Our hero . . . This photo of the Cleveland Orchestra's principal oboist was blown up and made into a poster by an anonymous admirer at the John Mack Oboe Camp.
Editor's Note: I am indebted to John Mack and to Wilma Salisbury, music editor of The Cleveland Plain Dealer, for permission to reprint this account of the oboe camp. The article first appeared on Sunday, September 12.
There has never been anything quite like it.
There have been oboe workshops. There have been special oboe sessions at music schools. There have been concentrated study periods with renowned oboe teachers.
But there has never before been a summer camp devoted exclusively to the oboe.
The First Annual John Mack Oboe Camp was held last June as an experiment. But to nearly everyone's surprise, the "duck camp" (as one participant labeled the gathering of quacking oboes) turned out to be a roaring success.
The purpose of the one-week venture was to give a large group of oboists an opportunity to work intensively with Mack, principal oboist of the Cleveland Orchestra, chairman of oboe studies at the Cleveland Institute of Music and one of the most sought-after oboe teachers in the country.
The unique idea was dreamed up by Joseph Robinson, faculty member at North Carolina School of the Arts, former principal oboist of the Atlanta Symphony and a long-time friend, pupil, and golfing partner of Mack.
While most summer music camps are planned months in advance, the oboe experiment was arranged in only about eight weeks lead time.
Having attracted 74 oboists to study with Mack last year during "Oboe Day in North Carolina," Robinson was confident that he had chosen a magnetic teacher. With high hopes, he engaged Mack, sent out brochures and reserved "Wildacres," a rustic 1,400-acre wilderness conference center on a mountaintop near Little Switzerland, N.C.
Aiming for a maximum of 62 applicants, Robinson was astonished and delighted to receive a total of 67 registrations.
The participating oboists came from 23 states and four Canadian provinces. One traveled by bus from San Francisco, a three-day trip. The players ranged in age from 15 to 42 and in ability from inept amateur to talented professional.
Some were high school pupils with limited performing experience. Others were teachers who had played with symphony orchestras in Europe, Canada and the United States. Two were physicians. None were members of Mack's present class at the institute of music, although several had studied with him previously.
The duck camp opened with that rarity of rarities: a full recital by Mack.
Robinson had insisted upon this special feature.
"If you show them you can play," Robinson told Mack, "then they will listen to what you have to say."
Mack more than showed them. He overwhelmed them with a virtuoso performance of music by Bach, Schumann, Britten and Paladihle. The stunner, though, was his playing of Berio's "Sequenza VII," the solo version of "Chemins IV," which Mack had performed so brilliantly under the composer's direction last spring in Severance Hall.
The public radio station from Wake Forest University recorded the recital, and afterwards, while the audience of oboists was sipping champagne, Mack gave a radio interview in which he talked about the three musicians who had influenced him most: Marcel Tabuteau, Pablo Casals and George Szell.
Although the opening event was a treat for the student oboists, the rest of the week was hard work.
Each morning, the players sweated through three hours of studies in articulation, phrasing, ornamentation and tone building. Each study was played by one individual in front of the entire camp.
The classroom approach not only spared Mack from having to repeat the same information 67 times, but also gave students the experience of playing before their peers and learning from one another's mistakes.
After a free period to practice, play golf, hike in the mountains or consult with the resident repairman, the oboists gave afternoon recitals. In the evening, they went through mock orchestral auditions, taking turns playing difficult passages from symphonic literature under the scrutiny of their teacher.
The final morning was devoted to a workshop on every oboist's favorite subject: reedmaking.
On the first day of the camp, one of the oboists had suggested to Mack that the reed workshop be held at the beginning of the week so that everyone would play better.
Mack considered the suggestion, then rejected it.
In his hierarchy of musical values, the music comes first, the oboe second and the reed third. He maintained his priorities during the camp, and with good reason.
The night before the reed workshop (which was titled "Oboe Reedmaking - Mr. Mack tells all!"), everyone stayed up until 3 a.m. partying, exchanging camp photos and getting Mack's autograph on recordings and pictures.
The next day, many oboists missed breakfast, but all showed up for the reed workshop promptly at 9 a.m.
Although the camp was strictly serious most of the time, the week had its moments of comic relief.
When Mack returned to his room after his recital the first night of camp, he found on his door a huge poster of himself. The picture was a blow-up of a Plain Dealer photo made two years ago at Severance Hall just after Mack had performed the Strauss Oboe Concerto with the Cleveland Orchestra.
At the instant the picture was taken, the soloist was suffering from a splitting headache and a bad case of exhaustion. His lips were frozen in place, and he had a glazed look in his eye. When someone said, "Hold out your reed box, and smile," he did so - like a zombie.
The resulting shot has never been one of his favorites.
At the oboe camp, Mack was unable to discover who had done him the favor of having the poster made. But on the last day, the work of art vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.
Another camp event that put Mack somewhat uncomfortably in the spotlight was a bedtime story session each evening from 10:45 to midnight. The camp calendar listed the event as "Tabuteau stories and refreshments."
Tabuteau, Mack's teacher, was a colorful character and the subject of many stories that those who knew the Frenchman love to tell.
Still, to be put on the spot and required to come up with a collection of anecdotes at a particular hour each night was not an easy task, especially since the stories, to make their full effect, had to be told in a husky French accent that made Mack lose his voice.
Fortunately, a free-flowing supply of champagne and a fine selection of fancy hors d'oeuvres helped revive Mack's memory.
In some ways, "Wildacres" was an ideal setting for the oboe camp. The quacking oboes blended naturally with the wilderness sounds, and the old wooden building provided a beautiful acoustical ambience.
On the other hand, there were a few hardships to endure in the unheated summer lodge. Hot water was scarce in the showers. Bedsprings were sprung. Floors were moldy. Meals were less than a gourmet's delight.
The pianos that were carted up the mountain would not stay in tune, and when one of the campers wanted to perform a piece for oboe and tape, Robinson had to spend half a day scouring the Carolina countryside looking for a stopwatch.
Despite a number of minor problems, Robinson was encouraged by the camp's overall success. The week's income enabled him to establish two oboe scholarships at North Carolina School of the Arts, and he has already started to plan ahead for next summer's camp.
Next June, Robinson would like Mack to make his opening recital a public event at Biltmore House, the magnificent Vanderbilt estate in Asheville.
Mack, however, says no. The camp is for the students. Therefore, he will play only for the students.
Robinson also wants to expand the camp into two one-week sessions so that twice as many oboists may attend.
Mack again says no. He cannot play a demanding recital twice at least not with an exhausting week of teaching and story-telling between the two performances.
Robinson hopes to return to "Wildacres," which will have a new dormitory available next year.
Mack thinks Hawaii would be nice.
Robinson foresees the possibility of receiving more applications than can be accepted next season. The application-to-admission ratio for Mack's class at the institute of music has been as high as 20:1. Once the word gets around, a similar situation could develop at the camp.
The resolution of this and other administrative problems, Mack will gladly leave to Robinson.
However, all questions pertaining to the oboe will be settled by Mack. When it comes to his musical specialty, he is able to talk for hours and hours without repeating himself.
In fact, if you are an oboist, and you would like to speak to the chief, just look him up in the Cleveland telephone book. He is listed as "Mack, John Oboe."
Participants included Stella Amar, Jan Applegate, Laura Baker, Duane Bateman, Beverly Beecroft, David Berry, Marian Buswell, Janet Campbell, Dawn Chisholm, Bryant Cochran, Margaret Cook, Bennie Cottone, Margaret Crofts, Debra Dean, John Dee, Pamela Dorn Robin Driscoll, Michael Finkelman, Ray Fishman, Sharon Fligner Denise French, Deborah Giesler, Tom Goldbaum, Mary Greiner, Warren Griffin, Patricia Grignet, Pamela Hakl, Ron Harris, Janet Hermansen Carolyn Hohnke, Al Hrivnak, Robbie Lynn Hunsinger, Michael Jackson Lynn Jacquin, Diane Lang Pat Marsh, Lionel Martin, Larry Masterson Phyllis Secrist McLean, Tori Michaels, Christine Middleton, Aline Miller, Allison Myers, Leonard Nanzetta, Howard Niblock, Gayle Petrick, Gary Plowman, Donna Ricky, James Ross, Teddy Rouse Cameron Sawyer, Barbara Secrist, Michael Shindelman, Harold Smoliar John Snow, Jo Souder, Robert Stephenson, Ralph Strobel, Thomas Underwood, Richard van Breemen, Richard Vaughan, Nancy Warfield David Weber, Michael Watson . . . also Cynthia Fleming, Robert Huffman, and Yvonne Powers.
