By TIM GOPLERUD

"Is it true that Homer never nods?" a friend of mine once quipped, after I told him I was studying bass with Homer Mensch. Not catching his punning paraphrase of Alexander Pope's Essay on Criticism ("Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,/Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream."), I replied, "Yes. In fact, I wonder if he ever sleeps!" My bass lesson the night before had started at 11:30 p.m., after which Mr. Mensch still had to drive back to New York from New Haven and be ready for an early session call the next morning. My friend tried again. "And is he a 'mensch'?" My response was even less gratifying: "Huh?" My friend gave up. Twenty-six years and a few Yiddishisms later, I think he might be happier with my answers now: Yes, he never nodded. And I never met a truer mensch.

Homer embodied the expression "old school" in its best sense. Those who knew him remember his kindly but slightly formal, even courtly bearing. I've been "Tim" since childhood, but to Homer I was always "Timothy." He was our link to the great orchestral traditions of Toscanini, Stokowski, Klemperer, and Reiner. "These aren't just any old bowings, you know," he'd say, handing you one of his famous photocopies, with bowings and fingerings marked for virtually every note. Students learned quickly that they deviated from those markings at their peril. "This is how we played the Beethoven Fifth's Scherzo for Toscanini. 'Corte. Alla corda.' He didn't want a lot of bouncing."

Homer embodied the expression “old school” in its best sense … but side by side with his reverence for tradition came an inventive streak.

Another "old school" characteristic was his proprietary attitude towards the playing secrets he'd picked up over the years. "Keep this one under your hats, this isn't for general distribution," he'd say before sharing an insight he'd developed through years of playing recording dates. "I don't want anyone else sounding like my boys."

Side by side with his reverence for tradition came an inventive streak that led to some bizarre-seeming projects. A favorite was his idea of using wire instead of horse hair for bass bows—he thought it might be louder and would last longer. For several years he consulted with metallurgists to determine the best metals and gauges to use. Finally he had a prototype ready to try. "It sounded pretty good, I thought, but it wouldn't hold rosin more than a couple of minutes." Back to the drawing board.

Those who knew him only over the last few years might not realize that Homer was a gifted athlete with a highly competitive nature. During a bass clinic he was leading one summer, some of us in the class had started a Ping-Pong tournament. "Mr. Mensch, would you like to play?" "Sure, just let me get my sneaks!" I was wondering whether I should take it easy in deference to his age; I was 20 and he was 67 at the time. I changed my mind after the first couple of volleys. He proceeded to beat me 21 to 17. It turns out he'd been a tennis champ when he was in high school.

Being able to join Homer for lunch in the cafeteria was a favorite fringe benefit when I came back to Juilliard to work in the I.T. Department. Often I would ask him what it had been like to work with various conductors. Barbirolli? "Good conductor. He was a great accompanist for concertos." Walter? "I didn't see what all the fuss was about." Klemperer? "A very cultured man." Stokowski? "He was a real night-owl. Once he had to get up at 6 a.m. for a special recording session with us. He looked like a can of worms." But the highest praise was reserved for Toscanini. "No one else approached his level." His favorite Toscanini quotation? "Give me a great bass section, and I will build you a great orchestra."

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Homer never lost his sense of humor. After a student's enthusiastic but less than immaculate performance, he would say, "Fingers like lightning. Never hit the same place twice." Just weeks before he died, I asked him when a particular photograph of him had been taken. In a hoarse whisper, he said, "B.C." (Rimshot, please.)

The most important thing that we Mensch students will take away from our years with him, beyond the invaluable technical advice, is the example he gave us of professional excellence and integrity: always play your best, no matter what the circumstances and no matter who the conductor. "Every day, you have to drive yourself to perfection." We will try to live up to his example. We will "know our bows." We will stay on top of our long tone studies. And we will never forget him.

Tim Goplerud, database administrator and Web development manager for I.T., earned his master's degree in bass at Juilliard in 1984.