The following originally appeared as "IAML: Some reminiscences and reflections," Crescendo (Auckland, N.Z.) no. 99 (August/September 2016): 4-11.
Sometime in the early 1960s, as a precocious teenager, I did battle with my local library in the London borough of Lambeth over a decision to move all music scores to the basement. I won the battle and the scores were reinstated on the open shelves. If asked to pinpoint the moment when I decided on a career in librarianship, that was probably it.
My first job was as a library assistant with Westminster City Libraries in London, shifting between the Buckingham Palace Road Lending Library, the Charing Cross Road Record Library and the Central Music Library in Victoria, but during my five happy years of employment, at no time did I hear anyone mention IAML. That may seem surprising, especially since the music librarians who supervised me were leading lights in the organisation, but I must assume that, although I enjoyed my work, I probably showed no signs of doing anything to further my career in that direction.
I suspect that IAML in the late sixties was a rather more aloof organisation than it is today. Therefore, a library assistant like me, lacking obvious IAML potential and far too obsessed with opera, may not only have been unwelcome, but may even have been seen as lowering the tone of that august body.
At about the same time, I was awarded a part-time scholarship to study singing at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, but after three years with a wonderful bass-baritone, William Parsons, and quite a few engagements as a tenor to sing in oratorio and opera, I decided that a potential career as a third-rate singer was not for me. A much tougher skin, a total dedication to the craft, and a natural gift were the fundamental requirements. I possessed none of them.
Feeling in a rut, lacking good qualifications and motivation, and with no obvious way out of my dilemma, an opportunity arose to emigrate from England to New Zealand. A drastic solution you might think, but at the time it was simply an adventure. Risks were minimised by ensuring I had the return airfare and a good enough employment history to guarantee me a job should I return disillusioned to the U.K.
Little did I know that nearly fifty years later I would have held the position of Music Curator in the country’s most prestigious research library and enjoyed the fruits of a relationship with IAML that provided me with professional nourishment, fulfilment and lifelong friendships. In return, I served the National Branch twice as President, and the international organisation for seven years as Secretary General and a further six years as President and Past-President.
How did this come about?
My first home in New Zealand was in the small North Island East Coast city of Gisborne. I had approached the City Librarian before leaving England, but on arrival I discovered that there were no job vacancies and, even if there were, I would certainly not be considered favourably. No man had ever worked at that library, and I sensed that the formidable Scottish woman in charge was not prepared to overturn that particular tradition. It was a modern, attractive well-run library and would have provided me with the perfect entrée into the profession in my adopted country. Never mind. I noticed, gleefully that some years later a male City Librarian was appointed.
There followed five years of temporary jobs, including driving a furniture van, and teaching remedial mathematics and English to children who had somehow slipped through the education system without acquiring even these basic skills. I also gave occasional clarinet lessons to children who, quite often, could play better than I. Eventually, I was offered work as a clerk with the firm of James, Harvey and Norman, Chartered Accountants. One of the partners, with whom I sang tenor in the Choral Society, gave me the chance to show what I could do with tax returns, balance sheets and depreciation schedules. I took to the job like a duck to water, and after 18 months, the firm made me an offer that was hard to refuse. If I qualified as a Chartered Accountant, I would be offered a junior partnership and, potentially, a career that would ensure that my bank balance would remain considerably healthier than if I pursued my dream of becoming a librarian. It was not a difficult decision, because although accountancy had temporarily seduced me, I knew that my career preference remained fundamentally unchanged.
I needed help, and this came in the form of Dorothy Freed, Reference Librarian at Victoria University in Wellington. I don’t recall who recommended that I write to her, but I put together a faltering letter asking how I could become involved in the profession. Her reply, crowded onto a blue airmail letter, with handwritten after-thoughts squeezed around the edge of the tightly typed central block, proved a revelation. Here, at last, was the clear direction I needed, and—more importantly—just at the moment in my development when I was ready to take it on board. Her plan for me was simple; study for a degree, acquire a library qualification, and get a library job. As simple as that. In the end, I tackled all three tasks at the same time.
I had probably known what was required all along, but for some reason Dorothy’s letter brought it into sharp focus. A well-known librarian had taken the time to reply to my letter, and I was being encouraged on all sides to rise to the challenge. I discovered that I could take extramural courses at Massey University, so my degree in Middle English and French Literature began to take shape. I also learned that there were two types of library qualification; the Diploma, which was a post-graduate course, and the Certificate, which could be acquired part-time over three years whilst working in a library.
A move from the isolation of Gisborne seemed essential and the South Island city of Christchurch proved a perfect choice. Almost immediately, I obtained a temporary Library Assistant position at the City Library, thanks to a staff member who had broken her leg on the ski fields. The position became permanent, and I transferred my degree study to the University of Canterbury. Lectures needed to be fitted around working hours, so I volunteered for many evening shifts so that I could attend daytime classes. This also forced a change from the study of English and French Literature to Art History, a subject that would help me in my work with the library’s wonderful hire collection of original artworks.
Impatient at the necessarily slow progress of my degree, I was encouraged by the library to enroll for the New Zealand Certificate of Library Studies, and somehow I managed to keep both streams of study moving along.
At the same time, I was acting as a de facto music librarian, and it was probably this aspect of my work that brought Dorothy Freed back into my life. One day, as I was relaxing on the staffroom balcony with a cup of coffee, I found myself trapped against the balcony rail by this formidable woman. She launched into a paean of praise for IAML, and asked, not if I would like to join, but why I was not a member already. I do not recommend this approach as a recruitment tool for the organisation, but under the circumstances it was easier to join than try to think of reasons why I should not.
Dorothy invited me to attend the next New Zealand Branch meeting in Wellington. My employer would give me leave and pay my fare (nobody refused Dorothy anything) and she would meet me at the airport and take me to the meeting. This was my first experience of Dorothy’s driving, and that near-death experience hardly put me at ease. I arrived at the meeting, shaken, bruised and disorientated. I had little idea of what took place, but I do recall I was made welcome and enjoyed meeting so many colleagues for the first time.
My involvement grew, although my studies limited the amount of time I could devote to IAML. But by the time I graduated and also clutched my Library Certificate, I was fully involved. During a period of study leave to work at the Library and Museum of the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, New York City, I was taken along to a Manhattan Branch meeting and made very welcome. It was slowly dawning on me that there was an international ‘family’ to which I belonged. If I so desired, I could get to know them better.
My first international conference was at Oxford in 1989. The fact that it was not a happy experience for me was in no way due to the organisers. I had opted to stay privately with friends, and although that was very pleasant and economical, it did isolate me from the conference and my colleagues. Even so, I have to reluctantly say that I did not feel particularly welcome at IAML, mainly because my shyness made it difficult for me to make contacts. I subsequently learned that I was not alone in feeling this way. The organisation has always had a formidable membership of Music Library ‘aristocracy’, many of whom have attended conferences regularly for decades. These members were mostly at a senior level in their respective organisations, and I could not help but feel insignificant by comparison.
Because of that experience, nearly ten years passed before I travelled overseas again to a IAML conference, but I remained a member and took an active role in the New Zealand Branch, holding the position of President for two separate terms. It was during the second of these terms that I suddenly found myself responsible for helping to organise an International Conference in Wellington. The New Zealand Branch Committee, encouraged by the previous President, Tim Jones, had submitted a proposal for IAML to hold its first-ever Southern Hemisphere conference in New Zealand, preferably in 1999. By the time I succeeded Tim as President, the proposal had been accepted, and our new committee found itself involved in something that none of us had thought possible.
The whole Branch membership got behind the project, but the bulk of the workload fell to Jill Palmer, Joan Clayton, Dorothy Freed and myself. Three of us travelled to San Sebastian in 1998 to promote Wellington for the following year. We had a wonderful time. I was not alone and, to my amazement, several delegates remembered me from Oxford and greeted me warmly. What a difference that made!
The Wellington conference was a comparatively small event, but none the worse for that. IAML conferences were becoming increasingly complex and impersonal, so a week spent in relative geographic isolation but in close collegial proximity, allowed an intimacy that increased productivity. For many delegates, it was their first encounter with Māori culture beyond the All Black Haka. The Opening Reception Pōwhiri and the Plenary Session on Māori musical instruments made a lasting impression and are still talked about today.
After the excellent 2000 conference in Edinburgh, I felt emboldened to stand as a Vice-President. My profile was higher than it had been, and I felt that joining the Board of IAML would give me the best insight into its workings. What better way could there be to examine the mechanism of the organisation than from the inside? For this particular election there had been too many nominations—a healthy sign—so, after much rummaging amongst the Rules of Procedure, a pre-election process was employed to reduce the number of candidates. It felt like a Roman slave market, as we each stood in turn to be observed by delegates eager to vote. I made it through to the final eight, which meant a 50-50 chance of obtaining one of four positions.
Or did it? If I had done my homework, I would have realised that there was only one likely vacancy. The other three Vice-Presidents were standing for a second term, and it is unusual for a sitting candidate not to be re-elected. I failed to gain enough votes, and I remember feeling completely deflated when the results were announced in Périgueux in 2001. It was IAML’s 50th anniversary and I should have felt elated, but because I had somehow convinced myself that I would be elected, the failure hit me hard and I remember wandering through the narrow lanes of the old town feeling despondent and rather ashamed of my presumptuous behaviour.
And then it happened. The Secretary General, Alison Hall, announced that she would be stepping down from that position in 2003. Members were asked to think about candidates for this key role in the organisation, and I was surprised when she approached me with the suggestion that I should consider applying. There was, of course, no guarantee of appointment and there would certainly be others more experienced and better qualified for the role, but I believe she suggested this as a cunning way of keeping my interest in IAML afloat.
The interviews, which took place in Berkeley, were surprisingly formal and rigorous, but I found this reassuring, because it was obvious that the Secretary General’s role was considered to be of fundamental importance to the well-being of the organisation. After a tense day of waiting, I was informed that the job was mine. I had necessarily cleared this eventuality in advance with my employer, as it would have been unthinkable to apply for a position and then have to turn it down because of lack of support from my library. As it turned out, the National Librarian was incredibly supportive and even agreed to fund half of my travel and accommodation costs for the first four years. He also permitted me to use library resources and office facilities as required, as well as allowing me to carry out some of the duties in work time. This meant that I never had to submit a claim to IAML for any working expenses during that initial period.
To become a Board Member of IAML with no previous experience can be daunting, but Alison trained me well and ensured that I had support whenever it was needed. I did believe that I would now begin to understand the workings of IAML. There was an external perception that it was a bit of a club, but I did not find that to be the case. Of course, many IAML members knew each other well and formed close bonds over the years. Meeting up at each annual conference was a major occasion, professionally and socially, and it was easy to see how this could be interpreted as some sort of mysterious club to which one was not a member. In reality, it was just thoughtlessness. I hope that during my time on the Board, IAML has been seen as a more welcoming organisation where no-one feels excluded, ignored or patronised.
My reasons for applying to become Secretary General were two-fold. First, unclear about what my own contribution could be, I had come to the realisation that I could best serve IAML by ensuring that the Board could operate efficiently and smoothly. Second, I was still on a mission to get to the ‘heart’ of IAML and to find out what made it such a marvellous organisation. This was my chance.
Many times during my seven years as Secretary General I felt that this role was almost a full-time job. Some of the more strenuous tasks for which Alison had been renowned—such as providing a verbal summary of all the National Reports at the General Assembly—had been removed through restructuring of the conference programme. But being Secretary General still involved a vast amount of report writing during, and immediately after, conference. Barely had the dust settled from one conference before we were hurtling toward another. There were elections to organise, conference programmes to co-ordinate, reports to write, emails to answer, directory and yearbook entries to scrutinise and countless other tasks, large and small, that fall into the lap of the Secretary General.
Having completed one term in office, and three quarters of another, I had decided that it was time for someone else to enjoy the benefits of my role. But I also needed to think of some other way to remain involved in IAML. By this time, I had made many friends and realised that the heart of the organisation lay, not in some secret club, but in the inter-relationship of the members. Instead of looking to the core for answers, it became obvious that one needed to look outwards at the whole membership, for IAML is really a federation of national branches, individuals and institutions. Its strength lies, not at the core, but in the organisation as a whole.
Around this time, there were rumblings of discontent within some national branches—in particular those in Norway and Denmark—with concerns about expenditure on Fontes Artis Musicae, a journal which to them seemed esoteric and far-removed from the practical issues that affected contemporary libraries and librarians. More importantly, they also felt that IAML needed to reform itself to become more relevant and timely in its response to the needs of its members.
With changing personnel on the Board, reforms had already begun to take place, particularly in relation to the structure of the annual conference. A better structure and more careful timetabling, along with a more equitable system for selecting papers, were significant moves in the right direction. Constitutionally, an equally significant change was introduced, allowing for the inclusion of multi-national branches to exist within IAML. These were just a few of the ongoing improvements that the IAML Board introduced. The fact that they were not straight-forward, and required considerable diplomatic skills to see them right through to their introduction, was a warning—should we have needed one—that more extensive changes to IAML in the future would be an all-absorbing task and one with the potential to tear the organisation apart if attempted without appropriate gravitas.
Despite the possibly disruptive period ahead, it had crossed my mind that if I were to be nominated for President at the next elections, I might accept. Fortunately, I had refrained from mentioning it to anyone, because in the end I decided that I lacked the qualities that were obviously going to be required over the next few years—patience, statesmanship, knowledge, wisdom, diplomacy, experience and an air of authority. Then, quite unexpectedly, an email set in motion a sequence of events that was a little bizarre.
I received a message from a IAML member asking if I would be prepared to stand for President at the next elections. This gave me pause for thought, because it meant that someone actually believed I could do the job. I agreed to think about it carefully; after all, it would require a good deal of support from my employer, and finances were no longer as flexible as they had been—a sign of the looming global financial crisis that was shortly to envelop us all.
Time was passing, and I needed to make a decision. When I heard that another candidate had been nominated, I recalled that in the past, rival nominations had caused some friction. I slept on all of this, and in the morning decided to tell my proposer that I could not accept the nomination. I explained my reasons and received a painfully honest response that pointed out that it was the right of the IAML membership to decide on who should be President. If I was serious about standing for President of IAML, I should publicly throw my hat in the ring. If I genuinely did not want to stand for President, that would be fine too. However, to not stand for election simply to avoid potential conflict, would be dishonourable, so I agreed to stand, and proceeded with the nomination process.
Because I had already overseen several elections, it was agreed by the Board that I would set some of the basic things in motion– for example, drawing up the ballot paper, notifying candidates to submit a Curriculum Vitae, and pulling the text and photos together into a document. At this point, I would step away and hand everything over to another Board member to upload onto the website and deal with the mechanics of the election.
Everything seemed to go smoothly. The ballot paper followed the standard format of previous years, and care was taken to ensure that names were in alphabetical order and that none was given emphasis either through layout or font size. The candidates’ photographs were adjusted to be as near as possible to a uniform size and I breathed a sigh of relief that my responsibilities were now over. Almost immediately, I learned that there had been a complaint and the CVs had been removed from the website. The complaint was that my CV, and that of one other candidate, had been written in a different style to the others, and this was deemed unfair. I was surprised because, as far as I knew, there were no IAML guidelines on this matter. I had included a personal statement because it seemed quite natural to me that voters should know why I was standing. A simple list of my appointments and qualifications would make very dull reading indeed.
There were two possible solutions. The first was that everyone should have the opportunity to rewrite their CVs in a similar style. The second was that the two culprits should amend their CVs to match the others. This latter path was chosen, simply because further delays in uploading the CVs would push us beyond the deadlines set down in the Rules of Procedure. There were no more complaints, and something practical came out of this awkward situation. Formal guidelines were set up for the submission of CVs. Word totals for Presidential and Vice-presidential candidates were rigorously policed, and every candidate was allowed to provide both a standard CV of positions and qualifications followed by a personal statement if desired.
My election as President was greeted with enthusiasm by my work colleagues in New Zealand. I received generous emails, phone calls and even an occasional card, which made me realise how rare it was for someone located in New Zealand to hold an office such as Secretary General or President of an international organisation. Certainly, before the advent of emails and real-time video links, it would have been unthinkable. If the late Dorothy Freed would have rejoiced at my appointment as Secretary General, then my election as President would have sent her into raptures of delight—not for my sake, but for the sake of New Zealand’s standing in the music library community. She may no longer have been with us in person, but I felt that somehow, she knew.
I had mixed feelings about changing roles from Secretary General to President. Many former Presidents had also occupied other posts within IAML and I had genuinely enjoyed working at the administrative level, facilitating the work of others. But on the other hand, it was also a relief to vacate the role, because the workload had become substantial. In the past, there had always been a period of a few weeks when things were quieter, but with the gradual changes to IAML and the desire to increase activity and foster more involvement, those quiet periods had disappeared. No sooner was one conference over than planning for the next began in earnest, yet the Secretary General was still required to produce reports and Minutes of Board, Council, General Assembly and, occasionally, other meetings too.
We were very fortunate in our appointment of the next Secretary General, Pia Shekhter. Her energy, enthusiasm and pro-active nature made me aware of how worn out I had become in the role. She gave the Board a massive boost and kept everyone on their toes in the most collegial manner. She is the very model of a modern Secretary General, and I hope IAML appreciates just how fortunate it is to have her.
Meanwhile, I moved nervously into the role of President. I was very conscious that the serious work on reshaping IAML was just beginning, and that during my term of office, there could be some difficult moments. For the 2010 Conference in Moscow, the retiring President, Martie Severt had, with assistance from Jim Cassaro and Massimo Gentili-Tedeschi, set the process in motion with a special session on the nature of change and how we could approach it. A healthy discussion ensued, but there were insufficient members present to have a truly wide-ranging discussion. It was not until the following year, in Montreal, when a wider range of views was expressed at a similar meeting, that it became clear there might be difficulties ahead. Debates were good-natured and responsible, but I could sense that there were many divergent ideas on how we should move forward and what our end goal should be.
If I had not quite been aware of it before, I soon realised that my role was to absorb everything that was said and provide a way forward that would encompass everyone who wanted to be involved. Of course, the core work would need to be done by a small group, but I firmly believed that every member should have the opportunity to contribute either at conference or through the network of national branches. If a President should simply lead an organisation from the front, I probably disappointed. I saw my role more as guiding the organisation through a period of potential upheaval; keeping calm and courteous, diffusing difficult situations, avoiding conflict, encouraging open discussion and diverse opinions, but all the time keeping us on track to reach a conclusion that did not seem over-hurried or ill-judged.
As if this were not enough for a traditionally conservative organisation, the global financial crisis was accelerating the downward trend in membership as libraries closed or merged, and staff found themselves unemployed or working in areas that had a smaller music component.
In many ways, this financial crisis affected music libraries disproportionately. Music has always been seen by unimaginative councils and governments as a useful cash source and a positive public relations exercise in good times, but a disposable subject area and an easy cash saver in leaner times. Several major libraries came under threat during this period, and my own job also hung in the balance. I found myself not only writing protest letters to foreign governments but also writing many reports and memos in an attempt to minimise the damage to my own library and, to be honest, my chosen career.
In my own case, the outcome was less disastrous than it might have been. The music collection and the jobs of the music staff were preserved, although the structure around them was never to be the same again, and levels and standards of service were inevitably reduced. Other libraries around the world were less fortunate. Perhaps my position as President of IAML helped me avoid the ultimate embarrassment of losing both my job and the music library I had spent 23 years building. That would not have reflected well on the library management as I had a high profile through IAML, two published reference books on composers sitting on the library shelves, many Radio New Zealand radio broadcasts under my belt and, ironically, an award from the New Zealand Library Association for services to music libraries!
The three-year term of a President seems to pass very quickly. Within a year of being appointed, the process of seeking candidates for the next election begins. This, like many IAML procedures, harks back to the days when everything was conducted by postal mail and the Congress, held every three years, ratified many decisions. Slowly, things have changed. Our Secretary General and Board have revised almost every procedural document and written completely new ones where necessary. Email, Skype, Zoom, i-phones, blogs, tweets and other forms of electronic communication have accelerated the speed of change and the organisation has had to run to catch up.
The opportunity to refresh the Board every three years encourages new and enthusiastic members who have a flair for technology and a love of IAML. Stability in the roles of Treasurer and Secretary General enables changes to happen smoothly, always ensuring that acquired wisdom is not lost. I was delighted to hand over the President’s role to my successor, Barbara Dobbs Mackenzie. Although new to the Board of IAML, she had the vast experience of fronting the great success story that is RILM. She also had the advantage of not accepting too many aspects of the Board’s work as sacred. It is she who is seeing the transformation of IAML’s structure put into effect. She will also instigate the next stage of the IAML reforms; a phase that I think will be even more difficult than the reform of the Constitution and Rules of Procedure. But, the joy of IAML is that Past-presidents and Past-past-presidents remain on hand, helping to form that link between past and future that I hope the membership finds reassuring.
It is too soon to judge the effect of all the changes that are happening in IAML. Membership will inevitably consolidate as the world economy struggles to recover, but I hope members of IAML will feel that the organisation—which, after all, is a global umbrella for National Branches and Personal Members—will be well-positioned to support and encourage re-growth and the continued provision of music libraries, archives and documentation centres worldwide.
IAML was originally formed in 1951 to bring order out of chaos for music organisations. It managed this triumphantly. Circumstances today are perhaps less severe, but still volatile and unpredictable. The best we can do is to ensure that IAML is well-placed to support the profession in the good times and the bad, because the only thing of which we can be absolutely sure, is that we will experience both in the years ahead.
Positions of office held by Roger Flury:
- Committee member: New Zealand Branch (1985-2006)
- President: New Zealand Branch (1987-1989, 1997-1999)
- Vice-President: New Zealand Branch (2000-2002)
- Secretary General (2003-2010)
- President (2010-2013)
- Past-President (2013-2016)
- IAML Historian (2015-2019)
