Master of Arts

By Sharon Donovan
Photography by Will Crocker

A symphony of contradictions: He doesn't look much like a musician--the hands are rather large, tipped with thick fingers, not the nimble digits one might think necessary to conquer a delicate ancient instrument. Although a college professor, he doesn't behave much like one--in fact, he assigns concerts and museum tours in lieu of the traditional "homework." Magician? A pack of cards is an ever-ready accessory. There's more: linguist, historian, calligrapher. Milton G. Scheuermann Jr. [A '56] pursues each one of these endeavors with intensity and passion, as if each were his singular interest

If it is possible to get close these days to the 16th-century ideal, Scheuermann, 67, is a Renaissance man. On the academic front, his "day job" as an adjunct professor in the Tulane University School of Architecture and architectural historian and archivist at Dillard University places him squarely in the classroom, detailing for students the disciplines of graphics, 3-D representation, photography, calligraphy and first-year design. But his worlds revolve around such paradoxical galaxies as magic, art, music and on-stage performance. Not to mention being a hip radio DJ of early music.

His wide face is a map of soft creases that march into rigid crevices when he musters one of his frequent, broad smiles. The laugh that follows is downright mischievous. As to who enjoys the punchline more--the joker or the jokee--would be a hard call, but rest assured Milton G. Scheuermann is as amused as he is bemused.

There's no pigeonholing Scheuermann, no matter how much one might wrestle to tame a view of who he really is. While an early affinity for drawing lured him into architecture, that same affinity drove him to learn German--on his own. Then magic--on his own. Calligraphy--on his own. Building early musical instruments--on his own.

Accomplished in many realms, each one is fueled by two of what he considers life's most important building blocks: wonder and whimsy. Sure, he's intellectually agile, philosophically curious--but the quality he appreciates most is humor.

And students these days are operating in a deficit of that commodity, he believes. "They're too serious. Sometimes they act like stiff old fogies," he quips. "They're afraid to have fun. Most have no common sense--which you cannot teach. They're not nearly as imaginative as they should be--I'm never sure I get through to them.'"

While students today appear to be dedicated, he says their focus tends to be only on a particular niche of architecture and, for the most part, their interests seem to extend only so far as the grade in the course. "There is so much more to architecture," he says. "There's an interdisciplinary aspect to which literature and art all relate."

Scheuermann's remedy is to make assignments such as attending concerts in philharmonic halls and art openings in museums in order for the students to understand how the buildings relate to the music and art they were built to showcase.

If Scheuermann had his way, the students would be learning the material on their own, out of natural curiosity--in much the same way he has mastered most of his endeavors.

His own penchant for thinking outside the box and taking a non-conventional route dates back as least as far as when he was a youngster dutifully taking piano lessons in his native New Orleans. Once the eight free introductory lessons elapsed, his mother opted to try another teacher rather than stick with the predictable, droning one she feared could dampen the playful spirit of music.

She sought out a well-known professional musician who played at the Fountain Lounge in what was then the Roosevelt Hotel (now the Fairmont), who entertained luncheon and tea-time guests with popular tunes.

That energy fueled young Scheuermann's weekly piano lessons, too, as well as prompting mother-son excursions to hear the teacher play to an enthusiastic audience.

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