Father and son share a deep love for music
Opera bassoonist has achieved dream of playing alongside dad
The best Father’s Day for Rufus Olivier Jr. was in 2011, when he and his son, Rufus David Olivier, sat through 5½ hours of “Gotterdammerung” from “The Ring of the Nibelung” at the War Memorial Opera House.
It was hot and stuffy under a low ceiling as they sat shoulder to shoulder in the back row. Back row of the orchestra pit, that is.
Olivier Jr., 62, is first bassoon in the San Francisco Opera Orchestra. First, the father taught his son how to play the unusual, bong-shaped instrument. Then, in the ultimate form of flattery, the son rose to the position of second bassoon so that he and his father could sit close enough to share sheet music during concerts.
“A lot of people say my dad is a genius on the bassoon,” said Rufus David, 33. “I can’t disagree with that. But I have to add that my dad has been the hardest worker in the room for his entire career.”
Sons like to brag about their fathers, but Rufus David’s claim sounds accurate, given where his father started, which was in Watts, in South Central Los Angeles. The smog was bad. “I didn’t know there were mountains,” he said. The riots of 1965 were worse. He was 9 and he’d hear the gunfire and hit the floor whether he was inside or out.
“I always wanted to play the bassoon because of my dad.”
Rufus David Olivier, bassoonist and police officer who patrols the beat including the Opera House
When the tanks came through Watts, his own father, Rufus Sr., had tank stories to tell. He’d fought with the 92nd Infantry Division, the segregated “Buffalo Soldiers” who drove back the Nazis in Italy in World War II. He also played the saxophone, which was the first instrument handed down, father to son.
From there, Rufus Jr.’s career was “built on bulletin boards,” he said. His junior high school posted orchestra auditions for “The Sound of Music.” There were no saxes in an orchestra, so he was switched to oboe. When he went to the instrument room to fetch his oboe, there were none left.
“So they gave me a bassoon,” he said.
He did not own his instrument until he went to Los Angeles City College to study music. It was there that he saw a bulletin board notice that brought him to San Francisco to audition for the Symphony. He’d never been out of L.A., and he’d never been on an airplane.
“I didn’t even tell my folks I was going,” he said. “I said, ‘I’ll see you guys tonight for dinner.” He bought a $26 round-trip ticket on PSA, took the earliest morning flight to San Francisco and took a cab directly to San Francisco State, where the audition was held. It took all day, and there were 95 players.
He was the only black person among them, but that did not surprise him. It had always been that way.
The audition lasted until 10:30 p.m., and when it became clear that he would not make it home for dinner, he put in a collect call to his parents.
There was some screaming from the other end, and when his father finally calmed down, there was a long silence. Then he said, “You better win,” and hung up.
The results were announced at 11 p.m., and when Rufus finally got home that night he was the new second bassoon in the San Francisco Symphony. “I told you,” said his father.
It was 1977, and he was 21 years old and living away from home for the first time. Davies Symphony Hall was being built, but he did not stick around to play at its opening.
Never satisfied being second bassoon, Rufus Jr. auditioned for the position of principal, or first, bassoon in the Opera Orchestra and won that, too. He was in the first bassoon’s seat when Placido Domingo sang “Samson and Delilah,” at opening night 1980, and has been in the first bassoon seat for 38 years. Add in his Symphony tour, and he has worked in the Opera House for 41 of his 62 years.
“I’ve pretty much hired the whole woodwind section,” he said.
He knew he could never hire his own son for a permanent position due to nepotism rules, but he could at least set an example. He built a soundproof practice room behind the family house in Fremont. Every morning, Rufus David watched his father go in there. Every evening, he watched him come back out.
“I always wanted to play the bassoon because of my dad,” he said. “I grew up going to performances.”
When he was 8, the opera librarian, John Hoover, died and willed his bassoon to Rufus David, and that was the start of it. He played bassoon in the Fremont Youth Symphony Orchestra, and when the family moved to Sebastopol, he played in the Santa Rosa Symphony Youth Orchestra.
He was working toward his bachelor of music degree at Azusa Pacific University, near Los Angeles, when the bassoon instructor suddenly quit. So his dad took the job and flew down every Monday, his day off from the opera, to teach four students, then was home in time for the Tuesday performance.
Rufus David completed his bachelor’s and was working on his master’s in 2009, when he got a call from Tracy Davis, personnel manager at the opera, offering a one-season contract while the second bassoon went on sabbatical.
To make sure it wasn’t just nepotism, Rufus David had to submit to a private audition before Donald Runnicles, then music director. When he passed that, it marked the end of the master’s program at Azusa Pacific. His one-year contract was renewed three times.
Eventually, a permanent tenured position opened up, which necessitated a blind audition. Rufus David did not get the job. There are other orchestras, of course, but not for him.
“My dream wasn’t just to be in an orchestra, my dream was to play with my dad,” he said. “So as far as I’m concerned, I reached the pinnacle. I did it.”
He walked away from a career on the bassoon in favor of becoming a cop on the beat. In 2017, he was sworn in as a patrol officer with the San Francisco Police Department. Assigned to the Northern Station, he works the swing shift, 4 p.m to 2 a.m., patrolling the district that includes the Opera House.
He is still first substitute bassoonist with the Opera. This is the first time the opera has performed the “Ring” Cycle since 2011, and the marathon “Gotterdammerung” again falls on Father’s Day.
Rufus David is the first alternate to be called if somebody gets sick. He is ready, just in case.
“It could happen, absolutely,” he said.
At the end of an interview at the Opera House, father and son walked off toward their separate jobs, both on the swing shift. Rufus Jr. headed for the orchestra pit to warm up. Rufus David headed off to Northern Station to change into his patrol blues. They seemed sad to have to part, for any amount of time.
“I wish I could ride in the patrol car with him,” said Rufus Jr. while his son the cop just laughed. “I’m not kidding. He’s my best friend.”