In 1978 Paxman published a pamphlet by their then lead designer, Richard Merewether, explaining

the horn in practical and acoustical terms. It contained ideas and concepts which have not been
published in any other book on the horn. The 40 page pamphlet “The horn, the horn” has long been
out of print, and dog-eared copies are passed around by enthusiasts, or illegally on the internet in
pdf format. There was a plan to publish a 40th anniversary edition this year, but it proved impossible
to reach agreement with the copyright holder and the project was shelved. The re-issue was to
include tributes by players whom Dick had influenced, together with a short biography. Rather than
let them go to waste, we publish them here, beginning with BHS Historian, Tony Catterick’s note on
Dick’s life:

RICHARD ALWORTH MEREWETHER was born on 17 September 1925 in Sydney, Australia. He was born
into a family who had made a fortune in the coal industry and was based in Newcastle, north of
Sydney. His father was an architect, there was a younger brother John and from an early age Richard
was always known as Dick. As a child he learnt the piano and sang in the local church choir. He
attended Sydney Church of England Grammar School, where he started to play the horn, studying at
school with Guido Gervasone, 3rd Horn of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. This man was of Italian
extraction and gave Dick a Rampone and Cazzani double horn to use, a horn which Dick liked very
much.

Having felt a strong affinity with the horn, he was able to go and study the horn at Sydney
Conservatorium of Music, always referred to as 'the Con', with Alan Mann, late Principal Horn of the
Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Dick’s father wanted him to go to university to study law, which caused
friction between the two men. Dick won the day by obtaining a year’s contract with The Theatre
Royal in Sydney, playing the operas of Gilbert and Sullivan, which finally proved to his father he could
earn a living as a musician. Throughout his life Dick always enjoyed these gems, even though the
horn parts have a minor role to play.

Still in his teens, Dick won the position of 2nd Horn in the SSO. in 1944 aged 19. He stayed in this
orchestra until 1950, when several colleagues, including his great friend, Charles Gregory, the SSO’s
British Principal Horn, who had been Sir Thomas Beecham’s Principal Horn in the London
Philharmonic Orchestra for many years. Gregory suggested Dick might try advancing his horn playing
horizons by emigrating to London, which appealed to him.

Dick handed in his notice, and, in 1950, travelled halfway across the world by boat and disembarked at
Tilbury Docks for a new life in the Mother Country. Dick set to work to gain employment and won the
3rd Horn position of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra where he stayed until 1953. He then
moved to be 3rd Horn in what was then called (until a name change in 1954) the Bournemouth
Municipal Orchestra.

By 1955 a return to the then thriving freelance musical life in London was very tempting for Dick, so
he began his latter playing years back in the capital. He was a very successful and useful extra with
all the major UK orchestras and worked with all the famous conductors and soloists of the late
1950's.

Dick also built up a fine reputation as a high horn player, specializing in the extreme top register of
the instrument, which required great stamina, control, and ability that others understandably
weren't so keen to take on!

From 21 April 1960, Dick was 1st Horn of the London West End production at the London Coliseum,
of 'The Most Happy Fella', for a run of 288 performances.

With his curiosity about all things to do with the design and improvement of the horn, Dick had
already 'experimented' and joined Paxman Horns in London in 1959 as a designer. This was a
connection which was clearly meant to happen; it was like a successful marriage, with all the
astonishing designs and ideas that flowed from Dick's amazing intelligence and the Paxman team.
 Due to serious problems with Dick's eyesight, he had to make the big decision in 1971, to stop his
playing career and concentrate on his work with Paxman. Their workforce at that time especially,
was formidable and respected worldwide, with Dick as their genius driving force behind so many
new and innovative designs, both for horns and Wagner Tubas.

Dick was an author of several published important articles on the horn. His book, 'The Horn,The
Horn…' published by Paxman in 1978, is rightly regarded as a classic. He also wrote letters to the
International Horn Society magazine, The Horn Call. He was at one time a member of the IHS
Advisory Council and of the British Horn Society. He was especially active with both these
organisations on behalf of the sales team of Paxman Horns, alongside Sales Manager, Willi Watson.

Physically big, tall, generous of spirit with masses of wavy white hair, smartly dressed and always a
beaming smile, it is no surprise Dick’s nickname was ‘Lionheart’.

I had the great pleasure of knowing Dick, who was much liked and respected, and it was a great
shock to all the horn world when he died in a terrible accident in London on 5 December 1985, aged
only 60.

TONY CATTERICK

On Dicko

After 32 years as principal horn of the London Symphony Orchestra, I can look back on a long and
wonderful career with pride and joy. During the hours of counting endless bars rest, my mind often
looks back and tries to identify the defining moments of my life.
You’ll hear words written by people far more qualified than me about the wonderful Richard
Merewether.
Yes, he was probably one of the greatest Horn designers ever and played a major part in establishing
Paxman Horns.
Yes he had a marvellous intellect and great humanity, etc, etc, but I’d just like to say “thank you, Dicko.
Thank you for being the first person who really believed in me.. You nurtured, encouraged and
provided the moral support I needed and packed me off to Germany to join the Munich Philharmonic.
Meeting you and the Paxman team (notably Willi Watson) was one of the defining moments of my life.
The knowledge about the inner workings of the Horn that you passed on I’ve never forgotten; I
continue to berate my students, as you berated me, about the importance of the correct right-hand
position.
The famous Merewether system remains fundamental in the continuing success of Paxman Horns, and
your designs for descant and triple horns were truly ground-breaking. The horn playing world remains
indebted to your genius.”
Tim Jones, CEO, Paxman

My very first impressions of Richard Merewether ‘Dicko’ as he was fondly called, was one of wonder
and awe. He appeared to me to be something akin to what one would imagine a proverbial ‘mad
professor’ to be – somewhat dishevelled in dress and sporting wild, frizzy grey hair, but more to the
point, offering support, encouragement, and words of wisdom and expertise that I will never forget.

It was in the early 70’s, at the Paxman Horn shop in London’s Chinatown, where I first met Dicko, the
Paxman workforce, and especially Willi Watson, who incidentally as an ex-Royal Marines Bandsman,
was a vital encouraging force in helping me leave the Royal Marines and join the profession. This has
not been something I had considered up to that point actually, or indeed ever thought I’d be good
enough to do: leaving the security and comradeship of the Services for the unpredictable,
challenging, and cut-throat orchestral world outside was a decision not to be taken lightly.
Dicko and Willi would put me through my paces by getting me to play solos and passages from the
repertoire (relatively unknown to me then), offering encouragement with the words: ‘come on, you
can do it’, or more latterly, just “GO ON!”. I was quite a shy person then I suppose, but with their
‘encouragement’ (read cajoling and bullying) I began to believe in myself as a player.

These scenes would repeat themselves often late at night back in the shop after several pints in the
pub around the corner! They once sent me away to learn ‘Le Basque’, by Marin Marais, as played by
Dennis Brain on an early recording by him (in which he introduced the encore as “one of the shortest
pieces I know”.)

On coming back a week or so later I played it to Dicko and Willi, and had them rolling around with
laughter and astonishment, which was rather confusing for me at the time. They explained that I had
inadvertently learnt it a semitone higher than written (in Db as opposed to C) because of the
sharpness of the recording! Thanks guys!

So, under the watchful eye of Willi and Dicko I eventually left the Marines and went to the Royal
Academy of Music under Ifor James.

During the succeeding few years with support from Dicko, Willi and Paxman, I would get my first
opportunities to perform on the big stage, then under the guise of ‘demonstrator’ for Paxman horns,
where I would just sit in the Paxman display booth playing silly things, once even hidden behind the
banners (I told you I was shy back then!)

This was at the 1976 1st International Brass Congress in Montreux, Switzerland. Some sly juggling of
the printed programme by Barry Tuckwell (using his powers as IHS President), Dicko and Willi, saw
me thrust on stage to play a quartet arrangement of Bach's B minor Badinerie, which the unlikely
Stage Manager, Dale Clevenger of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, insisted we played twice. The
second time was with our backs to the audience to allay any suspicion that the first time had been a
speeded-up tape recording!

Dicko would offer priceless words of wisdom, sometimes whispered so as not to be overheard, as
what he was saying often flew in the face of normal thinking of the time. For example, the hand-
stopping ‘belief’: at that time, and astonishingly for many years after this, it was firmly believed that
stopping the horn shortened the instrument, which in turn pushed it up a semitone. Dicko argued:
“actually, the hand flattens the note (to a stopped note) a semitone above the harmonic below”. It
was something that stuck with me, and actually forms the basis of a hand-stopping video I posted on
YouTube recently explaining this in more detail.

Another wonderful insight also concerned the role of the hand in the bell of the instrument; this time
its influence on the security in the upper register. Again, I use this priceless snippet of acoustical
knowledge in my lectures today, demonstrating it exactly the same way Dicko did to me back then.

Frank Lloyd

Dicko, showing his astonishing acoustical knowledge, once explained to me how it was impossible to
have a long lead-pipe on a descant horn with only one thumb valve – the length of tubing availing is
so critical, that if you take so much in the lead-pipe you must have a double-throw valve (like on the
modern E.Schmid descant for instance) for it to work. The only way for it to work with a single valve is
like on a Paxman model 40 descant horn, where the lead-pipe is very short to enable the extra tubing
to allow this one thumb-valve design.
This is why the Paxman instruments designs from that era have ‘Merewether system’ engraved on
them. His acoustical knowledge, without the help of any modern technology or computers was
astonishing at the time.
 Dicko was a superb and knowledgeable musician and I was hugely flattered when he wrote two
cadenzas for the Mozart horn concertos which I recorded with Richard Hickox and the Northern
Sinfonia. He also once became my unofficial accompanist at an International Horn Society
Symposium one year, when we were called to ‘save the day’ after a particularly bad performance by
someone. Now Dicko was no pianist, which led to an hilarious scene of me literally cracking up on
stage after a particularly disastrous effort by Dicko to play the few bars bridging music in the middle
of Marin Marais’ Le Basque! After getting myself up off the floor the most difficult thing then was not
playing the fast section, but to stop laughing at the same time! Memories like this still bring a smile to
my face, and epitomise the fun years touring and appearing at the IHS Symposia, always
accompanied by Paxmans and the ‘gang’, with the presence of Dicko and his brilliant mind always an
inspiration and an integral part of the merrymaking that accompanied those Workshops. This was all
to be cut so sadly short on Dicko’s untimely passing in 1985. Things would never be the same again..

Impressions
I can’t really add very much to the astute observations made by my colleagues about Dick’s status as an
undoubted genius.All I can do is recount a few specific memories of his astonishing perceptiveness, his
unfailing courtesy and – at times – his wicked sense of humour.
My first ever meeting with Dick must have been in about 1964-1965 when I was a student of Sydney
Coulston at the old Royal Manchester College of Music, and struggling with my old Alexander 103.
Arriving off the Manchester train in London I went immediately to the Paxman shop in Gerrard Street. I
was greeted in a very friendly manner by a very tall man with white hair and thick glasses (Dick). “How
may I help you?” I replied “I can’t seem to play this horn well or even at all in the high register”.. Dick
looked at my horn and started to chuckle… I was then a bit disconcerted! “I can fix that in 10 seconds”
he said., “now close your eyes while I make two simple adjustments”. After about 10 seconds he put
the horn back into my hands, saying “now play some high notes, please”.
To say that I was astonished was an understatement. Suddenly, what had been a somewhat blurred
area of almost unattainable pitches had become neat, clear and focussed. Almost unbelieving, I asked
Dick “what did you do?” “I fully pushed in the main slide” ( it had been pulled out about 5 centimetres)
and pulled out the Bb slide slightly” (it had been fully pushed in).
Dick’s unerring judgement - that the wrongly pulled main slide’s gross enlargement of the horn’s
cylindrical bore, after only about 18 inches of leadpipe, had deprived the horn of a focussed high
register had been proved demonstrably. I was so very grateful to him (and still am).
My next reliable memory of Dick, and now his sense of humour, was nearly 20 years later, when I was
sitting with him and Mike Thompson in the pub after the 1981 BHS Festival. Mike and I had played the
Beethoven Sextet Op. 81b for 2 horns and string quartet in the final concert. Dick began
“congratulations, Mike for your superb playing of the 1st horn part”, then “congratulations, Tony, on
your sympathetic togetherness with Mike and your accurate, athletic realisation of the 2nd part” (but
there came sting): “BUT, what instrument were you playing?” Hmmm… (stunned silence from Mike and
myself…) I tentatively asked “what do you think?” Dick retorted “well, it was definitely a brass
instrument, very musically played, that could have been a euphonium, tenor horn, Wagner tuba,
bombardon or even a bass tuba’’
Undeterred, but shocked, I replied, “my usual Conn 8D”. At this point Dick said “I implore you to change
to a ‘MEDIUM’ horn ASAP, before you travel any further up that ‘tonal cul-de-sac’” (but at this point he
was winking at Mike).
My last memory of Dick was 4 years later, in 1985, when he travelled hundreds of miles to hear a
superb recital in Yorkshire by Tim Jones, accompanied by me on the piano. I will always remember him
being very happy and full of perceptive, courteous praise for what he had just heard. Only a few weeks
later he tragically missed his footing when crossing a railway line, and the world of horn playing and
players became immeasurably poorer.
Tony Halstead

Memories
In the 1960’s, when most of my school friends were trawling the shops of Carnaby Street on
Saturdays, I would regularly head on to Paxman’s shop in Gerrard Street, right in the middle of
Chinatown. Sometimes I might buy some valve oil, but mostly I would just try out horns and
mouthpieces. In addition to Mr Paxman himself, there was also a tall, white haired gentleman in the
shop on many occasions. I learned that his name was Richard Merewether.

Over the years, Dick, as he was always known, became a friend, mentor, and colleague. He was
unfailingly generous and supportive towards young players, and his enthusiasm for music was
inspirational. By the time I was a student at the Academy, my visits to Paxman’s were more frequent,
and I finally became the proud owner of one of their horns; the first of many.

Willi Watson had joined the Paxman team, transforming their profile both in the UK, and
internationally, and around this time, they moved to their magnificent premises in Long Acre.

As a young professional, I came to appreciate Dick’s extraordinary understanding and knowledge of

the horn; musically, historically, and scientifically. I remember a conversation I had with Dick in the
late 1970’s or possibly early 80’s; it was that significant for me. I had bought one of the new Paxman
hand horns. I was rather thrilled that it had the serial number 001; I believe Tony Halstead had 002,
and a prototype 000 came to light quite recently. (I wonder who had 007.)

Dick had already given me his thoughts about hand position in the bell, and my exploration of the
hand horn had made me realise how totally correct he was. I hadn’t at this stage realised that Dick
did tend to be absolutely right about pretty much everything. I came into the shop one day with
what I thought was a new discovery all of my very own, and proceeded to explain to Dick, my theory
of how hand stopping worked. He listened patiently to me, and finally said “Yes, that’s right; have
you read my book?” This was “The horn, the horn.” I had in fact glanced at it, but seeing that the first
couple of chapters dealt with matters such as different model options and valve maintenance, I had
rather arrogantly not bothered to read on. He gave me a copy, and gently suggested that I read the
chapters on the physics of the horn. I had failed my physics exams at school, so I wasn’t keen, but I
did as instructed. Although some of it was initially over my head, and difficult to retain, it was
completely revelatory. I found myself thinking “How have I been playing the horn without knowing
this stuff?”

I learned later that Dick too had done badly with physics while at school, but the similarity ended
there. He was completely self-taught; combining a rigorous scientific approach, with an uncanny
instinct for what the truth might be. I subsequently had the chance to talk with several professional
physicists about Dick’s explanations of the horn’s mysteries, and they were in total agreement with
them.

Dick wasn’t just someone with a great intellect; he also had great humanity. I confided in him once,
quite early in my career, that I had real doubts about whether I could cope with the pressure of being
a horn player; this after a performance of Strauss 1 that had not gone well, and had felt really
stressful. His response was to tell me of a very famous horn player who had confided a very similar
story, and similar doubts, at the beginning of his career. I listened, and finally said to Dick that the
thought of someone I admired as much as this player having difficulties and suffering self-doubt, but
coming through it, and playing so beautifully, was incredibly helpful and encouraging.
“I know,” said Dick, “that’s why I told you.”
Mike Thompson