Retirement of Dr. Mary Jeanne van Appledorn

The recent announcement of Dr. Mary Jeanne van Appledorn brought back a flood of memories going back many years to when I was an undergraduate and onto graduate school. As an undergraduate taking summer classes at Texas Tech in 1980, I signed up for composition with Dr. van Appledorn, only later to discover that I was the 2nd generation Tucker taking a class from her. My mother had her for music theory many years before! Being young, skinny, with more hair than wisdom, I was taken aback by her shining and unique personality, her musical brilliance and insights, and her robust passion for sound and all things musical, but found myself initially frightened to express my insidious opinions of music in front of this amazing woman. It was only later I learned she always honored other people and respected all of us in spite of our many flaws.

Each lecture that summer was an adventure into the unknown as she examined the beauty of Debussy or Machaut or Mozart, discussed bird calls, related color to sound, and demystified the elements that go into a composition or a musical event. Her wide range of emotions would often turn on a dime as we explored register changes, melody, harmony, rhythm, folk songs, modes, jazz, and popular styles. One minute would be a discussion of the micro-elements of a composition including articulation, dynamics, and subtle rhythmic alterations, only to be thrown across the universe to a new discussion on philosophy of sound or what formal organization can do for a piece.

I recall, one day, laughing with near abandon and with our teacher as she experimented with fun and unusual sounds on the piano. The next day, I rushed to class anxiously anticipating more frivolity only to find a darker personality in front of me. Clouds had rolled in that morning as a West Texas storm gathered forces for an inevitable thunderous clap of lightning and torrential but brief rain. The music from her hands that morning was ominous, dark, and foreboding, and we learned that music can represent a remarkably diverse display of experiences. We left class early that day due to the storm and the pervading darkness of the day but only after hearing a sad story of the death of Dr. van Appledorn's parakeet.

Her teaching style of examining the details, being relentless on expectations, comprehensive in her presentations, and constantly inspirational in her delivery is manifested in her devotion to students. Although she absolutely insisted on accuracy of assignments, she never let the minutiae interfere with the overall product of making music. Applying this practice to life, I learned to be fastidious with the details of my job, my family, and my projects without ever sacrificing the higher goals and purpose. From her I know to think long-range but take the small steps necessary toward the final outcome.

Years later as a doctoral student, I once again was privileged to take classes with Dr. van Appledorn, and once again I was drawn into her musical world, leaving the class a better musician and a better person. We cried with her as she wept with sorrow at the loss of great musicians such as Howard Hanson and James Sudduth. We rejoiced with her over the magnitude and beauty of Liebestod from Tristan and Isolde. We laughed with her at the musical antics of Mussourgsky, and mostly, we joined her in her musical jet and found ourselves working and composing at breakneck speed with greater expression and power than anytime previously. I recall the day being enthralled as she described herself as an Eastman student sitting outside Howard Hanson's office listening to him compose his 2nd Symphony. Ironically, and without her knowledge, realized I had done the same with her.

Her unique style, creative spirit (how can I forget the day I entered her office to ask about a piece she had written, only to have her scatter tapes and music everywhere as she searched for a recording and a score. We somehow found a space on the floor and listened to the piece, pointing out fascinating spots in the music, with the constant crackling energy she applied to everything she did), emotional depth, and unpredictable reactions only made her that much more charming, giving the students something to discuss and admire. And, for her, it was about the students. She loved her students and gave of her time, energy, and knowledge to help her students be successful.

While I am not the gifted musician nor composer that Dr. van Appledorn is, and am certainly not the teacher, I am, like hundreds or thousands, a product of her genius. Although she never gave herself credit as a pianist (she frequently disparaged her small hands), she was an exquisite performer with unusual attention to detail serving the greater musical goals.

In composition, it is difficult to find a more varied and prolific composer alive today. Each piece of hers is new, challenging, expressive, well-crafted, and emotionally powerful. Seeing her in the hallway one day, I asked her what she was holding and she showed me her latest composition. I looked at it and asked her if it were a tonal piece. With a twinkle in her eye, she lowered her voice and leaned toward me saying, "I'm not sure, but it does have a lot of tones!"

But while her music, her performing, and her teaching are of the highest order, it is her passion and inspiration of students that has made the most significant impact on those of us privileged to study with her. A small lady in stature, yet a giant in gifts and musical strength, she may be retiring but she will never be forgotten. On behalf of everyone, I say thanks, Dr. van Appledorn for your devotion to us and your belief in us. You have made a profound difference in our lives.