San Francisco Classical Voice

Music is given life by the musicians who play it. And those musicians in turn, partake of a larger life through music. When trumpeter Edward Haug died in Canada last week at the age of 75, his own playing ended--but his musical influence and his helpful spirit continue to be felt in the Bay Area and in the larger musical world.

Born and raised in San Francisco, "Eddie" Haug belonged to a hard-working musical family that was nearly a dynasty. His father, the late Julius Haug, the Principal Second Violinist of the San Francisco Symphony, was also the most active and influential music contractor in the Bay Area. He handled personnel matters for the Symphony, the Opera, the Ballet, the downtown theaters, the Standard Hour radio broadcast, and anyone else who needed his services. (Eddie later recalled that family vacations were always cut shorter than scheduled during his childhood. "Dad would always get worried that the phone might be ringing and no one was there to answer it.") Alma Haug mothered Eddie and his sister Julia, helped Julius by handling many of the administrative aspects of his work, also serving as the music librarian for both the Symphony and the Opera.

This kind of family background helped support musical development, but it was not a guarantee of success. Eddie worked his way up. After excellent early training and three years in the army during WWII, he supported himself and his first wife, as he put it: "..,by performing at Greek weddings, Chinese funerals (in bands that marched up and down the hills of San Francisco), Easter Sunrise services on Mt. Davidson, Grand National Livestock expositions, Golden Gate Park Concert Band on Sunday afternoons and as backstage trumpeter for the San Francisco Opera." All of this activity did build toward bigger things: in 1949 Pierre Monteux hired him to be Assistant Principal in the San Francisco Symphony, and in 1952 Gaetano Merola hired him to play in the San Francisco Opera Orchestra.

Holding two such important positions can be the height of an orchestral career, but more was in store. In 1960, Sandor Salgo, then the new Music Director of the Carmel Bach Festival, invited Eddie to perform as Principal Baroque trumpeter. Eddie later recalled that very complimentary invitation: "He (Salgo) said: ‘Eddie, I dream of hearing your light, warm tone on the solo passages.'"

Eddie did not immediately accept. He was a modest man: "I was very apprehensive..., did not think I had the special ability to play this, the most demanding of literature for the trumpet: Bach's Magnificat, B minor Mass, Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, and on and on. I was deep into philosophy at that time, and came across the Zen concept: ‘A fire is coolest in the center, and when fighting is unavoidable, jump into the center of the fray.' I accepted, and then came the most exciting and demanding years of my career."

His first challenge was the B minor Mass, and he succeeded completely. The San Francisco Examiner reviewer wrote that his tone was "...like steady starlight in Bach's magnificent Baroque vision," a wonderful beginning for many years of superb Festival music-making,

Bill Holmes, the current second trumpet of the San Francisco Opera orchestra, and a former student of Eddie's, remarks: "He showed us all that it was possible to play trumpet like that. He demystified it. He had developed tricks, techniques, ways of pacing yourself, and he shared them generously. He was always supportive and encouraging."

"Supportive" and "encouraging" are two words that recur frequently whenever colleagues and former students speak about Eddie. He taught at the San Francisco Conservatory from 1946 to 1980, as well as privately, so hundreds of students studied with him through the years. Some became professional musicians, others went into different lines of work. But they all received the same attentive, affirmative instruction. It was instruction that always emphasized the pursuit of musical meaning. Eddie deplored standards that held technical perfection as more important than seeking the soul of a piece. He taught technique, of course, but always as the servant of music.

He taught other things as well, qualities of attitude and joy. John Pearson, also of the San Francisco Opera Orchestra, fondly recalls the wise and helpful counsel: "When in doubt, enjoy yourself!" Perhaps this was another approach to jumping into the center of the fray.

When Davies Hall opened in 1980-causing San Francisco Opera to establish its own completely independent orchestra--Eddie was one of the veteran players who decided to leave the symphony and stay with the opera. His combination of operatic experience and personal good-nature were very important to the success of the new group. He was a genial leader. (One of his favorite phrases from that time was a smiling--and disarming–"My future lies behind me.") Sitting as second trumpet, flanked by brilliant younger players who had not played anywhere near as much opera as he, he pointed cut potential trouble spots before they occurred, organized sectional warmups in advance of full rehearsals, helped coordinate the ensemble among the whole brass section. "He saved our bacon many a time," recalls trombonist Don Kennelley. With natural authority, he made it easy to do the right thing.

He made it fun, too. His jokes and stories are remembered by friends as much as his supportiveness. Brass players sometimes joke that the ability to carry on an interesting conversation should be part of their auditions--to help fill in the long periods of empty bars between the episodes of exposed and soloistic playing. Eddie established himself with his playing, but if telling stories had been a requirement, he would have had an edge there too.

When Eddie retired, he did not retire. He and his wife, the pianist Rosalyn Frantz, moved to the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia, Canada, where they were both members of the Okanagan Symphony and the Viva Musica Opera Company. Just a few months ago, shortly before his 75th birthday, he had begun to gather his stories and memoirs into a book, Who Put the Piranhas in my Hottub? It is a slender manuscript, but it contains some of his favorite recollections, a few of which are famous in the music world.

For example, there is the story of San Francisco bass clarinetist Frank Fragale, "... jovial, portly little Italian with little respect for authority. The incident that endeared him to all the players occurred during a dress rehearsal of one of the Wagner Operas as one of the intricate woodwind passages bogged down. One after another woodwind player dropped out as the whole section floundered. The conductor was Fritz Reiner--one of the most sarcastic conductors of all times. He was looking for a scapegoat to blame for the mess, turned to Fragale and said: ‘Bass Clarinet, do you know where we are?' To which Frank immediately responded: ‘Sorry Maestro, but I'm-a lost, TOO!'

One story that Eddie often told did not get into the book, a unique experience he had in 1970. A stockbroker named Edward Haug had died in San Francisco, and the San Francisco Examiner ran a story with confused and inadequate research, twisting the two lives together. For years afterward Eddie would tell people: "You have no idea what it's like to come downstairs for breakfast, pour your coffee, pick up your toast, open the paper and read your own obituary! At first I was just shocked. Then I began to be impressed with my accomplishments. Then I started to think about asking for a raise. Then I decided to ask for a retraction first."

On that occasion, a retraction came. This time it cannot. But those of us who experienced the joys of spending time with--and making music with--this gifted, gentle man, are glad that he had an advance opportunity to be impressed by his own accomplishments.

(Tom Heimberg is a longtime violist with the San Francisco Opera Orchestra, formerly with the Oakland and San Francisco Symphonies, and has had extended service as orchestra manager.)

©2001 Tom Heimberg, all rights reserved