Tom Forman: The Man who Saved the Music by "A Pupil"
"The reward, for him, was the work itself."
“Here/now” - this moment at the razor’s edge, were words spoken by a man who strove to be a witness to his own life and who by his example helped others to be present to theirs. An exceptional man, yes he was, clad in khaki shirt, khaki pants and khaki multi-pocketed vest, the look of someone fresh from safari. This look took on new meaning when one glanced at his eyes - filled with kindness and an unusual alertness.
His name was Thomas Forman, born in Nottingham, England,1910. I believe his family had something to do with one of the large English newspapers. His father died when he was only a child, and he had one brother, William. Asking himself the question, “What should I do with my life?” he decided to walk around the world. Soon after this decision, he became ill. It was his physician who stopped his trek, not for medical reasons, but by introducing him to P. D. Ouspensky, who responded to Tom’s questions in such a way that he stayed on to study with him. During WWII he served with British Intelligence and worked under Bill Stephenson - the man called “Intrepid.” After the war, he settled in the States and helped Mme. Ouspensky maintain a large estate. Having become a student of Gurdjieff, he spent the rest of his life in the service of what is called simply - the Work.
My first meeting with him showed that one’s deepest wish can become a reality. This rather awe-inspiring meeting created many questions - some profound, some laughable. He told me "I'm a farmer." Where’s the farm? He was living in an apartment in the middle of New York City. And what an apartment it was! There were oriental rugs on the floor and on top of them more orientals. Books, pipes, papers, pictures, maps; everything looked as if it were just about to fall - objects seemed to be held in some precarious balance. He had beautiful antique furniture, but what caught my attention were some small chairs tied at the bottom with string. For years I wondered, “When is he going to take the string off the chairs?” His windows were full of light and growing herbs and on the floor - pails of dirt. Why would someone need so much dirt? Needless to say his apartment was an enigma to me. And in the midst of all this he began talking to me or to a group of people in such a way that he enlivened the room, the people, himself, everything.
He was a true scholar, particularly with music and words. Although a fine poet, it was not just poetry which fascinated him, but the nuts and bolts of language - words: their etymology and meaning. This led naturally to his work as an editor of the American Heritage Dictionary.
His other passion, music, led him to an intense study of sound and its effect.