By LEE CIOPPA

I found myself crying on Tuesday morning, July 25, as I read John Mack's obituary from The Cleveland Plain Dealer that had been sent to me in an e-mail. As a former oboist, I felt that the world had lost a living legend, someone who had defined music-making for generations of aspiring oboe players through both his playing and dedication to teaching.

In the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I attended the John Mack Oboe Camp in the mountains of North Carolina. I was experiencing severe repetitive-strain syndrome in my right wrist, and was barely playing. My wonderful oboe teacher at the time approached my parents and suggested that I attend the camp as an auditor, to keep my spirits up. Oboe camp? Who had ever heard of such a thing? And can you just imagine 50 oboists in one place for a week? (What's that joke about two oboists trying to play in unison?)

My memories of that week are a bit of a hodge-podge: wonderful food, being out of breath all the time from the altitude, and total awe of Mr. Mack. He gave master classes every day, on etudes, excerpts, and solo repertoire. Even tedious Barrett studies became pieces of music, and every student played better by the time he was done. I recall one student (for some reason, I think he was from Juilliard) playing the Mozart Oboe Quartet for Mr. Mack, who picked up his oboe (which he had out for every class—how terrifying for a young player to think of following that example!) and as accompaniment began to play the violin part from memory. And I remember an anecdote from one of those classes that he told (in a fake French accent) of his own famous teacher, Marcel Tabuteau, which included the phrase "I played a few good notes." I don't recall the details about the story he was telling, but somehow those words stuck with me and became an attainable goal in my own musical quest.

Read an obituary of John Mack.

I met Mr. Mack again when I became associate dean for admissions at Juilliard. He came to the office on one of his teaching days to meet me, and was delighted to find out that, not only had I been an oboist, but that I had attended his camp. He would stop by every once in a while after that just to say hello, often with oboe and suitcase in hand on his way back to Cleveland. Perhaps some of my youthful awe was muted by age and familiarity, but he was still "Mr. Mack." And while I didn't study with him, and don't put on a French accent to tell my story, he was a musician, an oboist, a teacher, and a person whom I am fortunate to say I knew.

Lee Cioppa, Juilliard's associate dean for admissions, earned a B.M. from the University of Ottawa and an M.M. from the Manhattan School of Music, both in oboe performance.