Featured Story It Has Been A Rough Year
I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome. I wish ...
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| The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins
The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.
http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml
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Browse for more stories Richard 's Story > Chapters > Spartanburg South Carolina
| Date Range: 08/15/1963 To 08/15/1966 |
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San Francisco Years 1960-63 One of the origins of my family was in San Francisco. My mothers family (Patricia Benkman) had originated from there since the 1880’s. My Great grandfather arrived from Otto Von Bismark toiled Germany in San Francisco. My great grand mother arrived from England via London Canada to the golden gate city shortly after the turn of the 20th century. They came to the new land, settled and made their claim there.
During my experience during this time my grandmother and great-grandmother (Emily Andrews Marlowe born 1869) were still alive. My grandfather (Herbert Benkman-Flutist San Francisco Symphony), his brothers and extended family , two aunts, and one first cousin were my family in San Francisco, calling this home for several generations to follow. Living and growing up around generations of family was a blessing during the very first few years of my life was a blessing. Unfortunately due to the residencies of my parents this was not always the case. But it was always a blessing to visit at least three times a year for holidays and Christmas when it could be afforded.
The world of the early 1960’s in San Francisco I scarcely remember, although little hints come from time to time, as well as echos of the past through memorobilia, pictures, photographs and home films. Recollections of downtown, fishermans warf, the bay bridge and golden gate parks offer thier extension to memories as with the old “Playland” of San Francisco,which still glides in my memory as a child.
My parents had their careers engaged in music as well as teaching. We moved about. I think there was a great deal of travel that injected me with future wanderlust within my first few years of life. If it was not by plane it was by car, across the country many times and to other destinations.
In late 196o we moved from St. Charles Missouri to San Francisco and took residence over a very large old Victorian house in the vicinity of what was Haight Ashbury.
As we know my parents were very established and renown pianists and concert performers and were facilitated by the best of possible worlds then.
I was a child of two, perhaps three. The echos of this time in memory have me in the large front room or playing on the back porch, listening to the piano being played by both my father and mother. These were preluded to large tours by my father, or my parents students, many of whom went on to good careers playing and teaching piano.
The Large Victorian had many floors, so it seemed, and had a gigantic stairway with ornate glass and embellishment. Of course it was divided up at that time, but we had the main residence between the othe tenants.
I remember this place only as a shadow in time. This building had been residence to the French Embassy at one time and filled my memories for many years. (Similar building in illustration..though not the actual Embassy. The building later had been torn down in the late 1960's to make room for a modern apartment building..but this photo serves the purpose...just about like this)
The building was divided...the back portion and down a flight of stairs were reserved for the students of my parents. In the parlor was a wonderful rosewood concert grand where my parents gave lessons to their students. Recollections of the residence after this in a turn of the century building on Clay Street (San Francisco) are equally vague, although shadows do play. Moreover the memories are triggered in a sense by the music I still heard in the fathoms of my mind as a shadow, my parents, the intensity and of course the piano.
At our large residence in San Francisco I still have memories of visitors.
Some of my memories were when the great Dutch virtuoso Egon Petri came over for dinner many times. I remember when he came over and asked me to come to the piano and sat me down and spanned my fingers over the keyboard and gave me a mini piano lesson of a chord or two in progression. I remember at least two times he came over and played a mini recital of his upcoming concert.
He was a stern man who seemed quite playful to me at points, seeming to like children and somehow understand their ways.
He was very impressed at the lavishly decorated house that was lent and rented to my parents for a time after our arrival in San Francisco. My father was always away on concert tours it seemed. Still at this young age I remember the traveling and lines in the airport to distant destinations. We went to Europe one fall. I remember the long flight on a TWA Constellation (an antique aircraft today) and a gigantic KLM logo, with a Dutch airline stewardess watching over me as a child from New York to Amsterdam. It was my fathers tour to record the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto #1 (Ozan Marsh Live) in Europe, with VLR, that made this destination a reality.
We moved again after six months to another apartment in San Francisco for a few more months before my parents went in for the great family investment of a wonderful house.
The 1960's were far different than today. It seemed that there was an energy in the air, and opportunity seemed to amplify this energy.
My father had 100's of concerts with the Boston Pops on tour as well as 100's more with Columbia's Community Concert series.
I do remember flying many times to see my father on occasion on a mid-tour to find a enthusiastic man who loved his family and could see no real problems. As a child I had everything I could ever dream, a wonderful family who supported me and cared as well as a life that was almost dreamlike.
Looking back my parents were doing very well in San Francisco. My mothers position as piano professor at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music as well as my fathers teaching and concert tours were enough to live an enjoyable life.
The world that I am speaking of is vastly different than today however (2012) This was 1960-63 and an era of growth in the United States. Things were reasonable by todays standards, and the lifes of many were sought by a single income. My parents however both worked hard at their careers maintaining 10’s of thousands of hours in practice as well as teaching piano. (Of course this is literally impossible today 2010 where people sometimes have to work two or three jobs to make ends meet, and most positions today dont pay very well.....my parents did this all during their lives and they were classical musicians, teachers and artists!...How times have changed!)
The music of this day was not heavily endowed with pop as it is today. One may think back to lesser known music of Guy Lombardo and others who’s music was more popular in the early 1960’s than we assume rock and roll was. Elvis’s music was heard, and his music was popular in Playland and with the youth of the day I do however have recollections of the beginnings of the Haight Ashbury movement. As it seemed, and I do remember asking my father as to the reason we left such a wonderful dwelling in Haight Ashbury, he simply responded, “The neigboorhood was beginning to dwindle and become dangerous, not only because of the people moving in but the violence and break-ins that were happening...and of course the vandals and drugs” I personally did not recollect the hippie movement in San Francisco then, as this began a few years after we moved out, but I did recall that my father had to often thwart off intruders into our house in Haight Ashbury before we left. The residence in this vicinity did become a danger to my mother, myself and the students of my parents at that time. Later in the 60’s I do remember quite vividly seeing row of houses in the vicinity, perhaps as far as my eyes could see, those large rambling victorians being sacrificed to the graffiti and finally the bulldozer and wrecking ball. Cetainly in the early 60’s parts of San Francisco became somewhat off limits because of the problems, violence and the run-down vicinities which became ghetto areas, scarcely worth visiting. It is with saddness that any area in a large city become a ghetto, or that people were impoverished to that mene, but it happens in most cities, and it was rampant in the 60’s -70’s in San Francisco. For the most part a visit today of those areas may see things all cleaned up, the old signs stipped away, modern structures built up where the old tenements stood, scarcely a reminder standing of what really was there in a multi-million dollar apartment city, glorious and tourist driven.
Now we look back in nostalgia at an era which we recall in films of the early 60’s, which may have been a revolution in popular culture, that was not really as grandiose as it seemed but was a revolution in pop culture of the day.
Converse College Years Spartanburg South Carolina
In late 1963 my parents moved to new teaching Positions at Converse College in Spartanburg South Carolina. Surely it was a great position for both my parents as Assistant professors in piano to teach.
We moved all the way across the country and rented out our our house in San Francisco, returning from time to time for short visits of several weeks until about 1973 when we sold the small house, partially because the real estate in the area was not moving up, and stagnant at the time. -Quite literally the house bought at 19,000 dollars (1963) was sold for 32 (1973) and is more than a million-and-a-half dollars today -(2012)
Both my parents worked as professors at the music school at Converse College (One of the better music schools at that time in the east) 
The place we lived was a small two bedroom apartment initially, which changed to another house nearby 180 Connecticut Ave Spartanburg, small but semi-comfortable. Finally we bought a house nearby converse with a big yard, two buildings and rebuilt it after getting it at a sale price that was almost unbelievable- The place was overgrown and widows etched by age. The house was abandoned, had’nt been lived in for years and was almost close to a wrecking ball before we restored it- 154 Mills Ave Spartanburg South Carolina-
Memories
As a child I was immersed in music from all angles. My parents were teaching some wonderful and gifted pupils at that time some who have rather outstanding names today. Music was their life and livelihood. My father was continually on tour with Columbia Artists and the Boston Pops and making recordings. He would be on the road for two weeks or more and then return home. Sometimes my mother and I would fly off to see him and be with him on his tour, landing and departing to Detroit, Boston, New York, Los Angeles, St Louis or Denver, and back again thousands and ten-thousands of miles to nearly every state in the union. It was before my school years but I do remember all too well the line of suitcases, boarding calls and the rough flights in a time just when jets were starting to be in more common use.
These trips would sometimes last only a few days however, but it was travel. 
Pictured above (Dated the Spartanburg Herald Oct 21 1963, are my parents, pianist Ozan Marsh and Patricia Benkman in one of a number of joint recitals. Many many reviews and articles were published in the papers about them across the country. I find some of them in syndication by google.
In the fall of this same year I took up piano at the tutelage of my parents. I progressed rapidly and was included in some school events playing the piano as a child. (I found one brief article from 1965 in the Spartanburg paper only mentioning me by name and my parents names. It was so long ago however, I forget the connection, perhaps part of a musical review (in archives) with other talents my age...
The first year was basic, but I remember learning pieces of Schuman, Bach and other composers during this time, quite long ago. I played at several events for school, and a PTA meeting, however this was long ago...a school article is connected with this that sounded interesting, if not altogether brave. I was 6 years old.
The Gemming of Music and Art
I remember my first piano lessons in San Francisco with my parents at the helm. It wasn't until South Carolina that I was guided with once a week interests. My parents seemed to be determinate to let me find my way when it came to my own interests. The piano was not initially intimidating to me, but rather a natural place, in front of the keyboard.
My parents did not push me but guided me if I needed this, or because my interests were intense.
I was 4 years old and barely large enough to climb up on the piano bench and climb off without getting hurt. It was a natural place. I improvised and played somewhat naturally by ear.
I remember my parents after classes relaxing on the sofa before dinner. I came in to annoy them with some question about something or another that I had heard my father play on the piano seeming to grasp something to do with music rather in nuance, and phrase, calculating wrong notes, seeming to grasp some qualities of the keyboard instantly and without hesitation. Both parents were in constant practice and the house was filled with music ten hours a day-4-6 hours practicing per day.
It was "that piece"...I demanded and then walked over to the piano and pulled up the cover and started to play by ear what I had heard.
What piece was that? I started to play, bridging out and covering the motives as if a radio station were broadcast in my head.
My parents grew perplexed and their faces grew a little worried, and then my mother burst out in intensity..."Tchakowsky B Flat Piano Concerto!"...and somehow I started to play it...
The music was in my fingers! I really didnt think about the notes, and somehow the music was happening right under my hands. “ I dont like Busoni!” I uttered, ran in the other room, and jumped back, “Its Prokofiev! Too many wrong notes”. Whatever I heard I could jumble out the motives at this time, in a seemingly automatic way.
Was I a prodigy? It just came by nature especially when I was really young. I kept on going...and my father took me to the side and asked "Do you want lessons...now tell me?". And I said yes, beginning the next day.
My parents were worried, I remember.
I seemed a bit precious, maybe...it all seemed natural.
As a child I knew other children who were coming for lessons. There were adults around me, as well as students of my parents who were getting to be renowned.
I was kept to the side in my piano studies, keeping it simple rather. It is a difficult career! A very difficult career. I knew this from a very young age. I played. As usual with other children my age it was difficult to have diciplined practice and those lessons that seemed to have me in tears with the old man Bach whose work seemed a little worn to me, as it requires work. I was a child, my parents were concerned about too much material too soon having taught many children in thier time, and knew the element of when to let off, and time to assymilate happen regarding music and material.
The intensity was incredible with my parents teaching. Surely if I wanted to have been the ‘great pianist’ I would, or could have been. Looking back I was thankful never to be forced, but take to what I needed to learn naturally.
Let Children be...children! A very carefully set statement.
I would rather play outside than have those old lessons out of that dusty old book! I admit...some things would come to crystal clarity, if one didnt force them..and of course the metronome! I learned the power of the metronome, taking it around the apartment almost as if a geiger counter to see how many ticks "this had... and that had" My parents would laugh.. Perhaps it was some kind of unusual childrens talent, this gift...memories play.
But what is better than sparking that gift for the love of art could be better?
The Art... Children know about art in a natural manner. It comes to them, as well as the interest, in a somewhat natural manner as with music if allowed, and carefully tempered over time.
About the same time 1964/65 my father had a television show, known as the “Ozan Marsh Show” in Columbia South Carolina on a local station. "The Ozan Marsh" Show was to last several months and quite a number of broadcasts which included my father playing Chopin and Liszt or other composers live and greet guests for musical and informational seminars.
I think the show lasted a year in entirety and then it was timed or schedualed out to the Lawrence Welk Show or some other more popular theme. S
During the filming I would go to the studios with my father and wait for him several hours during his filming sessions. On one occassion I grew terribly ill.
My fever grew and my skin went pale and then a shade of green. I had been outside playing when I simply fell down. My father and the technicians came rushing out. One of the techs grabbed me and carried me to the green room as my father went on break and rushed in to see me. I was almost delerious. Apparently there was only a fixed amout of time when the filming would occur...and there were no wasted moments...as tensions grew. The Tech brought me a blanket and water as the fever which I did have grew...and he was seriously thinking that I should go to the hospital which I did shortly after filming....(It was the Mumps or some Childhood Disease)
The tech brought me a thick drawing tablet and a box of pencils and asked me to draw. He sat there with me and gave me lessons in drawing that I remember to this day...kind of amazing. He had a box of Radio Tubes and other electronic gear which he placed on a table..an said to me..."Imagine"...Imagine if you are that!
That day was a long day...and the next day too, same routine, but I was allot better, and the Tech brought to me more paper and pencils as well as paints to consume my time. "Here, Kid...Let me show you how to draw" He exclaimed. "This is one-point perspective, and this is 2 point perspective...this is a vanishing point, this a line, and this a plane" he demonstrated, and I would copy him. "This is 3 Point Perspective...and that is how light is shaded on a cone" he exclaimed. As a child these things just seemed as wonderful new novelties...perspective, light, shade and shadow. There was a wonderful sense that I had somehow received naturally and developing this skill plus the imagination seemed a crucial issue. (1964)
I will always remember the fellow from the television studio, that was the first time I could remember having a full drawing lesson, aside from my father...who took me aside and lent me his paints and allowed me to use his "box". Not everybody knew that my father used to paint...and one of his teachers John Ferris Connah would later appear in my life as a teacher in (1976-77)
Chautauqua Influence
My father had done some projects and performances during the early 60's with Revington Arthur as an Avante Garde experiment and fusion with music (piano) and art. He began to work on one of the rough experiments with Arthur in a dynamic movement that was centered out of Buffalo New York.
This movement in art was an early 60's fusion of music and art that was similar in texture to "theater of the absurd" but utilized professional performers in the fusion experiments..that were well attended and produced professionally, appearing in Buffalo as well as at several serious venues for progressive art of the 60's. As a child I heard these experiments first hand and they were an influence.
One of the Pieces included 3 pianos tuned differently and heavily scored for percussion and violin as well as actors and singers. Each part was carefully laid out...as during the session an artist (Revington Arthur) would be painting continuously, while other actors appeared and dissapeared at random, for specific lines.
The fact that this was an early 60's movement was interesting, but I still remember well the careful staging and production of this "event" that was carefully scored and played out. The Gemming of Music and Art
I remember my first piano lessons in San Francisco with my parents at the healm. My parents seemed to be determinate to let me find my way when it came to my own interests. They did not push me but guided me if I needed this, or because my interests were intense.
I was 4 years old and barely large enough to climb up on the piano bench and climb off without getting hurt. I remember my parents after classes relaxing on the sofa and I came in to annoy them with some question about something or another that I had heard my father play on the piano...since he was practicing all the time 4-6 hours per day. It was "that piece"...I demanded and then walked over to the piano and pulled up the cover and started to play. My parents grew perplexed and their faces grew a little worried, and then my mother burst out in intensity..."Tchaikowski B Flat Piano Concerto!"...and somehow I started to play it...I really didnt think about the notes, and somehow the music was happening right under my fingers. I kept on going...and my father took me to the side and asked "Do you want lessons...now tell me?". And I said yes, beginning the next day.
Oh I would rather play outside than have those old lessons out of that dusty old book! I admit...some things would come to crystal clarity, if one didnt force them..and of course the metronome! I learned the power of the metronome, taking it around the apartment almost as if a geiger counter to see how many ticks "this had... and that had" My parents would laugh.. Perhaps it was some kind of unusual childrens talent, this gift...memories play.
But what is better than sparking that gift for the love of art could be better?
The Art...
About the same time 1964/65 my father had a television show in Columbia South Carolina on a local station. "The Ozan Marsh" Show was to last several months. During the filming I would go to the studios with my father and wait for him several hours during his filming sessions. On one occassion I grew terribly ill.
My fever grew and my skin went pale and then a shade of green. I had been outside playing when I simply fell down. My father and the technicians came rushing out. One of the techs grabbed me and carried me to the green room as my father went on break and rushed in to see me. I was almost delerious. Apparently there was only a fixed amout of time when the filming would occur...and there were no wasted moments...as tensions grew. The Tech brought me a blanket and water as the fever which I did have grew...and he was seriously thinking that I should go to the hospital which I did shortly after filming....(It was the Mumps or some Childhood Disease)
The tech brought me a thick drawing tablet and a box of pencils and asked me to draw. He sat there with me and gave me lessons in drawing that I remember to this day...kind of amazing. He had a box of Radio Tubes and other electronic gear which he placed on a table..an said to me..."Imagine"...Imagine if you are that!
That day was a long day...and the next day too, same routine, but I was allot better, and the Tech brought to me more paper and pencils as well as paints to consume my time. "Here, Kid...Let me show you how to draw" He exclaimed. "This is one-point perspective, and this is 2 point perspective...this is a vanishing point, this a line, and this a plane" he demonstrated, and I would copy him. "This is 3 Point Perspective...and that is how light is shaded on a cone" he exclaimed. As a child these things just seemed as wonderful new novelties...perspective, light, shade and shadow. There was a wonderful sense that I had somehow received naturally and developing this skill plus the imagination seemed a crucial issue. (1964)
I will always remember the fellow from the television studio, that was the first time I could remember having a full drawing lesson, aside from my father...who took me aside and lent me his paints and allowed me to use his "box". Not everybody knew that my father used to paint...and one of his teachers John Ferris Connah would later appear in my life as a teacher in (1976-77)
Chautauqua Influence
My father had done some projects and performances during the early 60's with Revington Arthur as an Avante Garde experiment and fusion with music (piano) and art. He began to work on one of the rough experiments with Arthur in a dynamic movement that was centered out of Buffalo New York.
This movement in art was an early 60's fusion of music and art that was similar in texture to "theater of the absurd" but utilized professional performers in the fusion experiments..that were well attended and produced professionally, appearing in Buffalo as well as at several serious venues for progressive art of the 60's. As a child I heard these experiments first hand and they were an influence.
One of the Pieces included 3 pianos tuned differently and heavily scored for percussion and violin as well as actors and singers. Each part was carefully laid out...as during the session an artist (Revington Arthur) would be painting continuously, while other actors appeared and dissapeared at random, for specific lines.
The fact that this was an early 60's movement was interesting, but I still remember well the careful staging and production of this "event" that was carefully scored and played out. | | Comments
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