Robert Pettitt

I first met Bob fifty-one years ago when he was my organ teacher at Boston Conservatory of Music. On the first day a classmate asked me if I had met my instructor yet - wait until you do, "He's handsome!"
He remained a friend in Boston and San Francisco through the years, and a travel companion in Europe. On my visits to San Francisco, Bob would share with me every corner of the city. Day after day, a ride to a new area.
Many evenings were spent working on crossword puzzles,...

Bob was named co-director of the Wheaton College choir in 1958, where he served for two wonderful years. It was a delight to work with him and I loved his quick sense of humor. I attended the terrific muscial productions he did at Emerson College, astonished at his versatility and the obvious respect and love his performers felt for him, as had the Wheaton singers.
Bob found lots of church music jobs for me after I graduated from Wheaton, and we happily stayed in touch before he left...

Robert Pettitt was best man in my 1966 wedding to the recently deceased Jim Deaderick, who as a student at Emerson College had major roles in the staged musicals Bob directed. Our friendship continued. In 1968 the three of us traveled to England, spending one of our weeks at Benjamin Britten's Aldeburgh Festival. A 1970 photo shows Bob in an elegant green kimono holding baby Jennifer, Jim & my first child.
Although my marriage to Jim ended in 1975, Bob continued to be a wonderful friend...

More that fifty year ago, a shy freshman approached the door to the music room in Emerson College. He hesitated to go in, afraid of auditioning for the choir director, Mr. Pettitt, reputed to be so exacting that he accepted only those who knew how to read music and had choral experience. The freshman failed on both counts. But, the night before, he had practiced his heart out and gave it his best. When he finished singing, it was Mr. Pettitt’s turn to hesitate. He wrote a few lines on a...

Bob often had Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner with Howard and me when we lived in San Francisco. After we moved to a ridge top near the Russian River (an hour and a half away) he continued to do so, but kept his visits short, arriving mid-afternoon and departing early the next morning. Bob was too much of a gentleman to say so, however, I think he was such a city person that sixteen hours without street lights, sirens and fog horns was as much as he could tolerate. It is an honor to have...