Tom Heimberg in 2005.  If you want to see a photo of Tom and Lincoln as teenagers, see the July, 2006 Newsletter.

Tom Heimberg was a professional musician in the best sense of the word. Aspiring musicians, and those music lovers who don¹t know the intricacies of the profession, would do well to look at the life of my best friend Tom, the model for an accomplished working musician, insightful educator, and generous colleague.

Tom and I grew up together in Hollywood. We played in the Bancroft Junior High School senior orchestra in an era when a public middle school had not one but two orchestras, as well as a band, along with beginning strings and wind classes. There was lots of music in the air and on the air. We took for granted that the NBC Symphony and the New York Philharmonic would broadcast weekly, and our own Los Angeles Philharmonic children's concerts were heard coast to coast.

We met in Mr. Shesler's drafting class for seventh grade boys. It was in the spring of 1949, when we both turned 12. The big red Pacific Electric streetcar took me to school along Santa Monica Boulevard. I was not very happy in the rough world of junior high school. Tom, with his compassionate intuition, immediately introduced himself and offered his friendship, which was to last for a lifetime.

Even at that age, Tom was a philosopher, with a quick wit and a comic talent (we used to do imitations of our eccentric teachers). Our close circle of nerdy intellectual friends included some young professional radio actors of 11or 12, and that association led to the formation of an after-school drama club. The group gathered often at the home of our friend Arianne, daughter of the distinguished director Edgar Ulmer. This was a circle of very bright kids who were great company. Arianne's father had stories about many great musicians with whom he had worked, most notably as director of the motion picture Carnegie Hall. It was a pretty heady atmosphere for a couple of boys from the south side of the tracks.

Our friend Arnold Steinhardt who went on to be a founding member and the principal violinist of the Guarneri String Quartet, grew up on the same side of the tracks and was concertmaster of our school orchestra. Herb Alpert played trumpet in that orchestra and was student body president. We all learned a great deal from our inspired music teacher, Maurice Ives, who led his adolescent musicians to win top honors at the regional festivals.

Tom adored his violin teacher, Gilbert Back, a member of the Los Angeles Philharmonic who had played in the Berlin Philharmonic in the early '30s. Back was encouraging to Tom, who was a relatively late bloomer but a very conscientious student. In that conscientiousness and intelligence, Back saw the makings of a professional musician. He became a true mentor to Tom, sharing a depth of experience that Tom appreciated.

Tom and I were big music fans. We listened to KFAC, the classical music station. Tom would call me up at all hours if he heard a piece that excited him, saying, "Linc, quick, turn on K'fack! Francescatti is playing the Tchaikovsky." We played Mozart violin concerti and Schubert sonatinas together and took long early morning walks in the Hollywood hills. The talk was about music, girls, and spirituality, as Tom was a very unusual young man for the 1950s: an excellent student, a brilliant chess player, and a disciplined spiritual aspirant who meditated every day. Tom's interest in Eastern religion sprang from his talks with my mother, Nancy Pope Mayorga, who was a Vedantist. He read voraciously on spiritual matters, went to the Vedanta temple in Hollywood, and aspired to a monastic life during his high school and college years. He would observe pretty girls at the swimming pool from the perspective of a chaste monk, commenting to me, "Lincoln, may I call your attention to an excellent manifestation of Holy Mother, over by the diving board!"

Throughout his childhood and teen years, Tom suffered from stomach trouble, which he handled with his characteristic humor. I remember walking home after a swim at the public pool when suddenly Tom assumed the stance of Don Quixote at the windmills. "At the present moment, an ulcer is attacking me," he would say. "Stand aside, ulcer! Get back! En garde!" Then he would slip into the market, pick up a quart of milk, down it in about three gulps, and announce, "The enemy has been defeated!"

Tom was always brilliant. Academically he was way ahead of the pack, and as an outstanding graduate student at UCLA, he was encouraged to become an English professor. He was also a very funny man. He could have had a career as fine actor, or a stand-up comic in the tradition of Sid Caesar. Many years later, I conducted a concert for the real Sid Caesar, and I thought to myself at the time that a comparison might favor Tom. But Tom made a serious, conscious decision: He would become a professional musician. Tom's strongest attributes as a young music student were musical sensitivity, great industry and patience, and a quick, analytical mind. He came to fruition as a musician at an age when he could fully appreciate the privilege of playing well, working with others, and making a living in music.

In 1961 I was privileged to be best man at the wedding of Rosalyn Metzger and Tom Heimberg. Rosalyn is not only brilliant and beautiful, but a very funny lady in her own right. The newlyweds posed for a series of hilarious wedding pictures, mugging like a vaudeville comedy team. The union gave Tom the opportunity to become the most loving father one can imagine to dynamic daughters Erica and Rebecca, and grandfather to Erica's two boys. The family was put to the ultimate test by the tragic loss of Becky in 1990, which devastated all of us who knew her.

Shortly after they were married, Tom played viola in the Oakland Symphony. He then received a Fulbright Scholarship for study in Europe at the Paris Conservatory. At the end of that year, Josef Krips, newly designated conductor of the San Francisco Symphony, held auditions in Vienna. Tom was prepared. He flew to Vienna for the audition, and Krips offered him the position in San Francisco. Tom had to make up his mind between the Minnesota Orchestra, which also wanted him, and San Francisco. No contest! Tom later joked that he had to fly across the Atlantic and back to make the jump from Oakland in the East Bay to the San Francisco Opera House.

The period during which Tom served as personnel manager for the Opera Orchestra showed professional strengths other than his playing ability: as diplomatic liaison between management and the orchestra; as a discerning musicians' contractor who hired on the basis of ability, not politics; as an idealistic union man, a fair-minded negotiator who was able to weigh both sides of an issue; and as an orchestra manager of great knowledge, skill, and organization. He handled the orchestral requirements of an opera company that was more complex than Barnum and Bailey, and all with enthusiasm, good grace, humor, and an eye for the bottom line.

Tom Heimberg's professional experience adds up to an overview that is unique. He gives us a glimpse of his philosophy through his many valuable articles about practice technique and other aspects of music and the profession. In an age of synthesizers and solitary digital musical emptiness, Tom's life demonstrates that the musical team player will ensure the survival of true, collaborative music.

I can't think of any personal history so important at this time, and for generations to come, as the working life of Tom Heimberg.

For additional LINCOLN MAYORGA information, please visit www.lincolnmayorga.com.