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Lyndon Croxford: I remember Lyndon Croxford as a wonderful man who was always kind to me. He was my teacher when I was a child (probably around 8 years old) and later as a young adult in college. As an 8-year-old, I was fascinated with the big old building that my piano lessons were in: the St. Louis Institute of Music (in Clayton). It was an adventure. I remember exploring the top floor of the building (where I had no business being). It was hot up there! I remember running around outside (there was a large front lawn and a huge tree). I remember spying into the basement windows, where I saw old printing presses and piles of music. I remember a candy machine and especially a little penny gum machine which dispensed cubes of Wrigleys gum wrapped in paper. (I’ve yet to find anybody who is able to confirm the existence of this gum machine – but I can’t be imagining it!) Later a building was built next door (a Pope's Cafeteria?) that had an elevator in it. I remember how much fun it was pushing the buttons on the elevator and riding up and down. I met a friend my own age. His name was Bobby Hellman. He taught me how to check around the parking meters to find coins that people had dropped. Later as a college student I tried to find
Lyndon Croxford again. He had already retired and was living in an
apartment on I am so happy to have had him as a teacher and a friend. He was always kind to me - never personally critical. I always felt that he treated me as an equal. Yes, Lyndon Croxford is my model of a great piano teacher. Michael Laschober |
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I started my studies with Lyndon when I was a teacher at the Saint Louis Institute of Music. I always walked out of my lessons on air. He was the teacher of teachers. I would hear him practicing my repertoire before my lessons. He guided, encouraged and nudged me on to play in a way that I had only dreamed of. His byword was "floating elbow." I remember playing a little Scarlatti Sonata at one of the institute recitals. I thought the applause would never stop. He insisted on a pure, musical tone. I had always loved the piano. Under his instruction, I grew to adore it. During my first year of studies with Lyndon in 1972, I was working on the beautiful Chopin "Berceuse". Lyndon loved romantic literature. He was absolutely passionate about it. He spent many lessons giving me detailed instructions on the tone that he wanted to hear in that piece. I had a hard time understanding what he wanted. Finally after about eight or nine lessons, I began to get the feel for it. I felt the tone and the musicality that he was trying to cull from my fingers. Lyndon had been dealing with a serious heart condition for about 5 or 6 years. So I became quite frightened when I saw him slouching to the back of his chair when I finished playing the "Berceuse". I was getting ready to run out of the room and ask for someone to call 911 when I heard him say, with eyes closed and a euphoric look on his face, "That was absolutely beautiful." From that day on, I learned to read his body language. Sitting to the back of the chair meant that my playing had arrived while leaning forward meant that I had more work to do. In 1976, he had a tragic accident. He was hit on the head by a car while crossing a street in Clayton , Missouri . He was in a coma for almost a year. The following year, his long time "friend" sued him for incompetence, claiming that he was not in a position to function well enough mentally to understand the state of his financial affairs. I sat in the courtroom supporting him and listening to that dear man tell everything about his financial affairs and giving precise dates regarding the several hospital admissions he had for the previous two years. He not only knew the admission dates, he also knew when he was discharged from hospital care. He even told the judge the precise time of day that he was released. Needless to say, he won the case. The judge said, "Mr. Croxford, there is no doubt that you are quite competent." I had the distinct pleasure of being able to perform at his memorial service and I have six beautiful pictures of musicians from his estate hanging in my music studio in Webster Groves, Missouri. Lyndon did not have a clock when it came to my lessons. We would meet at 10:00 on a Tuesday morning and finish whenever either one of us got hungry. Lessons were often two to three hours long. And I loved every minute of it. God bless his soul. Barbara Altman |
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Arthurleigh Bartzen:
I am so glad for this opportunity to express my appreciation for the
wonderful teaching I received from Arthurleigh Bartzen at the St. Louis
Institute of Music. He was my teacher throughout my high school years,
1961-1965, during which my interest in music solidified into a career
ambition. I’d felt a little intimidated when I first learned I was to
become his student, as he was obviously one of the top teachers at the
school. But it was a very pleasurable personal as well as
student-teacher relationship, and we shared a good many laughs along
with the music. It must have been trying
for him at times, as I was filled with uninformed certainty as to what
music I wanted to play and how I wanted to play it, but he took it all
in stride and patiently guided me through that long period of
development. It was a great encouragement when he told me, at some point
during those four years, that he thought my playing had progressed from
that of a child to that of a mature pianist.
When I became advanced enough to play concertos on
SLIM recitals, Mr. Bartzen played the orchestral reductions on second
piano, as was customary for teachers to do. Given the purpose of those
recitals, it was sensible to make cuts in the long orchestral tuttis in
which the student did not play; however, in my stubborn youthful purism
I was adamant that he play every note of the orchestral sections. He
complied without objection, though I'm sure he had better things to do
than learn all those orchestral parts! (He had a formidable
teaching schedule—I think he once told me he had 54 students, and that
was in addition to his daytime college teaching.) In my last semester with
Mr. Bartzen I gave a recital of my own. In preparation, he put in many
hours for extra lessons, rehearsals on weekends, etc. It was a truly
generous contribution of time and effort on his part, making that
exciting and valuable experience possible for me. Last I heard (as of a
couple of years ago), he was still teaching. I can only hope that his
present students have some inkling of what a wonderful teacher they have
in Arthurleigh Bartzen.
David Stone Betty Tyler: When I was in the fourth grade, my mother was looking for a piano teacher. She met Betty Tyler in the school cafeteria. Betty told her that she taught piano. After about two years of schlepping along in John Thompson's "Teaching Little Fingers to play" books two and three, practicing the minimal 30 minutes a day, my mother pulled out a book of Strauss Waltzes and the piece "Grand Waltz" by August Durand. Both of these works had been in the piano bench for at least 20 years. I was off and running. I fell in love with the piano. Seeing the spark in my fingers, Betty Tyler continued to nurture my fledgling efforts. She promptly entered me in Fontbonne's music festival. Determined to win, which I never did, I would practice for hours on end and in the process, my love for the piano deepened even more. She would fan the flames of interest by showing me off at various music clubs. Betty never knew the meaning of a clock. My lessons were always scheduled for 3:30 on Thursday afternoons. But they never started until somewhere around 4:15. And that was only if she was running reasonably on time. Betty showed me off at every opportunity. I think that I was her "signature student", the one that she could showcase. I loved her for her enduring support. When she needed a new piano, she took me downtown to Ludwig Aeolian where I played every piano in the building. The salespeople had to tell me to stop playing so they could tend to the other customers. Betty kept that piano for at least 30 years. After four years of study with her, I came to the realization that I needed to move on musically. It was with a heavy heart that I told her that I wanted to attend the Saint Louis Institute of Music so I could study both piano and theory. I cried intermittently for at least three days when I cut off ties from her. I went on to study at the Institute and to graduate from Fontbonne College with a major in music and I continue to teach music 41 years after graduation. Betty ended her days at Southgate Nursing home after a four year battle with Alzheimer's. I had the privilege of including her in one of my music therapy sessions shortly before she died. It was a small payment for everything that she had done for me. Barbara Altman |
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