Vol. XXV No. 1
September 2009

Celebrating a Landmark Anniversary

President Joseph W. Polisi Looks Back on 25 Years at Juilliard

As I reflect upon 25 years as president of The Juilliard School, a sense of awe still imbues my thoughts concerning this institution. For more than a century, Juilliard and its predecessor institution, the Institute of Musical Art, have existed to enhance traditions, create new work, and instill in young people the values and techniques for a life in the performing arts.

An avid runner, President Polisi leads a four-lap Juilliard Challenge around Lincoln Center Plaza in May 1989, as part of Juilliard’s first Rite of Spring celebration, marking the 76th anniversary of the riots that accompanied the premiere of Stravinsky’s masterwork. Zubin Mehta, then the music director of the New York Philharmonic, rings the gong in background. (Photo by Gili Melamed.)

Becoming president of such a revered institution was not in my mind when I applied for the position in January 1984. As I saw it, I was too young (36), too inexperienced, and a bassoonist (not that there is anything inherently wrong with being a bassoonist, but the previous two presidents—William Schuman and Peter Mennin—were both distinguished composers). I had been appointed dean of the College-Conservatory of Music of the University of Cincinnati in the fall of 1983 and was cozily ensconced in the community with my wife, Elizabeth, and two young children. But Juilliard faculty members Julius Baker and Dorothy DeLay urged me to apply, since the search committee had not yet found a replacement for Peter Mennin, who had died in June of 1983.

I approached the application process as a type of academic exercise, sprucing up my résumé and writing a rather provocative letter in which I suggested changes I felt the School needed. When I received an invitation to come for an interview, I truly believed there was a pro forma quality to the gesture, but was nervously pleased to be a player in this drama, however briefly.

Visit the expanded slide show and links to articles, video, and audio clips.
The interview was scheduled for mid-February, but on February 16 my father died. He had suffered a debilitating stroke in 1980 and never returned to the robust and playful man whom I knew and loved. He was one of the great bassoonists of the 20th century (principal bassoon of the Cleveland Orchestra, NBC Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and Metropolitan Opera Orchestra), and a Juilliard faculty member for more than 30 years. Although I never attended Juilliard, I always felt I tasted a part of that education by studying bassoon with my father. I was very close to him. In many ways, I had been mourning for my father since the time of his stroke, so when he died I experienced deep sadness but also clarity about the future. I decided to proceed with the Juilliard interview.

So I spoke to a small group of trustees, including Ralph Leach, the chair of the committee and the person who would oversee my hiring, about my vision of a future Juilliard. What chutzpah! However, since I felt no hope of landing the job, I thought I would be honest and frighteningly non-political.

After a scant half-hour I was thanked and shown the door. It had been an interesting experience, but I thought that was the end of it. I was close to being correct: I heard not a word from Juilliard until early May. By that time I was further settled in Cincinnati and desirous of putting crazy ideas—like being the president of Juilliard—out of my head. 

The telephone call came from the president’s assistant, who said the search committee wanted to see me again. Since I didn’t want to go through another pro forma experience and truly felt I had no hope of getting the job, I politely said that I was no longer a candidate. To my utter surprise, 15 minutes later I received a call from Peter Paine, the chairman of Juilliard’s board. No, he explained, there were not many finalists, and he did hope I would reconsider my withdrawal. I was stunned, and as I put down the telephone I wondered if I might actually attain this Olympian responsibility.

My return visit was quite different: it took several hours, and I met faculty as well as trustees. It was at one of the faculty meetings that I was asked the only question about music in all of the interview process that day: Vincent Persichetti, in typically eccentric fashion, queried how I felt about resolving diminished seventh chords, then answered his own question before I could utter a word. 

Page #