- of the esoteric (to me) class with maps and charts of the digital-analog technology of the Sal-Mar Construction to the stunning performances on that same instrument.
- of Sal's tremendous faith in the power of technology that never waivered, but always centered the human spirit in its focus.
- of being treated with respect as a peer rather than as a student which in turn fostered our faith in ourselves to explore diverse creative paths.
- of Sal's extraordinarily generous nature in welcoming us to his home . . . whether a party to meet Pierre Boulez, or a pilgramage back to Champaign-Urbana 15 years later, the welcome was always heart felt . . (During the offerings of pasta and/or vino I felt often that I had returned to Italy and the tree in his backyard had magically turned into a Tuscan persimmon.)
Although the loss of Sal's presence is terribly painful, it is comforting to know that his spirit has touched so many of us.
We will miss him, but we will always love him. . .
He had a slow charm and a way about him all his own.
We were Fulbrighters and Italy was our turf. We hung out, we drank the vino and we were a while group of Italy freaks. We worked hard and starved most of the time. No one loved it all beter than Sal.
He followed his music and made his mark. Independent, proud, he was truly modest . . . and honest.
His friends mourn his passing.
A special time occurred during the Darmstadt Festival in 1957, when after an evening concert we went to a tavern and played for the younger composers. It must have been a memorable experience for him as well since he mentioned it to me several times in later years. Another special memory is our midnight to six AM reunion at Oberlin in the Spring of 1975. (Ed London will remember) It was a good time with good friends. Sal's intensity left its mark whenever we met. When I think about each of our reunions over fourty years, I remember him as being imaginative, encouraging, and supposrtive, as he was to many fellow I met Sal in 1962, when he was in San Francisco for a time. We had a camaraderie together with Loren Rush and Stuart Dempster. We had a lot of discussion about music and a generally enjoyable time. Sal presented my Trio for Flute, Piano, and Page Turner in the early sixties on his Round House series. We continued to encounter one another at the University of Illinois through the years when from time to time I was an invited guest. During my last visit during the Summer of 1992, I saw Sal for the last time. It was during an audience participation concert that I gave during the conference Voices of the Future. After the concert, Ed Harkins told me the following story: During *Ear Piece* (which involves two partners on either side of a recipient improvising with very soft phonemes very close to the ear of the recipient). 'Sal was one of my partners during Ear Piece. Sal was silent for most of the three minutes - then he got into it and said into my ear: "Jack Daniels!" After that piece Sal left the concert.'
Well, now you've made the big transition and here we are, those of us left behind, working to materialize memories and insure meaning for the rest of our lives. Words are hard. Music helps. Rest assured, we understand well that one who has contributed as much as you can live on in our collective lives. There is truth in the thought that much can be passed on. We have all been touched by you and the reverberations will last for a long time to come.
When I indulge in reminiscing, thinking of pivotal moments in memory, you are a big part of many of the great ones. Perhaps the grandest still remains my first encounter with you and your music when I was still just a teenager.
Growing up in the rural midwest, country solitude, living close with hard thoughts, imagination as friend, some exposure to futurism, a gang of experimentally minded buddies, all lead to a youthful anxiousness to get to the big town, where ideas about forward evolution were supposed to lurk at every corner. One day, Will Parsons introduced me to you. Underworld was in preparation. I saw parts of the score. We talked about new techniques. That was it. Life changed, and the rest is history.
Those were important days, formative days, no fooling around with anything but big ideas. The sessions we had together then and for many years thereafter included great disscussions, absorbing musical encounters, and invigorating speculations. No one was ever more supporting, more encouraging, more respectful, more able to substantiate the value of artistic resk-taking, and more willing to be there with an intellectual safety net if it was needed.
For all this, I thank you from deep within my heart, and the world we know and values thanks you too. You are much loved, Sal, and may your soul find the rest it so deserves.
I mentioned that this distinction between the students is in itself an influence. His reply was a wide, knowing smile.
Another image of a photo session I did of Sal in 1980 at a Chicago art gallery where Peter Gena and I presented - one last look - the SalMar Construction. Sal spent an entire day assembling the behemoth device while I grabbed shots then he gave an evening performance titled Look at the Back of My Head for Awhile. I was too busy at the time to make proofs, but on November 9th, 1995 I found the forgotten contact sheet and negatives in a file cabinet and made a mental note to send them to Sal).
A final image of a great generous teddy-bear possibilist of a man (who kept faith in a cultural desert and helped so many composers over the years) being wrenched from us all by some mindless goddamn disease Everything Goes When the Whistle Blows.
Salvatore Martirano Composer's Award
All contributions should specify that they are in memory of Salvatore Martirano.
(photo by Steven Gunther, graphic montage by Lou Harrison.)