Sally Thomas 1931-2024 | In Memoriam

Friday, Mar 08, 2024
Juilliard Journal
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Sally Thomas is sitting with a violin and bow in hand, looking up at a student standing outside of frame. Thomas' facial expression is one of attention and perhaps inquiry or discussion. The room has a simple and functional decor, with a plain curtain backdrop and a music stand, which suggests a focus on music practice.
Sally Thomas teaching in the 2005-06 academic year

March 20, 1931-February 17, 2024

When Sally Thomas was 3, her grandfather, who was president of what is now Minot (North Dakota) State University, gave her a violin. Thomas, who kept playing for nearly nine decades and served on the Juilliard faculty for more than six decades, died February 17 at 92.

Thomas was born March 20, 1931, and after graduating from Minot High School, she came to Juilliard, where she studied with Ivan Galamian (1946-81) and earned a diploma as well as bachelor’s and master’s degrees. She joined the college and Pre-College faculties in 1961 and also taught at Mannes for many years in addition to giving master classes and serving on the board of the Society for Strings Inc.

Seeing Into Our Souls

By Ann Setzer
Sally Thomas was like no other teacher I had ever had. From the first lesson, I could sense this was going to be a different kind of learning. As soon as you walked into the studio, she was completely focused on you and your playing. She was intense. But lessons were not for us to show her how good we were. They were for her to lead us to the understanding of how we could be better both as players and individuals. She was funny, mischievous, and clearly not bound by convention personally or in her teaching. Often purposely cryptic, she would tell a story or make a comment that seemed to make no sense in the context of the lesson. After going home and practicing for a couple of days, trying to figure out what she meant, we would finally understand the connection that would often completely change our playing. When I was a young teacher, I remember asking why she didn’t just tell the student what their priorities should be when they’re practicing or give them long-term plans for their study. She gave me one of her impish grins and said, “How will they ever learn to think and listen if I tell them everything?” Her approach to playing was always vocal; she had impeccable ears and her own sound was beautiful and full of color with honest musicianship. She abhorred artificial, fussy, or pompous playing. She insisted on a complete and flexible technique with pristine intonation, always listening. Lessons could definitely be uncomfortable but ultimately illuminating. She so clearly cared deeply about her students and teaching.

Shy students were always pushed to “come out of their shells.” Students who were nervous performers were told to play on the street or in the subway. She told one student to perform on the street corner and she would check on him when she walked the dogs. Students who struggled to memorize were told to watch a soap opera while playing and then tell her the plot. Tense students were told to lie on the floor and play. She challenged overly confident students but patiently built self-assuredness in those needing more confidence. The most gifted students were pushed to be more human and experiment more, to listen to singers. Everyone was reminded to concentrate better. She didn’t let us live with our delusions or weaknesses. Some lessons were spent just talking, and often those lessons brought about the most progress. Could she see into our souls? It certainly seemed so.

Sally lived an exuberant life and exhorted her students to do the same. In spite of the grueling teaching schedule she kept for almost 70 years, eight hours a day, six days a week, she managed to keep up with a dizzying number of interests—painting, tennis, jiujitsu, billiards, technology, hunting and fishing, natural foods, and violin-making among them. She weathered crises or difficulties with fortitude and confidence. She famously drove her boat and her car thrillingly fast. She was fascinated with the latest research on the brain but was the only violin teacher I ever had who owned and was able to use a chainsaw. She loved animals, and when I first studied with her, she had a dog, a rabbit, a cat, and a 25-year-old pet crow that often terrorized students—to her glee.

Sally’s summers were spent teaching at the Meadowmount School of Music, the summer festival Ivan Galamian founded in 1944. She cherished being in the Adirondacks and was involved in the administration, particularly student life, of the camp. She was in charge of discipline, but I think she actually liked to see students breaking some rules. She knew that performers and musicians who just follow rules are not individual enough for the stage. I think we all had the feeling she had already broken the rules herself.

There has been a remarkable outpouring of Sally’s former students’ expressions of loss, with many remarking that the world feels different without her positive force and open, humanistic character. And even though her health was declining, just two weeks before she died, she remarked, “I love life.” I know she would want her students to feel the same.

Ann Setzer (BM ’80, MM ’82, violin) is on the Pre-College faculty