The honour of delivering this, the First Alan Lessem Memorial Lecture at the very institution to which our lamented friend was so utterly devoted, fills me with a great deal of sadness as well as deep gratitude: sadness, because a quite extraordinary human being, in whom I sensed a kindred soul from the moment we first met more than a quarter of a century ago, will no longer be allowed to spread his many blessings among young and old, his family, students and colleagues, yet gratitude for the unique privilege of having known such a generous heart and such a persistently creative mind about as well as a teacher will ever know any younger man in his temporary academic care. Since, moreover, I came to value him also as a trusted friend in the course of ourclose association at the University of Illinois, I trust that I shall be permitted a few brief personal reminiscences of that truly remarkable individual, unquestionably the most brilliant of a host of superior graduate students who had the fortitude to subject themselves, at their considerable peril, to my merciless doctoral proddings. If Alan Lessem is certain to affect for a long time yet to come the thoughts, feelings and doings of all whose lives he touched in one capacity or another, it won't be so much on account of his vast knowledge and commensurate powers of communication, nor even his often uncanny insights, but rather, on account of his unfailing sense of justice, his absolute integrity, the courage of his convictions, strictly human qualities of which I caught a glimpse in the course of our very first encounter in a London hotel lobby. It was during my second Fulbright appointment in Israel, when I found myself in Britain on a fund raising mission for the new musicology department of the Hebrew University. The day before, my official host had mentioned a young Jewish musician from Rhodesia who had completed his studies at Cambridge and now looked forward to an academic career in Israel. And so we fixed an appointment with this decidedly intense, though outwardly very quiet, man who introduced himself as Alan Lessem and soon gave me all the good reasons for his ardent desire to live and work among the Jewish people in their national home. I was struck almost immediately by the affective quality of his plea which brought to mind that part of the daily Hebrew liturgy where the congregation pleads for the gift of understanding not in intellectual terms alone but be'ahava, in love. Even so, I felt conscience-bound to voice a note of caution. While his primary area of study had been musical composition, he wished to pursue musicological studies for his doctorate in a country with, for the time being, extremely limited music library holdings, not to speak of a barely started academic curriculum in the field of music generally. In the mid-sixties Israel hardly seemed the place for the kind of advanced historical research he had in mind. And, as for a teaching position, the budding department's future depended clearly on highly qualified faculty with experience and credentials well beyond Alan's M.A. But typically, he was not to be discouraged and soon taught at several non-university institutions in Israel before he and his lovely wife Evelyn decided to come to exchange TeI Aviv's mediterranean beaches for the cornfields of Illinois. The rest, as they say, is history. An outstanding fellowship student, teaching and research assistant, Alan enjoyed the respect and affection of all who got to know him during the few short years he spent with us. For he did his course work faster than anyone else and completed his exhaustive dissertation on the structural interpenetration of music and poetry in Arnold Schoenberg's predodecaphonic works in record time. Published with equally little delay not only in the United States but also abroad in Italian translation, that pioneering study has lost none of its comprehensive value for anyone hoping to gain a better understanding of the composer's complex creative world. …