Bonnie Remembers Berkeley

My first acquaintance with Berkeley was the summer of 1967. I was a graduate student in ethnomusicology at UCLA and came up to spend part of the summer working on my Master’s thesis and also attending performances at the World Music Center funded by the Scripps family. I made a tour of the Department of Music. I also, with typical graduate student naiveté, asked at the office if there were any teaching possibilities. None.

My next acquaintance with Berkeley was in the summer of 1969. I had finished my fieldwork for my dissertation and had begun writing. I was also looking toward the future and wrote to the chairman of the Department, at the time Larry Moe, to see if there might be any possibility in future of hiring an ethnomusicologist. He wrote back to say that they had no plans, at present, to do so. Interestingly, I had been aware that many years earlier, when Mantle Hood was in the process of setting up a program in ethnomusicology, UC Berkeley and UCLA were in the running. David Boyden later told me that Berkeley wanted Hood to come and establish a program. Mantle later told me that he chose UCLA because its then Chancellor, Franklin Murphy, would provide more resources, which it did, and UCLA became the premier place to study ethnomusicology. I finished my dissertation and began teaching at Brown University, which for me was ideal. It was less than an hour from my family in Connecticut, only an hour from Boston, a city I loved and where I had done my undergraduate work (at Boston University), and a comfortable ride down to New York. I immediately and happily settled in with no idea of ever leaving. That became reinforced when, during my first year at Brown, I was courted by and received an offer from Yale which I turned down, despite close proximity to family in Stonington, Connecticut, and a nibble from Columbia, which I chose not to pursue, despite its being in New York. Brown was my place. 

In spring 1974 out of the blue I received a letter from Dan Heartz (handwritten, of course), one of many exploratory queries I am sure he had written to others. He wrote that Berkeley was thinking of adding ethnomusicology to its curriculum and, if it did, would I be interested in applying. After some consideration I told Dan that I was very happy at Brown and not interested in a position at Berkeley, but thanked him very much. After all, UCLA and Berkeley were competitors and, in those days, no self-respecting UCLA-trained ethnomusicologist would even consider coming to conservative Berkeley! In the summer of 1974, surprisingly I received another letter from Dan asking if I would be at the annual American Musicological Society (AMS) meeting and, if so, could we meet. I wrote Dan that, while I was a member of the AMS, I had no plans to attend the annual meeting as I would be attending the annual Society for Ethnomusicology (SEM) meeting that was being held in fall of that year in San Francisco. Almost immediately he wrote back saying that, if I had time when in California, would I consider coming to talk with the faculty. They were interested in getting ideas about what ethnomusicology was about and how it might fit into their curriculum. After some consideration, I decided that I would do so, as a courtesy to his persistence.

I called Dan on the morning of the day of the only time I had available at the SEM meeting which was the afternoon prior to a dinner sail on the Bay so, dressed in my evening’s attire (very high heels, tight-fitting toreador pants, and a mid-riff blouse, it being a lovely warm October evening), I took BART over. Dan picked me up in his red convertible (top down, of course) and we drove to the department. On the way he asked me if I would be willing to teach counterpoint. As much as I like counterpoint and could have done so, I told him “no,” I was an ethnomusicologist and I was certain they had competent faculty who could teach counterpoint. As a specialist in ethnomusicology I wanted only to teach in my own areas—as was the case at Brown.

Within the short space of time from when I called Dan to when we arrived at the department Dan had assembled all the faculty, with the exception of Joe Kerman, who was then at Oxford. When I came into the ubiquitous Faculty Lounge, as well-mannered gentlemen they all stood (the faculty was entirely male at that time). After introductions we proceeded to have a lively two or so hour discussion ranging over a whole number of topics. Near the end, David Boyden remarked: “So what you are saying is that we have to rethink our entire curriculum?” “Yes,” I responded. I then glanced at my watch and said: “Oh, gentlemen, I must leave.” All immediately stood and thanked me for coming. Dan drove me back to the BART station.

A month or so later a notice came out that Berkeley was, indeed, going to search for an ethnomusicologist. In addition to advertising the position the word was spread and I, along with many others, was asked to apply. After discussion with family and friends, all of whom thought I would be crazy not to at least pursue the possibility, I decided to apply. In late January 1975 I was called for an interview and in February arrived back at Berkeley for three days. I was hosted and interrogated by representatives of the Center for South and Southeast Asia Studies, the Center for Japanese Studies, by Alan Dundes and folklore and anthropology, and other faculty in disciplines with whom an ethnomusicologist might interact. I was enjoying myself and had no thoughts about actually coming to Berkeley if offered the job. On the last of the three days I was to give my talk in the department. I had been put up at the Durant Hotel and woke early. I decided to walk around the campus, which was relatively quiet with the exception of the birds happily singing. The sun was trying to peek through the fog-shrouded landscape. The campus was beautiful and, at that moment, I realized that I did want to be at Berkeley. I rushed into the music office that had just opened for the day and went to then manager, Hildegarde Klee, and asked for scissors, tape, and paper so that I could really polish my talk.

Well the rest, as they say, is history. I was offered the job, to begin in the 1975–76 academic year. Brown did everything in their power to keep me including offering me tenure, but it was a risk I thought I had to take. I took a leave from Berkeley in the fall quarter of 1975 (the campus, sans Boalt, was then on the quarter system) in order to put my house in order at Brown—we had two ethnomusicologists there already—and arrived in Berkeley for the winter quarter, January 1976.

From the moment I arrived at Berkeley I knew I had made the right choice. Although I was not only the only ethnomusicologist but also the only female ladder faculty, everyone was hospitable, helpful, and congenial to me and with each other. But there was one thing to be settled. Joe Kerman had returned to Berkeley and within a few weeks of my arrival he graciously asked me to lunch.

This is a story Joe heard and that I have told before. I had been forewarned by many on the East coast that Joe Kerman had not been in favor of hiring an ethnomusicologist and, further, that he could be very tough on people, including his colleagues. We walked to Thai House restaurant on Channing, a favorite eatery on the southside of campus. It was sunny and Joe was wearing sunglasses. After we had ordered I decided that I should get to the matter at hand immediately. I said: “Professor Kerman, I understand that you were not in favor of hiring an ethnomusicologist.” Joe squirmed a little, adjusted his sunglasses up and down over his eyes, harrumphed, and acknowledged that that was, indeed, the case. So I responded: “Well, now that I am here, what are you going to do about it?” He again squirmed, readjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and answered: “Well now that you are here I want you to integrate everything you do completely in the department.” And that was that. Needless to say we became and remained great friends.

Music librarian Vincent Duckles was wonderful regarding resources. Vincent had always liked ethnomusicology and through the years had collected books, recordings, serials, and other materials Vincent had always liked ethnomusicology and through the years had collected books, recordings, serials, and other materials pertinent to the discipline anticipating a time when the department might have a scholar in ethnomusicology. Upon my hiring the university, as part of the hiring package, had agreed to provide the funds to acquire the necessary resources to establish the infrastructure for ethnomusicology and Vincent was delighted and eager to order same.

Within a few weeks of my arrival Sam and Louise Scripps, who had underwritten the World Music Center and were very supportive of music and dance in many cultures, contacted me. They were delighted that Berkeley now had an ethnomusicologist and asked if I would be interested in being loaned their magnificent Javanese gamelan. Of course we would, but would have to find a secure and accessible place to put it. Sam said that if we could do so, we could have the gamelan, the Wayang costumes, and other items indefinitely. The then chairman of the department was Richard Crocker who was also sympathetic to ethno. After some discussion, also involving Hildegarde, the department agreed to dedicate classroom 120 to the gamelan. Quite generous, as space was already at a premium. The Scripps’ lent us the gamelan and several years later gifted it and accompanying accoutrements to the department.

That event led to a project upon which I quickly embarked: seeking to expand the space available to the department, something that has been on my radar screen since spring 1976 and on which we have worked consistently through the decades. I was willing to do the legwork and the Music Department and Library were completely supportive. I was able to convince the then Chancellor, the late Albert Bowker, and the then Vice-Chancellor, later Chancellor, the late Ira Michael Heyman, that this was a project worth pursuing. Faculty meetings were devoted to the design and fundraising prospects and we came up with a three-part plan  (sound familiar?). First, more space for the Music Library with the hoped-for possibility of a separate wing or building; the renovation of library-vacated space in Morrison Hall; and the renovation of the Powerhouse. Various reincarnations of the project have passed through an untold number of campus committees, Chancellors, Provosts, and such have always been positively received but the funds for same have almost always been either in short supply or given over to other projects for which donors were much more forthcoming (see below).

Also in spring 1976, I had an unexpected event happen to me that led me to value and appreciate my new colleagues even more. I was faced suddenly with the need for a hysterectomy. When I told the Chair, Richard Crocker, he was slightly abashed as it was a problem with which the male faculty had never had to deal. Richard asked me very caringly: “Shall I tell them that it is a stomach problem?” I had a laugh about that and said that we should just tell it like it was. He agreed. During my recuperation both faculty and graduate students were champs, above and beyond, trooping along to visit me in the hospital and at home.

Teaching. I came from a two-semester system that had ten weeks in it to a three-quarter system with ten weeks per term. In addition to teaching in my specialization in Asian musics I also continued teaching the heavily enrolled Folk Music course I had developed at Brown. Music and anthropology students were anxious for it. Among my first GSIs (then called TA’s) were Gary Tomlinson, Marita McClymonds, and Davitt Moroney.

Also during my first year at Berkeley we had begun serious planning for the big International Musicological Society (IMS) Congress that was to be a joint venture among IMS, AMS, and SEM and to be hosted by the music department at UC Berkeley in August 1977. Professor Lawrence Moe was the major domo and he asked me to be the point person for all SEM-related local arrangements, concerts, and events, a heady assignment. Plans continued apace for it in the next academic year and when the week-long meeting took place it was an unequivocal success, people who attended still referring to it as the best IMS ever. Among the dozens of concerts and other musical performances were 27 that fit the category of “ethnomusicological.” The papers given at the congress were published in the massive “Report of the Twelfth Congress Berkeley, 1977” co-edited by Daniel Heartz and myself.

Also hosted at Berkeley immediately following the IMS was the Charles Seeger Celebration, a four-day event that had been under discussion when I was teaching at Brown.

To celebrate the 90th birthday of Charles Seeger, chairman of the Berkeley department from 1912–1918, we had numerous paper sessions based on his various writings on a broad range of subjects. In addition, an opening event was hosted by Crocker at his home at which Seeger was made an honorary member of the AMS, one of the many societies of which he was a co-founder. One night of performance of Seeger’s compositions was hosted by the Kermans and an evening of music by Seeger’s children—Peter, Michael, and Peggy at my home.

One other comment on the late 1970s. I had learned from the relatively few women ladder faculty about The Faculty Club and its refusal in the early days to accept women. A Club for women faculty, staff, administrators was conceived in 1919 and built in 1923 (incidentally, the only Women’s Faculty Club in the nation with its own building!). I had heard stories that, in the 1960s, and with the impetus of Laura Nader—first female ladder faculty in Anthropology—a few adventurers climbed in the window of one of the bathrooms of The Faculty Club to make a point, but were quickly escorted out. I myself experienced an interesting incident when I went for dinner at The Faculty Club shortly after I arrived on campus. Several of the tables in the Kerr Dining Room had white linen tablecloths and napkins on them. I was seated at a table with no linen tablecloth or napkins. When I pointed this out I was told that I had not made a reservation, therefore the table would be as it was. I was quietly insistent and finally given a tablecloth. When I next returned to The Faculty Club all the tables were set with tablecloths. I like to think of that as a personal accomplishment—although the nexus is not documented. Needless to say, women now have dinner at The Faculty Club on tables with linen tablecloths and napkins.

In the early 1980s the campus really began changing. The Development effort was moving from an amateurish activity run by older alums to a more professional organization under Chancellor Ira Michael Heyman (1980–1990) and Vice-Chancellor Rod Park. One of my early memories about fundraising on the campus was my involvement with Evelyn and Jerry Chambers and the Carillon.

Evelyn Chambers was an alum of Cal, as is their daughter, Merle. Jerry had a great love of bells-but not music– and, in the very early days of multi-million dollar gifts to the campus he told the Chancellor that he would like to provide a gift for the expansion of the Carillon in order to make it one of the finest in the country. The then-chair of the Music Department was not sympathetic to the Carillon and not cooperative with Chambers. It was spring 1983 and I had just been selected to be the next chair of the department so Heyman called me in and, in essence, told me to “do what it takes” to get Chambers’ support. I am sure Mike didn’t mean to suggest anything other than a professional approach but still it was a bit of a shock to be told that. Evelyn, Jerry, and I became “chums” and from that several things resulted: not only did we get the Carillon to be the wonderful instrument it is today, we got an endowment for it, and an endowed Chair, the Evelyn and Jerry Chambers Chair in Music (which I held from 1998–2001) but also I got to go with the Chambers to every Big Game, until he passed away, including “The Game.”

In addition to the Chambers monies, we also benefited from another benefactor in a creative way. Gordon Getty was/is known for his money, not his music, but I thought we might be able to use that to our advantage. Replacing our regular choral conductor on leave, we had the late Richard Bradshaw, conductor of the San Francisco Opera Chorus, who regularly played tennis with Getty. I talked with Richard and he suggested that we commission a piece from Getty and he would be the go-between. I thought it important to actually get Getty to the department so commissioned a piece for organ, his choice of which of our many organs. Getty accepted the commission for a few hundred dollars but chose to write a piece for our chamber chorus that was being conducted that year by our late colleague, Philip Brett. Getty would come to Hertz Hall for rehearsal. As luck would have it, on the day of that rehearsal Philip suffered a terrible attack of appendicitis and had to have emergency surgery. A musicology graduate student, Victor Gavenda, was suddenly faced with the attendance of Getty at the rehearsal he had to conduct—and did so superbly. Subsequently, although we were never permitted to approach Getty personally for a gift to the department, the Anne and Gordon Getty Foundation committed  a sum of money annually to us for many years and a sum of gratefully received money to each Music Department in the UC system.

The academic calendar was also changing. Heyman had been a professor in the law school, which was the only unit on campus at the time operating on the semester system. Under his tenure the entire campus changed to the semester system. That occurred at the onset of my first stint as department chair (1983–1988) and that, along with the need for more FTE to suit a growing and changing curriculum, and together with the ubiquitous space project, occupied important parts of my time. In the 1982–83 AY the faculty recommended to the Provost that I be the next Chair of the Music Department. As was routine, the Provost, Robert Middelkauff, called me in for an interview. Middlekauff, while a distinguished historian of colonial US, was a taciturn individual so when I began answering his query about what I had in mind doing for the department, should I be chair, I began to reel off a list of things I would like to have happen. Most especially I said the department needed more FTE to meet the newer demands in music and I also wanted to replace an FTE in musicology as the faculty had voted to replace David Boyden with my appointment. Middlekauff squirmed a bit and seemed utterly bored so I said to him “I see that you are bored and I don’t blame you because you probably have heard almost the same iteration and probably in nearly the same words from so many potential chairs that you have probably memorized them.” A bit startled he responded a sort of weary agreement, as follows: Why don’t you couch your request in a different way, how about in music? Something different. I promise that I will listen closely to what is said.”

I thought about the meeting and then reported on it in some detail to the faculty. “I’ve thought about this and it may seem even silly, but why don’t we take the Provost up on his suggestion. If we do this who is willing to sing to the Provost.” Several colleagues responded affirmatively. The late Jack Swackhamer, one of the Lecturers and himself a composer, said “Why not. I’ll write the music if someone will write the text.” Dan Heartz noted that one of his students, John Rice, was working on colonial American texts and could be approached. Several other members of the faculty said they would be interested in singing the piece. Jack said that he and his musicianship colleague Elizabeth Davidson “think that since Middelkauff is a colonial history specialist it might be even more powerful to find a William Billings choral piece thinking that Middelkauff surely would know about Billings. So I looked and found one that might be good.” Thank you, Swack! Dan said that John Rice also enjoyed writing new texts for existing music so ask him to join in on the project. I sat with John, the piece in hand, and told him what the text should include. It should name each member of the then-present faculty and praise the department. It should also make a strong request for FTE. Well, John quickly produced a master contrafactum: the piece was in two parts—the first polyphonic in major, all very cheery; to that John set the faculty names and department praises. Then the piece changed to homophonic, in minor. There John set “But we need FTE” repeated several times to weighty chords. Perfect.

Time to gather the volunteer choristers which included Richard Crocker, Michael Senturia (the orchestra conductor), Jack Swackhamer, Elizabeth Davidson, Jim Cunningham (the choral conductor), Tony Newcomb, and myself. Next I needed to get this performance on the Provost’s calendar. I went to his office, asked to see HIS secretary, and explained the whole thing to her. Getting immediately into the spirit of the event she suggested that they come when his regular meeting with all the Divisional Deans would end and they would all hear it. So that’s what happened. We were a sensation, it brought a smile to Middlekauff’s face, was talked about for long after, and, when I became chair in 1983, it brought that one replacement FTE and more: we got six positions during my term, three of which were new additions to our FTE count—David Wessel, Richard Taruskin, and Ben Brinner—as well as John Butt (University Organist), John Roberts (Music Librarian), and Christy Dana, SOE Lecturer in Musicianship.

We also acquired our first Carilloneur, Ron Barnes from the Washington National Cathedral. It gave me a great sense of accomplishment during my first chairmanship to move slowly but inexorably ahead on the space project, guide us from the quarter to the semester system, but most especially to have brought six new faces to the department, three of which were additions to what we had. John Butt eventually moved to Scotland and was replaced by Davitt Moroney, and John Roberts retired in 2006, but for years they graced us with their presence.

There was another development during my chairmanship and one of the things of which I am most proud. In my first year in the chairmanship, I took the faculty on an Avanti week-end (no retreat for me). Here I was with a set of kindly, generous, crusty men, quite successful stars, but mostly set in their ways. But there was more out there and we needed to think about what our directions, goals, and the future should be with the field of music studies changing so rapidly. I told them to think about what they would like to have, to “dream” about how the future might look. Richard Felciano had been dreaming about something for some time and when he mentioned it to me I said “let’s go for it.” Together he and I approached the administration, made forays to several cutting-edge facilities, including Lucas’s Industrial Light and Magic and Lucas films in Marin as the project moved along. We found a sympathetic and supportive ear in then-Provost Len Kuhi, himself an astronomer, so perhaps a star-gazer. And so, CNMAT was born.

Through the ensuing years more changes came about. In 1990 I finally got another female colleague when Marika Kuzma became our choral conductor, followed in 1991 by the appointment of Cindy Cox to the composition faculty. Their appointments came as a result of the retirement of James Cunningham, choral conductor, and the late Andrew Imbrie, composer. Imbrie did not want to retire but the rule in those days was 70 years of age, and out. Ironically, the next year, the system changed but not in time to benefit Andy. A watershed year for the department in terms of retirements came in 1994 when Richard Crocker, Alan Curtis, Richard Felciano, Daniel Heartz, and Joseph Kerman all took the very lucrative VERIP (Very Early Retirement Incentive Program) handshake. I, personally, was devastated by the retirement of such good colleagues and friends, not to mention world-class scholars and composers. But in the great Berkeley tradition we began new hires; I won’t say replacements because none of them could be replaced. But Berkeley, and our department, also has another wonderful tradition and that, in almost all circumstances, to make our hires young so that our new colleagues can grow in the department’s “culture.” They, too, become stars in their own right!

A few years after my first chairmanship I was asked and accepted to be Dean of Undergraduate Services for the College of Letters and Science which I was from 1992–1998. In that capacity headed the committee that oversaw the development of Telebears, Bear Facts, DARS, and a few other enterprises that aided undergraduate and also graduate education. Prior to 1994 the campus had two Provosts: One for the College of Letters and Science, to whom six Divisional Deans reported, and the other for the Professional Schools to whom each professional school Dean. Considerable revamping was going on and in 1994 those two Provostships were abolished in favor of an Executive Vice Chancellor and Provost. Each of the colleges and professional schools would henceforth be administered by Deans, all of whom formed a council of Deans over which the EVCP presided.

The change was not so great for the professional schools but the College of Letters and Science, however, as the biggest, the main undergraduate college and with the largest number of graduate programs was left without a presiding individual. It was decided that, from among us six Divisional Deans, there should be a Chair of the Deans, essentially a shadow Provost, selected and that turned out to be me, a position in which I served from 1994–1998. (The position later was renamed Executive Dean). I had the responsibility for what felt like holding the College together, as the Divisional Deanships morphed into Deans with the sorts of responsibilities that independent professional school deans had. Figuring out how to provide a computer operation to support the various L&S units was an imperative (remember this was at the cusp of the Internet) as was undertaking a Development structure for fundraising, starting even with agreeing on College as opposed to divisional goals for the impending second campus campaign. Those were heady times.

While I could have taken other opportunities offered to divert my career into administration here and elsewhere, I decided to return to academic life. Back to the department and to the space project. The Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences have never been the blessed beneficiaries of fundraising on this campus, although it began to change somewhat about ten years ago. As a result, the Music Library has been the only completely successful part of the project, completed in 2004, thanks to a serendipitous event. About 1995, when Olly Wilson was chairman of the department and I was Chair of the Deans of the College of Letters and Science responsible for Development, an inquiry was made. An alum of Cal had asked her lawyer to inquire about needs of the campus. Jean Gray Hargrove, although an education major, was a talented musician who had concertized through the years and had a deep regard for the arts. She wanted to make a gift and primarily to music. Olly and I were stunned but knew immediately what we needed: a naming gift that would allow us to finally build that music library. The naming gift was made and there ensued several years of fits and starts primarily a result of needing to complete the funding and taking a measurable amount of time and attention from Wendy Allanbrook through the entirety of her chairmanship (1997–2003). But, finally, after eight chairs and three music librarians the Jean Gray Hargrove Library came to be in 2004 during the tenures of Chair Tony Newcomb and Music Librarian John Roberts.

In 2005, at a time of retirements and loss of colleagues, I was asked to take on the department chairmanship for a second time. Having assumed the position of Chair of the Faculty Group in Asian Studies (1999–present) and settled into teaching and the time allotted for research by the honor of my Richard and Rhoda Goldman Distinguished Chair in Interdisciplinary Studies I reluctantly agreed to do so. This four-year period (2005-2009) was also marked by many accomplishments, some very sad moments, but also a rebuilding of the faculty with bright and gifted young colleagues. We successfully completed a full-scale review of the department and undertook more sophisticated fundraising endeavors with various musical events. We successfully argued for replenishing the faculty, which had been depleted by retirements and deaths. In 2005, longtime MSO, Hildegarde Klee, graduate advisor Bruce Alexander, musicologists Anthony Newcomb and Wendy Allanbrook, and music librarian John Roberts retired but sad as their loss was we suffered the deaths of two wonderful composers, John Thow (2007) and Jorge Liderman (2008) as well as staff member Nancy Cooley (2009), all too young, in their 50s. But we also celebrated important occasions such as the centenary of the department (2005), for which our gifted staff person, Kathleen Karn, designed beautiful displays and a department timeline in the Upper Lobby of Hertz Hall. We had birthday events for several emeriti, conferences to honor colleagues, such as Richard Taruskin, and special tribute concerts. We also planned ahead to invite a plethora of Bloch Professors that have included in recent years Martha Feldman (President of the AMS) and Peter Franklin in musicology, Steve Mackey and Fred Lerdahl in composition, Steve Feld and Martin Stokes in ethnomusicology, as well as George Lewis and Georgina Born. In addition, the resuscitation of the renovation of Morrison Hall in the space previously occupied by the Music Library began and that phase of the long-ago building plan was completed in the 2013–2014 AY when Ben Brinner was Chair. (I had hoped that the Powerhouse phase of our plans would happen before I retired, but that is not to be). I also took great pleasure in the fact that in this second chairmanship we were able to hire more superb staff and to add five new faculty: James Davis and Nicholas Mathew in musicology, Franck Bedrossian and Ken Ueno, in composition, and Tamara Roberts, in ethnomusicology and performance studies. And although the Music Librarian position was no longer in the department, we also welcomed John Shepard to that role in the Hargrove Library. But perhaps my crowning achievement during this time was getting a dedicated parking space for the department!

It sounds as if the only thing I did during my 40 years at Berkeley was administration. Pleased as I am with those accomplishments I am most proud of my teaching and, along with my ethno colleagues, introducing countless thousands of undergraduates to the variety of music cultures in the world, being an advisor for DeCal courses in several traditions, and generally counting myself lucky to teach some of the best and brightest students in the world. I am also proud of having built one of the oldest and most prestigious programs in ethnomusicology. When I started as a student in ethnomusicology the field was only 11 years old, the Society newsletter run off on a mimeograph machine, and the relatively few of us having little expectation of being other than “the lonely only” in music departments comprised almost exclusively of composers, musicologists, and performers of western art music. How the world of music studies has changed! Most departments of music in the country now count three, four, five and in some instances more ethnomusicologists on their faculties and I am proud to say that many of the graduates of our stellar program occupy those positions. Berkeley PhDs in ethnomusicology are sought after and successful in their chosen careers.

I am deeply indebted to the University of California Berkeley for the resources it affords for scholars that allow us to undertake the research and produce the scholarship that has made this institution of higher learning one of the world’s greatest. Many of the world’s greatest scholars, scientists, composers, and artists have graced the campus offering all of us their insights due to endowments such as for Regent’s Lecturers. In our department we have hosted dozens of great composers and scholars through the auspices of both that fund and our own Bloch Professorships. Not only my home department has been important to my work but also other departments such as anthropology, ethnic studies, East Asian Languages and Literature, South and Southeast Asian Studies, and various research centers and institutes such as the Institute of East Asian Studies with its various Centers and the Institute of South Asian Studies with its various Centers. It has allowed me to undertake research, primarily in South Asia (India) and East Asia (Japan), to produce seven authored books, edit several volumes, write dozens of articles and reviews, and give countless guest lectures and keynote speeches. Finally, I must say that I could have done none of this had it not been for the dedicated and marvelous staff of the department and the many colleagues through the decades that have made Berkeley’s Department of Music not only stellar in accomplishment but also extremely civil and collegial. For all of that I am forever grateful. I am sad to be leaving “home” but plan many visits as an emerita. Fiat Lux!  —Bonnie C. Wade