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My mother tells me that by 5 years old

I had decided definitively to become a concert pianist.

I think she had decided some time earlier.

The story goes that while I was in the womb,

she played the piano continuously to give me a head start,

and evidently, it paid off.

My mother was my first teacher, and I've never doubted her methods.

After all, she introduced me to Bach.

Oh, good. Try another.

By the age of 10,

I had the first book of The Well-Tempered Clavier

pretty much under my belt.

Good. Oh, that's very good.

Very good. Let's try one up at this end here.

My childhood was full of music, even at our cottage on Lake Simcoe.

Those days seemed particularly idyllic to me, at least in retrospect.

Go ahead.

They certainly were compared to my school days.

Very good.

Eighty-seven times 23 equals 2001.

At an early age, I could read music and memorize it on the spot.

In fact, I could read music before I could read words.

I remember I used to play a game with my mother

where I would identify the chords she played

from the other side of the house.

Eighty-seven times...

People always seem to make a great deal out of these early signs,

but they hardly constitute miracles, in my opinion.

I simply have a facility with a certain kind of minutiae.

I always have.

Eighty-seven times 26 equals 2262.

Eighty-seven times 8...

Eighty-seven times 27 equals 2349.

Eighty-seven times 28 equals 2436.

Eighty-seven times...

I often think how fortunate I was to have been brought up

in an environment where music was always present.

Who knows what would have become of me otherwise?

It's a question I often ask myself,

but... I've yet to come up with an answer.

The first time I saw him was in a hotel in Toronto where,

after numerous telephone conversations, we decided to meet face-to-face.

It was 30 degrees Celsius outside, really hot,

but he was wearing an overcoat, hat, scarf and gloves!

In short, it was a getup that appeared extraordinary

but actually provided exactly the kind of protection he required

from those things in the world that killed him:

infection, high blood pressure, et cetera.

Imagine how shocking it was to see this character for the first time.

I couldn't help but be taken aback by his hobo-like appearance.

He would come to my hotel room and stay for 18 hours at a stretch.

He would have no concern for the outside world or food

or anything that didn't relate to the rapport we were developing.

Another thing that struck me was his sense of humor,

his extraordinary ability to amuse himself and to throw out ideas

that were often as stimulating in their depth as they were funny.

That eccentric manner was your first impression of him,

but it was fleeting.

It disappeared quite quickly, to be replaced by the real man,

who was in no way trying to shock, but simply to express himself.

Mr. Gould, to begin, let me ask straight-out,

are there any off-limit areas?

I certainly can't think of any, apart from music, of course.

Well, I don't want to go back on my word.

I realize that your participation in this interview

was never contractually confirmed, but I had rather assumed

that we'd spend the bulk of the interview on music-related matters.

Do you think it's essential?

I mean, my own personal philosophy of interviewing,

and I've done quite a bit of it on the air, as perhaps you know,

is that the most illuminating disclosures usually derive from areas

only indirectly related to the interviewee's line of work.

-For example? -Well, for example,

in the course of preparing radio documentaries,

I've interviewed a theologian about technology,

a surveyor about William James,

and a housewife about acquisitiveness in the art market.

But surely you've interviewed musicians about music?

Well, yes I have, on occasion,

but only in order to put them at ease in front of the mic.

But it's been far more instructive to talk with Leopold Stokowski

about the prospect for interplanetary travel,

-which is, I'm sure you'll agree-- -Let me put it this way.

Is there a subject you'd particularly like to discuss?

What about Native rights in Alaska?

Well, I must confess I had a rather more conventional line of attack,

so to speak, in mind, Mr. Gould.

As I'm sure you're aware, the virtually obligatory question

in regard to your career is the controversy you created

by giving up live concert performance at the age of 32

and choosing to communicate only through the media.

I do feel we must at least touch on it.

As far as I'm concerned, it primarily involves

moral rather than musical considerations.

In any case, be my guest.

You've been quoted as saying that your involvement with recording,

with media in general indeed, represents the future.

-That's correct. -And that conversely, the concert hall,

the recital stage, the opera house, or whatever, represent the past,

an aspect of your own past in particular, perhaps,

as well as, in more general terms, music's past.

That's true.

I hope you'll forgive me for saying that these ideas are only partly justified.

Also, I feel that you, Mr. Gould, have foregone the privilege

that is rightfully yours of communicating with an audience.

From a power base?

From a setting in which the naked fact of your humanity

is unedited and unadorned.

Couldn't I at least be allowed to display the tuxedoed fallacy, perhaps?

Please, I don't feel we should allow this conversation to degenerate.

I've tried to pose the question in all candor and--

Well, then, I'll try and answer likewise.

To me, the ideal audience-to-artist relationship

is a one-to-zero relationship.

That's where the moral objection comes in.

Run that by me again?

First, I'm not at all happy with words like "public” and "artist.”

I'm not happy with the hierarchical implications

of that kind of terminology.

The artist should be granted anonymity.

He should be permitted to operate in secret, as it were, unconcerned with,

or better still, unaware of, the presumed demands of the marketplace,

which demands, given sufficient indifference

on the part of a sufficient number of artists, will simply disappear.

Given that disappearance,

the artist will then abandon his false sense of public responsibility,

and his audience, or "public,"

will relinquish its role of servile dependency.

And never the twain shall meet.

No, they'll make contact but on a much more meaningful level.

Well, Mr. Gould, I'm well aware that this sort of idealistic role-swapping

has a certain rhetorical flourish.

The creative-audience concept,

to which you've devoted a lot of interview space elsewhere,

has a kind of McLuhanesque fascination,

but yet you conveniently forget that the artist,

however hermetic his lifestyle, is still in effect an autocratic figure.

He's still, however benevolently, a social dictator,

and his public, however generously enfranchised by electronic options,

is still on the receiving end of the experience.

And all your neo-medieval anonymity quest on behalf of the artist as zero,

and all your vertical pan-culturalism on behalf of his public,

-isn't going to change that. -May I speak now?

Of course. I didn't mean to get carried away.

-But I do feel strongly about-- -About the artist as superman?

That's not quite fair.

Or about the interlocutor as controller of conversation, perhaps?

There's no need to be rude.

What about this?

If you imagine...

...that the artist is...

Yes, that's right.

Toronto.

- Toronto, Canada. - Go ahead.

It should read as follows:

-Dear Walter. Stop. -Dear Walter. Stop.

Under the weather yesterday. Stop.

X-rays reveal chronic bronchitis...

Bronchitis in right lung. Stop.

Feeling as foggy as it is outside. Stop.

Little comfort from dubious doctor.

Stop.

It would suit you perfectly. Stop.

Concerts tomorrow and Monday canceled. Stop.

Cannot and will not leave this room. Stop. End.

I'm sorry to disturb, but we have a picture.

-New York? -Yes, Sir.

Yes? At last. Excellent. Thank you. Uh...

Danke.

Yes, that would be it, indeed. Could you read that back to me, please?

Wait. Please stay.

No. No, I...

Concerts tomorrow and Monday "canceled," of course, not "can't sell.”

That means something entirely different.

No, no.

Go ahead.

Mm-hm.

Yes.

Well, that's absolutely flawless.

Could you sent it off immediately, please?

Room 318.

Thank you.

Danke schoen.

Salzburg to Stockholm, Berlin, Wiesbaden, Florence, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem,

and on the whole tour, I'd say there were maybe six good hotel rooms,

five comfortable beds, and at least three adequate pianos.

Some of these pianos were so hopelessly unwieldy,

I decided it was best just to ignore them.

It required a kind of mystical transcendence

to get me through.

I have no idea what the audience resorted to.

I'm not one of those piano freaks, you know.

Of course, I'm aware there are people

who would gladly sit in the most uncomfortable chair

with 3000 other people in uncomfortable chairs

and listen to hours and hours of the stuff,

but it's nothing I would ever subject myself to.

I just don't like the sound of piano music that much.

Five minutes, Mr. Gould.

Yeah.

Yeah, you can tell him to close the doors now.

Yeah, I think he's ready now. I told you, go ahead.

Yeah, here we come.

This way, Mr. Gould.

Glenn, I didn't want to bother you now, but I'm not gonna be here after the show.

Gary's gonna be here. Don't think about it.

The guy with the short, you know-- He's gonna pick you up.

And there is a reception after.

I know, it's gonna be squaresville,

but you'd make a couple of gray-haired ladies happy

if you'd just waltz through it one time, you know?

Oh. I did wanna show you a schedule for tomorrow.

No, don't bother with it. Don't bother with it now.

Don't think about it.

But if you have a moment after, you wanna change anything--

I'm sure it's fine.

You wanna see more of L.A... I'm gonna leave it on your dresser.

I think we should take the stairs.

Maybe we should.

Don't even think about it now.

-It's a long way. -It certainly is.

If it weren't for you, I'd have been dropping breadcrumbs along the way.

Yes, we just arrived. Yes, he's there. Okay.

-Mr. Gould? -Of course.

My, uh, wife has all of your records.

Well... tell your wife she has exceptional taste.

Also, she's very lucky.

I'm never going to sign one of these again.

How long have you worked for this theater?

It's been almost 30 years.

Thirty years? You must be near retirement. If you don't mind my asking.

No, at the end of the season.

-What will you do after that? -Well, I have my garden.

-Yes? -I'm gonna build an arboretum.

-You, uh, know what that is? -Yes, I think so.

Mr. Gould?

-My best to your wife and garden. -Thank you.

What did he say? What did he write?

"April 10th, 1964.

Best of luck in your new career, Glenn Gould.

The final concert."

I think that, like all people who try to rationalize their position,

who do what they want at any cost

and then seek some sort of universal justification,

he fell into a trap.

A trap where he dwelled a little too much on the morality of his decision.

Obviously, from a purist's point of view, he had an argument.

In any audience, there are people who hear and see better than others.

At times, in large churches, there are members of the audience

who sit behind a pillar and see nothing.

Sometimes the acoustics at a live concert are exaggerated,

or we hear too much or too little of something,

or the volume is too loud,

or the reverberation hurts the ears.

He did have a point. It's not always ideal...

but that's part of life.

To me, that is a vital element of living.

Personally, I think Glenn Gould's life

seemed a bit too artificial.

But like I said,

that's because I'm not of his stature, creatively.

I could not create my own life and lead it by myself,

to the exclusion of the rest of the world,

doing nothing but applying myself to the physical and intellectual work,

trying to avoid every draft with the protection of a scarf,

unable to bear the thought of someone touching my shoulder.

And yet, at the same time, he loved to go to the fishing villages

in the great...

How do you say... In the wide expanses Canada has to offer.

He liked that. He liked nature and natural people.

He liked the fisherman a lot more than he liked audiences in New York.

- Ready? - Yep.

Glenn, we're ready for playback.

Yeah, I'm gonna give it to you without EQ'ing, okay?

And all the levels are flat.

Ready in three, two, one.

Coffee?

Yes, yes.

I really shouldn't be giving this to you, you know.

It's, uh, not very good for you.

You mean coffee in general, or your coffee?

No, no, coffee and cream as a combination.

It's very bad for you. It's dangerous.

Where did you get this?

It just sits in your stomach like asphalt. I read it in a magazine.

The coffee from that machine is gonna Kill me anyway, so, you know, a little cream...

And you're one to talk.

I mean, look at you. You're falling apart. He could use some coffee.

Sugar, on the other hand, is a very good combination.

It actually helps the coffee do what it's supposed to do, so...

The "Italian Concerto."

You know, this is really good. I really think we have something here.

Glenn, how was that?

I think there's something in that. Let's hear it again.

I became Glenn Gould's chambermaid because the other chambermaids,

who were mostly middle-aged Italian and Jamaican women, were terrified of him.

They thought he was strange, probably some sort of sexual deviant.

They just found him peculiar because he was very eccentric.

When we were in Moscow in 1957, we stayed at the Canadian embassy.

And after the first concert, we went back into our limousine,

which had been loaned to us by the embassy.

And at the end of the concert,

Glenn had received a tremendous number of flowers,

big pots of mums and other flowers.

And as we got into the limousine and sat down,

all the flowers had been piled up there, and we had barely room to sit there.

And Glenn said to me, "You know, Walter,

it feels like we are driving to our own funeral at this point."

This was his passion.

He really, really wanted to start--

You know, retire away to Manitoulin Island,

to buy a big hunk of it,

and bring every unwanted animal in the world there.

And there were... numerous boxes.

I think one time I counted a dozen boxes of arrowroot cookies

sort of scattered about the room.

And there were also numerous bottles of ketchup.

It was a very penetrating interview.

The most intelligent questions I think I'd ever heard about the North

from experts, laymen, or anything else.

Questions that required rather long answers.

And as I would start to speak or make a point,

he would register his feelings, not by voice but by a smile,

but all the time, he was using his hands and conducting.

And this was perhaps slightly off-putting

when you're trying to think deep thoughts, but--

Because I had no idea what this was all about.

But he continuously was just waving his arm

and then sort of bring up this idea and so on.

I was his orchestra for that hour.

So he decided to wear this business suit, and I discussed it with him and I said:

"You know, Glenn, I'm not sure that the public will understand

what you are trying to convey, but if you want to do it, go ahead.”

Which he did, and he was probably the first artist that went out on-stage

without the-- What was considered then the proper concert attire.

But he, again, was on the forefront of change.

He used to wake up at about 4:00 in the afternoon,

and to get himself awake, he used to phone people,

and I was one of those people that he phoned.

And he'd talk about anything, you know. He just wanted a listening board.

One night he called, and he was babbling on.

And it was probably about 1:00 in the morning,

something like that, and he...

And I fell asleep.

As a matter of fact, before I fell asleep, I had stretched out on the rug,

and I had the phone there, because I'd been sitting in a chair

and I got tired of sitting in the chair and I stretched out.

And he was talking, talking, talking. And I wasn't talking at all.

And I fell asleep.

And the next thing I knew, my son had walked into the room,

and he was kicking me on the soles of my feet.

And he said, "Wake up. There's somebody on the phone.”

And it was Glenn. And he was talking away.

And I don't know how long I had been sleeping,

but I didn't even remember the sequence.

He was just... The words were just pouring out.

The phone rang, and as I picked it up, it was Glenn Gould on the other end,

and he said, "Hi, this is Glenn Gould, and I feel like talking."

"Mario," he said, "I've come across the most marvelous opera

for your program.”

I said, "What is it?" He says, "You know Ernst Krenek?"

I said, "Yes, certainly.”

He said, "I've got this marvelous opera by him."

He said, "Wait, I've got the score here. I'll sing it to you."

So he sang this entire one-act opera,

one-act, two-scene opera,

over the telephone in his not-very-pleasant voice.

He was very much involved with himself.

You know, he didn't think of what others had to...

What others had to do or their responsibilities.

You know, he was consumed with what he was doing and his own things.

His will was that he left half of his estate to the SPCA,

Society for the Prevention of Cruelties to Animals,

and the other half to the Salvation Army.

Yes.

Getting 318 back from Ottawa to tune for the conservatory,

when I was phoned up about it, I thought, "Should I do this?"

I thought, "No, I'm gonna do it, just for old times' sake."

And when I got working on 318 again

and cleaned it up and tuned it

and worked on the action a bit, it felt good.

So I guess I miss him.

I miss his intelligent comments,

and I miss listening to his 20 questions,

not particularly to me, but...

He was-- I'll tell you one thing.

Today I had a customer phone me up and say:

"Can you come tomorrow to tune my piano?"

Glenn Gould used to give me two or three months' notice.

And I respected that.

And I'm very thankful for knowing him.

Hello, Mr. Gould.

-Do you want the usual? -Yes, if you'd be so kind.

Yeah, I agree.

For instance, one time, up by the Reptile House...

You know where that is? Up near Parry Sound?

...I see this hippie-yippie type thumbing a ride.

Long hair up to here.

Eh, I figured I'd pick him up anyway, keep me entertained for a while,

"cause I'm going all night, keep me awake.

Only when I picked him up, it turns out

it wasn't a hippie at all.

It was a girl, a young girl.

And I mean pretty like you've never seen.

So I says to her, "What the hell are you doing out here all by yourself, eh?"

And hundred miles down the road, I got her whole life story.

Seems like she had a fight with her boyfriend.

They broke up, then she had a fight with her parents

and decided to run away from home.

- Janet? - Generation gap

or whatever the hell it was.

Janet...

And hundred miles later,

she's curled up next to me...

...sleeping like a little baby that cried itself to sleep.

I looked down at this sweet little 16-year-old thing.

And you know what I did? I turned my rig around,

and I took her straight home.

Right to her house. Right to the front door.

Should've seen the look on her parents' face.

- Fifty bucks, pal, 5-0. - Yeah. They screwed us, man.

Damn Imlach. We would've been better off with Clancy.

-Yeah. -Ullman, Henderson, Ellis, who needs them?

-If we still had Mahovlich-- -Yeah, but you don't.

- See, there's a code I live by. - Because it's over. I gotta go.

Montreal is gonna take it. Wanna put money on that?

- "It's over. I gotta go." - A strict code of ethics.

-I believe in it. -"It's over. I gotta go."

-Come on, rack them up. -You rack them up.

- I rack? Okay. Ten bucks? - "I gotta go."

-Get it out. -I never regret it.

Not a minute. Never.

No, sir.

Okay, Glenn, I'm ready to start.

Yeah, I'll give you the whole thing, from the top. And when we get--

I'll just hit the record button, and you can start.

Are you all set? Here we go.

Stand by.

Ready? Here we go.

Three, two...

I was fascinated by the country as such.

I flew north from Churchill to Coral Harbour on Southampton Island

at the end of September.

Snow had begun to fall,

and the country was partially covered by it.

Some of the lakes were frozen around the edges,

but towards the center of the lake,

you could still see the clear, clear water.

And flying over this country,

you could look down and see various shades of green in the water,

and you could see the bottom of the lakes.

It was the most fascinating experience.

I remember I was up in the cockpit with the pilot,

and I was forever looking out left and right,

and I could see ice floes over the Hudson's Bay.

And I was always looking for a polar bear or some seals that I could spot,

but unfortunately, there were none.

And as we flew along the east coast of Hudson's Bay,

- this flat country frightened me. - Let me say this:

I don't go for this Northman ship bit at all.

Because it just seemed endless.

- I don't knock people who claim... - We seemed to be going to nowhere.

-The further north we went... -...they want to go farther north.

- I see it as kind of a game, Northman ship. - There was nothing but snow...

People 'd say, "Well, were you ever up at the North Pole?" You know, and:

- "Hell, I did a dogsled trip of 22 days." - This was my first year...

And the other fellow'd go, "I did one of 30 days."

That's pretty childish. Perhaps they see--

- They see themselves as more skeptical... - Sure, the North changed my life.

I can't conceive of anyone being in close touch with the North,

whether he lived there all the time

or simply traveled it month after month, year after year--

- I can't conceive of such a person... - More skeptical about...

...being untouched by the North for the rest of his life.

When I left in 1965, at least left the job there...

And it's not like-- As though there's some special merit,

some virtue, to being in the North...

...or some special virtue in having been with the primitive people.

Well, I-- You know, what special virtue is there in that? And...

It is most difficult to describe.

It was extreme isolation. This is very true.

And I knew very well I could not go anywhere

- except for a mile or two walking. - ...if indeed it has changed me.

i always think of the long summer days when the snow had melted,

the lakes were open,

and the geese and ducks had started to fly north.

Or even if you go off into...

During that time, the sun would set,

but when there was still the last shimmer in the sky,

I would walk out to one of those lakes

and watch those ducks and geese just fly around peacefully

- or sitting on the water. - ...the way of technological...

And I felt that I was almost part of that country...

- It opened up the day before... - ...part of that peaceful surrounding,

and I wished that it would never end.

- Are we right to open... - Mass media...

- The real truth about the North... - This was especially true

because of the fact...

This is Glenn Gould, and this program is called The Idea of North.

Let's talk about the radio documentaries

you made for the CBC.

Two of your programs, The Idea of North and The Latecomers,

are both about the idea of solitude

as it affects people living in northern Canada.

In fact, all of those programs deal, to some degree, with solitude.

There are five programs I've made

that have taken 300 or 400 hours of studio time.

Number one was, as you mentioned, The Idea of North,

two was Latecomers, three was Stokowski,

four is one we're just mixing now on Casals,

Casals: A Portrait for Radio.

I'm doing one next year on Schoenberg.

And there's one that's lain around now for a year and a half.

It's a program about the Mennonites called Quiet in the Land,

and that's the ultimate in community isolation.

So next, I want to do a comedy about an isolated man,

because I'm sick and tired of all these profound statements.

Well, radio itself is a solitary experience.

Why does it interest you as a medium?

I'd like to deal with this as sensibly as I can.

It's a big question. It's an important question.

I don't know what the effective ratio would be,

but I've always had a sort of intuition

that for every hour you spend with other human beings,

you need X number of hours alone.

Now, what that X represents, I don't really know,

whether it be two and seven-eighths or seven and two-eighths,

but it's a substantial ratio.

Radio is something that's always been very close to me ever since I was a child,

something I listen to virtually nonstop.

I mean, it's wallpaper for me.

I sleep with the radio on.

In fact, now I'm incapable of sleeping without the radio on,

ever since I gave up Nembutal.

Does it affect your dreams?

Sure, insofar as if there are broadcasts on the hour,

I will pick up the bulletins and dream them,

and in the morning, if there's a boat that's just gone down, I'll think:

"Gee, that was an odd dream about the Titanic I had last night.”

And I will have, of course, gone through it.

Maybe your feelings about solitude come from your Nordic temperament?

I think that's certainly part of it.

It's always been an ambition of mine,

which I'll probably never get around to realizing,

to spend at least one winter north of the Arctic Circle.

Anyone can go there in the summer, when the sun is up,

but I want to go there when the sun is down,

I really do, and so help me, I'm going to do it one of these times.

I've been saying this for five or six years now,

and every year, the schedule gets in the way.

Well, I hope you do. Thank you very much, Mr. Gould.

Mr. Gould, thank you for the interview yesterday.

I would just like some further clarification, if I may. Um...

That's good. Uh, where am I? No...

Okay, here we are. Uh...

Now, if it's really true that you attach little importance

to the actual technique of playing the piano,

how is it that you have managed to attain such a level of skill?

That is to say, don't you think it's depressing

for all the young pianists of the world to know this?

Glenn Gould, Glenn Gould, Glenn Gould.

Glenn Gould, I really wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart

for arranging for me to have this chance to interview you finally.

And before we begin the interview,

I also wanna give you a great big thank-you

on behalf of all of our readers.

These are tough questions. They're gonna come up.

People are gonna watch the play and they're gonna ask me:

"Glenn Gould is apparently incredibly interested in technology.

But really, wasn't technology just a reason

or a way for him to keep the world at arm's length?

It's just a smoke screen, isn't it?"

Let me ask you this.

What is Glenn Gould really like when he's not in the studio?

I mean, what do you like to do when you're outside of a recording booth?

What kind of lifestyle do you lead?

Mr. Gould, you are a perfectionist when it comes to recording.

So why is it that when you are recording,

you place little importance on whether you have a piano with noisy works

or a chair that squeaks?

Why, when you seem obsessed with this idea of musical perfection,

do you hum as you play?

Well, um...

I forgot the question.

I mean, what aspect of your life

has nothing to do with, uh... With, uh, anything

that has to do with classical, musical... music?

Years ago, you said that you were gonna leave public performance

because you want to compose.

And we've waited, and the years have passed,

and there's no body of work, I mean, musically speaking.

And... um, people are waiting, and...

How do you feel about all that?

Would...

Would you teach me piano?

What about children? I mean, have you thought about that?

What do you look for in a woman?

Or maybe I should just say, what are you waiting for?

One more question, if I may, out of curiosity.

Why do you insist on conducting interviews by phone?

Well, um...

caduc.

I know, you left the concert platform.

It's been talked about, it's been explained,

all the reasons, but...

when you think about it, on the day that it happened,

it was about fear, wasn't it?

I've asked you about your music, I've asked you about your family,

I've asked you about your children, what you have for dinner,

what you do when you go to a movie...

Mr. Gould, you've stated that the, uh, concert hall

is becoming more and more of an economic liability

but that you foresee this problem rectifying itself by the year 2000.

Why?

Okay, fine.

Are you homosexual?

Mm.

Why didn't you answer my calls?

Why did you stop calling me?

You know, I am deeply in love with a certain beautiful girl.

I asked her to marry me, but she turned me down.

But I still love her more than anything in the world,

and every minute I can spend with her is pure heaven.

But I don't want to be a bore.

And if I could only get her to tell me when I could see her, it would help.

She has a standing invitation

to let me take her anywhere she'd like to go, anytime,

but it seems to me she never has time for me.

Please, if you see her, ask her to let me know

when I can see her and when I can...

Sheikh Ahmed Zaki Yamani arrived in Ottawa today

to begin a series of discussions across Canada

about the future of oil pricing.

-The powerful Saudi oil... -Howie, thanks for holding.

It's me, your fairy godmother. You cleared 30 grand in your sleep.

Twelve thousand in Texas Gulf at 46. Call me, let me know how the options open.

Sorry, sir. What's on the recommender?

Play it safe. I'm sticking with the big one.

Oil, that is. Black gold, Texas tea.

Across the board, Gulf Dome, Petrofina. Take your pick and hold on for the ride.

We're going through the roof. Looking at 32 by the bell. Okay.

Sotex Resources? No, never heard of it.

Yeah, I'll check the charts.

Yeah, but again, I'm telling you, look, oil, right now,

is as close to a sure thing as we got in this business.

It's crazy to sell.

Sotex.

No. Got nothing on it. Sounds risky to me.

-You want it, you got it. -Who's that? Who is it?

Glenn Gould. I'll ask you to remember

in the days and weeks ahead this was your bright idea.

That's my job. Later.

-The piano player? -Yeah, Glenn Gould, the piano player.

Okay, got a buy for you, 10,000 STX, Gould.

-What's the special of the day? -Canstar Oil and Gas.

-Eleven and three-quarters. -Mr. Mackie had lunch with the minister.

-There's an incentive program in the air. -Well, I don't buy it.

He's in for 90 thou.

The Pormack brothers are in tight with the Saudis.

-They've been mopping it up all week. -So as long as this embargo holds...

- It's going up, up and away. - Anything else, Mr. Gould?

Yes, I'll have a cup of coffee and a telephone.

-Everybody's buying. -I'm afraid I can't agree.

What do you mean? Do you know something?

I had a small word with Sheikh Yamani's bodyguard at the airport, and, uh...

And what?

Now, this one has to be kept strictly between you and me.

"STX, Sotex Resources"? Never heard of it.

The Sheikh has,

and he's about to deliver them a major explorations contract.

This is entirely entre nous. This is just between you and me.

Sotex? Hang on one second.

Here it is.

Psst. Little stock called Sotex. Ever heard of it?

Sotex, ten and a third, get me 20,000 shares.

Mines, natural resources, stuff from up north, you know.

Listen... Sheikh Yamani is very interested in this company.

The TSE dropped 40 points as a result of this morning's announcement,

and the Dow fell back an alarming 72 points.

One of the few bright spots in the midst of this doom and gloom

was a tiny company called Sotex Resources, which closed at 15.3.

Ten and a quarter? Well, ditch it, for chrissake.

What are you waiting for?

Yeah, Howie, unfortunately, we're looking at a bit of a dip.

Down 12 points.

That's the way the game works. You know the risk.

Sotex? Uh, sure. You want a piece?

Look, sir, what do you want me to say?

You lost, I lost, everybody lost. Take it up with OPEC.

Whatever you say, Glenn.

You know, I have to confess,

you were my only client who made a buck last week,

and a pretty good one too.

Hey, listen, you gave up touring.

Maybe you should give up playing the piano altogether and just play the market.

That's right, a virtuoso.

Yeah, I'll talk to you soon.

Piano player.

"Wanted: Friendly, companionably reclusive,

socially unacceptable, alcoholically abstemious,

tirelessly talkative, zealously unzealous,

spiritually intense, minimally turquoise,

maximally ecstatic loon

seeks moth or moths with similar equalities

for purposes of telephonic seduction,

Tristanesque trip-taking...

Tristanesque...

Tristanesque trip-taking,

and permanent flame-fluttering.

No photos required. Financial status immaterial.

All ages and noncompetitive vocations considered.

Applicants should furnish cassettes of sample conversation,

notarized certification of marital disinclination,

references re: low-decibel vocal consistency,

itinerary, and...

Itinerary and sample receipts

from previous successfully completed out-of-town moth flights.

All submissions treated confidentially.

No paws need apply.

The auditions for all promising candidates

will be conducted to and on Anaton Penisend, Newfoundland."

Toronto Star Classifieds. Good afternoon.

Hello?

-Valium, a minor tranquilizer

used to relieve symptoms of tension and anxiety.

Avoid using this medication in conjunction with antidepressants.

Trifluoperazine, an antipsychotic,

prescribed for moderate to severe depression and anxiety.

This medication may cause an inability to sleep.

Do not take in conjunction with barbiturates.

Like other barbiturates,

pentobarbital acts by interfering with nerve impulses to the brain.

Long-term use may result in addiction.

Side effects include drowsiness, lethargy,

and a general allergic reaction.

Librax is most commonly used

to soothe the anxiety often associated with gastrointestinal disorders.

The effects of Librax may be inhibited

by certain medications used in the treatment of high blood pressure.

Aldomet is used to control high blood pressure.

A mild sedative effect or transient headache

are possible side effects.

Aldomet will increase the effectiveness of other antihypertensives.

Clonidine acts in the brain

by causing the dilation of certain blood vessels.

Side effects include drowsiness, dizziness, headache, and fatigue.

Indocin, a nonsteroidal agent

used to treat various forms of joint and muscle inflammation.

It can produce severe stomach upsets,

rashes, itching, and even a ringing in the ears.

Hydrochlorothiazide,

an antihypertensive used in the treatment of high blood pressure.

Side effects include headache, restlessness, and a depressed sex drive.

Septra, an anti-infective used to treat infections of the urinary tract.

May cause itching, rashes, drug-fever, or arthritis-like pain.

Fiorinal, a nonnarcotic pain reliever,

can lead to drug dependence or addiction.

Interaction with phenylbutazone may cause stomach irritation.

Phenylbutazone, an anti-inflammatory

often used to treat pain in the shoulder due to bursitis.

Prolonged use may lead lo excessive water retention.

Chlorothiazide, a diuretic used in the treatment of high blood pressure

or in situations where it is necessary to rid the body of excess water.

Avoid using in conjunction with drugs that have a stimulant effect.

Allopurinol, an anti-gout medication.

A major side effect is exhaustion and a desire to sleep.

Avoid tasks that require concentration.

He didn't talk to me about drugs very much,

except these instances when he would excuse himself,

and then I-- It was interesting...

Of course, there was a bathroom in this hotel suite,

and I asked him if I could use the bathroom.

These sessions went on for six and seven hours.

And so I did--

I remember going in there and seeing, lined up on the wall,

all of these different bottles, and I came out and I said, "Drug--"

I said, "Glenn, surely you're not taking all this stuff, are you?"

And he said, "Well, no, not all at once," and sort of laughed.

I don't understand that in him.

I never understood that in him. And he...

I didn't have a feeling that he was acting in a way

that had been produced by a drug.

He was neither speeding, nor was he sort of, you know,

not in control of his-- Any kinds of anything.

And here was this lineup of bottles.

Mr. Gould, we've covered a lot of the topics

that I wanted to cover with you.

But could we perhaps move on to some of the more personal questions?

Tell me, do you believe in the supernatural or in ESP?

You know, no one's ever asked me that before.

Do I believe in the supernatural? Of course, yes...

and no.

That is to say,

uh, I don't hold with this notion

that one's mind can be read like a book or some such thing.

But that there are certain inexplicable coincidences in the world

seems to me patently obvious.

Have you ever experienced any of those coincidences?

Could you tell me about it?

Yes, several times,

the oddest being when I was very young, about 9 years old.

I should preface this by saying

that I've always been fascinated by dreams

and the kind of feeling that they leave one with.

There's a certain horrible feeling,

a tragic sense of loss

that one can derive only from a dream.

Yeah, anyway, at this time, I was about 9 years old...

Pardon me.

Uh, about 9 years old, and I had this peculiar dream

in which I saw myself covered with red spots.

The next morning, when I mentioned it to my mother,

she'd had exactly the same dream.

Now, at that time, there was no hint of measles,

no epidemic, no worry of any kind,

so the dream certainly couldn't have been affected

by any external common suggestion.

And yet, four days later, I got the measles.

-Interesting. -Hmm.

Tell me, continuing,

what do you believe regarding afterlife?

Well, I was brought up a Presbyterian,

though I stopped being a churchgoer at about the age of 18.

Um... I've always felt tremendously strongly that...

there is indeed a hereafter

with which we must all reckon,

in light of which we must live our lives,

and there is that inevitability of the transformation of the spirit.

As a consequence,

I find all here-and-now philosophies quite repellent,

lax, if you will.

I realize, however, that there's a great temptation

to formulate a comfortable theory about eternal life

so as to reconcile oneself to the inevitability of death.

But... I'd like to think that's not what I'm doing.

I don't believe I'm trying to create for myself

a deliberate self-reassuring process.

It just seems intuitively right.

I've never had to work very hard at convincing myself of a hereafter.

After all, don't you think it seems infinitely more plausible

than its opposite, oblivion?

Hello, Jessie? It's me.

I wonder, could indulge me for a moment? I'm in a bit of a state.

Well, I was driving along

when I suddenly remembered that story about Schoenberg.

Schoenberg.

Remember, he was obsessed with numerology, numbers and so forth.

So much so that when he turned 65,

he was terrified that he was going to die because his age was divisible by 13.

So he consulted an astrologer friend, who assured him that he would survive

until the next time the numbers conspired against him.

"Well, great," he thought, "Another 13 years.

I'll be fine until I'm 78."

Well, 11 years later, however, when he was 76,

the astrologer wrote back to warn him that it's not only numbers

that are divisible by 13 that he ought to watch out for

but also those whose digits add up to 13.

For example, 76.

Needless to say, he was petrified, but not for long.

Three months later, he died.

July 13th, 1951.

I can't help it. Um...

I'm 49 tomorrow,

and Schoenberg's still talking to me.

Jessie?

Jessie, are you there?

The week before he died, I remember it in great detail.

And it's funny that--

It's peculiar that I do remember it in such detail,

because many of the times, our conversations were light

and just banter between two good friends.

But that week before Glenn died,

everything was serious.

He couldn't control the birthday that was coming up, the celebration.

He couldn't-- He seemed to think

everything was slipping away from his control.

And he was obsessed with this feeling that he wondered,

would people recognize him and come to a funeral?

And we'd never talked about anything like that before.

But he said that he wanted--

He didn't-- He would like to be like Huckleberry Finn

and come to his own funeral,

because he didn't think that there would be people who came.

He didn't think that the world loved him like they did, and...

He knew about how the records were selling.

He knew that they were very...

That Japanese people bought a lot of them,

that people in Central Europe

and in Asia bought a lot of them.

But he just didn't think that he was that important.

And it never surfaced, to me at least,

that he felt his own...

fame.

His humility was beyond everything.

And when I saw the people pour into the...

St. Paul's Cathedral,

I couldn't help but believe, "Oh, Glenn, you were wrong,

for probably the first time in your life."

You know, 'cause he always liked to think he never was wrong.

Hello, Jessie? It's me.

I was just out driving along, and guess what came on the radio.

Here.

Well?

Yes, sure, it's one of the French Suites, but which one?

And there you have it, Johann Sebastian Bach,

the "Sarabande from French Suite No. 1,"

performed with the unmistakable genius of the young Glenn Gould.

Tragically, Mr. Gould passed away this morning at the age of 50.

He died in hospital in Toronto after suffering a stroke last week.

Since that time, he had been on a life-support system

and never regained consciousness.

In the fall of 1977,

the U.S. government sent two ships, Voyagers 1 and 2, into space,

where they are eventually destined to reach the edge of our galaxy.

In the hope that someone, somewhere, would intercept these craft,

a variety of messages were placed on board

that would be capable of communicating the existence

of an intelligent creature living on a planet called Earth.

Among these was included a short prelude by Johann Sebastian Bach,

as performed by Glenn Gould.

Voyagers 1 and 2 left our solar system, respectively,

in 1987 and 1989.