The Violinist's Life in His Own Words

Decade V

A pleasant sojourn was that at the Paramount Theater in New York. Among the many bands and stage shows changing week after week was the Whitman group. One may recollect the early career of Bing Crosby’s as one of the Three King’s Men among Paul’s features in his hour-long show. Who would have foretold the great possibilities, the fabulous successes of Bing’s at that time?

After this episode, it was to be the Albee Theater in Brooklyn. Here I was to be part of the orchestra where the best in vaudeville crossed the stage lights. Salvatore Dell Gola was the musical leader, who went on to become later musical director of top Broadway musical hits Allegro and South Pacific. In this heyday of vaudevilliana, some of the names among many who appeared were Jimmy Savo, Clayton Durante and Jackson Team, Milton Berle, The Marx Brothers, Lou Holt, Robinson of tap dance fame, Burns and Allen, The Roomies, and so many others of equal familiarity.

There is one performance by sly little Savo—that classy comedian—that I shall never forget. That evening doing his routine in his nonchalant manner, in stepping over the footlights to the zing of the orchestra’s grand piano, somehow he lost his balance. Savo fell in such a way that he landed on me as I was sitting playing his music most unexpectedly. In that instant, from under my chin, the violin flew out. It was a tragi-comical incident with hardly any harm done except the repair job to be done on my violin for which the comedian readily compensated me.

Bill Robinson, the wonderful tap dancer and a good-natured man, approached me after one of the afternoon performances. He wanted to know where in the vicinity good food was served. I thought it best not only to tell him, but also to accompany him there to Joe’s, located on an angled side street that was not easy for a stranger to the area to find. Surprised to find upon arrival that color line was invoked, somehow the embarrassment was overcome, and a meal was obtained for our talented friend in this place of good food.

What with sound picture policy going into effect with remarkable swiftness and also more and more name bands becoming the vogue—these embracing the components of a complete stage show—vaudeville, as known till then, became obsolete. These theaters took on the new format.

Thereafter, I had reason to feel that Washington, D.C. was the place for me to try to establish myself. A deciding factor must have been that I recalled some of my boyhood friends from Baltimore had become well established in the music business in the Capitol City. My cellist brother, Robert, had been known as an able musician in Washington some years before. He had taught, played opera in town, had been a member of a concert trio, and also played at a local movie house. Sunny California had since beckoned him, but I had reason to feel that, in view of the aforementioned facts, my reception among the town’s musicians would not be that of a total stranger.

However, it turned out to be rather tough going for a while. As with others before me, I found out that the hopes of man are built oft times on what turn out to be illusions. Expected friendships, recalled from erstwhile childhood days, had over the intervening years, turned to disappointments. Unwanted competition was the way my childhood friends now regarded me. It soon became apparent that I intended to persist and was determined to hew my way through to some success, albeit in a reasonable and legitimate fashion.

In those days, it was possible for one to perform music on the radio in the late part of the evening as a sustaining program, once the most desirable hours for commercials were past. It was by such means, that I was afforded an opportunity to perform and thereby to also advertise for pupils on the violin. Shortly, some applicants for violin study made their appearance. Also an invitation to become a member of the then newly organized National Symphony Orchestra in its second year. This was under the direction of Hans Kindler.

This is how I got a start if even a meager existence in the capitol city of the U. S. Only the great buying power of the dollar made living at all possible. Rehearsals paid five dollars and the concerts ten dollars. These services averaging about twenty-five dollars per week during the season of twenty weeks made for precarious living! However, to put in perspective, roasting chickens cost less than a dollar. Eggs of desirable freshness were priced at fifteen cents a dozen from farmers making the rounds in apartment houses. And decent small living quarters were available at fair rates; all of which helped considerably.

To have my first sight of an inauguration parade and its attendant excitement, that of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, was a most impressive experience. It was a study of characters and personalities watching the incoming and outgoing President Herbert Hoover ride together on Pennsylvania Avenue. Then came along the important inaugural concert at Constitution Hall that was a spectacularly brilliant concert. Besides the orchestral items led by conductor Hans Kindler, appeared many attractions and personalities of various fields of entertainment. Among the many recalled was Mickey Rooney, his ebullient self, Charlie Chaplin, making his Dictator speech, Efrem Zimbalist with his violin, giving lighter concert numbers the very artistic touch, Michael Strange, reading suitable poetry in distinguished style, and perhaps a few other artistic graces.

An elaborate New Year party ringing in the year 1933 was my lot, as a member of one of the orchestras playing that evening under Meyer Davis’ direction at the McLean mansion (owners of The Washington Post). Many were the diplomats and members of Congress who could be observed on the dance floor. Good food in abundance as well as the famous (unlucky) Hope diamond was in evidence, worn by the chatelaine, Mrs. McLean, dancing with Hiram Johnson, noted Senator from California.

The National Symphony soon thereafter began the sort of touring down south as I had experienced twenty-five years earlier with the Damrosch orchestra mentioned before. Southern hospitality and enthusiasm was our happy fate when visiting cities like Columbia, South Carolina; Raleigh, North Carolina; Atlanta, Georgia; and many others in Florida. The orchestra would be met by a delegation with bannered taxis to make it quite a holiday in town. Nigh to a hundred cities were visited over the years from Maine to Florida, as well as Quebec, Toronto, Ottawa, and Hamilton in Canada, including many cities and colleges in the states of New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and as far west as Indianapolis.

To have George Gershwin of Rhapsody in Blue and Porgie and Bess fame, appear as soloist in a program of his own music at one of the Washington concerts was a delightful treat. The early demise of this most gifted musician before realizing his promising potential is certainly a loss to American music.

A treasured memory is the occasion when a smaller version of our regular symphony (about 32 men) appeared at The White House for a special concert in front of the President Franklin D. Roosevelt and his guests. It was the orchestra members’ honor to shake the President’s hand after the concert in passing by his chair. To be observed were the many diplomats, dignitaries, high military officers, and government executives, as well as members of Congress. Now we were directed to one of the adjacent rooms where light supper was served with Mrs. Roosevelt, our hostess, graciously overseeing that all was satisfactorily taken care of and her kindly smile for good measure.

The National Symphony had guest conductors over the years each season. Bruno Walter, great internationally known master; Chavez, eclectic Mexican who had much to offer; Sir Ernest McMillan, scholarly Canadian; Dorati, talented and most able Hungarian nephew of Fritz Reiner; Igor Stravinsky, that incomparable great of music; still others of note.

It was a pleasant and helpful circumstance to have met friends established in Washington. I had come to know Walter Nash in New York, playing for services of the Ethical Culture Society. We teamed up as an organ/violin duo on Sunday mornings at the Brooklyn Academy of Music chambers. And so Gertrude and Walter Nash were to prove themselves to be of fine assistance to me. To try and spread the gospel of chamber music through encouragement, advice, and help in meeting interested people to organize such a group. They sought just such a person with the great enthusiasm, energy, ideas, and prestige to put this venture on a successful remunerative basis, selecting among musicians of the orchestra who were of the right caliber who liked rehearsing with the possibility of public concerts in view we started regularly scheduled work. Such an undertaking meant preparatory hard work with sincere love in doing it. Over the years, the quartet had among its members, Walter Nash, Howard Mitchell, William Brennand, and George Hammer, ‘cellists; Ralph Hersh, Hendrick Essers, and Bernard Milofsky, violists; Bernard Robbins, Fred Deronck, Walter de Lillo, Milton Schwartz, and Owen Lusak, as well as myself, as violinists. At many concerts assisting us, those remembered were Millard Taylor, violin; Harold Bennett, flute; Harold Gomberg, oboe; Sylvia Meyer, harp; George Wargo, viola; and Harrison Potter, Miksa Merson, and Reino Luoma, pianists. In a matter of months, such a gracious and able person was found in Mrs. Jouett Shouse. She possessed the combined qualities and qualifications to make this venture a success. The music loving public had an added interest to look forward to under agreeable auspices in volatile Washington. There still was place in this important city for such an ensemble as ours called The Pro Musica String Quartet. True, there had been the best chamber music concerts going on for a number of year, given at the Library of Congress by world-renowned groups under the munificent sponsorship of Mrs. Coolidge and later that of Mrs. Whittal also. These concerts of ours given the Phillips Gallery were of a most intimate nature. The classical repertory, as well as rare and contemporary compositions, were performed amid beautiful paintings. The art gallery was a place for kindred natures seeking such ideal recreation of the spirit, of the soul. The audience would be described as a cross-section intellectually from all over the country comprising official Washington of diplomatic, military, aristocracy blue and the newer brand and just plain lovers of the beautiful in chamber music. Most of our rehearsing took place in town at the comfortable home of the Nashes. It was in the shadow of the famous Mayflower Hotel, a big enough residence where we were virtually hidden and in nobody’s way. Often there, apart from our rehearsing, there was music making of all kinds. Friends and talented visitors would stop in and, for the fun of it, play sonatas, sing, have a chat, and even a drink. People from out of town also politicos from Capitol Hill would stop over as friends of Mr. and Mrs. Nash and while away hours in good fellowship, interesting conversation, with the balm of good music and soothing drinks. Hugh Ross and Howard Hanson, noted musicians, were met at the house, as well as Senator Wolcott from Connecticut, enthusiast of good music. With Mrs. Shouse’s happy idea and Mr. Phillips’ kind consent to partake in artistic matters was born the combining at once of visual art with the charm of intimate chamber music. This complementary aesthetic formula the public realized quickly and is still carried out to this day I venture to say.

The quartet also rehearsed oft times at the townhouse in Georgetown and the Wolf Trap farm home of the Shouses. This was a veritable time for us—in these open spaces—fresh air also—from the mundane orchestra playing most of the other time. A sight for the artistic painter would have been the scene of the beautiful male and female boxer dog champions brought from Czechoslovakia contentedly lying between the quartet and taking it in peaceful and satisfied.

It is perhaps needless to mention that the added compensation from these concerts, given the meager earnings from the symphony work, was most helpful and appreciated. The many important and distinguished persons that abounded in Washington during the years 1933 to 1942 who attended the concerts was a lengthy list. Lovers of music in the diplomatic set, many if the high military with their wives, as well as families of top government executives were among our audiences. The quartet had given concerts for the benefit of Finnish, Spanish, and Chinese causes—it was ours to contribute with glad heart. One broadcast to mind, at which the distinguished literary figure Archibald MacLeish, then head of the Library of Congress, recited one of his fine creations, a thrill and delight to hear. The Pro Musica String Quartet had a number of pleasant experiences over the years. One such was playing a concert at the University of Virginia. Playing a number of performances under the sponsorship of Mrs. Robert W. Bliss at the Georgetown public library in Washington. Mr. Bliss had been ambassador to Argentina and the bequeathing of their residence, Dumbarton Oaks, to Harvard University, where some of the early United Nations cultural assemblies had taken place, is well known. Concerts at Mrs. Parker’s residence yearly where a musical audience if 150 assembled was a mutually agreeable contact. Another such was at the Scotch medieval castle-like residence of the Archbolds near Georgetown University on the outskirts of Washington.

An amusing incident took place when our quartet was engaged to play at a friend’s wedding ceremony. At the church, we were unobtrusively not seen. In waiting for the various parts of the ceremony to take place and playing at the agreed upon proper times lo and behold. As we were getting up from our completed task my brand new hat had been sat upon by another member of the quartet that whole time. This in turn brings to mind when with the Philharmonic rehearsing at Carnegie Hall and derby hats were in vogue, someone unnoticed who most likely had no right to be around had sat on my new one on the seat in the darkness of the hall. Since those days, there is a room with lockers for the men, a lounge for relaxation, quite a proper room, though still to be improved upon perhaps by the installation of some showers.

Quartet playing made some visits possible in summer to Cape Cod, through the invitation and kindness of a Mrs. Sawyer, music enthusiast living at Wianno. A number of concerts were given in that vicinity and as far as Provincetown—always agreeable and fairly remunerative. Being the houseguests of this lady made our stay comfortable. When playing at the library art center at the tip of the Cape we were taken care of and all arrangements made by the Hawthornes, descendants of Nathaniel, who with some his known literary creations in this very house we stayed. About September of that year, 1939, in reading the flown-in big town morning paper, was the startling news of the march of Hitler’s men, the tanks and the bombings of the Stuka’s in Poland and the start of World War II.

The many superb chamber music concerts heard at the Library of Congress in Washington by world-famous quartets, solo, and other combinations is certainly worth recording. The Kolish quartet playing the complete cycle of Beethoven’s without music and most beautifully—a remarkable feat. Remembered is the Pro Arte of Brussels, Belgium playing magnificently. And there were many others: the London, Hungarian, and the Busch; the famous Budapest made their initial appearance in America at these concerts and have the distinction I believe of having played more performances here than any other group so far; Serkin, pianist, and Busch, violinist, gave many duo delights; Szigeti with the late Bela Bartok, world-renowned Hungarian composer, also gave some memorable performances; the Gordon and Kroll quartets played many concerts here and combined to give a magnificent performance of octets by Mendelsohn and Enesco. Audiences came from far and wide. Many noted musicians as guests of Mrs. Coolidge, great benefactress of music, wonderful lady. The auditorium where these concerts were initiated was also supported by the sponsorship and built as a gift by Mrs. Coolidge, which bears her name. Mrs. Whittal, a lady of similar taste in the propagation of such music followed in endowing her interesting a definite way as follows. For these concerts, there are three violins, a viola, and a ‘cello (pear wood back) by the greatest maker of such instruments, Antonio Stradivarius of Cremona, Italy and these are of his best period’s artistic work. Along also are bows by the greatest of them, François Tourte of Paris. These appropriately matched superb examples mounted in tortoise shell and gold in beautiful condition are tools together fit for the finest artists to perform the masterpieces in just about a perfect setting. This set of instruments is housed in a special conditioned case when not in use for their protection under the watchful eyes of library guards during open hours. Conservatively, the estimated value of these gems of instruments would be near a quarter of a million dollars [NB: circa 1953], quite the sum paid for them.

It is worthwhile to talk a bit about violins in general and a note on the finest instruments, those made by A. Stradivarius. This greatest of makers, 1644-1737, who learned his art under Nicola Amati, lived to be 93 years old. With him worked, not only his two sons, but also some of the other great makers following him as Bergowai Guadagnini Montagnana Francesco Rutgeri. The estimate is that about 1,100 instruments were produced in this long period in the shop under the guidance of the great one and the combined work of this group. Since 1737 when the last instrument was made over 200 years ago perhaps 600 are extent. A guess could be that ten percent are in fine condition and excellent sounding instruments. That twenty percent are less so and the rest down to practically not worthy of professional use only value as antique examples of the great art. I had the unique experience and pleasure to see and play on six fine examples of this greatest of violinmakers’ art one afternoon when Eric Lachman, the collector from Berlin, came to settle in the U. S. about 1925. The finest instrument I had the good fortune to own was one made by Goffriller.

We have come a long way to know that the label inside of an instrument is at all a guaranty for its authenticity. It takes an expert of whom there are only too few to recognize the make of an instrument. Age and signs of wear are no indicators of the quality of violins. In this accomplishment of Stradivarius the following should also be added to his industry. It may be presumed that if about forty violas are extent and as many ‘cellos that twice as many were made initially. He might have made also quite a few guitars, and I have seen one actually.

On my private musical work I furnished for commencements and special affairs at Catholic University and in a number of private schools of which there were quite a number in Washington. At one of the select private finishing schools for young ladies, on one such occasion, Miss Gilder Slewe, famous educator addressed the students. As well did the late Peter Marshall of Scotland. At the time, he occupied one of the Washington pulpits on New York Avenue and was Chaplain of the Senate body. Mr. Marshall delivered in fine oratorical style a stirring message to the graduating class for their enlightenment and spiritual uplift.

On the many yearly tours that carried us up north to Canada and down south to Florida, those across the border had elements of excitement and even adventure. I recall the first tour when the orchestra manager, the late C. C. Cappell, had his hands more than full. Aside from his generally busy routine entailed in such trips, there was the extra one of arranging to satisfy the Canadian authorities as to citizenship, native-born or naturalized. No uncertainties on this score were to be passed over—this the more strict in view of the war brewing in the years toward 1940. Visiting cities there—Montreal, Ottawa, the capital Quebec, which is a quaint French town, Hamilton, and Toronto. Most of the men of the orchestra believed bargains of some kind could be had in this part of the country. Among such items was considered liquor, however with its attendant trouble of seeking out the necessary permits entitling purchaser to buy it from accredited licensed government stores. Fine British woolens, men’s haberdashery, famous Scot coatings, and world-renowned Jaeger woolen ware available at seemingly low prices. The aftermath when leaving Canada for home was the fun in finding out who bought what and, above all, who got the best buy and how will one fare in all this before the customs inspectors, often taking place in the middle of the night. These men had a job to perform and rules and regulations must be observed.

In the early days of travel with the orchestra aside from our own pay all expenses were taken care of directly by orchestra manager Cappell. Later on, the personnel, through their union, gained the more desirable method that changed this to per diem extra compensation directly. This is how the major orchestras had conducted such expense matters ere this. The only exception was train fare, Pullman accommodation and dining car service. This is the most practical considering travel of eighty is usually on private trains. In those early days, some strange and amusing things took place under difficult conditions. For instance, in smaller cities such as Spartanburg, South Carolina; Raleigh, North Carolina, or Elmira, New York; we men of the orchestra were assigned and dispersed in various hotels throughout the respective town due to limited facilities in the main hotel. Therefore, some fared better than others and, as a result, there was often cause for dissatisfaction among the personnel, for it was according to the opinion of the management who rated what. Then again, arriving at our destination, generally dinner or lunch had been arranged for us at the main hotel dining room, the place where most of the men would be staying. And it became such a common regularity to get lamb at these meals that some of the funny boys who did not relish the monotony of it would imitate the sounds of lambs around the room—at entering already with a smile and smirking expressions all around—it became an infectious procedure. Man, if at all possible, wants the right to choose, not regimentation. Freedom is in the very breathing of air.

Life in Washington was pleasant enough for the years 1933-42 despite limited earning proving firsthand that happiness can consist of other considerations than the material, money-making powers. With a twenty-week season and the first regular season of salary pay of forty dollars in 1935 it had improved by threat and pressure by the men through union friends to a twenty-three week season at $55 weekly by 1942. This made for most economically forced living with two growing high school age children. The orchestra with string quartet, some pupils, and a few odd musical engagements made living possible at a minimum.

In the pleasant category during hard times of a compensatory nature was that of getting to know one Dr. Lattman, great music enthusiast. The close association of medicine among the professions with music dates I suppose way before even that of Brahms and Billroth in Vienna. The great music master had an affinity with the outstanding medical authority of those days when to Billroth went the dedication of some of his finest chamber music. Dr. Lattman has been a devoted friend of Toscanini, Heifetz, and many other musicians of note. He was an understanding man of character who loved music and chamber music no less and had a special affection for musicians among humanity.

Because of this affinity between music and the medical profession it is note surprising to find in New York City, a full-fledged, full-sized orchestra composed entirely of medical men who give a yearly concert of respectable quality. This takes time, devotion, and perhaps also sacrifice. Considerable numbers of good musicians must abound among them and they have hired conductors of substantial professional experience in the past to lead them. It might be guessed that the playing of fine music during rehearsals of the season culminating in a good concert means fun, enjoyment, an all over satisfaction to them. Dr. Lattman would arrange musical evenings mostly at his home or at a friend’s house of the medical fraternity. With score in hand, his enjoyment was to follow the playing of the group for he himself had played the ‘cello in earlier years. Good talk in between the completion and start of another composition provided a breather and perhaps a change of performers. At the completion of about four musical scores made for an evening’s fare. Then we would indulge in a good buffet and drinks. It was felt that a most enjoyable evening was had by all, appreciated by everyone. The good doctor in turn knowing the medical fraternity would understandingly help and assist in time of sickness of relative nature in these difficult years. He himself being an x-ray man, a very special field, would get in touch with a known friend medic necessary for whatever ailment. Whether it needed eye attention or an appendectomy, it was attended to most proficiently in an understanding manner. I dare say that mutually it was felt that a good deed was done with a good feeling and a happy conscience.

On one of the yearly southern tours of the orchestra, a rather tragic accident occurred just after leaving St. Petersburg, Florida. Following the completion of the afternoon concert, we embarked on our special train to carry us north. Soon after the train left, about 5:30 on this beautiful, sunny, late February afternoon, we were about settled in our seats and the first batch of the orchestra men were entering the dining car for the evening meal. Hardly had the outskirts of the town been passed, when a sickening jolt shook us all and the train came grindingly to a halt. It might have been surmised that this portended something unusual. So it proved to be as our train had struck the caboose of a truck in which a farmer with some of his family were riding. Some more hardy members of our group told me of the gruesome result and sight. They had better stomachs for such a tragic happening while, as for me, food was out of the question that evening. Instead, I felt cause for reflection on the frailty of life.

On another trip, this time in Columbia South Carolina, an unpleasant situation was again witnessed by members of the orchestra. It had been the custom the past few years to play a two to three day so-called Festival of Music with respectable soloists in this hospitable place and, of course, our orchestra. Serving the great area around the capitol city of the state, this musical experience took on quite a festive air with the local choral society also participating in some worthy choral work. On this, our fourth visit here, a new development arose. A German musician, Hans Shwieger, had become the big music man in town since our previous visit of the preceding year. The following is the story. This well-bred and able musician from Berlin had come into disfavor under the Nazi regime. He was sent off to far away Japan as a sort of lighter punishment. This was for the disfavored indiscretion of having married one of not pure Aryan blood. The late Olga Samaroff, pianist, teacher, and lecturer, the former wife of Stokowski, orchestral conductor for twenty-five years with the Philadelphia Symphony, had heard somehow of the plight of this fine musician. It was not too difficult to induce Shwieger, sort of a man without a country, to migrate to the U. S., land of opportunity. Conditions were propitious that good people with the right connections could overcome obstacles present in such a problem. And that is how Maestro Shwieger came to settle in Columbia with his thorough schooling as musical conductor. Shwieger, who had been training the local choral group the previous few months, was now to share with Kindler in the Festival, the present program. If I remember right, aside from conducting the Tannhauser overture of Wagner, Shwieger was to conduct the choral group in good part Samson and Delilah with the late Grace Moore doing the female part and purposely avoiding the Samson (male) part. Orchestras, when on tour, seldom rehearse except in special instances, as here mentioned. An orchestra to go on tour of say ten days takes along the latest, best-played two programs. With this amount of material there are many combinations possible to satisfy the ascertained tastes of the cities visited. It might have been thought that Hans Shwieger under these conditions would be slotted rightly and by courtesy the greater part of rehearsal period. Kindler started the rehearsing and kept the orchestra at work for a long time, in fact so much so that it became apparent that it was unfair and even spiteful not to have Shwieger get his chance in view of time already spent. There may have been a pre-arranged agreement as to when the guest conductor would have his opportunity with his part of the program. At first hints, later entreaties, and thereafter, bitter feeling grew into plain hostility with tenseness and some impending blow-off not far off. Finally, when it became unbearable, Kindler at last saved the day. He gave over to Shwieger for the much-needed part of his portion of the program. This came off well, scoring a definite and deserved success at the evening concert. But from then on our orchestra lost this engagement on its seasonal tour down south. This need not have happened for it was a distinct loss to the orchestra management. From then on, Shwieger arranged to hire or rather assemble an orchestra from various symphonic groups and made it his own for this festival occasion. Hans Shwieger has gone on to become conductor at Fort Wayne, Indiana and form there to Kansas City, a continuous advance in symphony propensities. He has also been guest conducting at the Stadium concerts and the N. B. C., Toscanini’s own orchestra, here in New York.

In our many tours over the seasons with the orchestra, we traveled to many universities and colleges and two campus incidents stand out in my memory. At Colgate University in New York State, one evening concert with a full attendance of mostly university people—faculty with their families and the student body—the lights gave out. The first number on the program, that of Weber’s Freischutz overture, was being played. Hardly a prank, but it put the orchestra to the test most certainly. The orchestra came through well enough in this beautiful, but well-worn composition. Hurriedly, candles were installed to help out, apparently on hand for just this kind of emergency. An exciting bit of experience, though I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they hadn’t met up with this before. At Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, we had played a number of seasons previously. To our surprise during the intermission at this particular concert we were to be warned in regard to our behavior: a gentle reminder that the men of the orchestra should be on their good behavior and not attempt any flirtations with fair members of the audience. A few consciences might have been bothered and a number of ears turned red.

At another Sarasota, Florida visit, this the winter headquarters of the great Ringling circus show, the following came to my attention. At the convention hall where we gave the performance that winter though balmy night, I received a message before the actual start of the program. It was to the effect that a person in the audience wished to speak with me during the upcoming intermission. How my curiosity and projected imagination was aroused by this! Who could possibly know me here? Or what possibly could the person wish to discuss? Lo and behold, a Mr. Johnson of Marshfield, Oregon, who knew me there way back in 1915! He had known me as a teacher, Professor of Violin at the university, and wished to meet and talk things over since twenty-five years had passed. Mr. Johnson had been established in Sarasota for a number of years in the souvenir business. So an amiable and happy chat was had by us two. The old bromide holds good again that it is a small world after all.

My participation in a series of concerts at the Library of Congress about the year 1939 was most enjoyable. Ferry Roth, well-known quartet player, led a group of us players of the National Symphony in the six Brandenburg concerti grosso by the great Johann Sebastian Bach. These works are among the most inspired creations and it was a heartwarming delight to take part in these performances.

One summer the orchestra was giving its seasonal concerts on the Potomac in a sort of music shed built on an anchored barge. Sitting with us was the genial personality Hendrick van Loon, great storyteller, cosmopolitan musician, author, and, as I later found out, Hans Kindler’s brother-in-law. During the intermission, this good man--physically a big hulk of a man—went to the conductor’s podium and made an impassioned plea on behalf of the orchestra’s support. Afterwards, he sat down amongst us and fiddled away to his heart’s content on his fine old Italian instrument with pride and satisfaction. A good sight to behold this caliber soul enjoying doing something to make the world a happier place and partaking in the music of great and kindred spirits.

An incident of tragic nature stands out and is recalled that took place in Washington along the years circa 1939. This was the circumstance in the death of a very fine man I came to know through the related upheaval of Hitlerism. Dr. Simon, a man of culture, he was a scholar who had been editor of an important newspaper in Frankfurt, Germany. Only of recent origin was his escape with his family of wife and young daughter. The sad story was that it seems after his escape from the veritable paws of death with the Nazis and seeming survival, he was mysteriously beaten to death in an intriguing crime that was never solved by the Washington police. This harmless, kind, and innocent man was put one night before retiring to bed for a walk as was his habit and according to newspaper reports at the time, he was attacked and beaten up, yet hours later managed to get a taxi to his home. Upon arrival he told the driver that he would go upstairs for the money. He entered his house and managed to get himself up to bed, where he was found dead in the morning, apparently from the effects of the previously inflicted wounds. This man of highest moral principals, a newspaper editor, fine musician, scholar of history and philosophy was beaten to death one evening on a Washington street in a crime that was never solved. Perhaps the long arm of vengeance and hate struck its cowardly blow from afar, which is an alarming thought. Notable musicians attended his funeral including some who came from New York and were familiar with this man’s caliber. Otto von Klemperer, noted musical conductor, and the late, distinguished violinist Bronis Law Huberman were among them.

Over the years with the orchestra, a number of oddly timed and turned happenings took place. One time, a few of the men missed the train when we were in Florida. They could make no connection for the evening’s concert in South Carolina. The odd thing was that it was to be the Brahms Symphony in C Minor but performed with an instrumentation not intended by the composer, having an oboe and bassoon missing. This sort of thing happened in Canada, but with a different set-up. Often instrumentalists of one section keep together, because of similar temperament and for other reasons; in this case it worked out and was not too harmful to the orchestra or to the men, the three bass players dividing the expense between them. In missing the train at Ottawa, they joined together in their predicament and by hiring a taxi were able to arrive in time for the Toronto concert, albeit at a considerable outlay. Going on the town in the wee hours of the night or those interminable card games can be costly adventures! The bromide that men will be boys was to be observed often on these tours, especially when the younger element tried to infuse the proceedings with the air of a lark. Card playing in all forms day and night ranging from poker to bridge, pinochle to hearts, and then some! A few others indulged in the more prosaic games of chess and checkers, but after a night concert, having on a Pullman those persistent night owls, the poker boys, at cards! With all the admonitions and promises to keep things quiet when at their favorite game, typically consisting of from six to nine players, in the forward lounge area of the train, always it seemed there was something that caused an outburst of noise. The loudness would repeatedly discomfort and annoy those sleeping, the well-behaved contingent of the orchestra.

The electric shock treatment was cause for fun for everyone but the victim—a good laugh for the perpetrators and onlookers. In went like this: at an opportune moment the victim’s berth was rigged up in a way so that when the intended person was well asleep, the group could witness an explosive awakening courtesy of this shock treatment. In another prank, while some of the men were busy on the train at one thing or another, deeply engrossed, a certain member’s suitcase was chosen to be weighted down with heavy metal, if any were available. Then, using wire and pliers, it would be so tied up and tightly bound that the owner, upon discovering what he was up against, had to exercise great control to sheepishly accept the situation.

A novel fun effort was the cheese bass one. Two brothers of the orchestra, though not bass players, thought up this one. Biding their time for the best opportunity that did finally come, the brothers betook themselves to the hall out of town while on tour and a rehearsal was to take place, that rare situation. After such rehearsal, the two stayed behind making sure no orchestra men were around. The men had hurried away to taste the town’s good food before the evening’s concert. Then the brothers set to work, to do the job of applying Limburger cheese to the fingerboards of all the bass instruments. That evening, what an unholy smell and unpleasant sensation was in store for the players, with their fingers sliding along the fingerboards from the combination of cheese and heat. This was just about sensational in its impact on everybody in the vicinity. Eight stalwart bass players were out for revenge following this outrageous trick and, after considerable detective work, they became sure of the identities of the culprits. Then, those wronged planned their sweet chance and it came about in the close quarters of our moving train’s dining car corridor. Those eight men easily took care of the two brothers in this unequal retribution of the Limburger cheese, applying it as justified medicine for better complexions! The brothers may hesitate in future before they will try such again!

Apropos bass players, something on the weightier side is worthy of more than passing mention. This relates to the novel tuning and application of this instrument figured out by Mr. Hamer of this group. It consists of tuning in fifths rather than the usual fourths, as has been, making the lowest string E, by fourths A then D and the highest G. Having the set-up of strings as on the ‘cello, C lowest followed by G, D, and A, not only gives the low C as usually wanted by the composer though often not played so, but makes for more agile execution of passages. It can be attested, for having heard it done, this makes for greater achievement and yet it is more graceful. To start this system it is advisable to begin in the upper positions rather than with the low or first position. A superior idea still ahs the difficulty of prejudice and inertia to overcome the old staid way no matter what the field.

The bad sense of taste in some symphony conductors may be cited in regard to string players. Conductors often expect and even make demands that players scrape their instruments to a frazzle for more sound. This is wrong for a number of reasons and harmful to the player to be forced to such means to bring about unreasonable sounds. After all, string instruments are essentially singing ones and not percussion (nor a cheap trumpet to blow your top!) Along with this may be mentioned how they expect the performer to do an acting job if the music becomes fast and furious or if dramatic, to act it out. To what levels does one debase oneself in this beautiful art? To what degree are such unreasonable demands made upon the other players of the orchestra? The extent to which the wind instruments players are asked to over blow can be conjectured.

A number of concerts of the National Symphony given at the Pan-American building on significant occasions with a festive all America audience made for a thrilling experience.

Symphony music conductors (leaders) are an especial lot of humans to be appraised. It is not often met with in its fullest meaning to be associated with an ideal type of musician of solid character with good understanding of the psychology in human nature. Many variations abound among those in this field. They range from virtual charlatanism to truly profound re-creators of music and from mean-spiritedness amounting to sadism to fine sensitivity toward the musician in a philosophic understanding way. How well the many musicians know these observations! They know the old adage that the baton can’t make a mistake. The man at the head of the orchestra has been known to be revered in certain cases, but there is the other kind, who can just about crucify men of the ranks.

The surprising and unpleasant thing is to look over a ten-year period with the National Symphony under Hans Kindler and recall some needlessly nasty happenings taking place. Many of these matters could have been resolved or adjusted without open insults and scenes. The wonder of it is that a man like Kindler should have had much insight into human nature. He was a reader over a wide field, a student of philosophy; no doubt his interests in many fields and all the arts were pursued in their original, as in Dutch, German, and French. Despite all this, it did not seem to benefit him with regard to its application in circumstances of actual life.

A number of attempts had been made in Washington for an orchestra of symphonic proportions and quality, but it was in the year 1931 due to the indefatigable persistence of a musician, Robert Stasny, that brought about the orchestra that is carrying on today as the National Symphony in Washington, the nation’s capitol. Stasny had played symphony in Budapest and also with Reiner in Cincinnati. This capable string bass player had come to Washington from New York for a special engagement circa 1928 to a newly built movie house. There, a large orchestra was installed under Meyer Davis’ management and Leon Brussilof’s direction. Hardly had Stasny been in the city a few years when he realized and felt the cultural neglect present.

In the ever fast-moving of the world when economics and its accompanying bank and stock market bust combined with the special hardship for the musician from sound picture installment in the theaters arrived and combined creating intolerable conditions rampant in the field of music, Stasny took it upon himself to act, and quickly too. Unselfishly, while he himself was nicely ensconced in the theater earning a comfortable enough income, he saw that here was present an opportunity, a challenge to act in behalf of others during what were dangerous times. With enthusiasm and dogged determination, he set to work, spending money when needed, to interest people in the object he had in mind. Contacting a dynamic organization, the Chamber of Commerce, he came to know his way about. In the course of his efforts, he came to know the man who would play an important role in the establishment of the symphony in Washington.

He was a Mr. Frost, former big business man, who took a lively interest in music, playing the viola to the point of veritable obsession. When Stasny, with the help of Mr. Frost, organized the orchestra to be, thought was given to who would direct the group. Stasny remembered a fine musician whom he had known in Europe who had moved on and was at that point located in Cleveland. Stasny’s determination prevailed and his man was sent for, arriving to undertake the musical fate of this new symphony orchestra. This slow-moving European was mostly experienced with choral groups. He lacked luster and did not possess a positive personality, even if he did have solid musicianship backing him. The few initial concerts pointed in no way to breath-taking successes under this set-up. To save the idea from failure, grimly, Mr. Frost thought up an idea and quickly acted upon it in dynamic American fashion. He besought the advice of the dean among American musicians, Walter Damrosch in New York City. First, offering him the opportunity to give the enterprise a good start by bringing his prestige to the venture personally. Mr. Frost was to hear that Damrosch adamantly felt his retirement was not to be disturbed, nor was his love for the music aroused sufficiently to take on such a big task himself with a newly formed orchestra at his age. He did, however, advise Mr. Frost that a certain able ‘cellist, a musician with qualifications and the ambition of youth, one Hans Kindler, would most likely be his man. Briefly, so it seems to have turned out to be. Hans Kindler was invited to conduct a number of concerts and scored successes on every count. It was a good opportunity that a man like Kindler sought for his greater ambition to head an orchestra and realized this was it. Kindler had been to Italy of late to try himself out in the field of orchestral conducting and this just fit him right, so he put everything into it. In the prime of life at thirty-nine, a fine physical specimen, he had had the chance to observe the ways and manners of some top flight musical directors including Leopold Stokowski, head of the Philadelphia Orchestra in which Kindler had acted as solo ‘cellist for a number of years.

This was the start of the orchestra we know as the National Symphony of Washington. In the main the necessary class and number of qualified musicians for a good symphony orchestra were not present. It became urgent, therefore, to import such musicians from out of town. Most cities have to resort to this method if the desired level of quality is to be attained, the possible exceptions may be New York City and Chicago in this country. The local musical union always has jurisdiction over this sort of matter for it entails the livelihood of the professional musicians in town. This local, however, had never before dealt with this sort of problem, at least not a situation involving so many musicians at one time. They were not sufficiently experienced to cope with this equitably.

It was difficult to determine by what standard or whose judgment local musicians were to be selected to fill positions in the orchestra or how many men would be allowed to be imported from other metropolitan centers for agreed upon vacancies. Year after year, this matter remained an unpleasant piece of contention, unfortunately revealing all sorts of prejudice and bias.

It may be surprising to musicians elsewhere and in the future, especially to string instrument players, to hear that we had members of the orchestra, professionals, as those in symphony orchestras are supposed to be and accordingly are supposed to have studied well, that did not know some of the basic fundamentals of correct playing. I have in mind knowing how to play softly or louder or even fortissimo or whatever gradation of sound is called for in the music at will. Who were seemingly not aware that it is the space between the bridge and the nearest end of the fingerboard that is the part of the instrument chiefly capable of giving the varieties of volume of sound or who did not know the many ways a bow can be handled and manipulated to achieve desired effects. Scraping and pressure, such as was too often the case, are not the way to get proper results.

One year, later on, this situation reached such a stage of ill will and tension that an arrangement was made to have that fine gentleman and able musician, Albert Spaulding, come to Washington to oversee the auditions and give his fair opinion about the fitness of the candidates proposed by the local under the terms of the agreement in place.

Kindler had been riding the first horn player, a fine person, but of nervous temperament, and only an adequate player. He kept pressuring him to a degree that the musician could not do his usual best and, most likely, he would have shortly been replaced anyway. It so happened that Bruno Walter arrived as guest conductor for a number of concerts. His program was to begin with Weber’s famous Oberon overture with the delicately sensitive horn solo introduction. Under Mr. Walter’s handling and manner, the solo horn player rose to the occasion and even outdid what could really have been expected of him. As in matters generally, most often, if one puts a person at ease, gives him confidence, and goes along sympathetically with any difficulties, most people will give of full capacity, yielding a satisfactory result and sometimes better. This combination of fine musicianship, sensitivity, psychology, and inherent kindness of human spirit in a musical director, or any leader, usually brings about a transformation in an orchestra’s playing and it transcends its normal capacity achieving a much greater result. After rehearsal, Walter entered the artist room where Kindler awaited the guest. Bruno Walter could not but manifest his satisfaction with the still young orchestra. He singled out for special attention and praise some of solo first chair instrumentalists, enthusiastically remarking about this self same horn player, as fate would have it. Needless to mention that this man who it had been on the brink of being replaced, was treated in far different and much more decent manner going forward and, in fact, went on to become a respected member of the famed Boston Symphony.

At another time, there was the instance of the great German pianist Gieseking rehearsing the Emperor or Number 5 Concerto by Beethoven. It is an accepted procedure that a soloist, and especially a noted one, has within reasonableness, the right to perform the composition as he, the soloist, conceives it. In fact, such a world-renowned artist has a right and often uses his prerogative to propose opinions regarding the work as a whole, even in the orchestral part. Adjustments to improve the conception of a not greatly experienced conductor should not be missed nor overlooked by this acknowledged great and experienced soloist. He has performed the work with many celebrated musicians the world over and, given reasonable cooperation, may bring a more comprehensive distillation to the performance, achieving a higher level of interpretation with the work. Many instances could be cited in support of this—my mind recalls numerous examples involving the violinists, Heifetz and Szigeti.

In this case with Gieseking, matters became tense and later almost reached a breaking point, as conductor Kindler maintained his right at the helm of the orchestra to determine all things musical, in this case opposing the solo pianist. During the ensuing argument, Gieseking asserted that he had performed said concerto a hundred times all over the world with great organizations, achieving notable success with his conception of the work and without such an upheaval. Reason and compromise worked to partially smooth out and overcome the impossible spirit that characterized the rehearsal. To have the dispute that took over this agonizing three-hour rehearsal ironed out was a great relief to us members of the orchestra and by the time of the evening performance, all the difficulties were a nearly forgotten memory.

It is a pity these heated argumentative sessions at rehearsals occurred in the National Symphony. There is hardly reason among mature people, working together for the sake of making beautiful music, to devolve in this manner while attempting to achieve it. To become personal or abusive under any such condition on the part of a director, or in resentment by orchestra members, is all the more appalling and unnecessary upon reflection. Over the seasons, a number of these unpleasant exchanges took place. They are altogether harmful to everyone concerned. The overall morale is brought down, the individuals who engage in this losing of tempers harm themselves physically, and the respect accorded the high stool of the conductor is shattered in this moment that the dust and smoke of anger arises in sorry exhibition with no regard to the greater good possible preserving harmony.

The playing of music Sunday evenings with a chamber orchestra of about thirty men at the newly erected Mellon Art Gallery was a novel sort of experience. This very solid structure in marble block square around filled with great art treasures from a number of benefactors including Mellon, is a veritable feast for the knowledgeable eye. The checking in and out with the many constant guards and requisite repetitive signatures by us musicians was a slight discomfort but inescapable under the circumstances. Talented musician, Richard Bales, has carried over these concerts ever since.

On December 9, 1941 the National Symphony was in Springfield, Massachusetts for the year’s scheduled concert. This was given at the huge hall of the Y. M. C. A. As we came out after the concert, the extra Sunday papers were being excitedly hawked with the news of Japan’s awful and treacherous strike on Pearl Harbor. Having come to this city for a number of years, I had heard from some of the other orchestra men of a fabulous dining place where they liked to dine. We would assemble in the large lobby of the hotel, which was filled with many cozy chairs and lounges. Conditions were just right for relaxation and among all the cities we visited this was the one place where the combination was so good. An afternoon concert on a Sunday and a particularly excellent place to dine if you happened to know about it, with the whole evening afterwards to do as one pleased constituted a rare opportunity for us as musicians. Assembling in the lobby, I had repeatedly heard tell of this outstanding dining experience. That fateful day, as it proved to be, was the one I had had chosen to embark on this dining tour, which I had only heard about during previous visits. Despite my disturbed feelings at the momentous events, I made my way to the Lafayette Hotel. This was the eating-place discussed by the men over the years while relaxing in the lobby of our hotel in terms of praise not often accorded any establishment. In the words of one of these loquacious boys, one who never missed his opportunity to partake of this food, this place served just about every food known to man, the finest of delectable and unusual items that could ever be enjoyed. Arriving at the place, I beheld this well nigh fantastic and, when described previously, nearly unbelievably exaggerated feast the authenticity of which I had internally questioned. Yet now I beheld it! The hors d’oevres laid out on that huge table constituted a beautiful display of fine foods. There were cheeses, the produce of the seas, cold cuts, even inviting looking buffalo salads, in short, a tremendous variety of beautifully arranged foods. And if one had not misjudged one’s capacity indulging in this spread, a person could sit down to an à la carte hot dinner. Completing the meal with dessert and coffee, a gourmet would have a most rare and delightful experience, one that would be remembered for a lifetime. All this was presented for the reasonable price of two to three dollars in 1941 depending on the chosen menu of dishes.

Musicians had to be good troopers to weather the hardships of travel with an orchestra like the National. I venture to say that aside from the Boston, New York, and Philadelphia Symphonies, hardly another orchestra provided complete first class travel arrangements. Riding the train from early morning all day up to the point that formal dressing for the evening concert needed to be done under the most cramped conditions on the train itself was not pleasant. In some instances, there was hardly even time to eat before performance. And then the following day, we were typically awakened at five or five-thirty A. M. at the hotel in order to catch a train for the next city. Altogether, the routine was tough going. The instance cannot be forgotten that occurred during one of our early tours going through Augusta, Georgia and a few other southern cities. For three or four days we lived on our special train, sided in the stations when not rolling—only those who have lived under such limited conditions can appreciate the unpleasantness of this.

The matter of luggage presented an especially trying experience. Lugging one’s own baggage for a ten or twelve day tour when making this daily change from one city to another is not conducive to the best artistic musical performance. It is wear and tear on the physical stamina of most performers other than the real athletes. I behooved one to be clever and be willing to be content and reduce to sensible minimum the necessities. But if you wished to have all the conveniences of home while on tour, you could resort to some ingenuity by attaching rollers on the heavy load and in many instances save strength and health. Of course, while one is young and in robust health, this trouping over the country is of great interest and taken in stride as well as enjoyed. With the passing of years, this sort of thing begins to wear and one’s interest wanes naturally as the monotony of it takes its toll. Still, I look back with nostalgic affection upon these trips, as well as those missed with some of the orchestras with which I performed, especially trips to Europe I did not take in. After World War I, Walter Damrosch visited the continent with his New York Symphony. Toscanini did the same in 1930 with the Philharmonic.

And now I shall relate of a man named Bogar whom I came to know through the extraordinary love evidenced by this man’s spirituality. He craved the essential kernel inherent in the nobility of aesthetics of all fields of art, not the least—music. This man was not impressive in his physical appearance. In fact, because of former professional boxing involvement, his physiognomy had been somewhat disfigured. Having known him though, the observant and sensitive, almost saint-like quality of his character was impressive. I venture to remark that his selfless humility and willingness to help and to do is of the mold that truly must make up the great among humanity. It may be said that few can be met in a lifetime that are fairly designated great souls, as I believe him to be.

What with the scale of salary improving during the 1930s in the symphony, it was still only about a twenty to twenty-three week season. By 1942 with war clouds hovering, and in fact thickening, and prices tending upward, conditions for us were far from comfortable in the humblest sense. With a number of music pupils, some quartet concerts, together with the symphony netted $1,500. To make ends meet in those times of really low prices was yet quite a task.

Promises by Kindler, the conductor, who passed it on to Cappell, the orchestra manager, for improvement given often previously, had worn thin. Now I decided on a different course as much as I regretted having to do so. The symphony offer was declined to enter into civil service government work. However bitter it was to take this step, I felt satisfied I was doing the right thing, having acted courageously in behalf of my belief that as a musician I was rightly due a fair and livable income. It was to be routine office work for a living with an almost automatic claim for betterment and art for inner satisfaction. Hardly six months would elapse though before music beckoned again and I gladly responded to the love of a lifetime.

Candlelight Concerts program

Jenő Sevely's card 1932-42