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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.