1920-2007

Sam Green, nationally known tubist and teacher, died suddenly in the early morning hours of March 11.  Mr. Green was principal tubist of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra from 1943 until his retirement in 1978.  He was a member of the adjunct faculty of the College Conservatory of Music and its predecessor, the Cincinnati College of Music, for more than 50 years.
Mr. Green was born in Oregon in 1920, but moved to New York City with his family in 1933.  He attended the world-renowned Julliard School of Music on scholarship, leaving prior to graduation to assume his duties with the Cincinnati Symphony at the age of 23.  He played the premiere performance of Aaron Copeland’s Fanfare for the Common Man, which was commissioned by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
Sam Green was a member of the Goldman Band, performing with that ensemble during the summers in New York during the Symphony’s off season.  He also played in the Symphony Brass Quintet, the Cincinnati Opera and Ballet Orchestras and with the Indianapolis Symphony.
Sam Green was a respected and highly sought after teacher, earning the respect of generations of brass players who coveted his warm tone and legendary voice-inspired phrasing.  His standards were very high and his teaching style was direct to the point of bluntness.  His rigorous demands were tempered with humor and respect for his students.
Mr. Green inspired incredible loyalty in his students and is widely credited for teaching them as much about life as music.  Many former students routinely traveled more than 100 miles to attend his birthday celebrations and some continued to study privately with him until 2003.  Mr. Green never married and his longtime companion, Edie Dearth, pre-deceased him in 1984.  A memorial celebration was held on Sunday, March 18 at the Cactus Pear Restaurant in Blue Ash.

- Thomas Coffey, 2007

I have a large number of pictures that will eventually be placed up here. If you have others you would like to see here, please email them to me at TubaMan246@aol.com.

In the 1940s Sam was interviewed for radio. This recording was lost for many years, and recently found in his basement. It demonstrates not only his wonderful sound and lyricism, but also his charming wit. One warning: This is a large file. It will take a while to download, even on high speed.

Sam Green on radio

"Sam-isms"

For anyone not knowing Mr. Green personally, you may have missed his sharp, quick wit and jovial personality. He is remembered by those close to him by a number of quotations. Here are but a few. If you know more, please contact me.

"I’m so hungry my appetite has an appetite."

"Statement from the department of the interior."

"I’ve got an ache in my pain, and a pain in my ache."

"You know me, I'm just a few years older than God Himself!"

Stories from the Green-er Side of the Fence

There are numerous stories that are told and passed around regarding Sam. As with other areas, please email any you wish to see shared.

Sam was practicing some part on stage that is kind of optional tuba and Krips walked up behind him in his Vienenese accent and said "Ve are not using tuba in zis piece." Sam, not looking, said "Wow that's a great imitation of Krips." This went on until Krips went away.

Contributed by Don Harry

In the mid-80's Sam was noticing that all of the horn players were on this fitness kick and doing a lot of running. When a sweaty one popped a head in on my lesson Sam said, "I just don't understand all this running. Whenever I get the urge to jog, I lay down til the urge passes, then I get up."

Contributed by Gary Viebranz

The first time I met him was at Bill Bell's New Year's Eve party. He walked up behind me and picked me up like I weighed nothing and I had the feeling that a vise had grabbed me. I probably thought it might have been Krzywicki and when I looked around there was nobody there since he was so short.

Contributed by Don Harry

I started studying with Sam Green after my first year at the University of Kentucky, in 1975. I had thought I was pretty hot stuff. Rex Conner had taught me quite a lot, and I had acquired a reputation there as a player with some promise. But Rex had no interest in working with me on orchestral excerpts, and recommended I contact someone else to work with on them over the summer. I couldn't find a job anywhere, so I went home to Northern Kentucky and signed up for lessons with Sam Green across the river in Cincinnati.

Sam started in on me before my first note. He had asked me to bring my Arban's and everything else I had - Blazevich, Kopprasch, Bordogni, everything. I brought the bass clef trombone version of Arban I had worked on with Herb Tiemeyer during high school. He thumbed through it - "half the good stuff is missing!" I had to get the complete Trumpet book. I hadn't read treble clef since switching to tuba in the 9th grade. I complained to deaf ears. He pulled out my Kopprasch. Hell, I had finished Kopprasch in the 11th grade. I'd get out two notes, maybe, uninterrupted, at any time. My attack was wrong. I was using a legato tongue. When I played below a mezzo forte I lost resonance. Once in a while I was a "dumb bunny," but mostly I was a "dumb bastard." By the end of that first lesson I was but a grease stain on the carpet.

For 15 weeks he worked me like a pack mule. "Legato tongue, legato tongue!" "Sniff." "Pivot." "You dumb bastard." "You dumb bunny." As the weeks went on the "dumb bunnies" began to take over, with a smile. Toward the end of July, "tiger" started sneaking in, though rarely at first.

By the end of the summer, I think we might have looked through a few Wagner excerpts, but otherwise, all he had done was completely tear apart my technique and reassemble the bloody fragments according to the Bill Bell configuration, Sam Green Edition.

The next year at UK with Rex was OK but unmemorable. For me there was no alternative but to get back with this meshuggeneh, this amazing, I don't know -- sensei. Rex took a sabbatical that spring, and I auditioned and gained admittance to the UC College-Conservatory of Music (CCM) with a full ride, where I finished in 1979 and graduated with honors.

I've heard some people compare Sam with the Star Wars character Yoda. Well, at the risk of sounding like those kids in Stand By Me, Sam woulda' kicked Yoda's little green ass. After all, Yoda was just a damn puppet. Sam was a real guy! Indeed.

Contributed by David Abbott

Every year there would be a tuba gathering at UT and then BG. Students would play, then the Trio (Jamie, Stan and I) would do a few tunes, then there would a guest. One year I invited Abe Torchinsky, and Jamie invited Sam. Things were going swimmingly as they shared the stage and collective wealth of knowlege with the student. Then IT happened. Someone innocently brought up the subject of conductors. From that point 'til the end of the session, they regaled one and all with many, many, MANY stories, all with the conductors as the butt, almost inveriably in a deragatory manner. Needless to say, we learned a lot but not exactly what we had had in mind!

Contributed by Ivan Hammond

In the mid-80's Sam was noticing that all of the horn players were on this fitness kick and doing a lot of running. When a sweaty one popped a head in on my lesson Sam said, "I just don't understand all this running. Whenever I get the urge to jog, I lay down til the urge passes, then I get up."

Contributed by Gary Viebranz

I was lucky enough to be at CCM while Sam was there for his last few years before he retired. Sam was one of the best guys you could know. He was always friendly and happy. I did have a lesson with him, and still remember it like it was yesterday. Sam always found good things to comment on during our mock auditions, even when we crashed and burned on an excerpt.

One of my best memories was when Arnold Jacobs came down to CCM for a few days in the summer for a seminar, and Arnold and Sam sat down to talk with each other. Just listening to them speak between clinics about the "old days" was very special.

Contributed by Scott Ruedger

Copyright 2007, Olt Music