Wayne Peterson, a prolific composer whose winning 1992 Pulitzer Prize sparked the debate over whether the best judges of music were the experts or the average listener, died in San Francisco on April 7th. He was 93 years old.
His son Grant confirmed the death in a hospital that he said came just seven weeks after that of Mr. Peterson’s decade-long companion, Ruth Knier.
Mr. Peterson won the Pulitzer for his composition “The Face of the Night, the Heart of Darkness”, but it was only after the 19-member Pulitzer Committee rejected the advice of the three-member music jury that Ralph Sheay’s “Concerto Fantastique” received the award.
The jury consisted of composers who had the opportunity to study the scores of the works under consideration, while the members of the committee, mainly journalists, had no particular musical expertise. The dedusting began when the jury’s recommendation to the committee only presented one piece, Mr. Shapey’s, and not the usual three candidates.
The committee returned the recommendation and requested at least one more name. When the jury responded with the work of Mr. Shapey and Mr. Peterson and indicated that Mr. Shapey’s work was the first choice, the committee awarded the award to Mr. Peterson instead. The judges responded with a sharply worded complaint, which in part said: “Such changes by a committee with no professional musical expertise, if continued, will guarantee a regrettable devaluation of this uniquely important award.”
The incident sparked considerable contemplation as to whether experts or a more general body should determine the winner of the music award, an issue the Pulitzers previously faced in other genres. The argument was puzzling because, as the New York Times music critics later wrote, it wasn’t necessarily that Mr. Peterson’s work was more listener-friendly than Mr. Shapey’s – both men wrote atonal works. Some authors suggested that it was simply the Pulitzer Committee, which reiterated its dominance over the jury.
In any event, the controversy put Mr. Peterson in an awkward position because he knew the judges who had objected to the decision and because he showed admiration for Mr. Shapey’s work.
“He would have been thrilled to finish second,” said Grant Peterson.
“There was no bad blood,” he added. “It was just kind of crap because he didn’t do it.”
Mr Peterson himself admitted that the argument left him with mixed feelings.
“I had submitted the work as a lark and I didn’t think I had any remote chance of winning at all,” he told The Times in 1992. “I’ve won other awards, but the Pulitzer’s prestige is greater than that.” that of the others. The controversy made it a little different. I just hope the Pall that cast it doesn’t jeopardize what the Pulitzer could mean to get my music into circulation. “
Grant Peterson said the episode turned out to be a plus in that regard – the award increased his father’s notoriety and earned him more lucrative jobs.
Wayne Turner Peterson was born on September 3, 1927 in Albert Lea, Minnesota. His father, Leslie, was “a victim of the Depression,” he told The Associated Press in 1992, who “jumped from one thing to another”. ;; His mother, Irma (Turner) Peterson, died when he was young, and he lived with his grandmother afterwards, his son said.
His musical skills, which he said came from his mother’s side, showed up early on.
“I was very interested in jazz piano and was a professional jazz musician from the age of 15,” he said. “I made my way through college playing jazz, three degrees from the University of Minnesota” – a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degree, all of which were earned in the 1950s.
In 1960 he became professor of music at San Francisco State University, where he taught composition for more than 30 years. He was living in San Francisco when he died.
Mr. Peterson’s career as a composer began in 1958 with the performance of his “Free Variations” by the Minnesota Orchestra. He composed for orchestras, chamber ensembles and other, sometimes unusual, groups. “And the Winds Shall Blow”, which premiered in Germany in 1994, was described as a fantasy “for saxophone quartet, wind instruments and percussion”. There was also his duo for viola and violoncello.
“The duo is a nervous, effectively written piece, filled with dark melodies that are well suited to these lower string instruments. It reaches a quick and exciting climax,” wrote Michael Kimmelman in The Times when the work was on 92nd Street in 1988 Y was listed.
Mr. Peterson felt it was important for a composer to hear the works of others across a broad spectrum.
“I don’t limit myself to a group of composers,” he told The San Francisco Chronicle in 1991. “I try to hear everything and when I hear something I like it gets distilled in my psyche and comes out somewhere in my music. “
His love for jazz found its way into his compositions, including “The Face of the Night, the Heart of Darkness”.
“There’s a lot of syncopation that can be associated with jazz,” he said of the work, “but it’s not a jazz piece.”
It was premiered by the San Francisco Symphony in October 1991. George Perle, the chairman of the Pulitzer jury who recommended the Shapely piece, endeavored to praise Mr. Peterson’s composition despite the controversy.
“It’s absolutely worthy of a Pulitzer Prize,” he said in 1992. “But the Pulitzer Prize is supposed to be for the best job of the year, and on that occasion we felt there was one job that was more impressive.” ”
Even Mr Shapey, who died in 2002 and was known for being open-minded, came to view his missed award with a touch of humor.
“A Chicago critic called me ‘Ralph Shapey the Non-Pulitzer Prize Winner,'” he told The Times in 1996. “You have to put that on my tombstone.”
Mr. Peterson’s marriage to Harriet Christensen ended in divorce in the 1970s. In addition to his son Grant, three other sons, Alan, Craig and Drew, as well as two grandchildren survive.
Grant Peterson said that since his father’s death he had looked through his papers and marveled at his productivity – not just about his 80 or so finished compositions, but also the countless fragments.
“There is the stuff that is bound and ready and released,” he said, “but mixed in with it is the chicken scratch on yellow tablets. The guy was a music machine.”
