This triibute was forst published in Reeding Matter Vol 9 # 2 2006

It’s probably impossible but…

“It’s probably impossible, but I must ask…” These were the words which began my long association with Anthony Camden. Perhaps it was a dare? I had no idea at the time. With the benefit of hindsight, the words fit perfectly with a man who lived on optimism, simply refusing to accept that something might be considered impossible.

In the words of composer Richard Mills, “he always saw possibilities where many others could see only problems.” In my case, Camden was hoping that I might establish the new regional campus of Queensland Conservatorium in Mackay. Despite having just settled back in Brisbane, what at first seemed impossible to me did in fact come about. Within days I found myself at a media conference in Mackay, within weeks I was resident, and before I knew it, Camden was using the same line to convince me to stay another year… and another. In these and subsequent attempts, a bottle of good red helped facilitate the decision.

Anthony Camden’s incredible sense of optimism hurled him headfirst into situations others would choose to avoid. For example, when the board of directors of the London Symphony Orchestra attempted to remove André Previn from his life-long contract as principal conductor, Camden pulled a diplomatic coup by taking out a high court injunction to prevent the humiliation, at the same time convincing Previn to change his contract
to three years. Everyone was happy: Previn cut short the new contract, exiting as “Conductor Laureate”, and Claudio Abbado was unanimously elected maestro.

Such diplomacy earned Camden the role of Chairman of the LSO, and during his twelve years in this unpaid position, he made an indelible mark on the Orchestra in between ongoing performances as Principal Oboe. He achieved all that he set out to do, and more: increased the performance status of the Orchestra, raised the level of visiting conductors and soloists, augmented sponsorship and profile, created new artistic projects, made more recordings (including film), and moved the LSO into its permanent home at the Barbican Centre. Along the way, there were the stories. Camden’s stories at times seemed beyond belief, but they are nonetheless true. Whilst the quality of the wine might have oft enhanced the telling, the detail remained consistent.

One of Camden’s favorites as the “Star Wars” story. Convincing John Williams that the LSO was the orchestra he needed to record the first
of the “Star Wars” films was a turning point for the LSO in terms of building earning potential, and gaining a new (and huge) audience. In 1978 the LSO was touring America with André Previn and there was a free afternoon in Iowa. Bored, Camden cornered Previn and asked him for a recommendation to composers who wrote film scores. Previn just happened to be friends with John Williams, and with Camden’s encouragement phoned him there and then, passing the phone to Anthony: “I asked him if he had any films coming up that we could record for him. He told me that he had just started writing the music for a film, but that it wouldn’t interest the LSO because it was all ‘up in the universe’! He told me they were thinking of calling it ‘Star Wars’. Of course, I persuaded him very strongly that our Orchestra would love to record it for him. He was surprised but [said] that recordings had to start within one month – and there would need to be 18 sessions! I told him I would ring him back the next day.”

The prospect of finding 18 sessions in close proximity within a very tight LSO schedule would normally fit in the “impossible” category, but not for Anthony Camden. He phoned LSO administrator Sue Mallett, and within
a few hours they had found 18 possible session times to pass on to Williams. The fact that some of the sessions started very late at night because the Orchestra was at the same time recording the André Previn TV Series caused some consternation, as did the film producers’ proposal that they accept only royalties and no fees. After some negotiation, the Musicians’ Union and the film producers agreed on a very high session fee for each player. Years later, Anthony was wishing they had taken the royalties! Nonetheless, this was the first in a long list of film scores the LSO recorded with John Williams.

For most, it would have ended there, but Anthony was determined to extract an apology and whatever else he could muster. He set a complaint in motion with the airline management, and then left me to deal with the various discussions, meetings, endless phone calls and eventual apologies which resulted from two hours of hysteria at the airport, while the Duty Manager in question enjoyed an enforced period of leave. The eventual outcome was a revision of the airline’s national policy for carrying instruments on board, and a shuffle in roles for the Duty Manager. It was almost 2 years before that (newly-labeled) “airline employee” found it possible to look me in the eye, and even longer before we had a conversation! It didn’t really matter - the Conserva-torium was flying with the other airline!

From the point of view of incredulity, the most amazing of Camden’s stories is probably the one about the music which didn’t arrive. It was 1980, and the LSO with Abbado was engaged to perform the Anniversary Concert at the Carinthia Festival in Austria. It was an all-Bach program requiring a chamber orchestra of only 35 players. Because of the reduced numbers, it wasn’t considered essential for the Personnel Manager and Librarian to travel with the Orchestra. Instead, some of the members of the group had been assigned management jobs. Douglas Cummings (cello) was looking after the music.

The Saturday evening concert in the church in Ossiach, Carinthia was
to be televised, which meant that the lighting check and rehearsal had to be on the Friday evening, to estimate the same lighting conditions. The orchestra left London at lunchtime on Friday and arrived in Zagreb at 4pm. From there, they collected bags and rechecked into a flight to Klagenfurt, arriving by 5.30pm - comfortable timing to get to Ossiach before the 8pm technical rehearsal.

As Anthony explained,
“When we arrived in Klagenfurt, Dougie asked ME where the music case was. I asked him if he had collected it in Zagreb and checked it into the Klagenfurt flight – no, he hadn’t! By now it was 6pm and the airport was closed. I went up to the control tower and asked if they knew of anyone who had a private plane. After a few telephone calls, they found someone who was in the middle of having dinner. By 6.30pm a man arrived dressed in jeans, and led me to his very small plane with only }one propeller. I agreed to pay him £500 sterling to fly me to Zagreb
and back.

We took off at 6.40pm and arrived in Zagreb around 7.15. The airport was closed but we landed anyway, and taxied up to the building. I got out and walked over to the building. The door was closed but an old woman was washing the floor. I knocked on the window but she refused to unlock the door. I could SEE the blue suitcase inside. I knew that if I didn’t get the music our players would lose the broadcast and all the television money because the TV company had to judge the lighting at 8pm. So I broke the door with my foot and rushed in. The lady panicked and screamed but I grabbed the case and rushed to the plane and told the pilot to take off quickly.

When we were in the air, we sent a message to say we were on our way. When we arrived two police motorbikes and a taxi were waiting. They rushed me to the church in Ossiach and half an hour later (at 8.20) I arrived. The orchestra was all tuned and ready, and I put the case on the platform. Claudio was happy that I had found the music, but one second violinist who knew nothing about the problem asked me why I was so late with the music! I told him to speak with Douglas Cummings!”

This happily set the precedent for the rest of the year. He was a dedicated and passionate teacher, pushing me and never accepting second best. It was the most productive year I had as a student. He was interested in my all round well being as well as my oboe playing, as he was with all the students in the music department, sometimes opening the whiskey decanter when I felt homesick!

I was deeply saddened to hear of Anthony's death. I remember him with a great deal of affection and deep gratitude for everything he did for me.

-Rebecca Wood
Student of Anthony Camden 1995-1996 at the Hong Kong Academy
of Performing Arts.

Anthony’s rise to prominence began early on, firstly at the Royal College of Music where he studied with Terence McDonagh. I recall going to one of his lessons where I played the cor anglais part of the Beethoven Trio.

The next time we met some years later, he was principal oboe of the L.S.O. What a position. Concerts many nights of the week and with a minimum of rehearsal, if any at all. He became chairman of the board after a time and at a very critical time in the orchestra’s history. Too many orchestras vying for the available work. They were able to move in other directions, recording the wonderful film scores by John Williams for “Star Wars”, making regular tours to the U.S.A. Europe, Australia etc. How anyone could attend to these various time consuming and stressful duties as chairman and play principal oboe, become Professor of oboe at the Guildford School of Music, make reeds and then play so beautifully is a miracle.

During his tenure as Principal Oboe of the L.S.O. 1972 – 1978 they made
over 400 recordings. His beautifully melodic tone and immaculate phrasing were always features of this outstanding musician and his thoughtful and generous way with others, be they students or colleagues was remarkable.

Rest at last.
Farewell dear friend.

-Guy Henderson
Former Principal Oboe, Sydney Symphony Orchestra

There’s not even a boundary between the two different generations of Anthony’s children. He was particularly grateful for the close relationship that young Sasha (now 9 years old) shares with her adult brother Andrew and sister Colette. Perhaps this is one manifestation of the Camden role model: Anthony bore no grudge against anyone. Even those who thought they might have had some problem with him found it difficult to dislike him.

While his children’s love and respect for him had little to do with his music-making, Anthony’s elder brother Kerry who is also a musician, is able to combine both worlds. Like their father Archie Camden, Kerry is
a bassoonist. As Anthony was also to do, Kerry studied at the Royal College of Music in London, and before turning to freelance work was Principal Bassoon in the BBC Concert Orchestra. Kerry has appeared regularly with the major symphony orchestras in London, including the BBC Symphony Orchestra, London Symphony Orchestra and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and also played with several well-known chamber orchestras, among them the English Chamber Orchestra, London Mozart Players and the Philomusica. Kerry is also associated with many chamber groups, including the Camden Trio; the Camden Wind Quintet; the Camden Wind Ensemble; Musica da Camera; and the Webern Ensemble. He has also worked extensively in studios recording classical music, television and film. Kerry has been professor at the Royal College of Music since 1964. He writes of his brother, the musician:
“Anthony was a wonderful musician, a great artist and an outstanding oboist and I will treasure for the rest of my life the wonderful experience of making music with him, particularly in our Camden Trio. He was one of a very rare breed of musicians - a magnificent player; and he has left us a wonderful legacy to treasure - his many recordings that are so full of life and sparkle - beautiful phrasing and a superb sound. He was also a very gifted and outstanding administrator.”

Andrew and Colette, children of Anthony’s first marriage to Diane naturally see him in a different light, more centred away from the professional. His son Andrew lives in Sydney with wife Lorna. Andrew remembers a loving father to whom he became particularly close in recent years. Of his many trips to Brisbane to spend time with Anthony after his return to Australian from Hong Kong in 2003, Andrew wrote:

“A highlight of my frequent visits to Brisbane were the evening walks with my father, Lilly and Sasha to the lake at the bottom of the garden to feed the fish, followed by a glass of wine in the garden [at Brookfield], and since he moved into the city, the evening walks along the river, followed by a glass of wine on the balcony and discussions over the direction of passing bats and planes.”

In fact, as Andrew told those who attended the memorial service in Brisbane, that is precisely what they had done only a week before Anthony’s passing. Andrew described Anthony’s high spirits and charisma:

“Despite his illness and no longer being able to play the oboe, he still managed to captivate an audience. On our evening walks along the river, he’d take-off at full speed and barely in control on his scooter. When we’d finally catch up with him at the end of the walk, more often than not, he’d be surrounded by people, and he’d take great pleasure in their concern over his daredevil antics.”

Describing Anthony’s commitment to the family, Andrew said:
“I’m very fortunate to have seen my father’s last public oboe performance and that it was a very personal experience, since it was at my sister’s wedding in England. He was determined to attend my wedding in June last year, and made it despite arriving home only the night before, from a month of exhausting treatment in China.Daughter Colette is a producer with the BBC in London, although Anthony often proudly claimed – much to her chagrin – that she actually runs the place! With her photographer husband Will Pryce, Colette visited Australia at Christmas last year, and wrote the following tribute to her father for the memorial service:

“We adored our dad. Even as little kids Andrew and I were exceptionally proud of our father – not because we thought he was any good at music (that respect didn’t come till the “Star Wars” soundtrack). We were proud because we recognised even then that he was unusually charismatic. He had a huge personality and bags of charm. He made mischief and (usually) got away with it.

As older kids we realised that our mischievous dad was also a talented one, and an inspirational leader. As adults we recently got a glimpse of his former glory in a Noosa restaurant at closing time. The cleaners had already got their mops out when our father took me and Andrew to dinner. The doors were shut but Daddy walked in and nonchalantly declared: “Camden: three!” However shamefully embarrassed we may have been, Andrew and I realised we were in the presence of greatness when the restaurant re-opened. This is how I will remember him: unyielding, unstoppable, but a force of personality.”

Certainly unstoppable, Anthony Camden’s boundary-free life saw
him mix with everyone from royalty to service staff. The Duchess of Kent said he was “a virtuoso of the highest distinction, respected and admired among musicians everywhere,” and so he was. In the days after his passing, messages came from around the world – as many of them from famous names as there were from students and people whose lives he had touched in some way. Most had maintained corre-spondence with him throughout his illness, and more than one said that Anthony had written that he “wanted to live longer for his family”. The stories were diverse, all of them testimony to his “seize the day” approach to life, and the many ways in which he helped others. A woman from Daytona wrote that (after only one meeting) Anthony helped her to select a cor anglais; a former student wrote that his life was changed by a scholarship Anthony offered after he auditioned him in Manila. Chanannat Meenanat (Principal Oboe in the National Orchestra of Thailand) whom Anthony considered one of his two most promising students, told of having an unscheduled audition in a hotel room in Bangkok, an audition which was the beginning of a long mentorship. From the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra, Witaya Tumornsoontorn acknowledged that Anthony had done “many great things for Thailand during the last 18 years.”

Tributes flowed from London, Europe, Hong Kong, Bangkok, and the USA,
and the march of memorials have already begun: Sir James Galway dedicated his most recent CD to his friend; a concert by the London Symphony Orchestra on Sunday May 7 is held in Anthony’s memory, and the LSO has invited many of Anthony’s former colleagues to attend the performance. The Hong Kong Academy for Performing Arts plans a tribute for October, and there will be a memorial concert in London at St Sepulchre-without-Newgate (known as the official musicians’ church) on December 8. Bangkok Symphony Orchestra is also planning a memorial concert and scholarship, and Meg Lawrence from the Noosa Federation of the Arts (for which Anthony was Artistic Advisor) has established a fund which will launch a concerto competition in Anthony’s name. Beyond all this, there remains a huge legacy of recordings which will outlast any tributes.

It is not uncommon for compliments to flow on memorial occasions.
In the case of Anthony Camden, however, there has been an endless succession of them: his life was peppered with tributes of many kinds.
Of his playing, The Washington Post wrote that he performed “with a dazzling technique and a beautiful sound. The Mozart was a revelation
in breath control”; The Times (London) acknowledged “some of the most beautiful oboe playing to have been heard in London for many years”; and the Penguin Guide wrote of his recording of the Albinoni Concertos for Oboe and Orchestra with former student Julia Girdwood that they “produce liquid sounds […] and are as meltingly expressive in the slow movements as they are light on their feet in the flanking ones”. Linda Blandford in her book The London Symphony Orchestra confirmed that “Anthony Camden is without doubt amongst the top handful of oboists in the world”.

Even more has been written about his diverse achievements. After all,
he moved the LSO into its permanent home at the Barbican Centre, brought out of the financial doldrums, and, with the “Star Wars” contract, set it high on the wish list for Hollywood film scores. During his period as Chairman, the Sunday Times wrote that in the orchestra “morale at present is high, infectiously so. Much of that is due to the Whizzer,” referring to the name they gave the man whose energy “takes your breath away” (The Guardian). The Sydney Morning Herald referred to his skilful management of difficult times at the LSO as “such cleverness and diplomacy”. Business World in The Philippines wrote that “if a poll were to be taken among Filipino classical musicians on the foreign instrumentalists they admire most, Anthony Camden […] will easily top it”, and the Courier Mail in Brisbane effusively called him “energetic, visionary, innovative and full of ideas about the future of
the Queensland Conservatorium of Music.” The words were prophetic: Camden moved the Queensland Con into the cultural precinct on Brisbane’s South Bank and opened its doors to the world. During his 5-year term, the Conserva-torium doubled in size, and with its procession of international artists, graduate successes and triumphant production of Britten’s opera “Billy Budd”, firmly put all other conservatoriums on notice. Camden didn’t wait around to glory in the success – he moved quietly on to transform the profile of the Hong Kong Academy for the Performing Arts.

There may be many accolades, past and present, but few of them touch on the special mix of personal and professional inspiration which Anthony Camden brought to each of the ripples in his vast ocean. In an eloquent tribute, Australian composer and conductor Richard Mills captures the Camden imprint:

“Anthony was a great spirit: he made an enduring contribution to music in all the places he worked. He had a special gift in encouraging talent, and in creating situations in which artists could give their best. He was a great positive, generous, loving force, his energetic optimism and his commitment to the highest ideals of art informing all his activities. He always saw possibilities where many others could see only problems and his sense of joy (in the most profound connotation of the word) was infectious and inspiring to all who had the privilege and pleasure of working with him. […] His passing leaves a painful void in our musical firmament that is beyond words, but his contribution to our lives will form a lasting legacy. Vale Anthony.”

-Helen Lancaster