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TRIBUTE
October 18, 2005
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By Tom Heimberg
[Editor's note: Nathan Rubin, for many decades concertmaster of the Oakland Symphony and afterward of the Oakland East Bay
Symphony, an unmistakable presence in everything from new-music groups to backing ensembles, a gentle and knowledgeable teacher
and an uncommonly elegant violinist, died last Thursday at the age of 75. San Francisco Classical Voice is deeply grateful
to Nate's longtime colleague Tom Heimberg for sharing his reminiscences of his friend.]
Many anecdotes circulate about Nathan Rubin. But the best Nathan Rubin stories are the ones that Nate told himself. He knew what
others said about him — how they praised his ear, his sensitivity, his sight-reading, his musical and literary intelligence.
He had a wry attitude toward what is being called the Legend of Nathan Rubin.
And he was acutely aware of how people project their own dreams and aspirations onto someone they admire. He once said to a
student, "Don't make the mistake of thinking your friends can do what you can't. If you decide what you want to do, you will learn
how to do it."
When Nathan told stories that touched on his reputation he often gave a different — and amusingly contradictory —
reporting of events. There was, for example, his description of his Senior Jury at Juilliard: "I was the last violinist to play
that morning, just before lunch time. So when I finished playing, the faculty judges stood up to leave for lunch. Later I heard
that a student who had been listening in the hallway was telling everyone I played so well that the judges had all stood in
tribute. That's the story about me that went around school."
He smiled when he told this. It was a smile familiar to everyone who knew him, a very personal gesture in which he seemed to bite
his lower lip. It both expressed amusement and implied a further personal opinion (held in reserve) at the same time.
He smiled in the same way when he described how he “cheated” for his lessons with Louis Persinger in New York: "I had learned early
on how he liked to hear pieces played, so I didn't practice between lessons, I just went there and sight-read."
"But without practicing, it was hard for me to get my vibrato working — until I found that if I ran from the subway station to
Persinger's apartment, I could rev up my heart-rate — and that helped me vibrate."
Nate had practiced when he was very young, of course. A lot. Good violinists all practice an enormous amount. But some of them do
it so young and so intensely that they develop their hand-mind connections without remembering how. Nate's well-known technical
fluency existed before he studied with Persinger. From then on his intelligence and multiple interests built his musicianship into
the rich structure it became.
Nathan's fame in contemporary-music circles grew widely once he started teaching at Mills College in 1956. That appointment led to
his working with many of the prominent musicians then associated with the College: Darius Milhaud, Luciano Berio, Luigi
Dallapiccola, Leon Kirchner.
Two more of Nate's stories date from this period half a century ago. Nathan was only 27, and single. At the meeting of the hiring
committee one faculty member objected, "This won't work out. He likes girls too much." Darius Milhaud asked, "Would you prefer that
he like boys?" The objection was withdrawn.
In 1960, Leon Kirchner, another important contemporary composer at Mills at that time, had finished composing his new concerto for
violin, cello, winds, and percussion. He called the great cellist George Neikrug and asked him to play the solo cello part.
"Who's the violinist?" Neikrug asked. "There's a wonderful young violinist here at Mills. You'll like him. He's a very intelligent
musician."
"I don't want to play with him!" barked Neikrug. "What?! Why?!" asked the startled Kirchner. The answer: "I've never met an
intelligent fiddler who was any good!"
But Kirchner prevailed, and Neikrug played — changing his mind about at least one intelligent fiddler in the process.
Nate's career was long, varied, and versatile. He was Concertmaster in Oakland for 40 years; he taught at major schools around the
Bay Area; and he wrote two books, one about rock and roll and the other about the music of John Cage. These accomplishments were
awarded many recognitions, including a special evening in 1994 when the City of Oakland declared "Nathan Rubin Day." (Yes, he
smiled at that.) As part of the celebration, he played the Korngold Violin Concerto with the Oakland/East Bay Orchestra.
Nate gave the public an opportunity to enjoy both his music and his wit. Before playing, he spoke to the audience: "Many of you
might recognize themes and motifs in this Concerto from their first appearance in films Korngold scored, starring Errol Flynn."
"Although we usually play violin concertos standing, I am going to play seated tonight, so you won't confuse me with Errol Flynn."
Then he sat and he played — wonderfully. It was yet another beautiful occasion when this cultivated, graceful musician shared
his lyricism with us. There was no doubt or confusion at all about who was playing.
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