Remembrance. Alan Cumberland
The late Mr Cumberland was a close friend during my decade living in Hong Kong and, later, in visits to Australia. For over twenty years, he was the principal tympanist at the London Symphony Orchestra, and later taught at the Brisbane Conservatorium and the Hong Kong Academy for the Performing Arts. At the LSO, he performed on the scores of more than 500 productions for film and television. Particularly in Hong Kong, we got together regularly. Topics of conversation varied, but we shared a special interest in word and phrase origins. For example, after a concert one evening at the HKAPA that Mr Cumberland conducted, he introduced me to a young student of his and asked me if I was a friend of Dorothy. I told him that no, we had just met. He nudged me and told me he would explain later. Later, he told me that asking someone if they were a friend of Dorothy was the way that homosexuals–in mixed company–inquired as to whether someone else was gay. It derived from the commonly held belief that homosexuals had a special attachment to Judy Garland, who, of course, played Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”.
On another occasion, I cited the rarity of the subject of our discussion by saying that it was as rare as an unemployed piccolo player on the Fourth of July. He said nothing in response, but it was clear that the gears were turning in his brilliant mind.
Years later, I was in Brisbane on my then annual visits thereto. Mr Cumberland had recently retired from the HKAPA and moved to the outer suburb of North Lakes. I arranged to visit him. On a bright Sunday morning, I started my long trip from Highgate Hill (near Southbank) which would entail three buses and a 20 minute walk. As prescribed, I called him when I reached the appointed intersection. I asked him to confirm the street address, but he said that the address was not important, and to just start walking up the street. As I did so, I could see his wife Teri looking my way and could hear him playing “The Stars and Stripes Forever” by John Phillip Sousa on a piano in the distance. When he got to the solo part scored for four piccolos in the band version, he gave it a special flourish. As we neared the house, I could see that the living room doors and windows opening out onto a terrace were wide open and he was pounding it out. She told me that he had been practicing all week. It was a magical moment on an unforgetable day. (The solo for four piccolos begins at 3:02 on a brilliant version of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” arranged for concert band at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-7XWhyvIpE.)
