From earliest youth, both Diana and OV grew up hearing much classical music in the home as well as at the concerts of the Detroit Symphony, Rochester Philharmonic, occasional recitals and other public venues. Many family friends (the Staglianos, Barringtons, Paxhias, Passanates to name but a few) reinforced this background so much that, by the time Diana and OV were in their teens, music at a subconscious level was almost akin to wallpaper.
By 1981 OV and Mary were sustaining patrons of the Allentown (PA) Symphony, a community orchestra that provided only occasional musical enjoyment. One of the last such occasions was a performance featuring José Iturbi as guest conductor. Because OV had known Iturbi from his tenure conducting in Rochester, he was elected to show him around town.
An unexpected benefit for Diana was when she was asked a year or so later by OV to bring a painting he had commissioned of Iturbi’s private airplane to him at his home in Beverly Hills. That was the last time Diana saw Iturbi and she was struck by how much he resembled Pa in his final months.
Against this backdrop OV was looking for a pretext to withdraw his support for the Allentown Symphony. His brainstorm was to play the role of would-be ego-maniacal local composer whose further financial support was contingent on a performance of a composition that was so lacking in merit [Epimenides 2 & 3] that no self-respecting musician would have anything to do with it.
Hence Epimenides, the tone-poem so devoid of worthwhile melody, rhythm or any redeeming attribute was ghost written and presented so that, when all concerned rejected the submission, OV pretended to be so offended he canceled his annual gift saying something snippy to the effect, “I hear there’s another orchestra in Philadelphia.” (As though they’d be any more inclined to put on a performance of something so terrible.)
By January of 1982 on a slow news day, the Los Angeles Times ran a filler op-ed
dealing, among other things, with the so-called “Epimenides Paradox” as explained in Gödel, Escher Bach by Douglas Hofstadter. The idea struck that a nonsense reply was in order since lying, as the backbone of the paradox, seemed to yell out for utterance.
Not quite two weeks after sending in a silly letter to the editors, the entire matter was all but forgotten since i had not really expected LA Times to publish such nonsense. Only when Diana answered the phone a couple weeks later and hearing her voice from the other room where i had dozed – trying to make sense of the caller’s question – did i realize how the joke had taken on a life all its own.
The conversation, as near as i could piece it together while half-asleep, was:
Caller: Is this the home of Richard Kade?
Diana: Yes, this is his wife. Can I help you?
Caller: I was trying to reach an old acquaintance, Ottavio Vincent Pezzi.
Diana: That’s my brother.
Caller: Diana?
Diana: Yes. Who is this?
The caller was Norm Herzberg one of Pa’s earliest bassoon pupils from Eastman. He had stumbled across this nonsense in the LA Times which prompted his phoning. He and Diana enjoyed several minutes of catching up on old times although they never had a face-to-face reunion.
Roughly one week later, OV had a trip through Los Angeles and Diana left a copy of the op-ed letter mentioning him as “noted American composer” by his plate at the dinner table. Never before or since have i heard him laugh so loudly, spontaneously or for so long.
May 2017