Remembering Wil Morton
From Beer & Story Funeral Home
Wilford J. Morton, Jr., beloved husband, father, and friend, passed away peacefully on April 14, 2024, at the age of 85. He leaves behind a legacy of love, laughter, and kindness that will forever be cherished by those who knew him.
Wilford was born on September 17, 1938, in Waltham, Massachusetts, to his parents Wilford and Cora Morton. From a young age, Wilford showed a keen interest in radio, a passion that would guide him throughout his life.
After graduating from Boston University, School of Broadcasting, Wilford pursued his dreams by immersing himself in the world of audio engineering. He found his calling at WGBH Boston, where he became an integral part of the team, contributing his skills and expertise to countless productions that captivated audiences far and wide including Nova, Julia Child, Crockett’s Victory Garden, Zoom and This Old House.
Wilford had a remarkable sense of humor, which he lovingly passed on to his children. His quick wit and playful spirit brought joy and laughter to countless moments, creating cherished memories that will endure for generations to come.
Memorial services to celebrate Wilford’s life will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to NEPM (New England Public Media) or Tanglewood, organizations that were dear to Wilford’s heart.
For Wil….
I recall some of the very first days Wil set foot in studio A at 84 Mass. I was a cameraman then, and Wil was a lowly volunteer, moving sets, holding cue cards and sweeping floors. But soon I remember him running the mic boom, and that was, I think, how he came to know Bill Busiek, WGBH’s ‘wizard of audio.’ Bill took Wil under his wing, and about the time I started directing (1959), Wil could be found in studio A control, running the RCA audio console (which sported probably 1 VU meter, 6 fader knobs, and about as many toggle switches!).
Busiek taught Wil how to choose microphones and place them for the best reception, how to achieve a proper sound balance, and most important,’how to listen’. Wil was soon known as as the station’s up-and-coming Prince of Audio – no small accomplishment as, in those days, we produced a wide range of programming, both in the studio and in the field. Wil was an uncommonly FAST learner, and in demand on many projects.
He was, in my experience, always easy and fun to work with, as well as dependable, and deadly accurate in every detail – the kind of craftsman directors offer right arms to be able to work with. He was, as well, very sensitive to content, which meant there were many things I, as a director, never had to say. He was always a step ahead – he’d often solved problems before anyone else had even recognized they existed. And there were no missed cues with this young man!
At least early on, Wil was anxious that the station brass approve of his work. You see, sound was his bliss, and this job was his Shangri-La.
So, in studio A control, the morning after Wednesday evening’s chamber orchestra and choral “Performance” (a live program I’d directed – and Wil had mic-ed and mixed so well), the following scene took place:
[Note: Present was Hartford Gunn: the bright, Harvard educated, notably patrician, new-ish General Manager of WGBH FM and TV – carrying on his young shoulders both the gravitas and insecurities that came with the position. Then, Jordan Witelaw: unmistakably another Harvard grad, WGBH’s ‘Mr. Serious Music,’ a lion of symphonic scholarship, producer of Boston Symphony, Boston Pops and Tanglewood national simulcasts. Jordan was respected by everyone for his formidable expertise, as well as his fearlessly outspoken pronouncements, which could, when a trying moment called one up, ‘curdle your cream!’ Both Jordan and Hartford were, and would become, major figures in the world of public broadcasting. And, finally present, were myself and Wil]
Hartford had just begun his customary criticisms of last evening’s programming. He’d launched a rather negative take on Wil’s “Performance” audio, and I could see that Wil was looking somewhat battered.
Suddenly, from behind me, Jordan, in a voice clearly not joking, and too loud for capital letters; “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU HARTFORD? THAT SHOW SOUNDED GREAT! GAWD, HARTFORD! YOU MUST HAVE WAX IN YOUR EARS!”
Five seconds of deafening silence ensued, upon which which Hartford – noticeably smaller now – slipped quietly from the room.
Did I mention, by the way, that Jordan could be – simultaneously – fiercely correct and caringly appreciative?
Hartford did ultimately recover – or perhaps discover – a more relaxed and slightly friendlier dignity. Thereafter he seemed to moderate, a bit, his ‘helpful’ critiques.
The story got around the station. And, from then on, things were very different at ‘GBH for Wil. As important, though, we all continued working well together.
I’ve rarely told this silly tale for over 60 years. But I’m smiling now, because it does feel like a proper time to share it…. It’s in your honor, my very dear (and brilliant) friend….
The ways of karma seem so often just – while also being unexpected. And we were all alive together weren’t we, in Shangri-La…..
The life of Wil and Jack (me) emerged in 1966 when Gunn invited me to join the WGBH team to get WGBX up and running. How could one not endorse the Don Halllock piece above. Well done. But just a not about Don. Read, again, his writing about Wil. Such good writing is so rare. Thank you, Don Halllock.
The magic of Wil Morton’s audio mixing talent deserves its legendary status.
But I want to add the following remembrance to the pile:
Wil was an hospitable and friendly person and also had a ready appreciation of humor; in particular stories from Maine’s comic duo Bert and I, as well as Boston’s Bob and Ray.
Also, it was a singular pleasure listening to him on his beloved Hammond B3 organ. As I recall, he played by ear.
Here’s to a great guy to work with, learn from, and have a beer with.
Cheers, Wil.
Wil was always requested for the various music “live” shows, especially the weekly – JAZZ LIVE from Studio A.
Unrehearsed for sound and camera brought out the best. Wil could achieve a mix — an excellent mix — in mins while they warmed up with only 5 mins before broadcast.
Then on location, for a What’s New NET special, he shared the sounds of sport with kids. We were outdoors all day freezing our asses off for Cross Country Skiing (ask Syrl Silberman). He didn’t miss a single crunch of skis on snow, chattering between the three young skiers and coach, wind blowing on the trails, teeth chattering. One kid, Severe Caldwell age 12, was soon to be on the USA Cross Country team for the Winter Olympics.
And for post production, Wil shaped the finished sound mixing Call Me Maestro, a film profile of Arthur Fiedler which was nominated for a national Emmy.
He took all us 1962 BU Scholars in hand showing us the ropes.
Wil always always worked to make every show he worked on sound wonderful.
He succeeded!
Wil was an amazing audio engineer with a keen ear for music and how it should be reproduced.
One of my fondest memories is working with Wil as a producer for NPR’s Jazz Alive. We recorded Milt Jackson at the Jazz Workshop in Boston. It coincidentally marked the closing of that club, along with its sister club, Pall’s Mall in 1978.
I still listen to that recording decades later and can’t believe how clean and crisp that recording is.
Rest in Peace Wil.
Speaking of Wil’s love, laughter, kindness, generosity and over-the-top audio chops, here is a recording that Wil made at my house of the hardest swinger among the jazz piano giants, Dave McKenna, sometime in the 80s.
All for the fun of it on a Saturday afternoon with Ron Della Chiesa and friends in the WGBH family. All admiration, thanks and love to you, Wil, and to the effervescent spirit of the eternal WGBH. Chris Lydon.
https://radioopensource.org/dave-mckenna-my-private-collection-of-the-master/
Thank you so much for sharing this, Chris. I remember the day vividly and it is a beautiful recording of the pianist Wil loved most! Hoping Ron checks in to read, listen, and share!
I was a BU Scholar 59-60 with lots of video background but little audio. Where I came from, it seemed everything was done from a Mole Richardson boom and a 77D. I mean everything.
Wil was a real wake up for me, and he was always willing to answer my dumb questions. I didn’t become an audio man that year, but became aware that there was a whole new world out there and that Wil-quality audio was an art form to be sought and if necessary to have the ability to know good audio and insist it in all my future work.
Many many thanks, Wil. I’ll bet it will be fun to do the audio for the heavenly music up there.
Willie Morton was my best friend while I was a BU scholar and production team member at WGBH in 1962.
He would often invite my wife and I to visit him at his lake home for the weekend. This was the first time my wife and I had been away from our roots in Virginia, and we always valued his friendship and making us feel at home in Boston.
As an audio engineer he was the best at figuring out home to capture the best sound under difficult conditions. Over the years my wife and I frequently replay our experiences with Willie and the great times we had.
He will always be in our thoughts as we replay our experiences and time together
Fond memories of the mid-70’s working with Wil. A wonderful guy. Rest in peace.
A kind, supportive, and creative person. Dedicated to making it work and making it all sound clearly and beautifully and, at the same time, being patient with the mistakes of others (me, in particular). He is deeply missed.
My dear sweet Wil. I remember the early days (1960) when Wil was beginning to run the audio for some of my shows. He was intent on making the sound as good as possible. He worried the station execs were listening to make sure he was the right man for the job. So, of course I had to pull his chain.
Just before going up on the show, I would yell out… “Hey Wil, Hartford called and wanted to make sure you have good audio tonight. Not like last time.” Wil would panic “What? What?” And I would just say “Cue the talent” We had a good laugh after the show.
Wil invited my new wife and I out to meet his first girlfriend. It was a true honor. He was looking into how to bring his girlfriend into the WGBH family without any extra noise. Ruth and I were on our best behavior and all went well.
Wil did so many of my shows. We had chemistry together. Laugh, kid, and then do the best job we could. And the camaraderie would carry on after the show to the local bar, The Zebra Lounge. Wil really couldn’t drink in those early days. One time he was so tired he fell asleep at our table.
We filmed the Kurt Vonnegut movie “Between Time and Timbuktu” on a really low budget. We cut corners on everything, except sound. Wil was there every moment with solutions to mic placement for the complicated staging.
The show was a fabulation of Vonnegut’s work and we ended up filming everywhere. The most difficult was the shoot in a large freezer. We all had to get heavy boots to keep our feet from freezing. We had to leave the freezer every 15 minutes to warm up. The equipment had to stay in the freezer. Finally it was over. Wil was shivering but happy with the sound he was able to capture. You could always count on Wil.
One last memory: I produced and directed a wild insane series called “What’s Happening, Mr. Silver?” We pushed the boundaries every show. The wildest one was called “Madness and Intuition.” It was a happening of a show with no rhyme or reason for any image. It had no rational progression. I handed Wil a bunch of records and told him to play anything he wants any time during the show. I even left the control room and just let the collage of images and sound be created by the crew.
Wil’s contribution was fantastic. It was the 1969, the time of the love revolution, don’t trust anyone over 30, hippies, drugs, and sex. After the show one of.our viewers called in. I took the call. She said “Don’t do that again. You are giving me brain cancer.” It was the absolute highlight of the series, it actually won the NET Award of excellence. The times were crazy.
Wil, I will miss you. Much love to your family. May the sounds you hear be beautiful.