Occupation - Flutist/piccolo player with the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras
Lloyd and Lois married on 18 Jan 1958 at Oakland, Alameda, California at St Margaret Mary's Church.
They were the parents of three children.
------------------------------------------
Lloyd Elmer Gowen
July 26, 1932-June 7, 2018
Lloyd E. Gowen was the son of Lloyd E. and Alice (née Baker) Gowen. He was a talented musician who played the flute and piccolo professionally. He graduated from the Curtis Institute of Music in 1954 and played with the Buffalo and National Symphonies. In 1957 he began playing in the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras, retiring in 1994.
The life of a musician wasn't one that guaranteed steady work, so he played wherever he could to supplement the orchestra work. He taught flute privately and at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College and Stanford University. His professional legacy will live on through his students who are playing in symphonies around the world.
Lloyd was an artist and a bit of a renaissance man, with a passion for doing things well. His artistic talents were displayed through cabinetry, wood carving, photography, calligraphy and working with inlaid wood. He made many pieces of furniture through the years ranging from music cabinets, to game tables and eventually beautifully crafted cabinets with marquetry panels.
He was raised in a family that liked to compete and play games. While a young man he played in badminton tournaments throughout the country – once placing in the nationals in doubles. Card games were always a favorite in the Gowen household, which led first to his interest in chess and then to the Japanese game of Go. This would become his passion, learning to play and then spending free time at the San Francisco Go club and at tournaments. He studied and played games online for the rest of his life. As always, he became a teacher helping beginning players online and developed a following who would watch his lessons and participate in the post-game critiques.
---------------------------------
Eulogy by Ralph Gowen
Dad was a man of many talents – truly a renaissance man – a musician, a teacher, a craftsman, a photographer, basically a man with a strong and questioning intellect. He liked to say he didn't have a formal education having just gone to trade school – never mind that the Curtis Institute of Music is one of the finest conservatories in the world… Instead he set about gaining a well-rounded education the old-fashioned way - reading avidly on history, science, art or any other topic that tickled his fancy… He never did anything halfway, choosing to dedicate himself until he could excel. At the end, he felt he had truly lived a blessed life.
Dad's passion for music in general and more particularly the flute, led him to Curtis in 1950. There for the first time, he felt like he was where he belonged, but it wasn't without challenges. His letters home had several themes. He worried about making the cut and spoke of long hours of practicing and studying. Attending Curtis put quite a strain on the family budget even though only living expenses were needed. He wrote of many ways he tried to keep his extravagant spending of $32 a week down to $30. Another theme was concern regarding the Korean war and the draft surrounding it. It appears that quite a few students at Curtis had their educations cut short by the war. Later he would tell me how grateful he was for so much about his life and this was one of the big things he mentioned that he was able to pursue his dreams unlike some of his classmates.
Graduation led to jobs in several orchestras (Buffalo, Baltimore and the National symphonies) before he landed in San Francisco in 1957 with jobs in the symphony and the opera orchestras. These jobs were not the full time secure jobs of today – basically just part time (26 weeks in the symphony and another 9 or 10 in the opera), which meant he took advantage of every other opportunity he could to provide for himself and shortly thereafter the family – he played in the Golden Gate Park band, for the Ice Follies and at a strip club...
Apparently, the laws were such that they couldn't be open for their primary business 7 days a week, and the owners desired to use the facility to make money, so they thought, why not open and have some live music, and sell drinks? Apparently, dad and his friends played so well, that they got a following who were happy to sit and listen to "free" music, but didn't spend enough on drinks… Yep, they got fired!
Work in the symphony led him to become active on the players' committee and to negotiate better work conditions. Talk around the dinner table often included the latest goings on with the committee and negotiations. There were so many problems the committee challenged over the years. In the early days, at the end of each season, many of the players were "fired" only to be rehired before the beginning of the next season – management assumed if they were happy to have a job, perhaps they wouldn't ask for a raise?
There was no tenure, management wouldn't share the concert/rehearsal schedule at the beginning of the season, the hiring decisions were made behind a closed door vs. audition, and when there was an audition the player wasn't behind a screen, pay wasn't in line with other major symphonies – all of these things were addressed by the players' committee over the years and today San Francisco has a world class orchestra. At a party held backstage for the players and their families I as a young boy was introduced to the orchestra manager whose name I recognized. I tried to say something smart – "Oh so you're the union!" He sniffed "Lloyd's son, makes sense" and stomped off, and then Dad dragged me around to all his orchestra friends, telling them what I said and they all laughed about it…
He was on the staff at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College in Oakland and for a while he even spent a day a week at Stanford Jr University as an instructor (much to my chagrin)– when he learned this wouldn't lead to a tuition advantage for his children he stopped doing this. Teaching leaves his greatest legacy. He prepared many students for entrance to conservatory and for professional auditions. There was a steady stream of talented young students coming to study with him for the duration of his career. Today his former students are playing professionally in orchestras around the world. He was always excited to learn of their success and would share this whenever he found out about another one.
Dad had a wicked, dry sense of humor – while playing the Ice Follies the orchestra was set up on the opposite side of the rink from the sound man. Dad had perfect pitch and a piccolo and had occasional fun playing the tone that comes from feedback into a mike and watching the sound man across the way trying to find the offending piece of equipment until he would look up and see Dad across the way laughing. He loved shaggy dog stories that ended with a bad pun…
Dad also had performances where he would have to sit quietly in the pit at the opera or onstage for long periods before it was time for him to play. Herb Caen, the famous San Francisco Chronicle columnist, had the last box overlooking the pit and took note in one column of a mystery musician who he saw studying the Japanese game of Go – noting he never actually saw him play, but that was okay as there was entirely too much music in the opera.
After studying Zen Buddhism, he learned to meditate and would sit extremely still onstage while awaiting his part, unnerving guest conductors who became concerned that he was still alive… He wouldn't miss his entrance though as he would write in pencil on the 2nd flute's part "Wake Lloyd up!" I met the current 2nd flute player who sat alongside him before he retired, and she said one of these parts appeared on her stand recently and someone was going to erase it. She wouldn't let them "This is part of our history!"
In the 80's he noticed that he was having difficulty playing things that used to be easy. Always the perfectionist, he doubled-down on his preparation and practice, but found that things weren't improving – in fact quite the opposite. This caused him a lot of angst, his professional pride, his livelihood all factored into this problem. He was eventually diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome in his left hand which limited the use of his index finger…Critical to a flute player. He had surgery on the nerve sheath and explained to those who asked that it was a biopsy… This helped but didn't solve the problem entirely and he had his close friend rebuild the top half of his flute so that he could play four keys with three fingers and then retrained himself to play. He was never happy with the sound, comparing it to playing with a head cold, but he was able to continue with his career. Once he retired, he completely walked away from playing. If he couldn't do it as proficiently as before, he wasn't going to do it.
Dad had a passion for games, growing up in a family that competed in everything. Card games, word games, chess and the Japanese game of Go – it didn't matter, he excelled at all. Once I became a little full of myself and challenged him to Gin, a penny a point. I was young, and he showed no mercy and took me for several weeks' allowance. Always the teacher, a lesson was taught and yes, he collected the money!
Once he was introduced to Go by his friend Roy, it became a lifelong passion. He picked up Go in the 60's frequenting the SF go club and playing in tournaments. He continued studying the game for the rest of his life and when the internet arrived took lessons and played online. In fact, he started teaching beginners online – critiquing their games and coaching – these sessions were well attended by observers. Up until the very end he was working on his studies – lamenting that he was getting behind on his problems while he was in the hospital.
His woodwork was par excellence – he enjoyed puttering in the workshop and creating pieces of furniture or artwork – carvings, marquetry, boxes, cabinets… in fact, there was rarely a problem that couldn't be solved by something made of wood – he abhorred using metal fasteners and would do everything he could to build fancy joints simply to avoid using a nail…
One project he decided on was a carving of a woman holding a bowl – asked an acquaintance if she would pose – taking a series of nude photos of her. Working in clay he built a model and then began carving the wood. At some point he took a delivery from someone who happened to spot the photos on the wall of his workshop (for inspiration I suppose?). He happened to know her husband and there was an awkward moment that followed… but all was good at the end.
He delighted in helping with projects for friends and family – he helped one neighbor teach his son about woodworking building a soapbox derby car, built a menu holder for another's restaurant, and even built a table to hold the watch collection for his gardener – all these folks and more stopped by to comment on how much they appreciated him.
Through all his trials at the end he kept great spirits. We had conversations about how thankful he was to have had such a blessed life. He had an education that he didn't really appreciate until late in life, which led to a career he loved. He was able to travel the world with the symphony and saw many beautiful places. He had a family he was proud of, was able to share his passions with friends, family, neighbors and students alike. His legacy is well preserved.
Dad you are missed by all who knew you and loved you.
-------------------------------------------------
Flutist Quarterly Vol 44. Issue 1, Fall 2018
Excerpts:
"When I arrived at the San Francisco Symphony as associate principal flutist in 1984, I was the 'young one,' the only female in the section with four 'old' men," said Robin McKee, "I immediately picked up Paul Renzi's, Gary Gray's and Lloyd Gowen's funny things that they would do in rehearsals - and we carry them on in our section today."
"I first met Lloyd Gowen in about 1963 when I began studying with him as a young teen," said professional flutist Maquette Kuper, "I stayed in touch until the very end. He was my treasured flute teacher for the most formative years of my life, junior high and high school. He guided me through mounds of major repertoire and prepared me to realize many of my dreams as a flute player."
"One year, playing Beethoven's ninth, the conductor had the piccoloist sit in front of the flute section, with the second violins," said McKee. "Lloyd sat there in his meditation pose for the full three movements, hands splayed on his knees, palms up, eyes closed. He moved not a muscle until it was time to play the Turkish march. I believe the symphony got a few letters about that."
Lloyd and Lois married on 18 Jan 1958 at Oakland, Alameda, California at St Margaret Mary's Church.
They were the parents of three children.
------------------------------------------
Lloyd Elmer Gowen
July 26, 1932-June 7, 2018
Lloyd E. Gowen was the son of Lloyd E. and Alice (née Baker) Gowen. He was a talented musician who played the flute and piccolo professionally. He graduated from the Curtis Institute of Music in 1954 and played with the Buffalo and National Symphonies. In 1957 he began playing in the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras, retiring in 1994.
The life of a musician wasn't one that guaranteed steady work, so he played wherever he could to supplement the orchestra work. He taught flute privately and at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College and Stanford University. His professional legacy will live on through his students who are playing in symphonies around the world.
Lloyd was an artist and a bit of a renaissance man, with a passion for doing things well. His artistic talents were displayed through cabinetry, wood carving, photography, calligraphy and working with inlaid wood. He made many pieces of furniture through the years ranging from music cabinets, to game tables and eventually beautifully crafted cabinets with marquetry panels.
He was raised in a family that liked to compete and play games. While a young man he played in badminton tournaments throughout the country – once placing in the nationals in doubles. Card games were always a favorite in the Gowen household, which led first to his interest in chess and then to the Japanese game of Go. This would become his passion, learning to play and then spending free time at the San Francisco Go club and at tournaments. He studied and played games online for the rest of his life. As always, he became a teacher helping beginning players online and developed a following who would watch his lessons and participate in the post-game critiques.
---------------------------------
Eulogy by Ralph Gowen
Dad was a man of many talents – truly a renaissance man – a musician, a teacher, a craftsman, a photographer, basically a man with a strong and questioning intellect. He liked to say he didn't have a formal education having just gone to trade school – never mind that the Curtis Institute of Music is one of the finest conservatories in the world… Instead he set about gaining a well-rounded education the old-fashioned way - reading avidly on history, science, art or any other topic that tickled his fancy… He never did anything halfway, choosing to dedicate himself until he could excel. At the end, he felt he had truly lived a blessed life.
Dad's passion for music in general and more particularly the flute, led him to Curtis in 1950. There for the first time, he felt like he was where he belonged, but it wasn't without challenges. His letters home had several themes. He worried about making the cut and spoke of long hours of practicing and studying. Attending Curtis put quite a strain on the family budget even though only living expenses were needed. He wrote of many ways he tried to keep his extravagant spending of $32 a week down to $30. Another theme was concern regarding the Korean war and the draft surrounding it. It appears that quite a few students at Curtis had their educations cut short by the war. Later he would tell me how grateful he was for so much about his life and this was one of the big things he mentioned that he was able to pursue his dreams unlike some of his classmates.
Graduation led to jobs in several orchestras (Buffalo, Baltimore and the National symphonies) before he landed in San Francisco in 1957 with jobs in the symphony and the opera orchestras. These jobs were not the full time secure jobs of today – basically just part time (26 weeks in the symphony and another 9 or 10 in the opera), which meant he took advantage of every other opportunity he could to provide for himself and shortly thereafter the family – he played in the Golden Gate Park band, for the Ice Follies and at a strip club...
Apparently, the laws were such that they couldn't be open for their primary business 7 days a week, and the owners desired to use the facility to make money, so they thought, why not open and have some live music, and sell drinks? Apparently, dad and his friends played so well, that they got a following who were happy to sit and listen to "free" music, but didn't spend enough on drinks… Yep, they got fired!
Work in the symphony led him to become active on the players' committee and to negotiate better work conditions. Talk around the dinner table often included the latest goings on with the committee and negotiations. There were so many problems the committee challenged over the years. In the early days, at the end of each season, many of the players were "fired" only to be rehired before the beginning of the next season – management assumed if they were happy to have a job, perhaps they wouldn't ask for a raise?
There was no tenure, management wouldn't share the concert/rehearsal schedule at the beginning of the season, the hiring decisions were made behind a closed door vs. audition, and when there was an audition the player wasn't behind a screen, pay wasn't in line with other major symphonies – all of these things were addressed by the players' committee over the years and today San Francisco has a world class orchestra. At a party held backstage for the players and their families I as a young boy was introduced to the orchestra manager whose name I recognized. I tried to say something smart – "Oh so you're the union!" He sniffed "Lloyd's son, makes sense" and stomped off, and then Dad dragged me around to all his orchestra friends, telling them what I said and they all laughed about it…
He was on the staff at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College in Oakland and for a while he even spent a day a week at Stanford Jr University as an instructor (much to my chagrin)– when he learned this wouldn't lead to a tuition advantage for his children he stopped doing this. Teaching leaves his greatest legacy. He prepared many students for entrance to conservatory and for professional auditions. There was a steady stream of talented young students coming to study with him for the duration of his career. Today his former students are playing professionally in orchestras around the world. He was always excited to learn of their success and would share this whenever he found out about another one.
Dad had a wicked, dry sense of humor – while playing the Ice Follies the orchestra was set up on the opposite side of the rink from the sound man. Dad had perfect pitch and a piccolo and had occasional fun playing the tone that comes from feedback into a mike and watching the sound man across the way trying to find the offending piece of equipment until he would look up and see Dad across the way laughing. He loved shaggy dog stories that ended with a bad pun…
Dad also had performances where he would have to sit quietly in the pit at the opera or onstage for long periods before it was time for him to play. Herb Caen, the famous San Francisco Chronicle columnist, had the last box overlooking the pit and took note in one column of a mystery musician who he saw studying the Japanese game of Go – noting he never actually saw him play, but that was okay as there was entirely too much music in the opera.
After studying Zen Buddhism, he learned to meditate and would sit extremely still onstage while awaiting his part, unnerving guest conductors who became concerned that he was still alive… He wouldn't miss his entrance though as he would write in pencil on the 2nd flute's part "Wake Lloyd up!" I met the current 2nd flute player who sat alongside him before he retired, and she said one of these parts appeared on her stand recently and someone was going to erase it. She wouldn't let them "This is part of our history!"
In the 80's he noticed that he was having difficulty playing things that used to be easy. Always the perfectionist, he doubled-down on his preparation and practice, but found that things weren't improving – in fact quite the opposite. This caused him a lot of angst, his professional pride, his livelihood all factored into this problem. He was eventually diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome in his left hand which limited the use of his index finger…Critical to a flute player. He had surgery on the nerve sheath and explained to those who asked that it was a biopsy… This helped but didn't solve the problem entirely and he had his close friend rebuild the top half of his flute so that he could play four keys with three fingers and then retrained himself to play. He was never happy with the sound, comparing it to playing with a head cold, but he was able to continue with his career. Once he retired, he completely walked away from playing. If he couldn't do it as proficiently as before, he wasn't going to do it.
Dad had a passion for games, growing up in a family that competed in everything. Card games, word games, chess and the Japanese game of Go – it didn't matter, he excelled at all. Once I became a little full of myself and challenged him to Gin, a penny a point. I was young, and he showed no mercy and took me for several weeks' allowance. Always the teacher, a lesson was taught and yes, he collected the money!
Once he was introduced to Go by his friend Roy, it became a lifelong passion. He picked up Go in the 60's frequenting the SF go club and playing in tournaments. He continued studying the game for the rest of his life and when the internet arrived took lessons and played online. In fact, he started teaching beginners online – critiquing their games and coaching – these sessions were well attended by observers. Up until the very end he was working on his studies – lamenting that he was getting behind on his problems while he was in the hospital.
His woodwork was par excellence – he enjoyed puttering in the workshop and creating pieces of furniture or artwork – carvings, marquetry, boxes, cabinets… in fact, there was rarely a problem that couldn't be solved by something made of wood – he abhorred using metal fasteners and would do everything he could to build fancy joints simply to avoid using a nail…
One project he decided on was a carving of a woman holding a bowl – asked an acquaintance if she would pose – taking a series of nude photos of her. Working in clay he built a model and then began carving the wood. At some point he took a delivery from someone who happened to spot the photos on the wall of his workshop (for inspiration I suppose?). He happened to know her husband and there was an awkward moment that followed… but all was good at the end.
He delighted in helping with projects for friends and family – he helped one neighbor teach his son about woodworking building a soapbox derby car, built a menu holder for another's restaurant, and even built a table to hold the watch collection for his gardener – all these folks and more stopped by to comment on how much they appreciated him.
Through all his trials at the end he kept great spirits. We had conversations about how thankful he was to have had such a blessed life. He had an education that he didn't really appreciate until late in life, which led to a career he loved. He was able to travel the world with the symphony and saw many beautiful places. He had a family he was proud of, was able to share his passions with friends, family, neighbors and students alike. His legacy is well preserved.
Dad you are missed by all who knew you and loved you.
-------------------------------------------------
Flutist Quarterly Vol 44. Issue 1, Fall 2018
Excerpts:
"When I arrived at the San Francisco Symphony as associate principal flutist in 1984, I was the 'young one,' the only female in the section with four 'old' men," said Robin McKee, "I immediately picked up Paul Renzi's, Gary Gray's and Lloyd Gowen's funny things that they would do in rehearsals - and we carry them on in our section today."
"I first met Lloyd Gowen in about 1963 when I began studying with him as a young teen," said professional flutist Maquette Kuper, "I stayed in touch until the very end. He was my treasured flute teacher for the most formative years of my life, junior high and high school. He guided me through mounds of major repertoire and prepared me to realize many of my dreams as a flute player."
"One year, playing Beethoven's ninth, the conductor had the piccoloist sit in front of the flute section, with the second violins," said McKee. "Lloyd sat there in his meditation pose for the full three movements, hands splayed on his knees, palms up, eyes closed. He moved not a muscle until it was time to play the Turkish march. I believe the symphony got a few letters about that."
Occupation - Flutist/piccolo player with the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras
Lloyd and Lois married on 18 Jan 1958 at Oakland, Alameda, California at St Margaret Mary's Church.
They were the parents of three children.
------------------------------------------
Lloyd Elmer Gowen
July 26, 1932-June 7, 2018
Lloyd E. Gowen was the son of Lloyd E. and Alice (née Baker) Gowen. He was a talented musician who played the flute and piccolo professionally. He graduated from the Curtis Institute of Music in 1954 and played with the Buffalo and National Symphonies. In 1957 he began playing in the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras, retiring in 1994.
The life of a musician wasn't one that guaranteed steady work, so he played wherever he could to supplement the orchestra work. He taught flute privately and at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College and Stanford University. His professional legacy will live on through his students who are playing in symphonies around the world.
Lloyd was an artist and a bit of a renaissance man, with a passion for doing things well. His artistic talents were displayed through cabinetry, wood carving, photography, calligraphy and working with inlaid wood. He made many pieces of furniture through the years ranging from music cabinets, to game tables and eventually beautifully crafted cabinets with marquetry panels.
He was raised in a family that liked to compete and play games. While a young man he played in badminton tournaments throughout the country – once placing in the nationals in doubles. Card games were always a favorite in the Gowen household, which led first to his interest in chess and then to the Japanese game of Go. This would become his passion, learning to play and then spending free time at the San Francisco Go club and at tournaments. He studied and played games online for the rest of his life. As always, he became a teacher helping beginning players online and developed a following who would watch his lessons and participate in the post-game critiques.
---------------------------------
Eulogy by Ralph Gowen
Dad was a man of many talents – truly a renaissance man – a musician, a teacher, a craftsman, a photographer, basically a man with a strong and questioning intellect. He liked to say he didn't have a formal education having just gone to trade school – never mind that the Curtis Institute of Music is one of the finest conservatories in the world… Instead he set about gaining a well-rounded education the old-fashioned way - reading avidly on history, science, art or any other topic that tickled his fancy… He never did anything halfway, choosing to dedicate himself until he could excel. At the end, he felt he had truly lived a blessed life.
Dad's passion for music in general and more particularly the flute, led him to Curtis in 1950. There for the first time, he felt like he was where he belonged, but it wasn't without challenges. His letters home had several themes. He worried about making the cut and spoke of long hours of practicing and studying. Attending Curtis put quite a strain on the family budget even though only living expenses were needed. He wrote of many ways he tried to keep his extravagant spending of $32 a week down to $30. Another theme was concern regarding the Korean war and the draft surrounding it. It appears that quite a few students at Curtis had their educations cut short by the war. Later he would tell me how grateful he was for so much about his life and this was one of the big things he mentioned that he was able to pursue his dreams unlike some of his classmates.
Graduation led to jobs in several orchestras (Buffalo, Baltimore and the National symphonies) before he landed in San Francisco in 1957 with jobs in the symphony and the opera orchestras. These jobs were not the full time secure jobs of today – basically just part time (26 weeks in the symphony and another 9 or 10 in the opera), which meant he took advantage of every other opportunity he could to provide for himself and shortly thereafter the family – he played in the Golden Gate Park band, for the Ice Follies and at a strip club...
Apparently, the laws were such that they couldn't be open for their primary business 7 days a week, and the owners desired to use the facility to make money, so they thought, why not open and have some live music, and sell drinks? Apparently, dad and his friends played so well, that they got a following who were happy to sit and listen to "free" music, but didn't spend enough on drinks… Yep, they got fired!
Work in the symphony led him to become active on the players' committee and to negotiate better work conditions. Talk around the dinner table often included the latest goings on with the committee and negotiations. There were so many problems the committee challenged over the years. In the early days, at the end of each season, many of the players were "fired" only to be rehired before the beginning of the next season – management assumed if they were happy to have a job, perhaps they wouldn't ask for a raise?
There was no tenure, management wouldn't share the concert/rehearsal schedule at the beginning of the season, the hiring decisions were made behind a closed door vs. audition, and when there was an audition the player wasn't behind a screen, pay wasn't in line with other major symphonies – all of these things were addressed by the players' committee over the years and today San Francisco has a world class orchestra. At a party held backstage for the players and their families I as a young boy was introduced to the orchestra manager whose name I recognized. I tried to say something smart – "Oh so you're the union!" He sniffed "Lloyd's son, makes sense" and stomped off, and then Dad dragged me around to all his orchestra friends, telling them what I said and they all laughed about it…
He was on the staff at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College in Oakland and for a while he even spent a day a week at Stanford Jr University as an instructor (much to my chagrin)– when he learned this wouldn't lead to a tuition advantage for his children he stopped doing this. Teaching leaves his greatest legacy. He prepared many students for entrance to conservatory and for professional auditions. There was a steady stream of talented young students coming to study with him for the duration of his career. Today his former students are playing professionally in orchestras around the world. He was always excited to learn of their success and would share this whenever he found out about another one.
Dad had a wicked, dry sense of humor – while playing the Ice Follies the orchestra was set up on the opposite side of the rink from the sound man. Dad had perfect pitch and a piccolo and had occasional fun playing the tone that comes from feedback into a mike and watching the sound man across the way trying to find the offending piece of equipment until he would look up and see Dad across the way laughing. He loved shaggy dog stories that ended with a bad pun…
Dad also had performances where he would have to sit quietly in the pit at the opera or onstage for long periods before it was time for him to play. Herb Caen, the famous San Francisco Chronicle columnist, had the last box overlooking the pit and took note in one column of a mystery musician who he saw studying the Japanese game of Go – noting he never actually saw him play, but that was okay as there was entirely too much music in the opera.
After studying Zen Buddhism, he learned to meditate and would sit extremely still onstage while awaiting his part, unnerving guest conductors who became concerned that he was still alive… He wouldn't miss his entrance though as he would write in pencil on the 2nd flute's part "Wake Lloyd up!" I met the current 2nd flute player who sat alongside him before he retired, and she said one of these parts appeared on her stand recently and someone was going to erase it. She wouldn't let them "This is part of our history!"
In the 80's he noticed that he was having difficulty playing things that used to be easy. Always the perfectionist, he doubled-down on his preparation and practice, but found that things weren't improving – in fact quite the opposite. This caused him a lot of angst, his professional pride, his livelihood all factored into this problem. He was eventually diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome in his left hand which limited the use of his index finger…Critical to a flute player. He had surgery on the nerve sheath and explained to those who asked that it was a biopsy… This helped but didn't solve the problem entirely and he had his close friend rebuild the top half of his flute so that he could play four keys with three fingers and then retrained himself to play. He was never happy with the sound, comparing it to playing with a head cold, but he was able to continue with his career. Once he retired, he completely walked away from playing. If he couldn't do it as proficiently as before, he wasn't going to do it.
Dad had a passion for games, growing up in a family that competed in everything. Card games, word games, chess and the Japanese game of Go – it didn't matter, he excelled at all. Once I became a little full of myself and challenged him to Gin, a penny a point. I was young, and he showed no mercy and took me for several weeks' allowance. Always the teacher, a lesson was taught and yes, he collected the money!
Once he was introduced to Go by his friend Roy, it became a lifelong passion. He picked up Go in the 60's frequenting the SF go club and playing in tournaments. He continued studying the game for the rest of his life and when the internet arrived took lessons and played online. In fact, he started teaching beginners online – critiquing their games and coaching – these sessions were well attended by observers. Up until the very end he was working on his studies – lamenting that he was getting behind on his problems while he was in the hospital.
His woodwork was par excellence – he enjoyed puttering in the workshop and creating pieces of furniture or artwork – carvings, marquetry, boxes, cabinets… in fact, there was rarely a problem that couldn't be solved by something made of wood – he abhorred using metal fasteners and would do everything he could to build fancy joints simply to avoid using a nail…
One project he decided on was a carving of a woman holding a bowl – asked an acquaintance if she would pose – taking a series of nude photos of her. Working in clay he built a model and then began carving the wood. At some point he took a delivery from someone who happened to spot the photos on the wall of his workshop (for inspiration I suppose?). He happened to know her husband and there was an awkward moment that followed… but all was good at the end.
He delighted in helping with projects for friends and family – he helped one neighbor teach his son about woodworking building a soapbox derby car, built a menu holder for another's restaurant, and even built a table to hold the watch collection for his gardener – all these folks and more stopped by to comment on how much they appreciated him.
Through all his trials at the end he kept great spirits. We had conversations about how thankful he was to have had such a blessed life. He had an education that he didn't really appreciate until late in life, which led to a career he loved. He was able to travel the world with the symphony and saw many beautiful places. He had a family he was proud of, was able to share his passions with friends, family, neighbors and students alike. His legacy is well preserved.
Dad you are missed by all who knew you and loved you.
-------------------------------------------------
Flutist Quarterly Vol 44. Issue 1, Fall 2018
Excerpts:
"When I arrived at the San Francisco Symphony as associate principal flutist in 1984, I was the 'young one,' the only female in the section with four 'old' men," said Robin McKee, "I immediately picked up Paul Renzi's, Gary Gray's and Lloyd Gowen's funny things that they would do in rehearsals - and we carry them on in our section today."
"I first met Lloyd Gowen in about 1963 when I began studying with him as a young teen," said professional flutist Maquette Kuper, "I stayed in touch until the very end. He was my treasured flute teacher for the most formative years of my life, junior high and high school. He guided me through mounds of major repertoire and prepared me to realize many of my dreams as a flute player."
"One year, playing Beethoven's ninth, the conductor had the piccoloist sit in front of the flute section, with the second violins," said McKee. "Lloyd sat there in his meditation pose for the full three movements, hands splayed on his knees, palms up, eyes closed. He moved not a muscle until it was time to play the Turkish march. I believe the symphony got a few letters about that."
Lloyd and Lois married on 18 Jan 1958 at Oakland, Alameda, California at St Margaret Mary's Church.
They were the parents of three children.
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Lloyd Elmer Gowen
July 26, 1932-June 7, 2018
Lloyd E. Gowen was the son of Lloyd E. and Alice (née Baker) Gowen. He was a talented musician who played the flute and piccolo professionally. He graduated from the Curtis Institute of Music in 1954 and played with the Buffalo and National Symphonies. In 1957 he began playing in the San Francisco Symphony and Opera Orchestras, retiring in 1994.
The life of a musician wasn't one that guaranteed steady work, so he played wherever he could to supplement the orchestra work. He taught flute privately and at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College and Stanford University. His professional legacy will live on through his students who are playing in symphonies around the world.
Lloyd was an artist and a bit of a renaissance man, with a passion for doing things well. His artistic talents were displayed through cabinetry, wood carving, photography, calligraphy and working with inlaid wood. He made many pieces of furniture through the years ranging from music cabinets, to game tables and eventually beautifully crafted cabinets with marquetry panels.
He was raised in a family that liked to compete and play games. While a young man he played in badminton tournaments throughout the country – once placing in the nationals in doubles. Card games were always a favorite in the Gowen household, which led first to his interest in chess and then to the Japanese game of Go. This would become his passion, learning to play and then spending free time at the San Francisco Go club and at tournaments. He studied and played games online for the rest of his life. As always, he became a teacher helping beginning players online and developed a following who would watch his lessons and participate in the post-game critiques.
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Eulogy by Ralph Gowen
Dad was a man of many talents – truly a renaissance man – a musician, a teacher, a craftsman, a photographer, basically a man with a strong and questioning intellect. He liked to say he didn't have a formal education having just gone to trade school – never mind that the Curtis Institute of Music is one of the finest conservatories in the world… Instead he set about gaining a well-rounded education the old-fashioned way - reading avidly on history, science, art or any other topic that tickled his fancy… He never did anything halfway, choosing to dedicate himself until he could excel. At the end, he felt he had truly lived a blessed life.
Dad's passion for music in general and more particularly the flute, led him to Curtis in 1950. There for the first time, he felt like he was where he belonged, but it wasn't without challenges. His letters home had several themes. He worried about making the cut and spoke of long hours of practicing and studying. Attending Curtis put quite a strain on the family budget even though only living expenses were needed. He wrote of many ways he tried to keep his extravagant spending of $32 a week down to $30. Another theme was concern regarding the Korean war and the draft surrounding it. It appears that quite a few students at Curtis had their educations cut short by the war. Later he would tell me how grateful he was for so much about his life and this was one of the big things he mentioned that he was able to pursue his dreams unlike some of his classmates.
Graduation led to jobs in several orchestras (Buffalo, Baltimore and the National symphonies) before he landed in San Francisco in 1957 with jobs in the symphony and the opera orchestras. These jobs were not the full time secure jobs of today – basically just part time (26 weeks in the symphony and another 9 or 10 in the opera), which meant he took advantage of every other opportunity he could to provide for himself and shortly thereafter the family – he played in the Golden Gate Park band, for the Ice Follies and at a strip club...
Apparently, the laws were such that they couldn't be open for their primary business 7 days a week, and the owners desired to use the facility to make money, so they thought, why not open and have some live music, and sell drinks? Apparently, dad and his friends played so well, that they got a following who were happy to sit and listen to "free" music, but didn't spend enough on drinks… Yep, they got fired!
Work in the symphony led him to become active on the players' committee and to negotiate better work conditions. Talk around the dinner table often included the latest goings on with the committee and negotiations. There were so many problems the committee challenged over the years. In the early days, at the end of each season, many of the players were "fired" only to be rehired before the beginning of the next season – management assumed if they were happy to have a job, perhaps they wouldn't ask for a raise?
There was no tenure, management wouldn't share the concert/rehearsal schedule at the beginning of the season, the hiring decisions were made behind a closed door vs. audition, and when there was an audition the player wasn't behind a screen, pay wasn't in line with other major symphonies – all of these things were addressed by the players' committee over the years and today San Francisco has a world class orchestra. At a party held backstage for the players and their families I as a young boy was introduced to the orchestra manager whose name I recognized. I tried to say something smart – "Oh so you're the union!" He sniffed "Lloyd's son, makes sense" and stomped off, and then Dad dragged me around to all his orchestra friends, telling them what I said and they all laughed about it…
He was on the staff at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mills College in Oakland and for a while he even spent a day a week at Stanford Jr University as an instructor (much to my chagrin)– when he learned this wouldn't lead to a tuition advantage for his children he stopped doing this. Teaching leaves his greatest legacy. He prepared many students for entrance to conservatory and for professional auditions. There was a steady stream of talented young students coming to study with him for the duration of his career. Today his former students are playing professionally in orchestras around the world. He was always excited to learn of their success and would share this whenever he found out about another one.
Dad had a wicked, dry sense of humor – while playing the Ice Follies the orchestra was set up on the opposite side of the rink from the sound man. Dad had perfect pitch and a piccolo and had occasional fun playing the tone that comes from feedback into a mike and watching the sound man across the way trying to find the offending piece of equipment until he would look up and see Dad across the way laughing. He loved shaggy dog stories that ended with a bad pun…
Dad also had performances where he would have to sit quietly in the pit at the opera or onstage for long periods before it was time for him to play. Herb Caen, the famous San Francisco Chronicle columnist, had the last box overlooking the pit and took note in one column of a mystery musician who he saw studying the Japanese game of Go – noting he never actually saw him play, but that was okay as there was entirely too much music in the opera.
After studying Zen Buddhism, he learned to meditate and would sit extremely still onstage while awaiting his part, unnerving guest conductors who became concerned that he was still alive… He wouldn't miss his entrance though as he would write in pencil on the 2nd flute's part "Wake Lloyd up!" I met the current 2nd flute player who sat alongside him before he retired, and she said one of these parts appeared on her stand recently and someone was going to erase it. She wouldn't let them "This is part of our history!"
In the 80's he noticed that he was having difficulty playing things that used to be easy. Always the perfectionist, he doubled-down on his preparation and practice, but found that things weren't improving – in fact quite the opposite. This caused him a lot of angst, his professional pride, his livelihood all factored into this problem. He was eventually diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome in his left hand which limited the use of his index finger…Critical to a flute player. He had surgery on the nerve sheath and explained to those who asked that it was a biopsy… This helped but didn't solve the problem entirely and he had his close friend rebuild the top half of his flute so that he could play four keys with three fingers and then retrained himself to play. He was never happy with the sound, comparing it to playing with a head cold, but he was able to continue with his career. Once he retired, he completely walked away from playing. If he couldn't do it as proficiently as before, he wasn't going to do it.
Dad had a passion for games, growing up in a family that competed in everything. Card games, word games, chess and the Japanese game of Go – it didn't matter, he excelled at all. Once I became a little full of myself and challenged him to Gin, a penny a point. I was young, and he showed no mercy and took me for several weeks' allowance. Always the teacher, a lesson was taught and yes, he collected the money!
Once he was introduced to Go by his friend Roy, it became a lifelong passion. He picked up Go in the 60's frequenting the SF go club and playing in tournaments. He continued studying the game for the rest of his life and when the internet arrived took lessons and played online. In fact, he started teaching beginners online – critiquing their games and coaching – these sessions were well attended by observers. Up until the very end he was working on his studies – lamenting that he was getting behind on his problems while he was in the hospital.
His woodwork was par excellence – he enjoyed puttering in the workshop and creating pieces of furniture or artwork – carvings, marquetry, boxes, cabinets… in fact, there was rarely a problem that couldn't be solved by something made of wood – he abhorred using metal fasteners and would do everything he could to build fancy joints simply to avoid using a nail…
One project he decided on was a carving of a woman holding a bowl – asked an acquaintance if she would pose – taking a series of nude photos of her. Working in clay he built a model and then began carving the wood. At some point he took a delivery from someone who happened to spot the photos on the wall of his workshop (for inspiration I suppose?). He happened to know her husband and there was an awkward moment that followed… but all was good at the end.
He delighted in helping with projects for friends and family – he helped one neighbor teach his son about woodworking building a soapbox derby car, built a menu holder for another's restaurant, and even built a table to hold the watch collection for his gardener – all these folks and more stopped by to comment on how much they appreciated him.
Through all his trials at the end he kept great spirits. We had conversations about how thankful he was to have had such a blessed life. He had an education that he didn't really appreciate until late in life, which led to a career he loved. He was able to travel the world with the symphony and saw many beautiful places. He had a family he was proud of, was able to share his passions with friends, family, neighbors and students alike. His legacy is well preserved.
Dad you are missed by all who knew you and loved you.
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Flutist Quarterly Vol 44. Issue 1, Fall 2018
Excerpts:
"When I arrived at the San Francisco Symphony as associate principal flutist in 1984, I was the 'young one,' the only female in the section with four 'old' men," said Robin McKee, "I immediately picked up Paul Renzi's, Gary Gray's and Lloyd Gowen's funny things that they would do in rehearsals - and we carry them on in our section today."
"I first met Lloyd Gowen in about 1963 when I began studying with him as a young teen," said professional flutist Maquette Kuper, "I stayed in touch until the very end. He was my treasured flute teacher for the most formative years of my life, junior high and high school. He guided me through mounds of major repertoire and prepared me to realize many of my dreams as a flute player."
"One year, playing Beethoven's ninth, the conductor had the piccoloist sit in front of the flute section, with the second violins," said McKee. "Lloyd sat there in his meditation pose for the full three movements, hands splayed on his knees, palms up, eyes closed. He moved not a muscle until it was time to play the Turkish march. I believe the symphony got a few letters about that."
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