How sad to report that one of the brighs test stars of the flute universe has passed away at age 98—the wonderful and unique Doriot Anthony Dwyer, retired Principal Flute of the Boston Symphony.
I had the great honor and pleasure to work with the inimitable Doriot at Tanglewood many years ago, as well as in a few illuminating private lessons, and a red-carpet-rolled-out visit to the Powell Factory in Boston, where she helped me pick out the flute that, 27 years later, I still love and play.
Aside from my personal connection, she was a force to reckon with, musically and personally. A direct descendant of the American suffragette Susan B. Anthony, she too broke barriers, namely in winning (and holding for 38 years) a Principal position in a major U.S. orchestra. At that time, 1952, there were few women in the top orchestras, and none in a Principal position. Doriot (“DOH-ree-oh”) earned her job after preparing, she told me, “as if it were for a doctoral dissertation”, memorising the entire list and basically blowing away the competition.
As flutist of the B.S.O. she recorded innumerable works in recordings that are now considered recordings of reference. Her style of playing was uniquely vibrant, flexible, expressive and extremely powerful. The last time I heard her perform—the Concerto written for her by Ellen Taafe Zwillich, at an N.F.A. convention in Boston, AFTER her retirement—she walked onstage, last on a program of flute concertos, wearing a bright-pink, floor-length gown (she was actually tiny), planted her feet firmly, and…projected the hugest sound I ever heard into the entire hall.
(Do you even have to ask? Yes, she was a Powell Artist—performing on a Custom Platinum Powell.) What a woman, what a flutist, what a musician!
Indeed, her comment to a journalist after retiring from the B.S.O. was “now that I’m retired, I finally have time to practice!” And to record chamber music and concerto CDs, and to continue teaching.
She was fierce, in the best possible way, and she will be missed, but always remembered. Thank you, Doriot, for breaking through an important glass ceiling, and for all the artistry of your playing, for so many, many years. Now, finally, dear Doriot, rest in peace.
