Since 1903, members of Arts and Letters have delivered commemorative tributes to fellow members who have passed away. These remarks celebrate and reflect on the lives and work of the members being honored and acknowledge their contribution to the arts. A selection of tributes is now available in the digital archive below. As we prepared this archive, we were reminded that these tributes reflect their times, and, in some instances, include terminology and social and moral judgments we do not endorse.
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The members of the National Institute of Arts and Letters are saddened by the news of the death of their distinguished colleague, Leo Sowerby. I am especially sad for I have known him many years—at least fifty. He was beginning his distinguished career in Chicago when I was a student at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois.
Although he was my senior by only a short span of time, I always regarded him with great respect and admiration. He seemed, even at that early age, to be an extraordinarily gifted composer with an amazingly mature technique. His music was already beginning to be known far beyond the borders of Chicago, and his early orchestral compositions were already beginning to penetrate the American symphonic repertory.
A few years later our paths were destined to cross or, perhaps I should say, more accurately, parallel one another even more significantly.
In 1921, thanks to the dedication of Felix Lamond, the American Academy in Rome—which had not been previously concerned with music—set up the Rome Prize in musical composition. A nation-wide competition for young composers was announced. Many orchestral scores from every part of the United States were submitted to a distinguished jury under the chairmanship of Walter Damrosch.
The results of the competition were, apparently, disappointing to the judges who declined to award the Rome Prize to any of the contestants. It was decided to hold a second competition within a few weeks. In the meantime the trustees of the American Academy authorized the jury to appoint a young American composer to the first composition fellowship in the Academy. Their choice was the gifted, young Leo Sowerby who took up his residence at the American Academy in the autumn of 1921.
When the second competition for the American Prix de Rome was announced, I decided to submit some orchestral scores and was fortunate to win the competition. A few months later I joined Leo Sowerby in Rome.
Leo's studio was in the Villa Chiaraviglia and mine was in the Villa Aurelia. We met frequently for discussion and criticism. I am sure that I learned much more from him than he did from me. My technique in those early days was, I am afraid, a little on the rough side. Leo's technique, on the other hand, was impeccable—even in those early works.
In the first place he had one of the finest ears—aural imagination—I have observed. Everything which he wrote seemed to come out exactly as he had intended. There were no "aural errors." I should add, for the sake of any young composers who may read this, that in spite of his fabulous gift of pitch recognition, Leo always wrote at the piano.
He had, in addition, a splendid command of musical form—architectural construction—which gave his music a strong sense of rightness—of logic.
He brought to his orchestral compositions a vivid sense of orchestral color and a complete command of the instruments of the orchestra. I still regard his early overture, Comes Autumn Time, as one of the gems of American orchestral literature.
His Mediaeval Poem, for small orchestra, solo organ, and voice, which I am proud to say is dedicated to me, is a masterpiece of sensitivity. Its economical use of material, the clarity of its construction, could be a valuable example to any young composer.
His harmonic and contrapuntal style, frequently highly chromatic, was "advanced" when he developed it. He did not, however, in later years go in for experimentation but continued to hold firm to the artistic ideals which were a part of his creative personality. Perhaps for this reason his orchestral music is not played as frequently today as it was several decades ago. This is, in my opinion, a distinct loss to the orchestral repertory. I am sure that in the days ahead his orchestral music will come into its own.
His great love, of course, was for the church and its music and here his contribution has been enormous. It is safe to say that in this field his name stands at the top of the list of all American composers. The debt which the church owes Leo Sowerby is very great indeed.