Lessons from Four Master Teachers

Mentors who shaped my music and pedagogy style. Some thoughts on gratitude, teaching, and carrying the line forward.

As I prepare to enter my fortieth year of teaching, I’ve been reflecting on those artists who have touched me, mentored me, and taught me — those who have gone before me and inspired me to walk my own artistic path. There have been four teachers, in particular, who have shaped my music-making, my relationship to the piano, and my teaching. I carry a small part of each of them with me throughout my life’s journey.

National Historical Museum of Sweden (NHM)

These wonderful artists are, for me, those who have guided — and continue to guide — me. They are my esteemed and treasured mentors.

Roy McAllister

As a teenage piano student in Alabama in the ’70s, “Mr. Mac” represented the height of piano teaching in the state. A long-time presence at the University of Alabama, I came to him later in his teaching career and chose to attend Birmingham-Southern College specifically to work with him. All of his students were deeply saddened by his sudden passing in October of 1979.

Mr. Mac instilled in his students a deep love of — and fascination with — the endless sound possibilities of the piano. He retained an almost childlike, yet sophisticated, sense of wonder toward music throughout his later years. He helped me understand not only how to appreciate the beauty of sound, but how to be truly present with the music in each moment.

I can still hear him singing the various melodic lines in Chopin’s Op. 27, No. 1 Nocturne during my lessons. I learned to sing with my students from Mr. Mac — as well as through my fingers.

Daniel Ericourt

A child prodigy, Mr. Ericourt studied at the Paris Conservatoire during the time of Debussy. He told me stories of playing with Debussy’s daughter, Chou-Chou, and of attending master classes with “the master” himself. His playing was the epitome of the French School — transparent and fluid, yet muscular when needed. He was obsessed with creating color through layering sounds, one over the other, and taught me how to think about music from a three-dimensional perspective.

Some of my fondest memories are of sitting in the corner of his studio as he prepared for upcoming recitals. I listened and observed. I came to understand how to create a natural arc in every piece — and how to deftly incorporate the pedals to layer and color sound. His playing and manner were French to the core — full of joie de vivre and old-world charm. I will never forget the many kindnesses Mr. Ericourt showed me.

It was Mr. Ericourt who brought me to the Eastern Music Festival in Greensboro, North Carolina, where I had the very good fortune to meet Deborah Sobol.

Deborah Sobol

I met Debbie at the beginning of her teaching career while she was living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and teaching at the Longy School of Music. We immediately developed a strong rapport — so much so that I spent the following year working with her at Longy.

Debbie had studied for several years in Vienna and London, much of that time as a student of Alfred Brendel. She was a meticulous teacher, player, and technician — in the most elevated sense of the word.

Debbie showed me how to develop my technical equipment, always in service of a greater musical and expressive goal. She also opened the door to a lifelong love of chamber music — a love that became my primary musical passion. I remember spending hours exploring Bach, Haydn, and Brahms together, always learning music deeply and fully, from the inside out.

We discussed the teaching of Brendel and of Artur Schnabel, his teacher. Debbie taught me how to practice — and how to love practicing. I am forever in her debt.

Years later, she brought me to Chicago, where she had relocated, to be part of a fledgling educational outreach program sponsored by the newly formed Chicago Chamber Musicians. This soon grew into a senior fellowship program. During this time, I formed lasting relationships, learned the ropes of working artistically in the community, and played a great deal of chamber music with extraordinary artists.

Little did I know then that the skills I gained with CCM would later translate into the creation of The Musical Offering in Evanston — my own musical love child.

Everyone who knew Debbie was deeply affected by her sudden and unexpected passing in 2014. She was a force of nature — a visionary — a wonderful mother — one of the greatest collaborative pianists I have ever heard — a direct connection to Schnabel’s teaching. But at the end of the day, Debbie was simply my teacher.

Abbey Simon

Abbey Simon had grace, elegance, ease, and style. He dazzled audiences with his lyricism and transcendent artistry. Memories of hearing his Chopin B minor Sonata live still make my spine tingle.

From Mr. Simon, I learned how to tackle and solve large musical challenges — how to think critically at a higher level and how to break complex problems into smaller components. He was a master diagnostician at the keyboard — wise, abrasive, hilarious, and operating at the highest reaches of his craft.

Everything he touched turned to gold, and Mr. Simon’s catalog of recorded works is truly impressive. My favorite remains his complete recordings of Ravel’s solo works — magical.

I also learned from Mr. Simon how to earn the respect of fellow artists by following my interests and passions and devoting myself to them entirely. This is a shared trait of all great artists. I have had the privilege of being mentored by four generous and goodhearted musicians in a sea of excellence.

This essay is my way of recognizing and thanking them — and all great teachers — while hoping that I might serve a similar function for the next generation, in some small way.

I am reminded of Mr. Simon’s mantra: “Keep moving, or they’ll bury you.”
For me, life is about movement and growth. My mentors continue to show me the way.

–Rick Ferguson