One of life’s greatest blessings is meeting a great person whose influence leaves a lasting impression and changes your life. This person may be someone who maintains high standards or is a leader with a vision; it may be a compassionate teacher or a dedicated friend. To the hundreds of students who passed through the door of room 310 in the Eastman School of Music to study trombone, Emory Remington was all of these and more. He not only taught the instrument, he gave lessons in life itself.
It was my pleasure to study with Emory Remington, whom many students called the Chief, at various times between 1950 and 1963. In the years following his wife Laura’s death in 1968 I assisted him with everything from schedules and parts to trombone choir concerts.
The International Trombone Association presented an Emory Remington Centennial Celebration at its annual meeting held in 1991 at the Eastman School of Music. Former students and colleagues gathered to remember their days under his tutelage. For everyone who passed through his studio, the Chief remained a part of their professional musical lives. For most no other influence was as powerful in shaping their teaching and personal relationships as the weekly lesson, a trombone choir rehearsal, conversation in the Main Hall, or the most special trombone picnic at the close of each school year.
Near the end of his life I asked the Chief to consider putting his approach to ideas about teaching and playing the trombone into print so future teachers and performers could learn his approach to playing the trombone.
Emory Remington, however, communicated through brief verbal descriptions, conducting, demonstrating, but primarily through singing every note on the printed page. He invented a vocabulary to describe exactly how to approach each note or line to make it sing. He wrote practically nothing in either words or music during his lifetime, and in cataloging his studio library after his death, we found no evidence of a written version of the famed warm-up that was such a part of daily life for his students. Fortunately, a manuscript copy from 1935 has surfaced.
His was a personal communication with each student; in lessons he used the same material that currently forms the primary literature for trombone teachers throughout the world. His approach to any piece of music grew from the same basic premises: it should sing, have beauty, be noble, and be musical above all.
This philosophy developed in his early years when he first heard professional trombonists in major cities in the East, including the New York Philharmonic under Gustav Mahler in 1909 when Emory Remington was 18. He described his aversion to the then-prevalent style of playing, which was brassy with imprecise pitch and slide movements, and generally unmusical. One of his heroes was Gardell Simons, who became principal trombone of the Philadelphia Orchestra under Leopold Stokowski. Simon’s approach was a floating, singing quality that the Chief used in his solo performances with the Rochester Park Band.
Emory Remington espoused breath control and a quick, relaxed slide movement with the tongue placed behind the upper teeth and relaxed for tah and dah strokes, and the incessant daily long tones, arpeggios, and scales. He developed a school of brass playing that emulated the human voice. His early experience singing in a church choir inspired his desire to make the trombone a beautiful, legato instrument.
He used Bach’s and Handel’s chorales, fugues, and choruses to develop balance and blending timbres in the trombone choir. He loved the trombone choir and looked forward to rehearsals and performances and encouraged students to write for it, developing an enormous trombone choir library that his pupils are still enlarging today.
His teaching was simple and direct. I assembled the following quotations from recordings made shortly before his death; they are included in the Remington Warm-Up Studies (Accura Music, Athens, Ohio, 1980), which I assembled following his death.
“You don’t know how much investigating I did as a young man, because I went to New York, and studied with Leo Zimmerman who was with the Columbia Recording Orchestra, and Burt Smith, with the Victor Recording Orchestra, and other famous players of Sousa and Pryor. The closest one to what I have developed was Gardell Simons, who played with the phrasing so important, not just one note after another, but a comprehensive grouping of notes.
“By far the most valuable thing I could put on a page concerns the correct way to tongue (from above — and behind — the upper teeth), a concept of sound, flexibility, security in the high register, and relaxation.”
Sustained Long Tones: “… tuning, tone production, action of the tongue, slide action technique.”
Soft Tonguing: “Careful tuning continuation. Use of vowels tah, dah, due, dee, daw. ‘Soft tonguing’ is done with a soft stroke of the tongue (dah), which starts from its primary position behind the upper teeth. The player should remain relaxed and use the dah and daw tonguing in each register. The embouchure should not be shifted nor should the mouthpiece slide on the embouchure when changing registers. Keeping the same basic embouchure and changing the vowel sound (dah-daw) – and thus the oral cavity — will build its strength in the facial muscles.”
Flexibility Harmonic Series Slurs: “I am always trying to maintain a feeling of relaxation and control. The secret here is to remain as relaxed as possible, slip into the notes and don’t make the change from pitch to pitch rigid.”
Breath Control in Legato — Extending the Octave: “I use the diatonic scale in part, and finally in its entirety, combined with a normal conversational breath . . . just the amount of air you take in while talking, and not any extra as some do when they are about to play a long phrase. As you begin adding additional notes to each group, take in a little more breath, but maintain the same ease of production, tone quality, and relaxation until you can go through the entire scale.”
Flexibility, trills, arpeggios, and security in the high register: “Harmonic Series slurs; tongue and slur.”
Diatonic Pattern Scales: “Much of what we play is either scales or some form of arpeggios, so I want the students to practice these in all keys to make individual parts easier to play and to use all types of tonguing and legato to practice every resource possible. Vary the scales each day and use major, minor, and modal patterns, always keeping in mind that the slide movement should be quick and smooth, the facial muscles relaxed, the tongue stroke quick from behind the teeth, the player is just floating through the octaves with no resistance.”
Breath control and physical fitness: “Brass is a tough racket, as it is. The competition is hard on your nerves. You’ve got to keep in shape and it takes a great deal of practice. Every wind player is some day going to be put on the spot with a bit of solo work in the middle of a piece and you’ve got to be ready for it.”
“Above all, one of my greatest satisfactions during the past years is that we have developed a real American school of brass playing. Our approach has a refinement to it.”
The weekly lesson was an hour greatly anticipated by most as a time to be alone with the Chief, to demonstrate to him how everything developed since last week and, we hoped, to receive some praise and acceptance from him. The comments of students from a period of almost fifty years show that he was not a demagogue or a closed personality, but a very gentle man who through his consistency and patterns of approach made the thought of disappointing him most unlikely. We all disappointed him time after time in those lessons, yet he drove on, cajoling, kidding, changing the music or whatever it took to break the unproductive spell and proceed on a positive note.
When time constraints or other events within the School left one of us without enough prepared material for an hour lesson, we showed up at his door with two or three cohorts and sheepishly asked, “Okay to play trios or quartets today?” The answer would be a feigned surprise or disgust followed by a gruff, “Okay Joes, get in here,” and the next hour would be filled with orchestra section excerpts, old European trios or quartets — a solid hour of playing and listening. He taught the same way no matter what the immediate circumstances, always insisting on the same high level of quality. This, of course, naturally carried over into the larger trombone choir, another hour in the week that was filled with excitement and joy.
The Chief could easily discuss sheer technical elements of the instrument, embouchure, or arm and slide action, but he chose to let the proper way evolve naturally through musical usage instead of dictating a one-thought only or dogmatic approach.
A teacher’s achievements and personal influence are best measured through the words and thoughts of his students. Prior to the June 1991 International Trombone Association meeting, I contacted all Remington students listed in the Eastman alumni files and solicited their reflections on how he influenced their lives. The responses from former students ranged from principal trombonists with the Los Angeles and Vancouver orchestras and bass trombonists with Cleveland and Pittsburgh, to performers and pedagogues in universities and schools throughout the country and who give to their students the music they received from the Chief. It is interesting to read how different descriptions of the same private hour focus on common elements: the singing, the warm-up routine, the humanity.
Lance Lehmberg, 1957-61, 1965-66: “It was his ability to share his concept of playing without words, by singing alone, or alongside, while I played. I could play better in his studio than anywhere else. I have carried those memories and that concept with me almost every day of my life.”
Arthur Ricketts, 1946-50: “His insistence on a lyrical approach to the trombone. All was song, and to this day, even the ever-lasting warm-ups are vocal in nature. This, I realized later, was the approach of a musician, not a pure technical pedagogue.”
Richard Lieb, 1951-53: “His lack of typical pedagogy and his flexibility in developing students according to their abilities and his physical approach to the trombone.”
Norman Wilcox, 1968-71: “The use of singing to demonstrate tonguing, phrasing, breath control, etc. He would sometimes stop you abruptly, wait a moment and say, ‘Listen, Joe.’ Then he would sing the phrase and you would gain more understanding from those few moments of demonstration than from an hour of lecture.”
Reginald Fink, 1949-53: “The intensity of his lessons will always remain in my memory. From the first B-flat of the long tones to the wrung-out feeling 60 minutes later was, and still is, impressive. In 1968 or ’69 I came to Rochester for a brush-up lesson, and in 45 minutes he had me playing as I had never played before. The magic lay in a slightly altered sequence of warm-ups, a change in vowel as he sang, or something else that had eluded me for 40 years. The relaxation and vocal approach I had worked on for over 15 years finally clicked and worked as it never had before.
“The first impression I have of the Chief occurred in the first few minutes of the first lesson. He was writing at his music filing cabinet that had a mirror above it and asked me to play a middle B-flat for four counts. Within two counts he looked up in the mirror at me and my embouchure and pronounced, ‘That will never work.’ For the next four years we worked on developing an embouchure that would work. The Chief could be technical and knew how to develop technique, but he never used technical areas to take the place of natural, hard work, and an honest approach to the instrument.”
Harry Lockwood, 1966-70: “He would sit directly in front of me, demonstrating with his hands and arms (and of course, his singing) exactly how I was to sound, breathe, to phrase, and exactly where the music was going, having me focus my sound directly toward him, as if to hold my tone unwavering, like a beam of light. He might sit facing you singing each note in some word, syllable or sound that demonstrated exactly how the musical phrasing or interpretation was to sound. Emulating his sung version required producing the technical step necessary to execute the passage. Seldom was there a verbal discussion of trombone technique other than the use of the warm-ups.”
Genevieve Barber Smith, 1939-43: “His lip slurs and warm-ups and his singing always gave me the special feeling I carried to my students. I taught 32 years as high school band director in Attica, New- York and they played with the feeling he had instilled in me.”
Gary Greenhoe, 1964-66, 1969-70: “His lyrical singing approach to the trombone is by far the most crucial ingredient he instilled in my playing. His balanced techniques of developing a three-dimensional sound through all the registers, working from the lowest range to the highest with relaxation and the same sound quality, seemed revolutionary to me.”
Tony DeChario, 1961-63, 1965-68: “What else? Imitating the Chiefs singing made everything crystal clear: phrasing, breath control, relaxation, etc.”
Les Lehr, 1960-61: “His singing, which created an emotional intensity in tone, melodic style and concept, and dynamic nuance.”
Gordon Cherry, 1966-72: “When you played a passage of music perfectly but which you couldn’t play five minutes before, he had obviously worked his magic on you. He would stop you and say, ‘Remember how that felt. Don’t forget it.’ “
Ernest Lyon, 1936-38: “The naturalness of the embouchure, his emphasis on legato playing to develop trombone playing, and his daily exercises.”
Byron McCulloh, 1945-51: “The singing style he imparted to students so subtly that learning was almost subconscious. It was so natural and relaxed that only afterwards did you realize all that he had taught you. These lessons continued to reveal themselves for years after I’d left school. I took lessons for six years, yet he taught me for forty-six.”
Neil Humfeld, 1957-5S, 1959: “Certainly the singing told us how he wanted a passage played, but I am still amazed at how I would really warm up before I went to a lesson (having played 1-2 hours before I got there), but he always warmed me up more. My chops always felt better in a lesson than any other time in the week. He seemed to know how many tid-dle-deedles it took to get you ready for that marvelous hour.”
One of the most valuable experiences for his students was the trombone choir, numbering about 35 students. Its rehearsals, performances, and short tours in the east gave the Chief additional opportunities to teach his singing approach to playing trombone. He never permitted a brassy or cutting sound; the blend was paramount in all dynamic ranges. He insisted that everyone play a larger tenor-bass trombone, at that time the Conn 8H (later renamed the 88H) with an F attachment, and the bass trombones were generally also the larger Conn models, using a mouthpiece Remington developed for that company.
Rehearsals began with the warm-ups, a sound that had to be heard to be believed as the massed players went through long tones, tonguing, scales, and flexibility exercises. He used a cross section of exercises to loosen up everyone and get a natural warm sound into their ears. Several of his former students reminisced about the trombone choir.
Byron McCulloh, 1947-51: “He believed that the trombone ensemble was the best way to develop sound, style, and a feeling for ensemble. A brass quintet is great for all sorts of things, but for developing a good trombone sound and the ability to blend in a section, it doesn’t come close to the trombone choir. Even while conducting a large group, the Chief still sang.”
Tony DeChario, 1961-63, 1965-68: “Monday morning trombone choir, a great spirit and wonderful way to start the week.”
Norman Wilcox, 1968-71: ‘The Chief didn’t just maintain the choir as a performing group; it was an integral part of his approach to teaching trombone. He never forgot that a trombonist must, above all else, learn to be a proficient section player. I felt that every time I played in the choir I learned something toward that end; performances were a fringe benefit.”
Ralph Sauer, 1960-66: “I remember the sound of his trombone ensemble and the smile on his face, even during the simplest chorale.”
Gordon Cherry, 1966-71: “What a sound. We shared a lasting pride that comes from being in a group that was the pioneer ensemble of its kind. The honor of working with such a great musician, the exhilaration of producing rich sonorities, and performing great music that was never before available for the trombone will always be with us. Almost every work for trombone ensemble today has a connection coming back to Remington. So much of today’s style of legato, relaxation, range extension on both tenor and bass trombone, vibrato, and more stems from Remington’s concepts about the trombone and how it should sound.
“We performed works by Bach, Mozart, Saint-Saëns, Beethoven, Haydn, Brahms, and Bruckner, lovingly slaved-over during the midnight hours by such transcribers as Ralph Sauer, Don Miller, Elwood Williams, George Osborne, Jim Bates, and dozens of others. In all of his years with the trombone choir, Remington never had to transcribe a single piece of music. He turned us on so much to the sound of the trombone choir that we lined up every week to try out our experiments. Many contemporary composers were overwhelmed by this new ensemble and its great storehouse of sounds, and we were blessed by new original works by Sam Adler and others that are now classics.
“For those of us who experienced it, the sound and feeling of the trombone choir never will leave our ears and minds. Picture if you will about 30 young men and women from all parts of the continent and every background. We took places assigned by the Chief in a semicircle based on seniority and ability, and began to play five or ten minutes of the Remington routine in unison, with the Chief singing in his unmistakably sweet, but slightly raspy, voice. You could tune an orchestra with that voice. If there ever was a discrepancy in tuning, it had to be you. We proceeded to a chorale, usually Bach; Bach was his meat and potatoes, the backbone of every rehearsal and concert. Bach’s music was Remington’s training vehicle for the choir, the perfect composer to convey his concept of the trombone and how it should sound. Bach’s chorales and fugues were our daily bread for his three Ts: tone, tuning, and technique. The chorales built tone, tuning, phrasing, and technique; the fugues were for technique, rhythm, and ensemble.
“The Chief projected his sound concept during every moment of his music making and teaching. This concept was song, plain and simple. He detested the stereotype of the blat-ting, unmannered trombone, so much in vogue at the time. The trombone was his chosen vehicle to reproduce the beauty of the human voice. His concept of the trombone was a rich, sonorous, and expressive instrument capable of nothing less than any other orchestral instrument.”
He looked forward each year to the annual Rochester Bach Festival, assembling a trombone choir to perform a prelude outside the church on the front lawn, followed by fugues, choruses, and chorales to introduce the evening’s concert. We played the opening chorale in the same key as the vocal ensemble’s procession through the church and for the trombone choir’s final chorale. The Chief said: “Our last note is the same as the first note the Oratorio Society sings and they just float into each other. That moment is one of the joys of my life.”
The personal relationship between a teacher and private students is a delicate balancing act: involving stimulation, guidance of native talents, support, and an awareness of the student’s state of self-doubt. Traditionally some teachers bully or harass students into achieving goals, risking the future self-worth of students driven by fear. Emory Remington’s teaching centered around the relationship between him and his wife, Laura, and young trombonists fortunate enough to study with him.
His personal support was strong and unwavering, yet from the student’s viewpoint it was a fragile relationship. The slightest reprimand from him or the feeling that we had failed him was devastating; what a relief it was to feel that we had eventually regained his respect. Again the words of his former students are powerful.
Gary Good, 1965-69: “He worked with me as diligently as with his greatest trombonist. Whenever I find myself impatient with someone, Emory Remington’s patience reminds me of the hidden talents to be nurtured in each of us.”
Ronald Cox, 1941-42, 1945-48: “Mr. Remington demonstrated a great respect for an individual’s dignity. He seemed to attend just about every performance of students in recitals or ensembles, and seemed to find the time to be encouraging to students from any department. He never chastised me verbally if a lesson was under-prepared. If he was not quite satisfied, he’d put a question mark over the top of the page and gently say, ‘Let’s sight read, Spike.’ Once, only once, did he ever stop singing. I never felt so alone and swore that this would never happen again. I still sing along with my students.”
Eugene K. Wolf, 1957-61: “The Chief considered an F attachment a pedagogic device and wanted all his students to benefit by using one. When I arrived at Eastman with my Conn 8H, sans F attachment, he asked whether one could be made available to me, knowing from scholarship applications and the like that my parents had begged and borrowed to get me to Eastman. He was unwilling to add-to their burden by suggesting that I buy one.
“I vividly recall arriving for a lesson early in freshman year. As I started to take out my instrument, he said in that clipped way he spoke on such occasions, and with a greater than usual twinkle in his eye, ‘Don’t unpack. I want you to go over to Levis Music store. They have something for you.’ Assuming the Chief wanted me to pick up some music or something, I did as asked without thinking much about it.
“What was waiting for me at Levis was, of course, a brand new 88H bell with F attachment, which the Chief had ordered for me in secret. I presume he paid for it out of his own pocket; characteristically, he would never allow me to discuss it or even thank him for it properly. He had even gone to the trouble of arranging for Bill Motzing to purchase my old bell, and he would not let me use the proceeds of that sale to reimburse him.
“I have no idea whether the Chief ever did anything like this for other students; he swore me to silence (which I hope he would forgive my now breaking). His generosity to me on that occasion, which both he and I knew would never be repaid by a dazzling career as a virtuoso trombonist, has always been for me a measure of the depth of his humanity.”
Al Perner, 1958-61: “When things were getting snagged in lessons, he would call, ‘Time for a cigar’ and we took a short break. Things always went better afterwards, even though we never really had a cigar.”
Gregory Cox, 1967-71: “Chief had the uncanny ability to know just when your ego needed boosting or deflating. Sometimes when I was really struggling with something in my lesson (the Prelude to the 5th Cello Suite of Bach, for example), he would be complimentary and reassuring no matter how awful it really sounded. Other times, as when I landed a week playing opera or in the Rochester Philharmonic, he’d throw excerpts at me for an hour and be critical about my playing of each one just so I didn’t get the mistaken impression that I was ready for the real professional world. This is probably an aspect of teaching that most find difficult: to relate to every student from 4th grade through graduate school as a person, not just as a trombonist or a musician. Chief seemed to do it so naturally.”
Maurice Foote, 1935-39: “I believe now that the Chief studied me as much as I tried to do my best for him. One day during the lesson he stopped me and said, ‘I believe you need glasses.’ He really meant it. From my expression he must have known I was broke most of the time. That Saturday he took me to a friend for an examination and had the prescription filled. He handed them to me and insisted I should never ask to pay the bill; I never did.”
Ralph Sauer, 1960-66: “Favorite memories: the trombone picnic each year with its softball game and the Chief as umpire; his sitting in the main hall on hall duty (he was a great people watcher); whenever I had a new girl friend, I had to bring her by room 310 for approval and register her by paying him a dollar. He steered me away from certain auditions (which I couldn’t understand at the time), and exuded sheer joy when I got my first job, the one he wanted me to have, and the one that was best for my career. I remember the shock of hearing of his death; he was so young in spirit that we all thought that he would live forever. He lives on, of course, in our minds and sounds.”
Jack Flouer, 1960-61: “I recall a knock at the door during one of my lessons, and a young man saying, ‘I’m playing the Rhenish next week. Could I borrow your alto (gesturing to the alto trombone on top of the piano)?’ The Chief looked at him for a moment and then replied, ‘A good trombonist plays the Rhenish on a tenor.’ The young man withdrew without another word and my lesson continued as if nothing ever happened. I have used this anecdote often with students who are searching for that elusive mouthpiece or other piece of equipment to solve all their problems.”
Harry Lockwood, 1966-70; “He was one of the kindest, gentlest, and quietly noble persons I have ever known, and just his presence would bring out those same qualities in my playing and in myself. I always felt special after a lesson with the Chief, as if I had just gone to church. He was a great friend to his students, always and ever.”
Alan Bomwell, 1963-68: “I remember the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth of his smile, the respect he gave to everyone, whether it was the custodian or Howard Hanson; he treated them with equal kindness. He was always patient and waited until the basics of any technique were mastered. Technical development from that point on was merely the logical extension of those basics. His approach was mainly conceptual with emphasis on a relaxed singing style. The trombone picnics were special. No one could ever strike out. Chief would keep calling ‘strike two’ until you hit it. Talking to him through the mirror also remains in the forefront of my memory.”
Frederick Marsh, 1932-38: “When we told him we were getting married after graduation, he told us both to remember to always give more than 50% to our marriage and it would work out; this is our 52nd year. Each student was a part of his family.”
Ernest Lyon, 1936-38: ‘”Don’t play the trombone, sing the trombone.’ No one who studied with him can forget his concern for every student. He started a complete change in the old mechanical approach by teachers and raised the standards for trombone performance.”
Perry Martin, 1958-62: “Each time I was in a lesson with Chief, he made me feel like the most important person at Eastman. My peers all felt the same. Perhaps the greatest reason we worked so hard was to please the Chief. To this day, my feelings of self worth have much to do with our relationship those four years.”
Donald Saniter, 1931-34: “Emory Remington threw himself into his teaching. He emphasized production, diaphragm breathing, soft tongue legato. Five years after graduation Emory said, ‘You should come back and study with me now. I’m a much better teacher than when I taught you.’ “
Lance Lehmberg, W57-61, 1965-66: “Someone asked how he could stand teaching trombone for forty hours a week. Without hesitation he responded, ‘That’s easy. I don’t teach trombone — I teach people how to play the trombone — and they are all unique.’ “
Audrey Morrison, 1971-75: “Those of us in the freshman class in 1971 remember coming to Eastman full of excitement and enthusiasm to study with this great legend. We knew he was old and might pass on after a while but we somehow started thinking he would be there forever. He seemed almost timeless, this man who truly believed in the beautiful, singing sonority of the trombone. He was not only a lover of music and people of all ages, but a person who enjoyed his work and always did it with supreme dedication and compassion. He was like that to the very end of his life; I know, I had a lesson with him the day he died.
“It was a chilly Friday morning in early December, but the earliness of the hour didn’t bother me because I was thrilled to be going to one of my two favorite classes (the other was trombone choir). The earliness never seemed to bother the Chief much, either. As always, he was there to welcome me at the door, ready to go.
“He seemed his normal self. We went through the long tones, ‘taw-daw,’ flexibilities (‘in the mouth!’), and Rochut; always the singing, always the learning through apparent osmosis. What a picture we must have been, a wise master teacher of almost 80 years and a bright-eyed 18-year-old young woman from New York City.
“At the end of the lesson, he thumbed ahead through the Rochut, ‘Now you remember all that I have told you …’ He turned through each exercise, ‘Now do this on this one …,’ all the way to the end of the book. Then he picked up the Bach Cello Suites, ‘Now here, remember this sound … and he proceeded to talk through each movement, again to the end of the book. I was surprised and a bit confused. I’ll be here next week for my lesson,’ I said. There was this silence, without tension or sadness. Just a silence. But those blue eyes that were always twinkling were looking far, far away.
“Later that evening a group of us were waiting for the shuttle-bus at the dorm for a Wind Ensemble concert at 8:00 p.m. The bus pulled up and the door opened. Mike Sanders came tumbling out, swaying with a crazed look on his face. His voice was low and guttural. ‘The Chiefs dead!’ There were gasps and cries. We rode to school in shock.
“When we arrived, the Main Hall was full, students, faculty, staff, friends. There was complete silence; eyes were glazed, fighting back the tears. People hugged, many stayed for several hours. There was nothing to be said. We had lost someone great; we had lost our friend. We had lost the Chief.”
I was last with him at 5:00 p.m. on December 10, following our wind ensemble dress rehearsal, part of the 50th anniversary celebration of the Eastman School. He was sitting in the hall and I asked if he wanted a ride home. His hip was hurting and he decided to just stay downtown and eat. So, having taught his 35 students for the week, he went next door and had his favorite dinner, spaghetti and mushrooms, suffered a massive heart attack, and was gone.
The New York Times obituary stated in part, “More than 50 former students performed in a massed trombone choir at Christ Church Cathedral. Remington was famed throughout the world as the man who made trombones sing . . . the world’s greatest trombone teacher.”
In his eulogy, Howard Hanson said, “What
made Emory Remington a great teacher? It was
professional knowledge without pedantry, perfectionism without sadism, enthusiasm mixed with
dedication, and above all, a belief in the supreme
importance of the individual and the development of his ability. He loved music. He loved
the trombone. But above all, he loved his
students.” □
Donald Hunsberger is director of the wind ensemble and chairman of the Conducting and Ensembles Department at the Eastman School of Music. He also researches and presents orchestral accompaniments of classic silent films with symphony orchestras in the United States and Canada.