Those who thrill to the splendid concerts andrecitals presented by faculty and students ofthe Shepherd School of Music mightwonder about its name, origins and earlyhistory before it became one of thejewels in Rice’s crown. Due to themunificence of the Shepherd family, ofwhich Benjamin A. Shepherd was thepatriarch, and the desire of his musicalgranddaughter Sallie Shepherd Perkinsto honor him, Rice University now hasone of the leading music schools in thenation.

Benjamin Armistead Shepherd, accordingto a document titled “The TransplantedVirginian” written by Sallie ShepherdPerkins, was born May 14, 1814 at“Laughton,” Fluvanna County,Virginia. He was next tothe youngest in a family of fourteen children. His Anglo-Saxon ancestors had been given large grants of land bythe Crown, but the land was poor and the family fortuneswere thus diminished. Benjamin left Virginia in 1833 toseek other opportunities, stopping for a time in Nashvilleand then New Orleans. He arrived in Galveston in 1830,where he met and married Mary Hobson of Tennessee. In1941 the couple established themselves in Houston whereBenjamin became one of the city’s founding fathers, andfriend of General Sam Houston. Recognized as thepioneer banker of Texas, he was the founder of the FirstNational Bank in Houston.

A touching story from this same document is worthquoting in full because it indicates the innate love ofmusic in the Shepherd family:

“When I was a tiny tot there is a traditionthat I ran and got Grandfather Shepherd my

baby pillow as I saw him dozing in thechair. It is a gratifying thought that Icould do something for him whobestowed so many benefits on me.Andon this same visit to us at Palmya,Virginia, I played for him on my toypiano. He is said to have remarked,‘that child has got to go to Leipsic!’”

(No doubt his reference was to Leipzig’sfamous Hochschule fur Musik founded

by Mendelssohn in 1843, one of theleading music conservatories of the late 19th

century.)Sallie, however, did not go to

Leipzig, but did graduate in music fromHollins College in Virginia, majoring in piano studies.Music was a large part of her entire life. She presided overthe Music Clubs of Virginia for three years, 1922-25, andbecame a leader in the National Federation of MusicClubs. Her musical talent found its greatest expression inher gift to Rice University (then Rice Institute) in 1950for a school of music which she called “purely a productof my own mind and heart—the healing powers of music[are] so much needed in this troubled world and Iearnestly hope our Southland will be enriched when mydream becomes a reality.”The Shepherd School of Musicwas “dedicated to the Glory of God and in memory ofmy grandfather and my branch of his family.”

The initial gift of Sallie Shepherd Perkins and herhusband, Malcolm W. Perkins was $350,000, made on

WINTER/SPRING 2007 THE NEWSLETTER OF THE RICE HISTORICAL SOCIETY VOL. 11, NO. 3

Benjamin, Sallie, and theShepherd School of MusicBy Anne SchnoebelenJoseph and Idea Kirkland Mullen Emerita Professor of Music

Continued on page 3

The Cornerstone

Sallie Shepherd Perkins, 1940

1

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Lee PechtHelen Toombs ’79

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Ted Workman ’49

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IN THIS ISSUE

Benjamin, Sallie, and the Shepherd School of Music . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Interview with Samuel Jones . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

From the Archives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

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December 2, 1950. In the Deed of Gift she acknowledgesher debt to her grandfather, grateful for his encouragingher in the study of music.“It seems to me fitting,therefore, that I should establish this School of Music atHouston,” where her grandfather reared his family andresided until his death. Furthermore,“It also seems to mefitting that the buildings which house this school shouldperpetuate in Houston the early colonial type ofarchitecture found in Virginia, as a reminder of this andother sons of the Old Dominion who contributed muchto the development of Texas. I, therefore, direct that saidschool should be housed in a group of buildings of theearly colonial type of architecture, two of which shall bemodeled, respectively, after Crozet House, an historicaldwelling in downtown Richmond,Virginia, and thehouse I own at 2609 Monument Avenue in Richmond,Virginia, which is a perfect example of early Georgianarchitecture.”

However, evidently being a practical woman, she goeson to say,“I fully realize, however, that the style andarchitecture of the buildings of this School must beadapted to that of the other buildings located and thoseplanned on the campus of the Institute, and I leave thefinal determination of this…to the Trustees of theInstitute, having full confidence that they will observe mywishes as far as practical.” She also required that anydesign plans be shown to her or her surviving relatives,that recognition be given to the interest in music ofherself and her husband, and that a memorial beestablished to her grandparents, Benjamin ArmisteadShepherd and Mary Hobson Shepherd.

The stipulation for colonial architecture may come asa surprise to those who have experienced the magnificentbuilding designed by Ricardo Bofill, dedicated onOctober 4, 1991, forty-one years after the original giftwas made. But it was too soon in 1950 to be concernedabout the style of the buildings. It was clear from the startthat the moneys would not be sufficient to initiate thenew school of music for some time. Mrs. Perkins addedto the gift throughout her lifetime until it totaled a littleover $1 million. But only upon her death in 1968 andher bequest of $4.5 million would it be possible to planseriously for the Shepherd School.There were, however,lectures presented by the Shepherd Foundation (whichwas also specified in the early documents) during theseearly years by such musical luminaries as HowardHanson, composer and director of the Eastman School ofMusic, as well as concerts by local chamber music groupsand outside artists. Professor Arthur S. Hall, a composerand leader of the musical activities at Christ Church

Cathedral, was brought to Rice in 1953 to oversee thedevelopment of what was then the Department of Music,offering some courses in music history and theory andestablishing two glee clubs—one for men and one forwomen.Ann Holmes, Fine Arts Editor for the HoustonChronicle wrote on March 24, 1954,“Mr. Hall’s lectureson music avoid that cliché, that dilettante aspect called‘appreciation.’This so often implies an outside coating of‘culture’ and smattering of ignorance.The Rice musiclectures, by contrast, approach the subject scientifically. Itis believed that if the minds of these young scholars maybe led to understand the architectural structures, thescientific theories of music, real appreciation follows.”Thiswas a philosophy that would characterize the school lateron as well.

In 1962, Mr. and Mrs. Perkins made an additional giftto the Shepherd School endowment of some property onCalhoun Avenue between Travis and Milam.The giftseems to have inspired serious discussion about the natureof the Shepherd School and its location on the campus.Chancellor Carey Croneis wrote a draft of suggestedproposals for the school dated April 10, 1962, based onsuggestions supplied by Dean W.H. Masterson andProfessor Hall.“It is clear to us that…we should modelthe Shepherd School after the Yale School of Music.Thatis, we probably should not go into the applied music fieldin any very extensive fashion. Most of our music studentswill, of course, possess some instrumental or vocalaptitudes, and a certain amount of instruction will berequired in those fields. Much, if not most of the trainingdesired, however, probably could be providedadvantageously through a cooperative arrangement withthe University of Houston, which does have a‘professional’ school of music.”Various other questionswere raised in this document, including the amount ofendowment needed before erection of a building, the sizeof the faculty, whether to have one building or twoseparate buildings, one for “theory” and the other for“practice” and whether such structures would beintegrally attached as wings to Hamman Hall.Was the“rather modern style of architecture used in HammanHall” offensive to Mrs. Perkins? Just how committed wasshe to a “modified Georgian” style of building? Etc.

The final version of this document recommendedthat the Shepherd School of Music be fully activatedduring the years, 1963-1967 in four stages, each spelledout according to its budget, number of faculty,equipment, etc. Hamman Hall was to be the core, with itsauditorium seating 500 and its “unsurpassed acousticalqualities,” but the Georgian buildings were still in play,perhaps separated from Hamman Hall “by some littledistance.” (I should insert here that, while the acoustics of

Continued from page 1

Invitation to Concerts for Shepherd School of Music, 1964

4

Hamman Hall are excellent for the spoken word, they arecertainly not so for music.) Fields of instruction were tobe theory of music, history and literature of music,musicology, and possibly the “exciting new realm ofElectronic Music which has been explored at ColumbiaUniversity and elsewhere.”The teaching of instrumentaland vocal music (applied music) was to be more or lessincidental, in addition to the regular assignments of thefaculty. However, some thought was given to suchinstruction on an accredited basis. Some additional “Texasmusicians” might be hired as part time “lecturers,” paid arelatively small retainer out of the departmental expenseaccount.“But their recompense largely would accrue inprofessional prestige…”

However, the department continued to function on alimited basis until the 1970s. Only after Mrs. Perkins’ finalbequest, which brought the Shepherd School’sendowment to about $6 million including interest, didPresident Norman Hackerman begin a search for adirector for the new school.Among them was RobertShaw, the well-known American conductor and choralmaster, who was considering resigning from his positionwith the Atlanta Symphony. But in spite of a flurry ofeffort, according to Ann Homes in the Chronicle of March13, 1972, he announced his intention to resume hisleadership of that organization.Thus the immediateactivation of the Shepherd School was put on hold until1973, when the young composer-conductor Samuel Joneswas appointed director of the school.

With Jones’ appointment, the modern era of theShepherd School of Music began. From the start, hemade clear his intention to focus the instruction onorchestral studies, in which the school now excels.Thefirst faculty were hired in 1974 (Paul Cooper, composer,Ronald Patterson, violinist and concertmaster of theHouston Symphony;AnneSchnoebelen, musicologist andpianist).After a year of planningthe curriculum, teaching non-major students and the additionof several new faculty, theShepherd School officiallyopened its (figurative) doors inSeptember 1975.Thoughwithout Georgian stylearchitecture, under the directionof its deans Samuel Jones,AllanRoss, Larry Livingston, MichaelHammond and RobertYekovich it has brought tosplendid fruition the dream ofSallie Shepherd Perkins tohonor her grandfather,Benjamin A. Shepherd, with thegift of a music school to RiceUniversity in Houston.

Anne Schnoebelen, 1986

Paul Cooper

Samuel Jones

5

Karen Rogers: What was your background before comingto Rice?

Samuel Jones: I came to Rice from Rochester, NewYork, where I had just completed seven years as aconductor of the Rochester Philharmonic. I started thereas Assistant Conductor, was promoted to AssociateConductor, then Resident Conductor, and finally theyerased all the modifiers and I was named the fullconductor, conducting some 85 concerts a year, and alsodoing a good bit of guest conducting. I had earlierconducted the Saginaw Symphony for three years, andbefore that I taught for two years at Alma College (inMichigan; my first position out of graduate school).Whileat Alma, I founded the Alma Symphony, which I’m happyto say is still going strong, in addition to all my otherteaching duties.And while in Saginaw—this proved to beinteresting and somewhat prophetic in preparing me forthe task of founding the Shepherd School—I wasappointed to organize a summer festival and conservatoryof music at Delta College, a newly established collegeserving the Tri-City region of Saginaw-Midland-BayCity. (Incidentally, the trumpet teacher I hired for thatconservatory was none other than the Shepherd School’seminent trumpet professor, Marie Speziale, in what shesays was her first job.) All this time I was continuing tocompose. I had done my graduate study at the EastmanSchool of Music, receiving my Ph.D. in composition in1960. By the time I came to Rice, I had composedseveral orchestral works, a piano sonata, and some songsand chamber music, and I was published by Carl Fischer.So you can see I had quite a varied background,combining experience in the profession as well as ineducation, administration, and composition.

KR: How old were you (if you don’t mind the question)?

SJ: Not at all. I came to Rice in 1973. I was born in1935, so I was 38 at that time.When we inaugurated theShepherd School (on September 19, 1975) I was still ayoung man at the ripe old age of 40.

Regarding my age, I think you’ll be interested in thisstory.And to tell it properly, I’ll have to give a littlebackground.

My first interview for this position was with FrankVandiver, the esteemed Provost of the University formany years and, as it later developed, my good friend.We

met for dinner in Washington, D.C. Frank was there forUniversity business, and I flew down to meet him.Weanswered each other’s questions and discussed togetherthe incredible opportunity posed by the creation of thisnew school. He said the University would require of thenew school only one thing, that it be a school of the firstrank, on a par with any in the land. He said the newadministrator would have free rein in developing thephilosophy of the school and in implementing it. He thentold me that he had just been in New York where he hadconferred with Helen Thompson, the Manager of theNew York Philharmonic and the past-Executive Directorof the American Symphony Orchestra League-and whoknew seemingly everyone in the musical world-regardingRice’s search for the leader of its new music school.Thissearch had been going on for some two or three years.The University had spoken with several major figures inthe music world, including Robert Shaw,Walter Hendl,Wilfred Mellers, and others, and had garnered proposalsfor the possible thrust of the new school. But for one

Interview with Samuel Jones, Founding Dean ofthe Shepherd School of Music, Rice UniversityBy Karen Rogers for Rice Historical Society

6

the map and served as its director for some four decades.I asked Howard if he thought I should move to Houstonand accept Rice’s offer to head up its new music school.I’ll never forget his reply.

“Sam,” he told me,“this is the first time since GeorgeEastman called me in Rome and asked me to come toRochester to head up the Eastman School that I cansense a similar situation. I know Rice, I’ve lectured there,and it is a first-rate institution. If they want to start amusic school, they’ll want you to do it right.There is noquestion about it.You must go.”

I took his advice, and I’ve never regretted it.

KR: Were you aware of the similarities of your situationwith Dr. Lovett’s when he came to start the Institute?

SJ:Yes, I became aware of that after I got to Houston andbegan to immerse myself in Rice’s history and to thinkabout how to get the Shepherd School started. It is trulystriking how many parallels there are between Rice’searly beginnings and those of the Shepherd School.

I spoke about some of those parallels in my address tothe Society of Rice University Women my first year inHouston and in an article Dreams and Translations, whichwas adapted from that speech for the Rice UniversityReview (Spring 1974). (I think the article might beinteresting reading to anyone who wants to know moreabout how the Shepherd School got started.) The articlereports on the evolution of my thought as I developedthe guiding philosophy of the School.Amazingly, thatsame philosophy has continued to undergird the School’sraison d’être in almost every detail throughout these threedecades of its existence. In it I pointed out the similaritiesbetween William Marsh Rice’s and Sallie ShepherdPerkins’ bequests, and the fact that both philanthropistsentrusted it to others to carry out their desire to establishmajor new institutions. In that article I could haveemphasized more, perhaps, the extraordinary opportunityto start with a tabula rasa, as it were, which bothinstitutions enjoyed and with which they had to struggle.And I should have mentioned Dr. Lovett’s grand tour,visiting the great institutions of Europe to survey the bestthe world had to offer and to amass ideas and recruitfaculty for this new endeavor. My own grand (or I shouldsay, petit) tour was more modest—I didn’t go to Europe,but I did visit, in several smaller trips, many outstandingschools and conservatories in this country and I definitelyfelt the parallel with Dr. Lovett’s approach.

Let me make one other comment regarding one ofthese points—the opportunity to start from a blank page.

Incidentally, some would say that that’s not true, thatit wasn’t really a blank page, that Arthur Hall, assisted by

reason or another,none of theseproposals bore fruit.Vandiver wasconsulting with HelenThompson because ofa coincidence: Mrs.Thompson’s sonCharles was at thattime one of PresidentHackerman’s post-doctoral fellows inchemistry, andCharles, knowing ofthe University’s

increasingly frustrated search, said to Hackerman,“Whydon’t you talk to my mother?” So Hackerman directedVandiver to do just that.At our dinner in Washington,Frank told me of his conversation with Helen Thompson.She said (and it sounds just like her),“It seems to me, Dr.Vandiver, that you have two choices.You can either hire adistinguished older man in the sunset of his career, andthis will be his valedictory appointment, or you can hire ayoung man on the rise, and he will take the school upwith him.” Frank told her,“We would want the youngman.” She immediately responded,“Then I have yourman.”

Indeed, she called me in Rochester right after thatconversation and told me about the opportunity inHouston and urged that I contact Dr.Vandiver right away.I did—actually, I think he called me first, I’m not sure,but in any event we had a meeting of the minds inWashington, I flew to Houston for my first visit to theRice campus and to meet President Hackerman, and laterto meet with key people in the University communityand the city’s musical and arts leadership, including MissIma Hogg.These meetings all went very successfully.

KR: What prompted you to come? Was there oneoverriding thing or many?

SJ: It was indeed a hard decision, mainly because itrepresented such a change of direction in my career. I hadassumed I would continue for the foreseeable future onmy path as a professional conductor. But I had always hada wide-ranging field of interests, and I found myselfintrigued by the huge challenges and opportunitiesinherent in this new position at Rice. I decided to seekthe advice of my former teacher and good friend,Howard Hanson, who of course was one of the greatestfigures in 20th century American music and musiceducation, having put the Eastman School of Music on

Samuel Jones

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Klaus Kratzenstein and others, was at the helm of aShepherd School of Music several years before I got here.And I would want to be the first to acknowledge theimportant service that Professor Hall and his associatesrendered to the University in the 1950’s, ’60s and early’70s. Sallie Shepherd Perkins had made an agreementwith Rice in 1950 to endow a music school at Rice afterher death when the bulk of her considerable estate wouldbecome available. I saw the document bearing hersignature and that of George Brown (who chaired theBoard at that time) agreeing on behalf of Rice, and I wasentrusted to keep that letter of agreement along with hervery explicit notes regarding her wishes for the School.That material was in our files and is now, I believe, in theUniversity’s archives. She immediately began to transfersome funds to Rice, which enabled the university to setup a small department for offering non-major generalmusic courses.The department had two full positions andone part-time.There was also some funding for a concertseries which Professor Hall administered under the namethat Mrs. Perkins wanted for her yet-to-be-realizedschool, the Shepherd School of Music, honoringBenjamin A. Shepherd, her grandfather, a towering earlyfigure in Houston banking. But, although for 20 years orso Houstonians had seen the name “Shepherd School ofMusic” atop concert programs at Rice, this term wasmore promissory than actual. Until her death (in 1968)what was referred to as the Shepherd School of Musicwas actually a small music department, too small to offer amajor, but one which gave music a much-needed earlyfoothold in the life of the University.

But back to the tabula rasa. It was actually quite anunusual circumstance that a university of Rice’s staturedid not already have a fully fleshed-out musicdepartment, if not indeed a complete school of music.Although in our early history we were an institute, not auniversity, it was still an anomaly, especially when oneconsiders that some similar institutions (Carnegie Tech—now Carnegie Mellon University—and the MassachusettsInstitute of Technology come readily to mind) boastedfully staffed music schools of outstanding stature.Obviously William Marsh Rice had not intended that thearts be left out of his institute—his very name for it madethat clear, the William Marsh Rice Institute for theAdvancement of Literature, Science, and Art. But ofcourse when one starts an institution it is impossible todo everything at once. Dr. Lovett guided the Institute toearly eminence in science, the middle of those three owls,then later came distinction in letters, the first owl, andonly in more recent years, with the School ofArchitecture, with the Department of Fine Arts, and (ofcourse I’m prejudiced, but I would say especially) with

the Shepherd School of Music, has the University givenfull wing to the third owl implied in Mr. Rice’s title andin Dr. Lovett’s carefully designed academic seal.

But, through some quirk of chance, here we were inthe seventh decade of the life of a great university withnewly acquired funds to establish a music school that allagreed should strive to be one of the best and with avirtual blank slate, with the turf not already divided upand jealously guarded, with the curriculum not alreadystaffed and fought over, with the chance literally to dreamone’s ideal institution, and with the resources—indeed,the marching orders—to bring it into existence. It was anextraordinary opportunity, one which Howard Hansonsensed immediately, and one toward which I determined,though still a young man, to dedicate myself with all myenergies.

After my first year at Rice, I was asked to becomethe associate conductor of one of America’s majororchestras.Although reassured by the knowledge that Icould have resumed my conducting career had I sochosen, it didn’t take me two seconds to turn it down. Iknew that the endeavor that Rice had entrusted to mewas a “high emprise,” one that would call forth from meand from all who would be associated with it our verybest. I had a great commitment to Rice and to SallieShepherd Perkins, one I intended to keep.

KR: Were you director and then dean? When?

SJ: When President Hackerman and I had our initialdiscussions, he asked what title I would like, indicatingthat it would be up to me to choose whether I wanted tobe called dean or director. I chose director, partlyinfluenced by its having been Howard Hanson’s title atthe Eastman School of Music and also because of theimplications of that word in the title “music director,”from the world of the symphony orchestra, in which forover a decade I had been working and which I was justnow leaving. It only took a short while, however, torealize that in the academic world, and especially at Rice,the term “director” was a rung lower on the ladder thanthat of “dean.” It didn’t matter that much to mepersonally, but I realized this new school needed to berun by a dean, not a director, so that in the perception ofthe rest of the University it would be accorded the fullstatus of a School.Accordingly, I revisited the subject withDr. Hackerman who readily agreed with the wisdom ofthe change. I believe it was first reflected in the 1975–76General Announcements.

But there’s a larger issue implied by your question,that of the authority vested in the new music school’schief administrator. On that question President

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School, assets and all, was fully enfolded into thecommonwealth of the University.

As to the question of how much influence I had, Ibelieve any objective evaluation would have to say that itwas substantial.After all, that was how Dr. Hackermanhad set it up to be. He wanted to hire a person toestablish the school and trust that person to set thephilosophy, hire the faculty, formulate the curriculum,recruit the students, and administer the whole thing. Ofcourse, this is again very much in the Lovett model and isanother of those coincidences we spoke about earlier. Imust immediately make the point, however, that this wasa highly collaborative endeavor. I certainly did not do itin a vacuum.The faculty, especially our early appointees,and the staff also had tremendous influence in setting upthe young institution and in making its significant markupon the life of the University.

Throughout my first year, however (1973–74), theShepherd School consisted of one faculty member,namely myself, and one staff member, my gifted anddedicated administrative assistant, Gloria Weems. Ofcourse, we had no music majors yet. (Prof. Hall’sdepartment continued to operate in Hamman Hall thatyear, and shortly after his retirement the next year thosecourses were phased out and the School assumedresponsibility for offering courses for both majors andnonmajors.) It was a year of intense planning and travel,and of decisions, each of which was bound to have aprofound impact on the direction and evolution of thenew institution.

The first decision I had to make was where to putthe new School. Of course, space is always an issue and isusually at a premium in any university. It so happened,however, that at this critical juncture Rice had someunused (or at least underutilized) space.We could haverenovated and used some space in the Library, whichtoday seems impossible, in view of the Library’sburgeoning space needs, but three decades ago there wassome available space there. Or I could have chosen one ofthe Quonset huts on the south side of the campus, andthere were several other possibilities as well. But Idetermined that the best choice was in the two basementfloors of the newly built Sewall Hall. Being undergroundwasn’t as depressing as it might sound, with the SculptureCourt to look out upon and the Art Museum on theground floor.And it was logical to be near theDepartment of Fine Arts, which was located in Sewall.Most importantly, this location was right in the center ofthings, in close proximity to Lovett Hall (which thenhoused the University administrative offices),AllenCenter (business offices), and Cohen House (importantfor faculty contacts). So, the Shepherd School in its early

Hackerman reiterated what I had been told by ProvostVandiver, namely that I was to have full authority andresponsibility for the School.This principle was clear,irrespective of my title. But of course I realized that therewere still many restraints on this authority.We obviouslyhad to operate within the strictures of Universityadministrative and budgetary policy, and I came to relyheavily on the knowledge of University procedurespossessed by my administrative assistant Gloria Weems andon the administrative help and wisdom of PresidentHackerman’s assistant, Carl MacDowell, as well as, ofcourse, upon the counsel and support of Provost Vandiverand his able assistant, Marian Jordan.

KR: What decisions did you have to make, how muchinfluence did you have, what decisions had been madeprior to your selection? And how did you craft the initialcurriculum?

SJ: There were two major decisions made prior to myselection, both by President Hackerman. First, he did notwant us to offer music education, and second, theShepherd School would be a closed cost center.

I was in complete agreement with not offering musiceducation courses in our curriculum. Hackerman felt thatthis area was already well served by other universities inTexas and, indeed, in Houston, and he felt whatever wemight do would be duplicative effort. For my part, I hadtaken note of an interesting fact.The Eastman School,with which of course I was very familiar, had at that timesome 800 students, and of those 800 approximately 500were music education majors.The other 300 werepreparing for the profession as performance majors,composers, theorists, or music historians.That was thecurricular emphasis, even that early in the game, which Ifelt we should be making, so I looked upon Dr.Hackerman’s restriction against our offering musiceducation as Br’er Rabbit did toward being thrown intothe briar patch.

I also saw the wisdom of Dr. Hackerman’s decisionto set the Shepherd School up as a closed cost center.This meant, of course, that all of the money we wouldspend for the Shepherd School would be earned from theShepherd endowment, rather than from Rice funds.Thishad the benefit, particularly in the early years, ofreassuring the other schools and departments of theUniversity that their budgets would not be adverselyaffected by the appearance of this new kid on the block,and as a policy it remained in force (if I remembercorrectly) through Larry Livingston’s deanship and theearly Michael Hammond years. Later this policy came tobe seen as divisive and parochial, and the Shepherd

9

years found a home in Sewall Hall, and as we expandedwe also used space in Hamman Hall, the Nuclear PhysicsLab, the basement of Herman Brown Hall, and the WeissLibrary.We gave concerts primarily in Hamman Hall, butwe performed occasionally in Cohen House and in theRice Memorial Center.We were the grateful recipients ofMilford House to use for recitals and studios.All in all,before the construction of our magnificent Alice PrattBrown Hall, we occupied space all over the campus. But,as you can tell, I am getting ahead of myself. Back to thedecisions that had to be made at the beginning.

Another early, fateful decision I faced involvedquestions about our new school’s building—when tobuild it and how it should look.These questions wereprompted in part because Sallie Shepherd Perkins had putmajor emphasis on the building in her negotiations withRice and because of her preferences for it. She hadwanted the building to be designed in a Georgian,Southern plantation style of architecture, and she feltstrongly about it—so strongly that it had dominated earlydiscussions of the school’s evolution.After thinking aboutit, I determined that planning for our building at thisearly stage was premature. Rather than erecting a buildingand then filling it with a program, I felt we needed toconcentrate our energies and resources into creating acompelling, successful program with an outstandingfaculty and student body.When this was accomplished, Iwas certain that it would generate its own pressure for anew building—which is exactly what ultimatelyhappened. I also felt that we could punt the question ofthe building’s style downfield, so to speak, and I had topray for Mrs. Perkins’ forgiveness regarding her belovedSouthern architecture. I knew she would rather have usfulfill her wish for a music school of the first level ofquality than to start out by shoehorning a plantation stylebuilding into Rice’s prevailing Italianate style ofarchitecture, and in the early years there wasn’t enoughmoney for both. Later in my tenure, we collaborated withthe School of Architecture in a project to draw up a listof our space and program needs and to produce severalpossible models.The results were quite similar, in terms ofavailable spaces, to the building we were ultimately tooccupy. But it was to remain for Michael Hammond toconceive of and lead us into the inspired realizationwhich is Alice Pratt Brown Hall.

Perhaps the most important question that faced thenew school was the question of its philosophical thrust.What exactly was to be our mission? I have alreadyreported in some detail on this aspect of my earlyplanning in Dreams and Translations, which reflects theresults of my first five months on the job.The guidingprinciple, the overriding strategy, had already been given

to me by Provost Vandiver and President Hackerman, thatis, to make of this a school of the first order.This goal ofexcellence was always uppermost in my mind, and itconstantly informed every decision. I came across aninteresting set of statistics that fall. Of the 900 or so musicschools and departments in the country, only 20 of themproduced 80% of the nation’s graduates who went on tobecome professional musicians. I determined that ourgoal would be to become one of those 20. It is nowgenerally recognized that we have achieved that goal, ifnot indeed to have made a place for ourselves on mostpeople’s short list of the great music schools in America.That would never have happened had we thought insmall terms at the beginning.

With President Hackerman’s encouragement andsupport, I decided to fashion a two-year phase-in periodand to aim for officially inaugurating the new school inSeptember, 1975.This meant I had to draw up a two-yeartimetable for growth.The first year, as I have mentioned,was already embarked upon in a period of intensetraveling and planning. I gave much preliminary thoughtto the curriculum, tackling especially the problems of1) how to reconcile the need to balance the intensespecialization required of a music student with the broadrequirements of a liberal education, 2) how to fuse thedichotomous rift between the academic side of music(theory and musicology) and the so-called applied side(actual performance) which was so bedeviling musiceducation at that time (and which in many respects stilldoes), and 3) how to refocus the education of giftedstring players to include training and even specializationas an ensemblist and to discard the unfortunate traditionalidea that unless they became a soloist they were a failure.

I decided to hire a small group of key faculty tocome aboard the second year to help in planning for thespecifics of the curriculum and in laying the preliminarygroundwork for the School. In my travels I of courselooked for candidates to fill these positions. I stillremember, while visiting the CincinnatiCollege–Conservatory of Music,having a discussion about the newschool with the head of theirTheory/Historydepartment, the eminentcomposer-theoretician PaulCooper. Iexplained Rice’scharge andcommitment to thenew school, and Italked about my

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wonderful pianist Mary Norris, to join our faculty. Hebecame a member of our curriculum committee, andtogether we all fashioned what I still regard as amasterpiece of curricular planning as we strove totranslate into the practicalities of actual courses anddegree plans the lofty ideals and integrated goals whichwe all shared. (As a footnote, let me add that the day Iconvinced Albert and Mary to stay in Houston beyondhis sabbatical leave from FSU and to join us permanentlywas one of my most exultant as dean.)

Another key early decision concerned the size of theschool. My first thoughts were that it would be limited toa some 200 to 250 students and be served by some 30 to35 faculty members.A couple of years later, however, Igave the matter more explicit thought and drew up acareful blueprint of the number of students we wouldneed in each department in order to have a more optimalgrouping, particularly for a school that made orchestraltraining such an important part of its curriculum.Theresult of these further thoughts was that the Schoolneeded to be authorized to grow to 300 students.Thiswas a significant number, of course, because it meantexpanding the University by a number approaching 10per cent. I very carefully drew up my proposal for Dr.Hackerman and presented it as persuasively as I knewhow. His approval on the spot was another of my mostexultant decanal days and, I felt, one of the most fateful inthe life of the new School.

Of course, at this point we were decidedly smallerthan that. It is fascinating to recount the growth in theSchool’s student body in the early years. I have forgottenthe exact numbers now, but in 1975 we opened ourdoors with, I believe, 23 students.The next year we hadtwice that, and the year after that twice again.Wecontinued to grow, but not, of course, at the samegeometric rate.When I stepped down from the deanship,after six years, the School had some 135 students, from allover the country and from several foreign countries, andwe had 30 or so faculty members (several of whom werepart time).The School continued to grow under mysuccessors, soon leveling off at around 250 students. Inrecent years enrollment has come in at close to themaximum level Dr. Hackerman and I agreed upon in thebeginning.

But in addition to numeric growth, there was anunmistakable and noticeable growth in the quality of thestudent body every single year of the 24 years in which Iwas privileged to observe it, and I understand thephenomenon continues to this day.While we have always,from the very first class, had our share of exceptionallygifted “star” students, the proportional number of thoseoutstanding students seems to grow each year, and the

plans for the goals and curricular thrust of the newinstitution.When I asked Dr. Cooper if he knew ofanyone he could recommend to head up thetheory-composition department, he smiled and blushed abit, then said,“Is present company included?” I knew itwould take some negotiation and arm-twisting—which itdid—but I sensed at that moment that I had found ourfirst and one of our most important faculty members.After Paul decided to come to Rice, he highlyrecommended one of his colleagues at CCM, a brilliantyoung musicologist,Anne Schnoebelen, to head up ourmusic history department.Anne was also an accomplishedpianist, and this very much comported with my desire toamalgamate scholarship with performance. So Dr.Schnoebelen became our second appointment, and shemade her plans to move to Houston to join the fledglingenterprise. I now had two people to represent theacademic side of our planning, but I needed to addrepresentation from the performance side.And, of course,all this time I was beginning to have discussions and tobuild rapport with the Houston Symphony and its superbmusicians. I found in its concertmaster, Ronald Patterson,not only a gifted performer but also a highly articulateand charismatic leader who was deeply interested in thechallenge of creating an integrated curriculum. Later Iwas able to convince the eminent flutist and pedagogue,Albert Tipton, to take a sabbatical year from his positionat Florida State University and come with his wife, the

Samuel Jones, Shepherd School Inaugural, 1975

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overall aggregate level of the student body has continuedthrough three decades to get higher and higher.

KR: Was it difficult fitting the liberal arts education in withthe music curriculum?

SJ:Yes, it was. In the traditional college liberal arts course,the first two years are spent in general courses, and thefinal two years are years of specialization in the major.This of course doesn’t work for a music student, becauseintense specialization is needed from day one. Not onlydoes the music student have to spend many hourspracticing one’s instrument, but also music’s foundationalacademic courses (theory and history) have to be startedright away, too.And time must be allowed for ensemblework-orchestra and chamber music.We knew we wantedto require our students to take the same core coursesrequired of any Rice student, what was then called thedistribution courses. But we saw no way to squeeze thosecourses into the first two years.We came up with a novelsolution, namely, to fashion an amalgamated five-yearcurriculum, at the conclusion of which a student wouldreceive both a Master of Music and a Bachelor of Musicdegree, and during the course of which the distributioncourses could be stretched out, one course per semester.Later, we provided the more traditional plan, making itpossible to receive the Bachelors degree independently,but we still retained the five-year curriculum as anHonors program.

KR: What were your greatest challenges?

SJ: Greatest challenges? There were so many! I would sayone of the greatest was balancing the myriad demands onall fronts at once. It was a period of intense creativity, andit was an extremely exhilarating time for all of usinvolved in it. I joke that bringing the School intoexistence was like composing a huge opera. Indeed, thereare lots of parallels.

This led, however, to another great challenge, oneinvolving morale. Maintaining the high ideals of ourcommon goal in the face of the actual growth processnecessary to get there was not easy and led to inevitablefrustrations and disappointments. I dealt with these as bestI could and never missed an opportunity to be asympathetic yet realistic morale booster. I followed atradition Howard Hanson had instituted at Eastman, thatof starting each year with a Convocation setting the tonefor the year to come. I always spent a great deal of timeon those addresses, often pouring my thoughts into amusical form—one year I remember I used sonata form,

another year, theme and variations, and so on. I rememberRay Fliegel telling me how much those opening sessionsused to mean to him.

KR: Were there significant financial constraints?

SJ: Not at first, but as time went on our financial needsgrew faster than our endowment did, although I must saythe Board of Governors was doing its usual amazing jobof investing and husbanding our resources.This, too, ledinevitably to some faculty disappointments. One of ourgreatest needs was to have additional funding forscholarships, which is why I started the Shepherd Society.

KR: I will want to ask you more about that later. But first,were there any other significant challenges you remember?

SJ:Yes there were. Cross campus relations, admissionsbattles, getting our new curriculum approved by thegeneral faculty…

KR: What was your reception like on campus from theother departments?

SJ: We were welcomed with open arms by many, wewere greeted by healthy skepticism by some, and by somewe were considered as interlopers, diluting the quality ofthe Rice experience. Most of my personal relationshipson the campus were quite cordial, and I believe the othermusic faculty felt the same.We worked hard atestablishing good relations and at becoming fullyparticipating citizens of the academic community. Ibecame a faculty associate of Lovett College and later atJones College, and most of our faculty were also associatesat the different colleges.And we all served on Universityfaculty committees, as well as, of course, on variouscommittees within our School.

We had extensive meetings with the UniversityCurriculum Committee in explaining the thoughts andplanning behind the curriculum we had developed. Iremember Jeff Kurtzman and Anne Schnoebelen inparticular were very effective in that regard.Then camethe fateful meeting in which we had to submit ourcurriculum to the entire University faculty for itsapproval.There were many probing questions, someexpressing a few of the misgivings I alluded to earlier. Butwe were able to assuage most of those, and the Universityfaculty approved, almost unanimously, the hard work wehad wrought on our curriculum.We were now officially adegree-granting arm of the University.

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made many outstanding faculty and staff appointments,and they have all made major contributions.

KR: Now back to the Shepherd Society. What do youremember about its founding?

SJ: Lots of things. I remember its very first gathering, alovely organizational luncheon that my wife Kristin and Ihosted in the Rice Memorial Center and for whichGloria Weems lent her usual flawless assistance. Myexperience in the symphony world had taught me howvaluable a loyal community support organization couldbe. (They were once called women’s committees, but afterthe ’60s most such groups expanded their membership toinclude both men and women.We did so with theShepherd Society from the beginning.) We had alreadydeveloped the nucleus of a support group when weenlisted the help of some dedicated Rice supporters whowere active in music circles in the community—especiallyin the Houston Symphony and Houston Grand Opera—to assist us in drawing up an invitation list for theInaugural Concert of the Shepherd School in September,1975.That gala event was anchored by a concert of theHouston Symphony which I conducted and at whichPresident Hackerman officially christened our newSchool. I remember Catherine Hannah and GenevieveDemme were especially helpful in that early group.

We spent a great deal of time in planning for theShepherd Society and in bringing it into existence.Allthe invitees at that inaugural luncheon voted to supportthe new endeavor and to become the nucleus of anOrganizational Committee which then got to work inearnest. I drafted a set of bylaws which the groupcarefully thrashed over and which Malcolm Lovett (Dr.Lovett’s son-another tie with the past) put into finalform. I wrote a rather lofty but very heartfelt Preamble toembody the goals of the organization.We drew up plansfor an auspicious inaugural Membership Concert, held onDecember 1, 1977.We used the invitation list we haddeveloped for the School’s inaugural concert two yearsearlier and expanded it to become one of the city’s mostcomplete data bases of music and Rice supporters.Wesent out handsome invitations to become CharterMembers, a call that was answered by over 300 responses(323, to be exact). Many of these were couples, so as theSociety formally began its operations we had over 500people included in the endeavor, a group which includedmany of the city’s most influential patrons of the arts andall of whom believed in our new School and wereprepared to help it succeed.

KR: What administrators and faculty members do youespecially remember?

SJ: I’ve already mentioned many of them, of course, aswell as members of the staff.The Shepherd School, andRice itself, has always been blessed with an unbelievablestaff, without whom we could not function. But earlyfaculty…all of them were important dramatis personae.One of the first I would remember is of course RayFliegel, the longtime concertmaster of the HoustonSymphony. He was a very special human being and averitable walking encyclopedia of orchestral stringtechniques. He was primarily responsible for the greatnessof the string section of the Houston Symphony all thoseyears, and I was anxious to have him share his knowledgeand his outlook with our students. I invited WayneCrouse and Shirley Trepel, who were the principal violaand cello, respectively, of the Symphony to join Ray andRon Patterson to form the Shepherd Quartet, which wasan important part of our early teaching andconcertgiving. Paul Ellison anchored our stringinstruction with his inspired teaching and performing onDouble Bass.We couldn’t hire all the principals of theSymphony, because many of them had taught for years atthe University of Houston, and when we hired Wayneand Shirley it caused a major rift for a time between ourtwo universities and resulted in a temporary hiring freeze.But we found great teachers for every instrument—weflew in John deLancie from the Philadelphia Orchestra toteach oboe; Richard Pickar, principal of the Symphony,taught clarinet; Eric Arbiter taught bassoon;Tom Bacon,horn; Mack Guderian, trumpet; Dave Waters, trombone.Richard Brown was one of our earliest appointees andwas a special mainstay of the ensemble program.Theeminent mezzo soprano Frances Bible taught voice.Therehave been many great performing faculty through theyears, but these were some from the very earliest years. Interms of our academic faculty, Ellsworth Milburn andArthur Gottschalk joined Paul Cooper in the theorydepartment, and Jeffrey Kurtzman and Marcia Citronjoined Anne Schnoebelen in the music historydepartment. In the latter years of my tenure we addedother great mainstays of the School, such as ClydeHolloway, our legendary organ professor, and I wasparticularly proud that we received a major grant fromthe Starling Foundation to finance the hiring of apreeminent violin instructor. I brought in Eudice Shapiroas the first to fill that position, now held, of course, bySergiu Luca. Many of these became pillars of the facultyand had much to do with making the Shepherd Schoolthe great institution that it is. Of course, my successors,especially Larry Livingston and Michael Hammond, also

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KR: Who are some of its members that you especiallyremember?

SJ: There are so many who were indispensable to thegroup that it is impossible to list them all. In addition tothose mentioned above, Ellen Kelley, Jerry Priest, HelenWorden, Phyllis Tucker, Gene Hackerman, LouisaSarofim, and Elva Kalb Dumas come readily to mind.Elva gave us our very first endowed scholarship, which atthat time required a gift of $10,000, soon followed by Mr.And Mrs. Erwin Heinen and by Mrs. Patti Cooper. Mygood friend Robert A. Shepherd, Jr. (a distant relative ofSallie Shepherd Perkins) agreed to become the firstpresident of the Society. Malcolm Lovett, Gen. MauriceHirsch, Dr. Harvey Gordon, Ralph Anderson and BillBland were some of the men who were on theOrganizational Committee.That committee, which wasco-chaired by Helen Worden and Gene Hackerman,became, upon the adoption of the bylaws, the first boardof directors of the society.After the inaugural concert,which we billed as a Shepherd School Showcase, theaudience all moved from Hamman Hall to the President’sHouse where Dr. and Mrs. Hackerman hosted an elegantreception.

I wanted to include as one of the group’s statedpurposes the raising of funds not only for scholarships butalso for a new building. One member of the group feltstrongly, however, that all our financial support should goto scholarships, and a majority of the group agreed withher. I remember feeling somewhat disappointed, but Inonetheless readily acquiesced, happy beyond words atthe scholarship support. Once again, I felt that at theright time additional support from the group toward anew building would spontaneously arise. Indeed, that wasthe case.When the time came to fund our new building,the Shepherd Society raised a million dollars toward thetotal cost, over and above their generous annualscholarship support.

It can’t be stressed enough what a great asset theShepherd Society is to the Shepherd School and to Rice.To my knowledge, it is by far the most successful supportgroup for a music school in the nation.

KR: Can you characterize the status of the Houston culturalscene in the mid-seventies? What was the overall mood ofthe city?

SJ: It was a time of optimism and growth. Houston was ayoung, vital city, characterized in many ways by thepowerful stimulation which NASA provided to theimagination. Our arts organizations, though seasoned andmature, were influenced by that same vitality, andHouston was beginning to think of itself as (and to aspire

to the status of) a world-class city. I often remarked thathow it felt to live in New York or Philadelphia a centuryago must have been similar to how it felt to live inHouston now with our city in its young maturity,confidently growing and achieving. It was a wonderfultime and place in which to be building a new institution.

KR: What did you foresee/realize as the place of theShepherd School within the Houston community?

SJ: As one can tell from the final paragraphs of Dreamsand Translations, I envisioned a deeply important role forthe Shepherd School within both the University and ourlarger community. Many cities in the country possessedstrong performing arts organizations, but the greatestmusic centers in the country had something else aswell—a major school for partnering with thoseorganizations to create a center that could attract giftedyoung artists and provide a means for the city’sprofessionals to reflect upon and pass along accumulatedinsights.The New York Philharmonic had such arelationship with Juilliard; the Philadelphia Orchestra,with Curtis; the Boston Symphony, with the NewEngland Conservatory. Many of us in the communitysensed the possibility of a similarly outstanding role forthe Shepherd School in Houston.And Rice—though noteveryone realized it at the time—desperately needed thesalutary effect of great music on its campus.And ithappened, rather quickly.After all, three decades is a shorttime in the life of an institution, isn’t it?

And, speaking of short times, my term as Dean justflew by. Or, I should say, in some ways it did. In otherways, it was so full, so active, that it seemed suspended intime.And that’s an interesting thing…you asked earlierabout the greatest challenges. I would have to say thatperhaps the greatest of all was knowing when to stepdown. I remember speaking to the faculty early in mysixth year and reviewing our joint accomplishments. Iremember the private thought that pushed almostfrighteningly into my awareness then, even while I wasspeaking to them.That thought said,“You know, youmight have to think about the fact that you have done forthis School what you set out to do. It’s now firmlyestablished in the life of the University—the tap root isdown.You’ve taken it from zero to 135 students.You’vebuilt a great faculty.The dream of the School has nowbeen translated into reality. Perhaps you’ve finished yourwork as dean.”

In addition to that, as deep as the friendships of all ofus who started the School had become and as intensely aswe had collaborated, it was perhaps inevitable that somestrains and disappointments would emerge.And I realizedthat my own style of leadership, though strongly

Rosamay Davis, Ellis Rudy, and Van Ballard

Harpist Mary Jane Sinclair with Pat Samuels

Carla Homan and Martine LePaulee

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collaborative and inclusive, was modeled by the approachto administration which I had seen embodied by Hansonand which Hackerman himself practiced, that of a strongcentral authority. I had not been in academia during therevolutions of the ’60s, and I found it difficult to sharewith the faculty the final responsibility for the Schoolthat some of them felt, in increasing measure, was theirdue. Frustration with my leadership began to grow insome quarters, and I began to sense that perhaps it wastime now for someone who was a professionaladministrator to assume the mantle.After all, I ambasically a creator, a composer.The School had neededsomeone to compose it, and that I had done. Now itneeded an executant.And I needed to become a musicianagain, and a teacher. I needed now to join my colleaguesin helping to shape the School from within the ranks.

It’s probably no accident that sabbaticals come whenthey do, at a time somehow naturally endowed as the

time for a break, a caesura, a perfect authentic cadence. Itwas time to draw the double bar and go on to the nextmovement.This symphony was just getting started.

Editor’s Note: After six years as the first Dean of the ShepherdSchool of Music, Samuel Jones stepped down from that positionat the conclusion of the 1978–79 school year and took asabbatical leave during which he composed his opera AChristmas Memory. He continued his association with Riceand the Shepherd School as Professor of Composition andConducting, and he served for many years as Director ofGraduate Studies. He spent the 1988–89 academic year asDirector of Orchestral Studies at Carnegie Mellon University.He retired from Rice in 1997 after 24 years of service to theUniversity, and he and his wife moved to the Seattle area wherehe was appointed Composer in Residence of the SeattleSymphony. He is currently in his tenth year in that position.

Support for the Woodson Research Center

Many thanks to the many contributors to the RiceHistorical Society/Juliets event on Valentine’s Day at StarMotor Cars. Because of the generosity of our members,the society is able to donate $1,569 to the WoodsonResearch Center in Fondren Library for the preservationof Rice history. Thank you so much!

Valentine Party

Mary DeAnda and Grace Bunch

Denise Fischer and Bonnie Sue Wooldridge

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Holiday Party at the Home of Betty and Bob Bixby

Bartenders extraordinaire:Alan Bath and GlennSeureau

Greg Davis, Lee Seureau, and Pam Devine

Photos courtesy of Greg Davis

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“The Malady”

The Thresher reported onDecember 8, 1948 that once again“The Malady” had attacked thecampus. One hundred sixtystudents had reported to theinfirmary for treatment. The firstoutbreak had come during theweekend of the A&M game.Almost the entire football team

was sick and had to be doctored on the way to the game.This attack reached its peak between midnight and6 o’clock Monday morning, with symptoms lastinggenerally about 24 hours. No cause had yet been found,but food and water are being checked.

More than ten years later another major attack of“The Malady” hit in March 1959 when approximately 80percent of dorm students were affected. Again, the watersupply was thought to be the culprit.

Election Polls

In a Presidential straw poll, designed “to stimulate interestamong Rice students in current national issues,” thestudents overwhelmingly chose Franklin DelanoRoosevelt over Herbert Hoover.They also votedoverwhelmingly for the repeal of prohibition.—Thresher, October 21 1932

Rice on Parade

At the suggestion of Lyndon B. Johnson, state director forthe National Youth Administration, Dr. Edgar O. Lovett,President of Rice Institute, sent the NYA the blue andgrey pennant of the Institute to be carried in theJanuary 20, 1937, Inaugural Parade in Washington, D.C.

Those Were the Days

The annual Sadie Hawkins dance will be held thisSaturday night (November 6, 1948). Boys are to dress asL’il Abner, girls as Daisy Mae or Moonbeam McSwine.Girls ask the boys, but those boys who don’t get askedcan come stag.The Girl’s Club has labeled this one“Sadie’s Last Chance.”

Owl Club Formed

The October 7, 1949 issue of the Thresher announced theformation of the Owl Club, an organization of RiceInstitute alumni and friends with the aim of promoting“closer fellowship between Rice Institute supporters andthe greater enjoyment of all athletics at the Institute.”Thegroup will meet one night each week during the footballseason with the coaching staff to meet the players andlearn about coaching methods and strategy. Coach JessNealy will lead the discussions.

More Headlines

“Chess Club Organized for Mental Ones”—Thresher,April 23, 1926

FROM THE ARCHIVESBy Alan Bath

The Malady, 1948