Denis Wick

December 27, 2016 �

Here's a reminiscence of John Fletcher, written not long after his death.

In the early 1960s, work in the LSO was somewhat spasmodic; then, as now, it was
paid on a per diem basis and if Mozart piano concertos were being recorded, it was
tough luck for trombonists and tubists. I welcomed, therefore, an offer to help the
Cambridge University Music Society in a concert; apparently there were not enough
student trombonists around at the time. The concert took place, I recall, with more
enthusiasm than accuracy, with the exception of a quietly-spoken fourth hornist
whose demeanour and precision led me to offer him a lift back to London - I
naturally assumed that he must have been a hired "pro", like me. He seemed slightly
embarrassed by this, confessed to being a science student, and added that his
"real" instrument was tuba. To my embarrassment, he asked if I could give him some
lessons - he knew of my teaching work - and we exchanged phone numbers. I protested
my relative innocence of tuba playing and promised to recommend John, for he it
was, to one of the very few fine tubists in London. It says much for both the low
standard of tuba playing and the lack of interest in teaching that I failed in my
efforts and finally succumbed to John's persuasion at least to hear him play.
I have to say that I was absolutely stunned by his musicianship and technical
facility. He was largely self-taught, although there had been two or three lessons
when John was at school from Clem Lawton, when he was tubist with the long-defunct
Yorkshire Symphony Orchestra, then based in Leeds, John's home town. He has also
been a member of the famous National Youth Orchestra, which had almost professional
standards, and where he made so many lasting friendships. All those years or
dabbling with other brasses, particularly the french horn, had given him
considerable embouchure problems which, fortunately, I was able to help him solve.
Over some months, I persuaded him to forsake the french horn and concentrate on the
tuba, suggesting that a postgraduate course at one of the London Music Colleges
should be the next step. To my horror and their everlasting shame, one of our most
prestigious institutions turned him down, without a hearing. John then decided to
take a postgraduate science-teaching diploma, while continuing his work on the
tuba.
By the time the examinations for this had taken place, a vacancy for tuba had
materialised in the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Their conductor-elect was Antal Dorati,
with whom the LSO had worked over many years. At a rehearsal interval I told him of
my prot�g�, and suggested that there should be a really thorough audition. At this
time, with such a shortage of good players, audititions were often little more than
a formality, with a player being appointed by recommendation. A tough audition
would, at least, weed out the ex-army bandsmen and similar applicants, and show
them what the tuba could do in the hands of a real musician, albeit one not yet
completely developed as an instrumentalist. John's performance at that audition
was, I was told, all that I had expected and more; he was given the job.
The rest, you might say, is history. The period 1964-68 saw John established as a
first-class orchestral tubist. With his kind of intellectual grasp, the BBC
Symphony Orchestra�s vast symphonic repertoire, with a heavy overlay of
contemporary music, presented a well-met challenge. Both Antal Dorati and, later,
Pierre Boulez, were delighted; John became a popular member of this excellent
orchestra.
At about this time, Philip Jones was kind enough to offer me some work with his
newly burgeoning brass ensemble. Needless to say, it could not be fitted into my
busy diary � the LSO was working regular 3-session days - but as an afterthought he
asked me if I knew a good young tuba player. A try-out at Joseph Horovitz's house
of the newly finished Music-Hall Suite began an association which was to last more
than 20 years. "Fletch", as he became known, together with Elgar Howarth, Ifor
James, John Iveson and, of course, Philip Jones himself, were surely the most
musically outstanding brass quintet ever. The group was exactly what John needed to
develop the virtuoso side of his playing; he fitted in perfectly.
Having been very impressed by the sound quality of the CC tuba, in the hands of
Arnold Jacobs with the Chicago Symphony and Bob Tucci in the Vienna Opera, I
persuaded John to take it up. It was typical of John that he should spend three
months working exclusively on his York-Holton CC and typical of the BBC that John
took three months unpaid leave, only to discover that the orchestra hardly used the
tuba at all during this period, and he could have continued to draw his salary in
any case! This extensive work on the big tuba improved his playing considerably.
Although the Besson EEb tuba is a vehicle for virtuosity and can cover almost all
the tuba repertoire very well (it was already bigger than the traditional F tuba),
the introduction by such a fine player of the CC tuba brought a new dimension into
the London orchestral scene.
Unexpectedly, in 1968, we had a tuba vacancy in the LSO and, to my enormous joy, we
were able to persuade John to join us. Per diem payments, spasmodic work for tuba,
but the LSO was a better orchestra than the BBC Symphony, during one its most
fruitful periods. The 20 years or so during which I had the pleasure of John's
playing in my section and the delight of his company in the orchestra were years
that I shall always treasure. His own special Monty Python-type humour, incredible
virtuosity and the kind of lateral-thinking wisdom that is so useful in a self-
governing orchestra, made him a very special colleague. I remember Andre Previn
saying, very seriously, "that guy has to be one of the greatest instrumentalists of
all time" - an opinion that we all shared.
Whilst John respected his colleagues' abilities, his own, largely imagined,
shortcomings were a constant concern for him. His extraordinary memory and
fantastic ear often gave his colleagues incredulous pleasure, as when, on a US
tour, sitting backstage on a music basket, he played Chopin piano etudes on the CC
tuba, remembering, uncannily, every detail. His marvellous, carefully timed
defusing of explosive orchestral situations with a convincing imitation of a toilet
flush reduced us all to helpless mirth on so many occasions!
Over the last years he became involved in taking a small ensemble to inner London
schools in really deprived areas. His Elephant Band, as it was known, was a special
interest for him; he wanted to convey his intense love of music and did so very
successfully.
The continuous exposure over 20 years of John's outstanding ability as soloist, in
brass ensemble, in the orchestra and as a teacher and lecturer has had an effect
that even I could not have imagined way back in 1962. There are now so many
brilliant young tubists that the concept of the instrument in the UK has been
absolutely transformed. I feel proud that I was, in a tiny way, partly responsible
for it, but it is to John Fletcher that the real credit should go; by his example,
his teaching and his influence, he has revolutionised the world of the tuba. For
me, this is his lasting memorial