Alfio Micci, Virtuoso Violinist and Constructor

Happy Fourth of July!  To celebrate, here are two wonderful new reminiscences of Alfio Micci, a virtuoso violinist and constructor whom I've written about several times before.  For many years, Alfio played in the First Violin Section of the New York Philharmonic; he also published at least 91 Times crosswords in the pre-Shortz era and 11 under Will Shortz's editorship.

Alfio Micci

In early May this year, the following comment appeared on this blog beneath the December 22, 2012, post containing Al Weeks's tribute to Alfio:

Hello! I'm Alfio's grandson, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate reading this article. I think Alfio's approach to writing puzzles connects to his whole personality. He was the most loving grandpa a boy could hope for, and he supported his family unceasingly. I remember the off-white plastic frame he used to construct puzzles and the bookshelf of reference materials he used to solve them (including the first copy of Ulysses I ever saw). Also, few know this but he wrote lyrics (Grandma wrote music) to a musical for the local school to perform entitled "Bearin' Camp." It was about a bear in a camp. The artistic and intellectual legacy lives on with me and my son, Lennon.

I was thrilled to see the comment and asked the anonymous author to contact me if he'd be willing to be interviewed for the blog.  A few weeks later, I received a response from Christian Recca, who said he was interested and mentioned that his uncles, Alfio's sons, might be as well.  There was a brief delay in getting the interview under way while I was finishing school, but shortly after graduation, I sent Christian a list of questions.  His answers are below.  One of Christian's uncles, Ronald (Ron) Micci, was also interested, and he sent his reminiscences too, along with the photos that appear below.

Interview with Christian Recca, Alfio Micci's Grandson

What was Alfio's early life like?

Alfio was born in America but emigrated to his family's homeland of Italy for a few years, then returned to America when he was very young—less than five, I'm guessing.

Were there any signs in his youth that he would become a musician and crossword constructor?

I'm not sure what sparked his interest in music (one of many questions I'd like to ask the man himself), but by the time he was a teenager he was supposedly practicing an impressive number of hours a day.  At this time, he lived in Chicago Heights.  He also had an avid interest in theatre, even aspiring to be a playwright at one point (he envied the life of being able to lounge around in your PJs and write as much or as little as you felt like—how many lived that life, I don't know).

Many musicians and crossword constructors have a talent for and interest in math and/or engineering.  Was this true for Alfio, and if so, how?

I'm not sure how Gramps did in school, but our whole family is very intelligent, so I don't doubt it.

Alfio's puzzles suggest he had a great sense of humor—was that the case, and do you have any memories of him that speak to that?

Yes, Gramps had a great sense of humor!  We used to spend a lot of time in the ol' backyard pool, and he would deliver a lot of one-liners.  One of his was, "It's a wonderful day for an auto-da-fe."  I had no idea what that meant at the time.  If you don't know, I won't spoil it.  A quick Google search will be worth the time.  "What's black and white and read all over?" was a favorite riddle.  I also recall we played a lot of that party game called "Ghost," sort of an oral crossword puzzle in itself.

Alfio reportedly disliked puzzle-editing styles that involved stumping and frustrating solvers with obscure trivia.  What might he think of today's puzzles, which, within the constraints grids sometimes impose, focus much more on accessible clues and entries?

Given my knowledge of Gramps' musical opinions, I'm thinking he probably would have felt that increased accessibility led to a "dumbing down" of the crossword genre.  That said, he was also very interested in teaching the new generation to love music and language, so who knows?  His grumpiness may have been a product of advanced age.

Many of today's puzzle editors also eschew "politically incorrect" or "triggering" entries, such as GAL FRIDAY or NAZI; sometimes doing so means rejecting an otherwise excellent puzzle.  What might Alfio's views on this have been—would he, for instance, have viewed such entries as part of our cultural and/or historical past and, therefore, as fair game for inclusion in puzzles?

Well, I'm not sure about that one.  Gramps was more progressive than others of his generation:  He respected Dr. Kevorkian and was friends with plenty of gay men.  That said, he was also sort of old-fashioned in his view of racism/sexism/homophobia.  That is, while he condemned overt expressions of hate and promoted equality generally, his view of these issues was limited.  Today, we see the importance of microaggressions and systemic racism.  He may have been impatient with those claims, I'm not sure.  So, all in all, I think he would have thought it was a shame that a whole puzzle would be rejected for one or two "inappropriate" answers.  And yeah, he would find it harmless to have "Gal Friday" as an answer.

Is there anything else you remember or would like to say about Alfio's life, career, and/or puzzle constructing?

Gramps loved his family so dearly, and he put his money where his mouth was—literally and figuratively.  His kids fell on hard times, and he took them in.  His daughter wasn't the best  at housekeeping, so he would come over and clean up.  When she needed to go out of town, he came over and watched us.

He kept up the theatrical pursuits and even collaborated on a musical for his kids' school called "Bearin' Camp" (note the pun).

Reminiscences of Ronald Micci, Alfio Micci's Son

    First, I've attached a number of photographs of Dad, including an interview he did for the South Bergenite in Rutherford a year or two before he passed away [Ed.: see below].
    He was a very humble, self-effacing person, and many of the things I learned about him were only revealed later in his life.  He was rather secretive, would never have bragged about them and been forthcoming without being asked.
     He was born March 3, 1918, in Chicago Heights.  He and his mother attended the opera, but he was the only one in his family with musical talent.  His sister, Eda, was not musical.  His mother was a seamstress; his father was a factory worker.  His father was very rotund and remote and his English was still somewhat shaky in his 80s.  His mother (Rose Pirani—Pirani from the Pyrenees) was the sweetest, dearest woman, an absolutely wonderful cook, and remained active well into her old age.  I believe his father hailed from Ancona on the Adriatic, albeit my own 23andMe profile identified about half a dozen Italian areas of origin.
     My father began violin studies at the age of eleven, and within two years he was giving recitals.
     He was the valedictorian of his high school class (Bloom Township High School), earned a full scholarship to the Eastman School of Music.  I understand he was also offered a scholarship in drama to a college in Illinois, though I don't know any of the particulars of his dramatic background in high school.  I know there is a plaque in his high school celebrating notable Bloom High graduates.  The only reason I know this is that a woman accosted me at his wake, said she had gone to his school with him, and that such a plaque existed.
    He was also valedictorian of his Eastman class.  And he earned a master's degree from Eastman as well.  (I actually still have his thesis somewhere in the closet.)

Honorary Music Symphony at Eastman,
1940 (image courtesy of Ronald Micci)

    He was concertmaster of the Eastman School Symphony Orchestra (this I'm gleaning from his college yearbook photos, attached) and of the Little Symphony.

Eastman School yearbook, 1940 (image courtesy of
Ronald Micci)

Eastman School Symphony Orchestra, 1941 (image courtesy
of Ronald Micci)

    He also played with the Rochester Philharmonic, a paid gig.  (Doriot Anthony, who later became the first flutist with the Boston Symphony, is also somewhere in the photo.  They knew each other from Eastman.  Ironically, they were both from Illinois but she was a few years younger, so they had not crossed paths before.)

Alfio and Martha Micci (image
courtesy of Ronald Micci)

Alfio and Martha Micci's wedding day (image courtesy of
Ronald Micci)

Alfio and Martha Micci (images courtesy of Ronald Micci)

    During the war he was a soloist with the Navy Band in Washington, D.C.
    He came to New York, played with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, then auditioned for the New York Philharmonic.  There were two openings, and about two hundred people auditioned for them.  He spent thirty-one years with the Philharmonic, including the Bernstein years, and rose to the third stand of the first violins.  (Bernstein complimented him at some point on his sight-reading ability.  I only know this through my mother.)

    After he retired, he played for several jingle companies in Manhattan, and on occasional movie scores.  (Indeed, my brother and I still receive a very small amount of yearly royalties from his movie gigs from the Film Musicians Union in California.)
    Yes, he had a great passion for solving and constructing crossword puzzles.  Up until a few days before he passed away, he was still sitting upright in bed with a little clipboard solving them.  His mind, I'm happy to say, was very sharp up until the end.
     He was really a dear person, and every time I would criticize something or someone, he would retort, "He only says nice things about you."
     My father played a Joseph Gagliano violin (Naples 1784).

Images courtesy of Ronald Micci and South Bergenite.

Thanks so much again, Christian, for contacting me about your grandfather and shedding new light on his life and thoughts.  And thanks so much too, Ron, for your illuminating reminiscences and photos of your father's amazing life!

Reminiscences of Constructor Fred Duda by Al Weeks, Second Litzing Contest Under Way, Over 6,600 (and in 1975!)

This week I'm delighted to present a profile of pre-Shortzian constructor Fred Duda written by his longtime friend Al Weeks.  A few weeks ago Al's wonderful reminiscences of Alfio Micci appeared here; if you haven't read his piece, be sure to check it out.  According to my (still incomplete) records, Fred published two crosswords in The New York Times when Eugene T. Maleska was editor, the first on October 18, 1986, and the second on November 8, 1986.

Fred Duda (1937–2012), Puzzle Constructor

by Albert L . Weeks

          When one of Fred's crosswords was first published in a large paperback collection of crosswords, I was the person who brought this event to his attention.  The puzzle, titled "Star Fare," No. 144, was  published in Simon & Schuster's Super Crossword Book (edited by Maleska and Samson, 1992).  The puzzle—from 1-Across to 131-Down—was one of his best.  One clue:  "Fare for Miss Duke?"  Solution:  "Pattycakes."

          That was one book of crosswords containing a Duda puzzle.  But I remembered that Fred had appeared in other puzzle anthologies—pardon me, constructors, anas.  In one of those, under the editorship of Margaret Farrar, Fred punned on movie titles.  "To Catch a Thief" became for Fred "To Catch a Fief," a medieval, pre-Hitchcock version.

          The creator of such gems was born in semirural New Jersey into a first-generation Polish family.  He was the only offspring to go to college (at his expense—he worked his way through) and to receive a graduate M.A. degree (in Library Science).  From then on, for him it was per aspera ad astra.  Fred wound up heading personnel management for one of the world's largest libraries, Butler, at Columbia University.  He was there in the roaring 'Sixties when radical students broke up classes and wrecked furniture and books.  Calm, cool, and collected, Fred was one of those administrators on the chaotic campus who personally helped to calm things down—from the very steps of the library.  Eventually students returned to their classes and took out books as things returned to normal.  Amid the mayhem, people recalled how Fred had been so instrumental at Butler in protecting all the collections.  He didn't get much sleep in those days.

          In the 55 years we were friends, I saw that in his spare time Fred had numerous hobbies.  His favorite—besides sailing his Sunfish during summers on Nantucket Sound or catching up on the latest Broadway shows as a theatergoer—was solving, and eventually creating, large-size crosswords.  Needless to say, his greatest diversion as a solver came on Sundays.  This was when he tackled The New York Times Magazine's premium challenge.  The last Across grid number might run over 130.

         A great inspiration to Fred in transitioning into construction was his friendship with Alfio Micci.  Fred and Alfio would put their heads together during summers on Nantucket, as well as during winters in Nokomis, Florida, where Alfio and his wife, Martha, vacationed near Fred's own retirement town of Sarasota.  All four of us became close friends (please see the previous portrait of Alfio Micci).  On a swatch of Nantucket sand, known quaintly as "Teacher's Beach," Fred and Alfio would deeply discuss puzzle construction.  Al soon realized that Fred had tremendous talent with crosswords.  Like Diaghilev promoting Nijinsky in the field of ballet, Alfio eagerly lent Fred a hand in taking the publishing route for his crosswords, which was no easy achievement.  Somewhat later, Fred took the plunge on his own.  His puzzle was accepted and published in the Times.  He also published two books, one called Bib-Triv, the other a weighty text on library administration that became a college textbook standby.

          Fred, at 75 years of age, passed away from lung cancer last September.  I began to wonder why I had only one of his puzzles on my bookshelf.  Too, none showed up in his own bookcases.  Fred was a very modest person.  He made no attempt to collect his puzzles.  His creations were difficult to construct—I myself am capable of constructing only mini-puzzles for a local condo association—and were unique in their wit and inventiveness.  They certainly deserved a honored place on the constructor's bookshelf.  I wanted to recall them for memory's sake and to share them with his friends who hadn't known about Fred's "sideline."

          So last fall I went searching online.  Via a certain cue in Google, up came the URL for one David Steinberg.  Not knowing who he was, I soon discovered that he knew a lot about crosswords and was himself a talented constructor.  Moreover, he eagerly volunteered to track down any and all Frederick Duda puzzles.  Such generosity by a stranger online!  Later I was surprised and pleased to find out that this helpful, skillful person was a "mere" 16-year-old "stripling," as we used to say (an understatement—young Steinberg is a virtual prodigy).  David found a couple of Duda puzzles; thanks to him, I now have a sort of memorial to Fred in the form of these unique creations.

          Maybe Fred can look down from heaven and be permitted a show of temperate pride over his timeless achievements here below.

Thanks so much again, Al, for this lovely tribute to Fred.

As we continue our litzing, more and more gems like the ones Fred and Alfio constructed are coming to light.  The second litzing contest is already well under way and, like the first contest, has significantly increased the rate at which litzed puzzles are coming in!  This morning Mark Diehl put us over 6,600 on the litzing thermometer, as well as into 1975 with the puzzles being sent out for litzing!  As I write this, we're at 6,621 puzzles—that's 423 more than the 6,198 we started with on January 1!  Our goal is 8,113 litzed puzzles by the end of February, so we're definitely on track to achieve that.  If you haven't ever litzed and would like to try it out, contact me and I'll send you some puzzles—we always need more litzers!  If you have already litzed but have been taking a break for a while, now would be a great time to litz another batch, especially since when you litz one full week, you become eligible for a year's subscription (or renewal) to XWord Info!  More information about the contest can be seen on the Contest Totals page.  Thanks again, everybody!

Today's featured puzzle, which was edited by Will Weng, was constructed by Sidney L. Robbins.  It was originally published on February 25, 1977, and was recently litzed by Jeffrey Krasnick.  Sidney published at least 150 crosswords under Weng, Maleska, and Shortz and was renowned for his far-from-ordinary Monday and Tuesday puzzles.  One unique feature common to many of his constructions (particularly the pre-Shortzian ones) was a nonthematic 15-letter entry running down the center of the grid.  For example, his puzzle published on September 17, 1990, included the theme entries HAIR RAISER, SCISSORING, CLIP JOINTS, and BARBERSHOP.  DISSATISFACTION, a completely unrelated 15-letter entry, ran down the center of the grid, crossing two of the theme entries.

This fascinating Sidney L. Robbins construction, published just two days before Eugene T. Maleska became editor, might have been a humorous tribute to Will Weng but could simply have been a retirement-related theme.  1-Across is WILL, and its symmetrical counterpart is WEND, which is only one letter different from WENG.  The constructor probably chose not to use WENG, since the only way to clue it would have been to reference Will himself, which this puzzle artfully avoids doing.  (WILL is clued as "Where there's a ___ . . . .")  The long theme entries and their clues include SIGNS OF SENILITY ("Infirmity, forgetfulness, etc."), RETIREMENT PARTY ("Traditional send-off"), PARTING PRESENTS ("Gold watches for departing war-horses"), and FAREWELL ADDRESS ("Speech of a sort").  There are several other entries in the fill that might also be thematic:  QUIT, REFORM, WISE, and EXIT.  Perhaps these are merely coincidences, though.  Nevertheless, this is a very historically significant pre-Shortzian puzzle; the answer grid (with highlighted theme entries) can be seen below:

Today I am featuring two bizarre pre-Shortzian entries that appeared in the same puzzle.  The puzzle, a product of master constructor Jordan S. Lasher, was originally published on June 28, 1977, and was recently litzed by master litzer Mark Diehl.  The first entry, TU-WHIT TU-WHOO, was clued as "Owl sounds"; the second entry, HASENPFEFFER, was clued as "Rabbit stew."  Not surprisingly, neither of these entries has been reused in a Shortz-era New York Times puzzle, though the Ginsberg database does show that HASENPFEFFER was used in a CrosSynergy puzzle from 2002.  TU-WHIT TU-WHOO stood out to me the most; I was shocked to discover that this entry is actually in Webster's, defined as "the cry of an owl"!  Webster goes on to note that the origin of the entry was "imitative" and that it was first introduced into our language around 1595.  Webster defines hasenpfeffer as "a highly seasoned stew made of marinated rabbit meat."  It comes from the German words hase (meaning "hare") and pfeffer (meaning "pepper") and was first introduced into our language around 1892.  Yuck!  Below are pictures of an owl and of hasenpfeffer:

Image courtesy of Birds Guide.

Image courtesy of Random Cravings.

Over 6,000, Reminiscences of Alfio Micci by Al Weeks, Sneak Peek

I'm delighted to report that we've now litzed more than 6,000 puzzles—a major milestone on the litzing thermometer!  Three days ago a batch of puzzles from litzer Alex Vratsanos put us at 6,001, and now we're rapidly approaching 7,000.  Great job, everybody!

Today I have something very special from Al Weeks, a longtime close friend of pre-Shortzian constructors Frederick Duda and Alfio Micci.  Al, who constructs crosswords himself as a hobby, is a New York University professor emeritus, author of numerous books on Soviet political history, and frequently published writer of many articles, op-eds, and book reviews in Newsweek, The New York Times, The Christian Science Monitor, and other publications.

Al Weeks

Al was kind enough to write down his reminiscences of the amazingly creative and prolific Alfio Micci.  According to my (still incomplete) database, Alfio Micci published 91 puzzles under pre-Shortzian editors; XWord Info records indicate that he also published 11 under Will Shortz, yielding a grand total of 102+ New York Times puzzles!  I hope you enjoy Al Weeks's piece as much as I did.

Alfio Micci

In Memory of Alfio Micci:  Expert Crossword Puzzle Constructor

by Albert L. Weeks

           Al for many years played in the First Violin Section of the New York Philharmonic.  This means he performed under the batons of the likes of Stokowski, Toscanini, Stravinsky, Bernstein, et al.  Anecdotes about his experiences working with these eccentric, talented leaders would fill volumes.

            Whenever he and his wife, Martha, also a musician, visited me in my condo here in Florida, they would bring along Bach scores that included continuo accompaniment parts for Martha to play on my piano to Al's soloing.  Al knew how much I loved Bach, so he and Martha always performed the Master's music right in my living room.  Sometimes over home-cooked spaghetti with clam sauce, he and Martha performed for friends in their own home.

           I mention this in the context of Al's talent in constructing (and, of course, solving) crossword puzzles.  Psychologists and common sense tell us that skill in music is related to skill in the use of words.  Too, crossword construction is, like music, an art.  Al Micci had that talent in spades, or, as in music, in G sharp minor.

          I once asked him how he went about inventing his puzzles; so many of Al Micci's creations are preserved in puzzle books under various editors.  He told me he always started with a "theme."  Around this motif, he would build his puzzle.  To him, it was something like a Tchaikovsky symphony.  A theme would blossom in his mind, like the opening, say, of Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony.  That would in turn uncork all sorts of related clues.  He once told me:  "I had a lot of time on the road, you know.  We were playing concerts almost as often away from Carnegie Hall as in it.  A lonely, out-of-town hotel room was to me like the reading room of a library.  Your mind automatically turned to thinking and creation."  So, on with the yellow pad and the pen.

            I gathered that Al had no problem developing his Acrosses and Downs.  For him, the theme as well as the required words seemed to fill the blanks as easily as his violin produced the complexities of, say, Bach's A minor concerto.  Not surprisingly, many of Al's clues were related to music—specifically, to opera and to classic musical comedy.  It was not unusual for a Micci puzzle to include some lines from Cole Porter, Rogers and Hammerstein,  or Jerome Kern—or, in Italian, words from Puccini or Verdi.  Micci's being Italian meant that such solutions related to Italian opera came to his mind spontaneously.

           All this reminds me of the unique value, in my opinion, of Alfio Micci's puzzles.  They were always interesting and fun to figure out.  It was as though the constructor liked and respected his solvers.  Al's puzzles were never obscure or taxing.  He was never trying to stump the solver as if to say, "See!  I foxed you!"  As a constructor—unlike a "boa" constructor—Al was for lending enjoyment to solvers' toils, not tying them up in knots (pace some of today's end-of-the-week New York Times Gordian knot puzzles).

          Al would frankly complain to intimates about certain unnamed puzzle editors whom he thought were too much interested in frustrating solvers than in amusing them.

          "Amusing" to Alfio Micci also meant, in a sense, educating solvers and tweaking their minds.  Al would actually instruct people via his puzzles.  He would remind them of literature, music, and public affairs that he thought they might want to recall and run over in their minds.

            He knew that puzzle solvers would rather relive what the words in the grid stand for.  The words are not mere pen scratches, latter-day "runes," or the result of laborious Google searches for the name of a rock group "whose No. 1 song is . . . ?"  

            I mean, who cares?

                                                  

Thanks so much again, Al, for this lovely tribute to Alfio Micci.

And now for the sneak peek:  Next week there will be an end-of-year surprise—a fascinating interview with another legendary pre-Shortzian constructor!  Another litzing contest, with new prizes and a different award structure, will be held in Jaunary; later in 2013, I plan to construct a 23x metapuzzle related to the Maleska-edited New York Times crosswords.  If this metapuzzle is a success, I may construct Will Weng and Margaret Farrar metapuzzles as well.  We'll have to see what 2013 has in store for us. . . .

I've selected one of Alfio Micci's finest pre-Shortzian puzzles to feature today, "Verbal Hi-Jinks."  "Verbal Hi-Jinks" was originally published on November 16, 1980, and was litzed by Barry Haldiman (or one of his former litzers).  It features eight symmetrically interlocking theme entries that must literally be inferred from their clues.  For example, the clue "WORL" leads to WORLD WITHOUT END [WORLD minus its end, "D"].  Other brilliant theme clues include "1,000,1000" for ONE IN A MILLION, the word "APPLAUSE" on top of a fraction bar on top of a picture of a punching fist for HAND OVER FIST, and

DE  DE
AL  AL

for "SQUARE DEALS."  The nonthematic fill is solid and includes many good entries that rarely appear in crosswords, such as CUSTARDS and COWERED.  Overall, this is a phenomenal puzzle (though a nightmare for typesetters and litzers!).  The answer grid (with highlighted theme entries) can be seen below:

For the clue of the day I decided to count just how many music-related clue/entry pairs Alfio Micci included in the featured puzzle:

1. "___ Fideles": ADESTE
2. Double quartet: OCTET
3. "___ Alone" (Romburg): ONE
4. Stradivari's teacher: AMATI
5. Composer of "Comus": ARNE
6. "Stormy Weather" composer: ARLEN

The six music-related clues almost form a mini-theme of their own!  Usually puzzles without music-related themes have one or two clues related to music, so having six of them in one puzzle is amazing.  Bravo, Alfio!  Below is a picture of an AMATI violin:

Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.