Doug, I'd agree with your assessment if we were discussing Rozsa, who wrote a good number of finished chamber pieces after retiring from film (and orchestral music all together, for health reasons), and who after all had composed much "classical" music before getting into the career he is most famous for.
When it comes to Friedhofer, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. I don't feel I was being unjust in any way but merely accurate. He may not have been at the very end of his life, but if "career" is defined as a job or profession, then Friedhofer was certainly at the end of it with Die Sister Die. As quoted in Danly's book about him, Friedhofer even stated at the time, "It is my firm resolve to bid film music a not-so-fond farewell...a half century of servicing the flicks is more than enough."
Perhaps he would have had a different point of view if people still offered him jobs afterwards, or perhaps it was just too much strain on him -- there's an anecdote in the book about A Walk in the Forest about him still rushing to finish the last 6 minutes of the 30 minute score while the recording sessions were taking place and not being able to do so. When approached he apparently yelled, "Be with you in a minute, Alfred!" (presumably thinking, while under stress, that Alfred Newman was there).
Now, I guess if you define a career as being an "occupation" you could argue that Friedhofer's career was only nearing the end (though that seems a stretch; there definitely feels like there's a connotation of actively being employed and making one's living when it comes to "career", and Friedhofer himself seemed to view it that way). However, the book describes his attempts at writing music (for himself, not for film) after Die Sister, Die thusly: "For the next few months Hugo tried writing concert music, but nothing stirred him...attempted to write some violin duets that were not coming off."
In a quoted letter he wrote, "Composing in a vacuum isn't for me. I'm one of those unfortunates who requires the stimulation of the visual in order to get rolling. Without that incentive, everything in the way of ideas which may come to me seems utterly blah and useless."
In a letter to his niece: "I am totally bereft of any inclination to work, either for money or just for fun. I've had notions (purely speculative) for three or possibly four pieces of music, all of which stubbornly refuse to budge."
Since no more writing assignments (ie. employment by others) turned up for him, he wrote the following to Charles Boyer in August 1977: "My financial situation appears slightly on the grim side since I haven't done any work since The Companion. A year of idleness is a bit too much. And the worst aspect is that I haven't really felt like doing much of anything, be it writing, looking at new scores, listening to records, or going to the movies or concerts." Boyer didn't get another letter from him until two years later, with Friedhofer apologizing and explaining that he was suffering from paralysis.
Sorry to depress everyone but those are the facts! At least Friedhofer got to see the 1979 re-recording of his Oscar-winning Best Years of Our Lives produced, and I like to think he realized before he died that he was not the "forgotten man" that he lamented being in one of his other letters quoted in the book. I highly recommend anyone who loves Friedhofer to buy a copy of the book and read it; it's a wonderful resource.
Yavar
P.S. All of this said, Doug -- if any of Friedhofer's post-film career compositions are uncovered and are some how in a finished enough condition to record, I would be ecstatic if you did just that! They would be for very few instruments and probably wouldn't be very long, but this Friedhofer lover would be extremely grateful if you used them as bonus tracks to fill out a new Excalibur release of his otherwise-lost masterpiece, Joan of Arc! It'd be a great thing for his legacy and I'll allow that you won this debate if you do it.
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