Ward greatly enjoyed teaching, especially his two full-year courses. Every undergraduate major took his chronological survey, which met three times each week, while every graduate student in musicology took Music 200, which met once a week. Both classes featured oral presentations concerning the primary sources for musical scores and biographies. A written version of each presentation was submitted to Ward, who handed it back with extensive comments, always made in red ink, that often outnumbered the black typescript characters on each page.
Ward’s research interests were wide-ranging. Initially a specialist in Renaissance music, Elizabethan music in general, and English popular and folk music from the 16th century to the present day, he eventually taught courses in film music and music in ritual. After he became increasingly involved with ethnomusicology, he taught several ground-breaking classes in the field, some in collaboration with Rulan Pian. Materials related to this field were scarce in Harvard’s libraries, so he founded the Archive of World Music, which began with recordings from his collection. He also established the Charles Seeger Room, which contains all the ethnomusicological volumes in the Eda Kuhn Loeb Music Library.
After Ward retired, his long-standing fascination with opera, ballet, operetta, vaudeville, and social dance led him to form extensive new collections. He donated what he had gathered to the Harvard Theatre Collection of Houghton Library. Two richly illustrated catalogues have now been published: The King’s Theatre Collection: Ballet and Italian Opera in London 1706-1883 (Houghton Library 2003, revised and expanded edition 2006) and Italian Ballet 1637-1977 (Houghton Library 2005), all co-authored by Morris Levy. Most recently Ward concentrated on French scores and documents, which includes material from the eras of Lully and Napoleon. During his decades of collecting, he formed close friendships with antiquarian booksellers, scholars, curators and librarians from around the world. In domestic matters he was ably assisted in his last years by Isabel Cortes, Alison McCarthy, and others. Andrea Cawelti, Ward Cataloger at Houghton Library, bridged both of these worlds with grace and flair.
Predeceased by his wife, Ruth Neils Ward, John Ward is survived by his sister-in-law, Margaret Padelford, of Seattle, Washington, eleven nieces and nephews, and countless friends. To generations of superbly-trained students, he will be remembered for his apposite precision, and to historians of the performing arts, for the collections that he bequeathed to Harvard University. Many mourn the loss of a meticulous scholar, a revered colleague, a devoted mentor, and a munificent donor.
Remembrances of John Ward from Friends and Colleagues
My first meeting with John Ward took place in 1955-56, when he joined the faculty of the Harvard Department of Music. I had just finished my dissertation. It had been read and approved by two senior members of the faculty, and I was looking forward to the doctorate in June of 1956. John was appointed third and last reader—both because the nature of his own work, and also by courtesy to a new professor. As such he received what I had fondly imagined was the final typed version, since at that time third readers were expected to find only minor mistakes. But that was not John’s way. He knew well the area of my work, and made a large number of suggestions, several of which required changes of some length. This meant deleting some of the original and rebuilding a number of pages, to avoid having to retype the whole thing. I was not thrilled, but of course I did what he asked, and, as I carried out the revisions, I saw how stupid I had been to let these omissions/errors/misinterpretations into the work in the first place, and how generous John had been with his time, preventing me from perpetuating errors for anyone to see. My annoyance was quickly converted to gratitude, which I feel to this day.
Thereafter we were colleagues, though I at first was a very junior one. Nonetheless John invited us and the other junior faculty to his and Ruth’s wonderful dinner parties. They showed me a an attractive and genial quality that I would not have suspected from our quite successful working relationship. They may also have contributed to the slight headaches I would feel the morning after.
But much more important was my perception, growing stronger year by year, of the total devotion with which he approached his work—his partly crippled wife of course, but also his research, his students, his service to the Department of Music and to the university—everything he undertook he accomplished with as near perfection as one person can get. Nor did his work cease with his retirement: he undertook and was still working on acquisitions for the benefit of the Harvard Library System until the time of his death. I miss him deeply. He was a good friend and a good man, and he will be long remembered.
David G. Hughes, Fanny P. Mason Professor of Music, Emeritus
To have known John for over 35 years, initially as a customer, then very quickly as a friend, was nothing but a delight. His enthusiasm for antiquarian materials in his areas of special interest was unrivalled, and the joy he so obviously took in their pursuit infectious. His continual challenges to us to find him some “tempting morsels” loomed large, with his frequent e-mails peppered with phrases including “How can I resist?” and “YES, get me the volume!” His humour and grace, not to mention his intellect, greatly enriched us, and we miss his presence enormously.
John & Jude Lubrano, J & J Lubrano Music Antiquarians LLC, Lloyd Harbor, NY
For John Ward, In Memoriam, Paine Hall, Harvard, 6 May 2012
Martin Marks
John: With your passing, what have we lost, and what do I remember? Too much for me to say here. For as you delighted in hammering home to us, quoting words of William Strunk, “Be brief! Be brief! Be brief!” I will try.
Let’s begin with the obvious: I was your point man on movies. Not the latest ones, of course. You pretty much stopped going to see new films altogether, at just about the time I became your dissertation advisee. In fact, as you told me later, your movie-going mania came to an end once you settled down with Ruth. I think implicitly what you were saying was “once I grew up.” All the same, later on you liked to talk with me forever and ever in saeculi seculorum about the ones you saw when you were young. For instance, you recounted how terrified you were as a child when your parents took you to see Lon Chaney in Phantom of the Opera, and later to London after Midnight. As you delighted in recalling, the latter upset you so much that when you got home that night you threw up in bed. “My parents learned their lesson!” you would say, chuckling Aesop-like over a cautionary tale.
One you were all grown up and a Professor at Harvard, you sublimated your love of movies by inventing a groundbreaking class called Music and Narrative (a complement to another imaginative course you developed called Music and Ritual). Much of the syllabus was devoted to movies from the past that had impressive musical scores, from Louisiana Story, The Heiress, and Casablanca back to Le Million and Entr’acte. Indeed, your academicization—yes, I know you would cross that word out—of this wonderful material was the spark that ignited my dissertation research. Through the years I have studied, researched, taught, and written about the films you introduced in that course, as well as going forward to many others. You pointed the way, and I thank you for that.
Another point I wish to recall and thank you for, probably just as obvious, is my status as your last Harvard degree-earner. While other graduate students enlisted you as their dissertation advisor after I did, my perfectionist tendencies and terror of the scholar’s blank page impelled me to stretch out the PhD process to almost-legendary length. Yet you never gave up on me, and when the time finally came that I was able to finish writing the damn thing and call out “Cut! Print! That’s a wrap!” … You said, “Good! But not so fast.” (Hah!) Of course you were right. There was more to be done, as there always is, and during those last few agonizing dissertational months you sat with me for days at a table in your living room, which was now an “editing” booth. A lot of terrible passages in my drafts ended up on the living room floor, and some concise and eloquent paragraphs took their place for which you deserve more than half the credit. I think that you were willing to go this far because you saw in me a kindred spirit: not just a fellow perfectionist in need of help, but someone with a similarly peripatetic interest in all types of musical repertoires, processes, and experiences. As was the case for so many fellowWardians, you grooved on my groove. With your staunch support of so many of us, scholarship about music of many different idioms has been vastly enriched. In my case, the scholarship was rooted in a very sixties-ish fascination with flickering images—and my interest rekindled—and was reinforced by—your own early, fiery movie love. Working with me page by page; later just talking randomly about favorite past movies and their music: I am glad these things helped to warm your heart and mine, as time went by.
Allow me to point sentimentally in one more direction. John was born in 1917, five years after the birth of my father, Howard, and one year after my mother, Marjorie. During his waning years, I came to see him more and more in this reflected personal light. Of course, a dissertation advisor inevitably becomes a surrogate parent—a progenitor of thoughts and words rather than of flesh and blood. But I couldn’t help feeling the link was stronger than that. In Palm Springs, where my parents lived, I saw huge numbers of elderly people, coping as best they could with the trials of growing old. Back and forth I traveled across the country to visit them, and then periodically seeing and supping with John. I always thought that he, like mom and dad, stood among the bravest and most inspiring elders I knew. All three were blessed with good health for many years, and all three used that gift by keeping actively engaged with the world. As with my parents, even as John’s physical and mental abilities and activities became tightly circumscribed, his spirits remained high. I found it deeply moving to see the three of them depart this world more or less peacefully, one by one, within the space of a couple years—John being the last to take his leave. I hope that the three of them will find occasion to cross paths somewhere else and share a few reminiscences, about music, about movies, and maybe about me—just as we will continue to think affectionately of John, our Miltonic Warder.
Mt. Auburn Cemetery Remembrances of John Ward
To many friends of John Milton Ward,
On Friday, 3 February 2012, thirty-some of John's friends gathered at 9:45 a.m. in the Story Chapel, near the entrance to Mount Auburn Cemetery. The following tributes, among others, were offered.
Tributes to John Milton Ward (1917-2011) sent from Near & Far for the graveside service, Mt Auburn Cemetery, 3 February 2012
Among John’s many qualities was a love of books and extraordinary expertise as a bibliophile. He could discuss fine points about printing and its connection with music and the theatre, especially under the Ancien Régime in France, with an erudition that would have put the greatest pundits in Paris to shame. The Harvard Library will inherit his collection, which will remain forever among our treasures as a testimony to his scholarship and his generosity.
Best wishes, Robert (Bob) Darnton, Carl H. Pforzheimer University Professor &University Librarian, Harvard University
John, your collecting was an inspiration: always enthusiastic about new materials and new ways of doing research. I'll miss your show and tells! But I'm sure you're keeping an eye out for the expansion of the Harvard collections from above, where you'll have a great vantage point!
With affection, Leslie Morris, Stow, Massachusetts,Curator of Modern Books & Manuscripts, Houghton Library, Harvard University
Flights of angels, dear John, flights of angels. Thank you for your love and your benefaction!
Always, Jeanne Newlin, Curator of the Harvard Theatre Collection {emerita}
I will remember John for his never-ending enthusiasm and deep love for collecting. He was overwhelmingly generous towards and unfailingly supportive of the Music Library. We miss him.
Sarah Adams, Keeper of the Isham Memorial Library & Acting Librarian, Eda Kuhn Loeb Music Library
John Ward was my benefactor, teacher & friend. I will always be grateful for the opportunities he gave me and for the experience of standing in the light of his intellect, generosity & humanity.
Morris S. Levy, Senior Cataloger, Northwestern University Music Library, & former cataloguer of the John Milton & Ruth Neils Ward Collection, Houghton Library
Your zest for music will live on through its melodies. May you find peace and continue to tap to the beat.
yena do, neighbor, cambridge, massachusetts
Dear John, I will so miss your wonderful 'open house' on Follen Street, where so many of us were regaled with your delightful stories from a rich and rewarding life, shared so beautifully with Ruth. It has been quite an adventure to move from a scared graduate student in Music 200 in 1967 to someone who proudly called you friend and mentor. Rest in Peace.
Ann Dhu McLucas, Professor of Music {emerita} at the University of Oregon, Eugene, & hitherto Dean of the University of Oregon School of Music and Dance, 1992-2002
John was the single greatest influence on my professional life: direction came early; his support lasted more than 40 years. It's ironic that such a great teacher will be remembered mainly by his bookshelves but entirely fitting that his name will live on long after all of us are dead. To try to lighten our sadness, here is my favourite Wardism: in the early days of the early music movement, John quipped to me after hearing a natural trumpeter and baroque strings attempting to play a Purcell overture, ‘it's not that he missed so many notes; it's that he had so few to play!’
Farewell old friend,
Sir Curtis Price, Warden of New College, Holywell Street, Oxford & hitherto Principal of the Royal Academy of Music in London, 1995-2008