November 23, 2006 Issue                                       

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©2006 The Chestnut Hill Local

Inspirational music teaching for 50 years from local prof
by KEVIN KAUFMAN

Dr. Chittum in his 1963 yearbook portrait from the Philadelphia Conservatory of Music.

This year, Dr. Donald Chittum, professor in the School of Music, is marking his 50th anniversary as a faculty member at the University of the Arts and its predecessor institutions, The Philadelphia Conservatory of Music and The Philadelphia Musical Academy. He’s taught generations of music students and seen the school(s) through several changes in musical orientation. This brief anecdote best summarizes his students’ admiration and respect for him:

Bassist John Lamb decided to come to The Uarts to become a teacher after a long and successful career playing with the Duke Ellington Orchestra. For his senior recital in 1971, Lamb asked Chittum if he would play drums with him on one selection. He told Chittum, “I would be honored if you would play with me. I really want this memory.” At the time, Chittum hadn’t played a “gig” since 1963. Knowing how much it would mean to Lamb, Chittum played.

In his own education, Chittum, a resident of Wyncote, chose a European model, rather than an American one. Thus, he attended both the Philadelphia Conservatory for music study, but was simultaneously enrolled at Temple University to study literature, history, psychology and philosophy. A native of Atlantic City, he was taken into the Army during the Korean War and served for two years as a conductor and percussionist with a band-training unit and rose to the lofty rank of Master Sergeant at just 21. He was offered a commission, but turned it down in order to return to the conservatory. In March, 1956, as a graduate student at the conservatory, he filled in for an ailing mentor, teaching courses in theory and literature and aural skills. This led to a full-time position, and the rest, as they say, is history.

His philosophy is the same today as it was then: “Teach the student, not the course. For me, teaching a course can be different every time I do it, since each student or class brings different talents, experiences and needs with them. It’s important to identify these and use them as the basis of future growth and development.” This philosophy has prevailed at Uarts, as well as the Pennsylvania Governor’s School for the Arts, where he is director emeritus.

He owes that attitude to Beulla Young, the director of his elementary school orchestra. As he recounts, one day the high school band came to his elementary school, and as soon as Chittum laid eyes on the drums, he exclaimed, “I’ve got to play that.”

Afterwards, he approached Ms. Young and said he wanted to join the orchestra. She queried him, “What do you play and can you read music?”

“I play the drums and I can read music,” he answered. The next day, he appeared at practice with newly purchased drumsticks, but it didn’t take long for Young to find out that young Donald had told a boldface lie.

She said, “You really can’t read music, and you have never played the drums. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but I will learn,” Donald replied sheepishly.

“If you want it that bad, then you’re in,” she said.

Many years later when a music supervisor abruptly resigned in the Atlantic City system, the superintendent, knowing that Chittum was only teaching part-time in Philadelphia, asked if he would fill in for a year until they had time to find a replacement. Another faculty member was in line for the position of supervisor, but some others felt she was too old and should retire, thus clearing the way for Chittum to come on board.

“Never on your life,” Chittum retorted. “The students cannot afford to lose her.”

That teacher?

Ms. Young — again shaping Chittum’s future; this time with regard to his students and a belief in student-focused artistic education.

When Chittum was himself a student a half-century ago, one teacher who affected him profoundly was Vincent Persichetti, a long-time Roxborough resident and one of the country’s greatest classical music composers of the 20th century.

As Chittum recalls, “We would walk into class, and I remember specifically, students would bring scores — full scores of their own work — and he’d play through them with no problem, all parts transposed — nothing to it. What he couldn’t play, he’d sing. And I remember that we all thought ‘He’s seen the piece a couple weeks in a row, so he’s got a feel for it.’ One day a kid went down to [the music publisher] Elkan-Vogel, and they had just published Stravinsky’s Dumbarton Oaks Concerto.

“He’d put it up [on the piano and] show it to Persichetti. Persichetti was like a vacuum cleaner. You put a score [in front of] him; he had to grab it and put it on a piano, you know. And he starts to play this thing, this full orchestral score...

“I also studied conducting privately with Persichetti. We worked on literature that went well beyond what the conducting classes did. My master’s degree concentration was in 20th century harmony, and he was working on the 20th century harmony book at the same time. So we had a lot to talk about. His conducting class, for me, was priceless. We covered a lot of the 20th century literature. I worked with Sol Schoenbach and Oscar Shumsky as chamber music coaches, in the summer program for about five years in Ventnor, New Jersey, called the Ventnor Youth Orchestra. Here I was in my 20s with two guys that were phenomenal in their knowledge of repertoire and experience. I was just quaking in my boots whenever I was around Shumsky especially.”