having about the music, whatever they may be.
* * *
BD: If you could design your life any way you wanted,
would you give more concerts, fewer concerts, or more diverse concerts?
Sabransky: Definitely more concerts. I would like
to work a lot more, and that’s part of what we talked about earlier, in
that there are fewer opportunities. Ideally, I would like to revive
the recital situation, and do so through this kind of program on my CD.
It’s no longer so important to have three major sonatas on a program,
and to display one’s ability to the utmost level of virtuosity of understanding.
We need to get back to relating to the audience, and understand why
they come to hear a concert.
BD: Why do you think they come to hear a concert?
Sabransky: The bottom line is they come to be entertained.
BD: Are they going to be entertained more by three
big sonatas, or one sonata, and a k.d. lang song, and some transcriptions?
Sabransky: It depends on the audience! [Both
laugh] What you’re seeing in the programming of the major symphonies
is some of this niche playing, where they expect a certain audience to come
to a certain style of program. They might even develop and design
a series around a certain style of music which connects to a certain type
of listener. That might be all new music from the twentieth century,
or it might be the romantic works, or popular works, or it might even include
music outside of the traditional classical definition, and move into more
BD: Assuming that you are this all-encompassing
kind of artist, how do you decide if you’re going to play this or that?
You have to spend a great deal of time and energy learning it, getting
it into your fingers, and getting it into your mind.
Sabransky: The timing is involved, and it becomes
more difficult trying to design a program for a larger audience, as well
as an audience of which you don’t really know their make-up. I haven’t
really thought too much about how one can approach knowing a larger audience
better, and that is one of the things which is delaying going into a second
CD. I’m trying to take this concept of the designer program, and put
it into something which I can have in fixed form, and not have to worry about
redesigning any programs. It would need to have some other source of
affluence that we touched on earlier.
BD: Rather than just have each CD be a different
program that you designed?
Sabransky: The idea is to have each CD designed as
a program, but the question is what program? What audience am I speaking
to and playing for? Then I would figure out how to design the CD toward
BD: Rather than just using the previous existing
BD: I would think people would enjoy it if you
just have a few pre-existing designs available.
Sabransky: Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.
That would also work.
BD: [Musing] Phil comes to the office party
and plays, and you can go home with the CD of what you heard.
Sabransky: Exactly. Wonderful. It’s like
going to see a rock concert or a musical, and then going home with the t-shirt
and the disc. [Both laugh]
BD: Merchandising, then, is not a dirty word for
Sabransky: No, I don’t think so. The Three Tenors
are equally great on their very sophisticated and serious recordings of
less accessible works as they are on their fabulous seller discs.
There’s a lot of merchandising going on there, a lot of marketing, and I
say why not? You develop audiences that way. We have, in this
day and age, the wonderful ability to reach millions of people with a single
performance, so why not do that?
BD: If you reach millions of people with a single
performance, does that leave a lot of other performers out in the cold?
Sabransky: But that’s not the spirit of capitalism!
BD: So, you’re really trying to make capitalism
and artistry exist side by side... or are they already existing intermingled?
Sabransky: Ultimately, I would like to make my living
entirely as a musician, so why shouldn’t I approach what I do, my work,
as do many people, with the idea of creating the best product that I know
how to create, as well marketing that product, and making it as successful
as I can?
BD: Do you think Debussy enjoys being a product?
Sabransky: I can’t speak for Debussy. It’s like
trying to decide if Mozart would have liked a particular interpretation
of a performance. Maybe some of the giants of composition would have
enjoyed it, and some others wouldn’t.
BD: This is the niche you’re carving out for yourself,
and you’re happy with that, and the direction you’re going?
Sabransky: Yes, absolutely.
BD: Do you also do some teaching?
Sabransky: Yes, and again, I’m a little more commercial
in my sense of teaching.
BD: How so? Are you not just teaching kids
to play the piano, or students to write music?
Sabransky: I have some adult students that I enjoy
very much. I have two doctors and two attorneys, and there is a
quite a bit of talent in two of the four students. I won’t say which
BD: Oh, no, no, no, but I assume you’re not trying
to turn them into concert pianists. You’re trying to turn them into
enjoyers of music.
Sabransky: Exactly, and in my opinion, this is the very
thing. Teaching a student on that level creates the growth of audiences,
and the enthusiasm for the music. It does not have to be perfection
for them. I often wonder who the perfection is for when we create
the performances that we try to make so perfect. [Answering his
own question] Certainly, it’s for ourselves as musicians.
It’s for the creator and the recreator.
BD: But if you’re performing for other people,
shouldn’t you strive to make it the very best you possibly can?
Sabransky: Yes, absolutely, and that is where the professional
differs from the amateur. But it’s very important for the amateur
to have this in their lives. There is an inspiration that one can
transmit, and that can have a ripple effect in a community. That’s
what I’m getting at when I say I enjoy the teaching. Also, it’s very
nice for me, as I get something in return. There’s good conversation
and there are good comments. You have a relationship around the music,
but the relationship involves much more than just the music. It’s
a very rewarding experience, which is different from the traditional ideal
of teaching the child and the young artist to become a great performer.
BD: It seems that you’re quite content with it
all, and that’s good.
BD: I trust that will permeate your performances?
Sabransky: I think so.
* * *
BD: How do you divide your career between concerto
appearances and solo recitals?
Sabransky: It’s getting harder and harder to play solo
recitals in the bigger venues. There are very few opportunities these
days, so the majority of the serious performances are in the concerto situation.
That’s one of the reasons I have this desire
to do things in a smaller setting. This includes listening to the audience,
listening to the consumer, and finding out what we need to do to revitalize
what we have to offer. This idea seems to be working very well, and
at some point in the future, as the pendulum swings again, it will be effective
to bring this style of performance into a larger hall and to a larger audience.
BD: But then, would you not lose a lot of the
Sabransky: Right, which is just one of the things that
you would have to deal with.
BD: Despite (or because of) all this, is playing the
Sabransky: [Laughs] I can have a great time playing
the piano under certain conditions. I love to play the piano, there’s
no question about that. I love music, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing
it. But is it fun? It’s fun when I feel like I’m playing well,
and when the audience is responding. It becomes harder when I don’t
feel like I’m playing well, but as long as the audience is responding,
I’m not entirely upset. There are days when these things don’t come
together, and then it’s more difficult. But, in general I have a great
time playing, and I enjoy playing these different styles, and listening to
the audience, and exchanging ideas with people about music.
BD: I hope you always retain this enthusiasm.
[Vis-à-vis the item shown at right, see my interview with
Sabransky: Thank you. I always like to talk about
the influences of my youth, and the fact that my father is a long-standing
member of the Chicago Symphony. He was, and still is a tremendous
support to me, and has provided a tremendous amount of musical guidance...
as do many of the Symphony members in chamber music settings.
BD: Did you ever feel that you were being forced
into a musical career, rather than into medicine or insurance?
Sabransky: [Laughs] If it were up to my father,
I would be in medicine! Sure, I went through periods of time where
I wasn’t sure why I was in music. If you have this ability, you grow
into it. I read a wonderful book recently called Body and Soul
by Frank Conroy [shown below]. It’s a fictional story about
the life of a concert pianist, and there’s a little note at the end by
Peter Serkin. Serkin communicated quite a bit with Conroy, and they
talked about what it’s like coming into the consciousness of the concert
pianist, of the musician, and the different feelings that you experience.
You have this ability, which very few people have. You grow up
in the neighborhood of a city, and you’re maybe one of two people close
by that do anything like it. It’s very difficult coming of age having
this ability. I grew up in Rogers Park [at the North-East corner
of Chicago]. I was the only kid in the neighborhood that stayed
in to practice for an hour or two, instead of going out to play ball and
just hang out. You have this sense that sometimes it just doesn’t
seem right, but in general I feel I’ve grown into a very comfortable sense
of who I am, and what I do with music.
BD: Are you able to combine this with a family
Sabransky: Yes. I have a wonderful wife of almost
thirteen years now, and two children.
BD: They must be very patient to put up with an
Sabransky: [Laughs] We talk about that all the
time. The question becomes, do I close the piano, or do they close
the door when they’re watching cartoons in the morning?
BD: [Trying to be helpful] Get them an earpiece
for the television.
Sabransky: Yes, but that’s too easy. [Much laughter]
Then you can’t fight about it! The logical other side of the
argument would be to get one of these new pianos that you can use with
earphones, particularly when practicing the rap music!
BD: [Musing again] “My
daddy’s a concert pianist who plays rap music!”
Sabransky: Right! That’s an interesting concept.
BD: I hope they’re proud of you, because you
seem to be having a good career.
Sabransky: I think so, yes.
BD: I wish you lots of continued success.
Sabransky: Thank you very much. It’s been a pleasure
talking to you.
Frank Conroy (January 15, 1936 – April 6, 2005) was an American author.
He published five books, including the highly acclaimed memoir Stop-Time.
Published in 1967, this ultimately made Conroy a noted figure in the literary
world. The book was nominated for the National Book Award.
Conroy graduated from Haverford College, and was director of the
influential Iowa Writers' Workshop at the University of Iowa for 18 years,
from 1987 until 2005, where he was also F. Wendell Miller Professor. He
was previously the director of the literature program at the National Endowment
for the Arts from 1982 to 1987.
Conroy's published works include the memoir Stop-Time (1967);
a collection of short stories, Midair (1985); a novel, Body and
Soul (1993), which is regarded as one of the finest evocations of the
experience of being a musician; a collection of essays and commentaries,
Dogs Bark, but the Caravan Rolls On: Observations Then and Now
(2002); and a travelogue, Time and Tide: A Walk Through Nantucket
(2004). His fiction and nonfiction have appeared in such journals as The
New Yorker, Esquire, GQ, Harper's Magazine,
Glamour, Parenting, and Partisan Review. He was named a Knight of
the Order of Arts and Letters by the French government.
In addition to writing, Conroy was an accomplished jazz pianist, winning
a Grammy Award in 1986 for liner notes. His book Dogs Bark, But the Caravan
Rolls On: Observations Then and Now includes articles that describe jamming
with Charles Mingus and with Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman. The latter session
occurred when Conroy was writing about the Rolling Stones for Esquire.
Conroy had arrived at a mansion for the interview, found nobody there,
and eventually sat down at a grand piano and began to play. Someone wandered
in, sat down at the drums, and joined in with accomplished jazz drumming;
then a fine jazz bassist joined in. They turned out to be Watts and Wyman,
whom Conroy did not recognize until they introduced themselves after the
© 1994 Bruce Duffie
This conversation was recorded in Chicago on November 14, 1994.
Portions were broadcast on WNIB in 1998. This transcription
was made in 2022, and posted on
this website at that time. My
thanks to British soprano Una Barry for
her help in preparing this website presentation.
To see a full list (with links) of interviews which have been transcribed
on this website, click here. To
read my thoughts on editing these interviews for print, as well
as a few other interesting observations, click here.
* * * *
Bruce Duffie was with WNIB, Classical
97 in Chicago from 1975
until its final moment as a classical station
in February of 2001. His interviews have
also appeared in various magazines and journals since
1980, and he now continues his broadcast series on WNUR-FM, as
well as on Contemporary
Classical Internet Radio.
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 like 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.