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              While 
                most of his contemporaries sought PhDs and teaching careers, Glickman, 
                armed with his composition/technology in music and related arts 
                (TIMARA) degree, headed West in search of a music career--Hollywood 
                style. Soft-spoken and given to bouts of excessive modesty, Glickman 
                had nonetheless dreamed of being a showbiz composer since he began 
                writing musicals for his junior high school in Miami. He quickly 
                landed a job with AJP, working on music publishing. To make ends 
                meet, he wrote and arranged music for Thighmaster commercials, 
                Disney ice shows, and TV pilots that never got picked up. Not 
                exactly the high-profile projects young composers dream of, but 
                they paid the rent. "When I go back to Oberlin to teach master 
                classes, I always tell students that if this is what they want 
                to do, they'll have to take on pilots, do bad arrangements, and 
                work on cheesy stuff," he says. "But you never know where it will 
                lead." 
             
             
              In 
                Glickman's case, these early projects led to gigs on "Night Court," 
                "Life Goes On," and "Cheers." In one episode of "Cheers" that 
                finds the character Cliff on "The Tonight Show," Glickman arranged 
                "Hooray for Hollywood" for a montage, and wrote a big-band piece 
                for the faux "Tonight Show" orchestra. "That was funny as hell," 
                he recalls. "And about 180 degrees from Oberlin--not at all cerebral 
                or academic." 
             
             
              He 
                had no idea just how much fun he was in for when he signed up 
                to do a funky pilot called "Picket Fences." The project turned 
                into a four-year stint as David E. Kelley's music production supervisor, 
                which involved overseeing the show's nonscored music when an actor 
                had to sing or play an instrument. When "Picket Fences" went off 
                the air, Kelley's composer, Stewart Levin, tapped Glickman for 
                "The Practice." It was Glickman who taught John Larroquette to 
                tickle the ivories for his Emmy-winning role as "The Practice's" 
                piano-playing psychopath who gets away with murder. 
             
            Whether 
              it's jingles, TV shows, or his own music, rarely does Glickman compose 
              in his office or even at the piano. Instead, he's a prolific scribbler, 
              jotting down notes whenever (or wherever) inspiration strikes--in 
              the shower, on a bike ride, at a restaurant, even in his car. "The 
              music floats in my head," he says. "I just know what those notes 
              translate into." 
                    
                  
                  
             
              "Kaleidoscope 
                March" is his latest composition. Written specifically for kids 
                and their parents, the piece for orchestra and solo clarinet has 
                an infectious shuffle groove and features an audience sing-along 
                in the middle. "I wanted something colorful that really  showed 
                off the orchestra," he says. "But it had to be accessible, nothing 
                fancy; something the audience could latch onto right away." 
               
             
             
              Glickman 
                envisioned his solo clarinet beguiling the audience like a pied 
                piper. "I wanted him to start in the audience from behind," he 
                says. "Everyone would be looking at the orchestra onstage, and 
                then suddenly--surprise!--a clarinet would be coming from the 
                back, walking through the audience, and playing the melody."  
             
             
              Its 
                first private concert brought rave reviews from Glickman's favorite 
                critic--his 3-year-old daughter Leah. But from the broad smiles 
                and the hoots and hollers that the musicians sent out to the soloist 
                this morning, it's obvious they're really relishing the piece, 
                too. Digging it most of all is Glickman. 
             
             
              "It's 
                a wonderful high to stand in front of the orchestra when you've 
                written a piece and have it performed in concert," he says. "There's 
                nothing quite like it." 
               
               
             
                  
                    Monica Gullon 
                      is a freelance writer based in Los Angeles. 
                      
                   
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