(1993-06-27)
Donated by the Celeste and Emil Richards Estate.
The twenty-six letters and cards Emil Richards received from
Harry Partch between June 24, 1963 and July 31, 1974 provide
valuable insight into the composer’s complex personality.
Written during the last decade of his life, this correspondence
reveals Partch’s struggles with depression, financial constraints,
rehearsal and performance anxieties, and the frustration associated
with his perpetual search for affordable housing and studio
space that would provide some protection for his instruments.
He writes on July 24, 1964, "I left Petaluma on June 4,
permanently. The walls were collapsing around me … all
I could do was pack and run. I am in a small cottage just south
of Del Mar. It is very crowded … instruments in every room,
even the kitchen and bathroom." On October 23, Partch announces,
"I am dismantling the huge instruments. What a relief!
I hadn't realized before that the towering shapes, in that small
room, were psychologically crushing me." By March 31, 1965,
he says: "I am slowly--very slowly--sorting things for
another move. When, or where to, I have very little idea."
Partch quotes from a letter written to Danlee Mitchell in the
early spring of 1965: "I will never appear on another program.
If you want to arrange one, and train people, and take care
of instruments, and speak, okay. It is not for me." On
July 4,1965, he complains about a recent performance of his
music on instruments requiring his constant attention: “"Again,
for the third time this year—a fragmented performance,
fragments of instruments, fragments of compositions. Nothing
complete. It is a little disheartening."
On January 4, 1974, eight months before his death, Partch writes
to Richards : "I deeply appreciate the beautiful card and
its even more beautiful sentiments, and the check. That $25
is becoming almost a ritual, for 151-proof rum. But I accept
it humbly. I have a couple of new doctors. So far they have
found that I have an a-rhythmic heart and an a-symmetrical brain
(which is why I walk funny). Almost anytime I expect to hear
that I am a-musical (I've already heard that one)."
--James Strain, PAS Historian, and Otice Sircy, PAS Museum Curator
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