... The end of an era ...

Wally Rose, a key figure in the resurrection of ragtime in the early
1940s, died last Sunday, January 12.  He was 83.  I received a letter
from Peter Mintun last week telling that Wally was then in a pleasant
convalescent home in Walnut Creek, CA, enjoying the view.  It closes,
"He's had a long, successful and colorful life and I think he's just
going to relax now and let the rest of the world go by."

An obituary has been written that outlines his career, and is expected to
appear in a few days in the New York Times.  The following is my personal
memoir of Wally.

I first became aware of him in the mid-1950s when I heard his brilliant
recording of "Maple Leaf Rag."  My main musical interest in those days
was be-bop, but this performance was too spectacular to ignore.

I met Wally for the first time around 1989 at a Scott Joplin festival
in Sedalia.  We were introduced by the late Al Rose (unrelated), who
referred to himself and Wally as "the Rose brothers".  Later that
evening, as I was entering the dining room with a group, I noticed
Wally was alone & invited him to join us.  He thanked me, but politely
declined.  Seeing him a few minutes later sitting alone, I again invited
him, and this time he accepted.  Some days later, by which time we had
become friends, he confided to me that he had wanted to accept my
original invitation, but that he was reluctant to impose himself on us.

"Impose himself?!"  We were all thrilled to be in his company.  But
that's how Wally was: he did not recognize his own greatness and was
ever the modest gentleman.

And what a great musician he was, with marvelous insights.  Though he
would never openly criticize another performer, he might raise questions
that few in ragtime even consider: how, for example, a particular
performance affects the shape of a piece.  Talking music with him was
like taking a graduate seminar.  When I played for him, he would ask
questions like, "What is the purpose of changing your dynamic at that
point?  What does it do to the piece?"  That it created variety was not
an acceptable response; he wanted to know why variety was needed at that
point and insisted that one consider how each section relates to
everything else in the piece.  It was as if I were studying a Brahms
Intermezzo.

On the last day of that festival, I was having dinner with Wally, Glenn
Jenks, and Peter Lundberg.  While we were talking, Peter was sketching
out some music.  He then turned to Glenn and suggested he continue the
piece.  From Glenn it went to Wally, and finally to me: a four-strain
rag, with each of us contributing one strain.  Wally's is clearly the
best strain.  Glenn later published our joint effort as "Sedalia Joys."

Through the next few years, I met Wally at a few festivals, and we
occasionally corresponded and spoke on the phone.  About five years ago,
when my wife and I were in San Francisco, we stayed with Wally for a few
days.  We were overwhelmed with his hospitality: he planned our entire
weekend, had gotten tickets, and the like.

On our excursions, I noticed that Wally seemingly never passed up an
opportunity to talk to an attractive woman.  I suppose his age helped in
this regard, as no one seemed to take offense.  As we were having lunch
in a restaurant in San Francisco one day, he asked our young waitress her
name.  "Solace," she responded, pronouncing it SOE-LACE.  We did
double-takes.  "How did you get such an unusual name," Wally asked?  "My
father named me after a song he liked," she answered.  "Was it by Scott
Joplin?"  "Yes, I think so." "Have you ever heard the music."  "My
boyfriend bought me the recording."  "Do you like it?"  "It's alright."

Nor had age dampened his curiosity about music.  He was, at this time,
practicing the technique-intensive sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti.

I last saw Wally at the '95 West Coast Ragtime Festival, in Fresno.  He
was booked for the event, but was not feeling up to it and decided to
leave soon after arriving.  Fortunately, we ran into each other before
he departed, and so spent a few more hours together.

With Wally's passing, an era has come to a close.

Ed Berlin

 [ Other notes appeared in the Digests for 970107 and 970108.
 [ Thanks, Ed,  for sharing this with us.  -- Robbie