Thursday, December 17, 2015

Calendar for the Age of Anxiety

Years ago, I wanted to publish an Age of Anxiety calendar. No luck.
Couldn't find a publisher. It was a good idea, though. I had collected crude illustrations from a 19th century fiction magazine....
Moanday Tearsday Wailsday Terrorsday Frightday Shatterday Sinday
Jangleary Feverary Schmerz Acheril Ruin Deny Angst Sobtember Shocktober Nervember Distemper
Some of the weekdays came from James Joyce...

Friday, November 20, 2015

Remember Movie "Chapters"?



Remember movie serials? We called them “chapters. “ Besides the main feature (or two), there were exciting short films of ten or so episodes, most of them ending with a “cliffhanger”—the hero or heroine threatened with death, perhaps tied up on train tracks with a train barreling toward them. (In the next episode, our hero or heroine would be saved in the most ordinary, disappointing way.) Some serials involved the Lone Ranger or Captain Marvel or Dick Tracy. And occasionally someday-to-be-famous people appeared—like Ruth Roman. Robert Lowery was in them, of course -- he was, it seemed, in almost every other film of the ‘40s. I remember really scary serials—for example, one in which a big horrible spider ran across the screen. And I remember a serial featuring an irresistible skimply clad  “jungle girl”—the first female I ever had a crush on! And some serials were of foot races—and you, in the audience, might win if you had the right number. And in those races there was always a funny drunk with a fancy moustache and wearing a tux. Anyone remember who that gifted actor was?


Wednesday, October 28, 2015

The Rise and Fall of Paul Robeson

The Rise and Fall of Paul Robeson

Paul Robeson (1898-1976), the singer/actor/political activist, was dining in a restaurant when he spotted Jackie Robinson and Don Newcombe, the baseball players, at another table. He asked a waiter to invite them over, so he could introduce them to his friends.
     Jackie Robinson sent back an angry response: “Fuck Paul Robeson.”
     That’s from a biography that tells the story of the tragic life of this gifted man (“Paul Robeson All-American,” by Dorothy Butler Gilliam, 1978). Robinson was angry because of Robeson’s recent unpatriotic remarks—that American blacks would never fight against the Soviet Union, even if there were a war between the two countries. Robinson had testified before Congress that Robeson’s remarks were “silly.”
    We’ll return to Jackie Robinson later. 
     Robeson did make horrible mistakes. He had a foolish love affair with the totalitarian Soviet Union: He had never lost his wonderment and delight in discovering a country where black people were treated as equals. When the Soviets attacked Finland, he indefensibly supported the Soviets. He fulsomely praised Stalin and accepted the Stalin prize; refused to acknowledge Stalin’s anti-semitic purges or the sham 1930s trials; defended the Soviet invasion of Hungary in 1956; tried to get the United Nations to condemn the United States for genocide against blacks; and never joined the American civil-rights movement because James Farmer, a prominent black, asked that he first publicly reject the Soviet Union and communism. Even when Stalin signed a non-aggression pact with Hitler in 1939, Robeson said it in no way altered his convictions. The agreement, he said, was forced on Russia by France and England’s refusal to help protect the Soviet Uinion,
      While he never joined the Communist party, Robeson was clearly an unrepentant “fellow traveler.”
      When he had visited the Soviet Union, Robeson said, he had felt “like a human being for the first time since I grew up. Here I am not a negro but a human being.  Before I came I could hardly believe that such a thing could be….Here, for the first time in my life, I walk in full human dignity.”
   It was his fatal flaw—a stubborn  allegiance to the communist Soviet Union. It ruined his reputation.
      Robeson also had an unconventional married life, and carried on many affairs, apparently with the knowledge of his wife, Essie, an intelligent, helpful woman. She was justifiably furious. After a while, they just had a “companionate” marriage.
     Jose Ferrar, the actor, was married to Uta Hagen, who played Desdemona to Robeson’s Othello, and Ferrar walked in on the two of them in bed—not inside a theater. A divorce followed.
     Robeson had almost married another woman he had acted with, Peggy Ashcroft. In fact, there were a few white women he almost married—but his black friends discouraged him. They also discouraged him from joining the Communist party when he offered to, thinking it might help the cause.
    Robeson acted in a good many movies, and his most memorable performance was as Joe in “Showboat,” in which he sang “Ol’ Man River.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyJtGNk9iEU
He was so famous at one time—thanks to performances in films, plays, concerts—that just about everyone wanted to meet him, and he encountered Bernard Shaw, Harry Truman (he asked him to push for a strong anti-lynching law, but Truman said it wasn’t the right time), Lena Horne, Rebecca West, Pola Negri, Hart Crane, Heywood Broun, Mrs. Patricia Campbell, Emma Goldman, G.B. Stern, Mary Garden, Gertrude Stein, Ramsay MacDonald, Igor Sravinsky, Albert Einstein, Stanislavsky, Marian Anderson, Alexander Woolcott, Lorraine Hansberry, Zero Mostel, and Nikita  Khrushchev. 
  He became a famous singer, singing spirituals—which up to that time had been generally considered third-rate music, like the cheap food that blacks ate. Occasionally he sang opera—but said “I may sing a little opera in the morning but only in the bathroom.” His voice, writes biographer Martin Duberman, despite its warmth and richness, had a limited range. And the Met Opera, in 1933 when it featured an opera with a black man in it, “The Emperor Jones,” had a white man in blackface sing the role.
 Advised by his friend, the famous actress Mrs. Patrick Campbell, to play Othello, Shakespeare’s Moor, he read the play—and easgerly agreed to play Othello. In the play, he must kiss a white woman, Desdemona. Very controversial. But he was amazingly successful as an actor. “Othello” became the longest-running Shakespearean play on Broadway. Here’s an excerpt from Robeson’s performance:

     But because of his strident and incessant left-wing activities, he became persona non grata in the United States, loathed by hoi polloi, tailed by FBI agents, who listened to his phone calls, shunned by record companies, theaters, and even by former friends. He could not escape abroad: The United States took away his passport – for eight years. People stopped attending his concerts. When he gave a concert in Peekskll, New York, the citizens of that fair city, inflamed by local newspapers, broke it up by attacking the concertgoers –and several had to be hospitalized.
     It was a time when Americans, led by that sociopath Joe McCarthy, went nuts over Communism. Communists were devils. Red-white-and-blue neck Americans saw Communists everywhere. In Texas, being a Communist was made punishable by death. (Yet in my entire life, and I’m pretty old, I’ve NEVER met a self-confessed Communist.)
      One man who remained a faithful friend of Robeson’s—accompanying him on walks to protect him, eventually serving as a pallbearer at his funeral—was actor Sidney Poitier. Harry Belafonte and Ossie Davis were other faithful friends. As was Pete Seeger.
       Eventually, during a thaw in U.S.Soviet relations, Robeson’s passport was returned to him. At the Supreme Court, the liberal William O. Douglas led those judges in ruling that Robeson should get his passport back—a man’s political opinions should not deprive him of his freedom.
     Late in life he became deeply depressed. That’s what may happen to singers whose voices give out, to athletes who lose their athleticism.He tried suicide by slitting his wrists, and underwent  54 electroshock treatments. A very sad conclusion to his life.
     For a hero to wind up in disgrace is not unusual.  Lance Armstrong. Bill Cosby. Pete Rose. Barry Bonds. Shoeless Joe Jackson. (When a kid said to him, “Say it ain’t so, Joe,” that he didn’t accept money to throw the 1919 World Series, Joe Jackson didn’t answer.) Sir Francis Bacon was guilty of corruption. Bobby Fischer, the chess champion, was an American hero who went crazy and turned against America. O.J. Simpson murdered his ex-wife. As for Paul Robeson, he was disgraced not because of financial greed, or sex, or taking illegal drugs, or murder, but because of his political views.
                                                                        +++
Robeson was born in Princeton, where his father was a minister—children of ministers tended to be remarkably successful. After Somerville High School, he took a test and attended Rutgers on a full scholarship – he was the only black there. He tried to join the football team--he was 6 feet 2 and 240 pounds. In a scrimmage the Rutgers varsity zeroed in on him, breaking his nose and inflicting other injuries. But ten days later he returned—and made the team—and then made the All-American team three times. He received letters in ten or 12 other sports at Rutgers—along with making Phi Beta Kappa in his junior year and becoming valedictorian.
Being black, he was not allowed to live on campus. And some schools, like William and Mary and Georgia Tech, wouldn’t play Rutegrs in football because Rutgers had a black on its team. Rutgers did play against Washington and Lee—after Rutgers agreed to bench Paul Robeson for that game.
            He decided to go to law school, and chose Columbia over Harvard. As a lawyer, he joined a prestigious firm and asked a secretary to take a letter. Said she, I don’t take dictation from a nigger. He resigned.
     Robeson didn’t complain about it, but in the U.S. and even in Europe he was subjected to racial prejudce. He had to use the freight elevator. When his light-skinned wife bought two tickets to a play, he was told he couldn’t sit in the orchestra with her. When he wanted to eat, in the Times Square area, he almost had to travel to Harlem to find a place that served blacks. When he was preparing to sing at a concert in Kansas City, the newspaper, the Star, agreed to run a story about it—but without a picture. The paper never ran pictures of black people. In Green Bay, Wisconsin, he and his wife were scheduled to check into a hotel—but were told at the last minute that it didn’t accept blacks. But the hotel relented. The Robesons were given a room on the first floor, so they wouldn’t be seen from the elevator, and told to use the side stiarcase, to eat in their rooms, and to “make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.” A newspaper critic for the New York Telegram didn’t acccept Robeson as Othello. The critic wrote: “There have doubtless been truly tragic negroes—but they are not really representive of their  rather happy go lucky race.”
     This disgusting prejudice against blacks existed not long ago—and it still exists.
      I remember inviting a black friend to join a bunch of us in going out to dinner. I can’t, he said, I need a shave. So, go to a barber and pay for a shave, I said. He looked at me and said, no white barber around here would shave me.
     In high school, in New Jersey, there were no blacks in my classes. Finally, in my senior year, I saw a black kid who had enrolled in our school playing softball. White kids were gathered around him…hooting.
     I had a black cleaning woman at one time. She asked me, can I use the downstairs bathroom or must I go upstairs? Use the downstairs one of course, I said. She looked grateful. I’m still shocked.
    I worked at a magazine with the sister of writer James Baldwin at one time. We would go out to lunch together. We always would bring a third person along. A white man with a black woman wasn’t acceptable.
                                                                        +++
Asplendid book about Robeson is by Martin Bubl Duberman. 800 pages. When people ask m how I spent the summer of 2015, I’ll say, I read this book…
  In his old age, Paul Robeson returned to the United States. This was his country and he missed it. He was ill and depressed, going in and out of hospitals, seeing visitors only seldom. He tried suicide by cutting his wrists. He underwent electroshock therapy—52 times—before dying. A very sad conclusion to his life.
     What really hurt him was that he wasn’t invited to take part in the civil rights movement. Black leaders felt that Robeson’s pro-Soviet views would hurt the civil rights struggle. A. Philip Randolph, Roy Wilkens, even Martin Luther King Jr. felt that way. So they didn’t invite him to speak, they didn’t give him any credit for the entire civil rights movemenbt.
    You remember that Jackie Robinson had cursed Paul Robeson? Yet Robeson, almost alone, had campaigned to have black players admitted into baseball! Jackie Robinson should have been grateful.
   On the other hand, Jackie Robinson, years later, became somewhat disillusioned with the slow progress of black freedom, and he said, “I do have increased respect for Paul Robeson who, over the span of twenty years, sacrificed himself, his career, and the wealth and comfort he once enjoyed because, I believe, he was sincerely trying to help his people.”     

     Unlike Robeson, Jack Robinson could admit making a bad mistake.
                                                            ***
But the disgrace into which Robeson fell has been lifting. We Americans are a forgiving people. In 2004, the U.S. even issued a postage stamp in honor of Paul Robeson. And there were celebratons all over the country.  

     In sum, Paul Robeson was a good man, an amazingly gifted man, who went very wrong. He was too stubborn; too loyal to a country tht didn’t deserve loyalty. How misguided his impatience was is shown by the fact that Barack  Obama is now our President. Paul Robeson would have been amazed—and very, very pleased. And yes, he deserves some of the credit.

Recordings

Ballad for Americans

Documentary, Here I Stand

Music and Musicians During the Third Reich

Music and Musicians During the Third Reich

In the 1940s, Karlrobert Kreiten was considered one of the most talented young pianists in all of Germany –and by no less than Wilhelm Furtwängler, the conductor, who was one of Hitler’s favorites.
   Kreiten had made his debut at age 11 with Mozart's Piano Concerto in A major in a live broadcast. He was taught in Berlin by Claudio Arrau, the world-famous pianist.
     But Kreiten made negative comments about Adolf Hitler and the war effort after listening to the BBC. His comments were reported to the Gestapo by his landlady. Kreiten was indicted and condemned to death. Friends and family frantically tried to save his life -- unsuccessfully.
     The family only accidentally learned that Karlrobert, on Sept. 7, 1943, had been hanged.
    He was 27.
   We do have a few pieces of piano music he recorded. You can listen to him play on YouTube.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYp-0pGyKDU
                                                           
     Life in Nazi Germany could be terrifying. No wonder so many of its musicians and composers  cooperated with the Nazis. A few careless words and you might be quickly and quietly executed. Or your relatives might be punished—especially if they had any Jews in their ancestry—like composer Richard Strauss. Besides which, jobs for musicians were scarce during the Nazi years. Supporting the Nazis helped ensure your employment—there are statistics showing this And whether or not you advanced as a musician depended a good deal on whether you were a member of the Nazi party.
   
To succeed in Nazi Germany as a musician, however, you were not REQUIRED to be a Nazi. Furtwangler, to his credit, never joined the Nazi Party—the way  conductor Herbert von Karajan did. Twice. And Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, the soprano. And pianist Walter Giesiking.
        
        Today, I’m going to talk about famous musicians and composers during the Nazi era, which began in 1933. They included truly evil people, like the pianist Elly Ney. They included an evil orchestra: the Vienna Philharmonic And they included a good many musicians who fall into a gray area—where the verdict is ambiguous. Or conflicting.
     One example: Kirsten Flagstad. The great Norwegian soprano was celebrated for singing Wagnerean roles at the Met. During the war, she left the US and went to occupied Norway because her husband was there, and he had asked her to relocate. Americans asked her not to return. Norway asked her not to return. But she did. But while there, she did NOT sing in any occupied countries, apart from Norway, and she did NOT sing at any Nazi concerts.
     Her husband, it turned out, was a crook, and  he died while he was still being prosecuted.
    After the war, Flagstad returned to the US. There were protests against her returning to sing at the Met—led by baritone Lawrence Tibbett. But Rudolf Bing, the director of the Met, said it was ok for what he called the world’s greatest soprano to sing there. (And Bing was Jewish.) And when Flagstad agreed to sing at benefits for Jewish organizations in this country, she went a long way to being forgiven. Obviously, she fell into a gray area. Not the best, not the worst.
 
  In judging the behavior of musicians during the Third Reich, there are a few touchstones. Were the musicians willing to perform in occupied countries? Did they serve in the Nazi government? Did they continue to perform music written by Jews or Jewish converts—like Mahler and Offenbach and Mendelssohn? Did they try to protect Jews, and Jewish musicians in particular, from losing their jobs and being arrested and sent to concentration camps?

And at the end of my talk, I’ll tell you which musicians proved, in the opinion of historians, true heroes during the Third Reich.

The Nazis believed that profoundly German music was the very best, and it would unite the German people and boost morale. They focuseed on. conservative music—and the music of that arch-antisemite, Wagner. No jazz, no music associated with black people, no music by Jews or Jews who had converted, No modern music—by the likes of Hindemith or Stravinsky or Alban Berg.
     Duing the war years, the Andrews sisters were a very popullar trio, and their rendition of Bei mir bist du schon was very popular in Nazi Germany. It was banned when the Nazis learned that bei mir bist du schon was a Yiddish song.
   The Nazi made other mistkes. After all, deciding who is Jewish can be tricky.They thought, for example, that Alban Berg was Jewish. The composer of the operas Wozzeck and Lulu.  Not Jewish. Neither were Stravinsky or Hindemith. Stravinsky, in fact, was something of an anti-semite. Or the conductor Erich Kleiber. Still, some Nazis identified them as Jewish. Along with Leopold Stokowski and Camille Saint-Saens. And then there was the Nazi who thought Mahler, a convert, was NOT Jewish.

But, as I said, it was tricky. At some Nazis pointed out, if you executed someone who was one-quarter Jewish, weren’t you executing someone who was three-quarters Aryan?
At one point, the decision was made:If you had just one Jewish grandparent, you were ok. Though the fraction changed—someone with as little as one great-grandparent being Jewish made you Jew. Of course if your spouse was Jewish…you and your spouse were probably in trouble.

“Privileged marriages” were those made with a Jewish spouse before 1935
.
And there were “honorary Aryans.” Some famous opera singers, like Richard Tauber, applied to become honorary Aryans. He didn’t make it and left Germany for England.

Herman Goering, not the worst of the Nazis, was apparently fed up. He announced: “I decide who is Jewish.”

   Hilde Gueden, you may remember, was a soprano at the Met opera. In 1941, she was lving in Germany, age 24. She had told everyone that she had only one Jewish grandparent. Turned out she had---three! In August 1943, an anthropological institute in Vienna determined that quote “in terms of her racial appearance she exhibits none of the characteristics typical of Jews.” By then, Guden had moved to Rome—and then to the US and the Met. One historian writes: “Had she remained in Germany she probably would have been killed.”

   Die Meistersinger was the most performed opera in Germany during the war—very German-oriented. The opera has a famous aria in which Hans Sachs, one of its heroes, urges Germans to avoid non-German music. And there’s a character, Beckmesser, who has been interpreted as a representative Jew. Natually, he’s a loser.

Michael H. Kater is the author of an authoritative book about music in Nazi Germany: THE TWISTED MUSE: Musicians and Their Music During the Third Reich (1997).He’s a professor of history at York University in Toronto. Overall, he is more forgiving of Richard Strauss than other commentators are, less forgiving of Wilhelm Furtwangler. Much of what I’m writing here comes from Kater.

    A very popular piece of music in Nazi Germany was Carmina Burina by Carl Orff. Several music critics consider Carmina Burana to be Nazi music — Michael Kater actually called it “a calling card for the Third Reich.”  It’s a simple catchy, militaristic piece of music. Someone dismissed it as circus music. Alex Ross of the New Yorker said that as a piece of music it’s meaningless. It carries no message at all.

At first the Nazis were suspicious of Carmina, but then they came around. Composer Carl Orff was acceptable to the Nazis. When they wanted a composer to write new music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to replace the music written by the Jew Mendelssohn, Carl Orff volunteered. Alex Ross called it “one of the shabbiest acts in musical history.” After the war Orff claimed he had quietly worked for a famous anti-Nazi organization. Kater maintains that he lied. By the way, it’s possible that Orff was especially cooperative with the Nazis because he knew he had some Jewish ancestry.

      Some conclusions that Michael Kater arrived at:
  “… there was no consistent correlation between musical conviction and musical talent.” In the Third Reich “…excellent musicians could also be fanatical Nazis, and, conversely, mediocre musicians could be ardent defenders of democracy and the inalienable rights of man.” Just as a brilliant neurosurgeon can be horse’s ass when he ventures opinions outside of neurosurgery.
     Another conclusion of Kater’s: Musicians during the Third Reich were rarely complete sinners and rarely complete saints. “One and all … emerged in May 1945 severely tainted, with their professional ethos violated and their music often compromised:  gray people against a landscape of gray.”
    
Now, films and novels and biographies about famous artists – Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Mozart -- may have led many people to believe that they were also splendid human beings … with the possible exception of Richard Wagner. So it may be surprising that certain famous musicians were, to one degee or another, Nazi collaborators. Among them: pianist Walter Gieseking, composer Anton Webern, singer Erna Berger, conductor Hans Knappertsbusch, composer Franz Lehar. In short, gifted artists probably don’t differ much from ungifted artists… in terms of human decency. As much as we’d like to believe otherwise.
                                                .
Let’s start by looking at pure evil.

Elly Ney (1882-1968) joined the Nazi party in 1937. It’s been suggested that she hated her first music teacher, a Jew, and that hatred made her an anti-Semite. She certainly worshiped Hitler, and once said that the highlight of her entire life came when she shook his hand. It’s rumored that Hitler said she was his favorite pianist. I’ve listened to her play the piano on YouTube. Not impressed.
In the 1930’s Elly Ney was noted among German musicians for her enthusiastic anti-Semitism. She considered, for example, the work of Richard Strauss’s librettist, Stefan Zweig, to be “ugly, Jewish-demonic.” Jazz to Elly Ney, was also dangerous due to its racially “impure” qualities.
In 1933, Ney refused to perform in Hamburg after she was asked to replace a Jewish pianist, Rudolf Serkin. For her, replacing a Jew was unbearable.
In Wikipedia, you can see a bust of her, somewhere in modern Germny. And Youtube has a collection of her piano playing.

More about pure evil:

The Vienna Philharmonic is one of the oldest and best orchestras in the world.
A poll conducted in 2008 by Gramophone magazine of 11 music critics from different countries named the Vienna Philharmonic the third-best orchestra in the world, after the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and the Berlin Philharmonic. (The highest rated U.S. orchestra: Cleveland, in fifth place.)
        And on New Year’s Eve the Vienna Philharmonic’s festive concert is televised almost all over the world. 
      Yet just a few years ago, there was serious talk of dissolving the Vienna Philharmonic because of its sordid past — its enthusiastic and unrivaled cooperation with the Nazis before and during World War II.
    No one is suggesting that members of today’s Vienna Philharmonic be punished for the sins of their fathers. But the fathers’ sins should not be totally forgotten….
    For many years, the Vienna Philharmonic withheld information about its complicity with the Nazis, but in 2013 a panel of three historians released a thorough study.
   In the mid-1930s, the panel found, only 20% of the orchestra had belonged to the Nazi party or its affiliates. By 1942,  some 49% – 60 out of the 123 active musicians – belonged. Two were members of the SS, the powerful paramilitary organization that rivaled the German army. (At the Berlin Philharmonic, by contrast, barely 20% were Nazi members; party membership in Austria as a whole was 10%.)
    After the Nazis took over Austria, the panel found, 13 Jewish musicians in the Vienna Philharmonic orchestra were fired; six of them escaped abroad, and seven wound up being murdered – five in concentration camps. About half of the musicians who replaced the 13 were members of the Nazi Party. Clearly, becoming a Nazi and eliminating Jews from the orchestra could lead to one’s advancement — from, perhaps, second violinist to first.
    Eleven members of the remaining orchestra were stigmatized for being married to Jewish women, or stigmatized as “half-Jewish” or “closely related.”
    The first New Year’s Eve concert, given in 1939, was approved by Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, one of the very worst of the Nazis, as a propaganda tool. It was moved to New Year’s Day from 1941 to 1945, and returned to New Year’s Eve in 1947-- when it was conducted by Josef Krips. He had not been allowed to conduct during the war because he was half Jewish.
    When the war ended in 1945, the orchestra fired ten of its members for their Nazi activity. Two were later re-hired. One of them, trumpet player Helmut Wobisch, had joined the Nazi Party in 1933 and the SS in 1934, and during the war had worked as a spy for the Gestapo. He was re-hired in 1950, appointed executive director in 1953, and remained there until 1967.
      Baldur von Schirach was a member of the orchestra and at one time the head of Hitler Youth. He served 20 years in Spandau Prison for crimes against humanity – namely, overseeing the deportation of 65,000 Viennese Jews. In 1942, he said in a speech that their deportation was a “contribution to European culture.” 
      Apparently he had misplaced a high award he had received from the orchestra, the Ring of Honor. Wobisch in 1966 privately gave him a replacement copy.
            In recent years the orchestra has been making amends. In 2013, it voted to revoke all the honors it had bestowed upon Nazi officials. It also voted to return to their owners looted artwork that a Nazi officer had presented to the orchestra. In 1997, the orchestra even accepted as a full member its first woman, a harp player. Jewish conductors like Leonard Bernstein and Daniel Barenboim have been invited to lead the orchestra.
      Still, as Clemens Hellsberg, former president of the orchestra, said recently, the Philharmonic cannot now shrug and claim that, during the Nazi period, “it was those other guys” who did it.

Also talking about pure evil:

Willem Mengelberg (1971-1951), who was Dutch with German ancestry, conducted the Concertgebouw from 1895 to 1945. On hearing that the Dutch had surrendered to Hitler, he proposed a toast with champagne. He proceeded to conduct in Germany and in Nazi-occupied countries. He was photographed in the company of high-ranking Nazis like Arthur Seyss-Inquart, whom the Nuremberg court sentenced to death by hanging for crimes against humanity.
      After the war Mengelberg was banned from conducting in the Netherlands.
His friends attributed his Nazism to political naivete – or to his blind support of anything German, considering that was his ancestry. I’ve heard him conduct on recordings; very good.

      Someone who was also clearly black and not gray was a pianist, Walter Gieseking.
    He was a fervent Nazi, eager to meet Hitler, eager to perform in occupied countries. His career flourished in Nazi Germany. Why did he support the Nazis? A reason he gave: He thought they were a last defense against the Communists.
     Arthur Rubinstein, the pianist, was at a party and saw Gieseking standing alone. So he and invited him to join him and others in his group. “But don’t let that Nazi, Berman, come,” he told Gieseking.
   “What do you mean by that?” Gieseking responded angrily. “I am a convinced Nazi. Hitler is saving our country!”
    Like many other German artists, Gieseking was blacklisted right after the war. But by January 1947,  he had been cleared by the U.S. military government, enabling him to resume his career -- although his U.S. tour scheduled for January 1949 was cancelled owing to the protests of such groups as the Anti-Defamation League and the American Veterans Committee. In 1953 he finally returned to the United States, and his concert in Carnegie Hall was sold out and well received. Well, being a celebrity seems to conquer everything. Bill Cosby keeps getting cheered, too.

      Now we come to the musicians who were neither black nor white.

   In evaluating a musician’s degree of turpiitude, one should consider:
    +Did the musician perform in countries occupied by the Nazis?
    +Did the musician try to help Jews and others threatened by the Nazis?
   +Did the musician join the Nazi party or work with the Nazi government?
   + Did the musician have a decent excuse—such as that he was protecting relatives who were Jewish?

One common excuse Nazi collaborators used was the “Vissi d’arte” excuse. “I lived for art,” as La Tosca sang in Puccini’s opera. Herbert von Karajan, the conductor, employed this excuse. “I lived only for art.” Actually, he had joined the Nazi party not once but twice, and regularly lied about it. And he performed in occupied countries. And he never tried to protect Jews in his orchestras.

Another excuse: Some Germans supported Hitler and the Nazis at the auspicious beginning of their reign. When Hitler came into office the German economy was in the pits. Hitler and his minions began spending money on public and military projects, and thus raised the employment rate; they talked about how superior the Germans were and claimed that they deserved superior treatment. No wonder Hitler was elected democratically, and no wonder that even some decent people were fooled -- before Hitler began his campaigns against Jews, Gypsies, and other non-Aryans, and pursued his unbridled militaristic ambitions.
   Let’s look at some musicians in this gray aea.
    Herbert von Karajan was, above all, an opportunist. He wanted to be No. 1, and in Nazi Germany joining the Nazi party was a good way to achieve that. (That was singer Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s excuse, too.) Von Karajan DID conduct in occupied countries. But Hitler didn’t like his conducting or his showing off by not reading from a score.
     I heard von Karajan conduct the New York Philharmonic in the 1960s, and I interviewed a member of the orchestra later on. The musician was amazed: von Karajan had conducted without a score! (When von Karajan finally reached our advanced age…he needed a score.)

von K even married a woman who was ¼ jewish—not a good career move—it got him into trouble—and later, at least twice, he said joining the party was a misake—

but he was not totally blameless—he conducted concerts in countries conquered by movie--the nazis—film

As for his arrogance, there was a joke about him…mozart was born in salzberg, the birthplace of herbert von karajan--

went to a dept store, started walking away without paying—sir, you didn’t pay!
   Look at clerk contemptuously, I am von karajan—
His assistant paid--

I saw VK conduct for nyphil--orchestra memberlater otld me, in awe, VK’s eyes were closed the entire time—

his nemesis, wilhelm furtwangler, had NOT joined the party—but he cooperated with the nazis to a certain extent-- he certainly helped a great great many jews—keeping them in his orchestra—after war, banned from performing in the US-

von Karajan was treated more leniently after the war—a play about it—
Harvey sachs wrote:Karajan seemed to have opted instead for an all-purpose, highly refined, lacquered, calculatedly voluptuous sound that could be applied, with the stylistic modifications he deemed appropriate, to Bach and Puccini, Mozart and Mahler, Beethoven and Wagner, Schumann and Stravinsky ... many of his performances had a prefabricated, artificial quality that those of ToscaniniFurtwängler, and others never had... most of Karajan's records are exaggeratedly polished, a sort of sonic counterpart to the films and photographs of Leni Riefenstahl.  (nazi movie maker, did triumph of the will)

all in  all, a genius--with the whiff of sulphur

Will Crutchfield, 1988 on von Karajan
In the case of Mr. von Karajan, one can say more: that, very early on, he saw fit to make himself persona grata with a movement that was already in the business of displacing Jewish musicians - some of them conductors whose continued activity in Germany and Austria might have slowed somewhat the ascent of ''Das Wunder Karajan.'' It is quite likely that nothing worse than blind careerism lay behind the conductor's party membership; still, even in a civilized regime, that is not a very admirable trait.
     Furtwangler, the older conductor, helped a great many Jewish musicians… He didn’t cooperate FULLY with Nazis… He never joined the Nazi party… He tried to avoid conducting on Hitler’s birthday…or where there was a prominent Nazi flag… But Hitler loved his conducting.
    Furtwangler actually wangled a meeting with Hitler, possibly to argue that the Nazis’ anti-Jewish campaign was hurting Germany’s reputation. When Hitler and Furtwangler met, apparently they just yelled at each other.
      Furtwangler was certainly not a hero, though he could have been worse. He had severl golden opportunities, but he didn’t flee Nazi Germany, as he was urged to. Also, he insisted that he had never conducted in an occupied country….but he did. He, too, winds up in a gray area.

In 1946, the conductor Bruno Walter, who had fled Germany and was then living in the United States, wrote to Furtwangler:  “Please bear in mind that your art was used over the years as an extremely effective means of foreign propaganda for the regime of the devil; that you, thanks to your personal fame and great talent, performed valuable service for this regime and that in Germany itself the presence and activities of an artist of your rank helped to provide cultural and moral credit to those terrible criminals or at least gave considerable help to them…. In contrast to that, of what significance was your helpful behavior in individual cases of Jewish distress?”
            Furtwangler is hard to evaluate; Michael Kater comes down hard on him.

   Richard Strauss, the composer, was not enthusiastic about the Nazis…and he had a Jewish daughter in law, Alice, whose lifeand whose chidlren were threatened by the Nazis. P 209
 So he had reason to cooperate. There’s a story that at one point he naively drove to one of the most famous concentration camps, Terezin, trying to visit his daughter-in-law’s mother. The guards refused him admittance. Still, they were — to quote one writer—“dumbfounded.”

Let’s look at a few more musicians who flourished during the Third Reich.
       Elizabeth Schwarzkopf, the soprano, was blue-eyed, blonde, and beautiful, as well as ruthlessly ambitious. And she possessed a lovely voice.
    While young, Schwarzkopf joined the Nazi party. She did it, she explained, just to advance her career. Kater tried again and again to interview her, but she kept putting him off. After the war, she came here and sang at the Met. The Met’s Rudolf Bing let her sing, joking that she had atoned by marrying Walter Legge, a noted and difficult music producer… who was Jewish. (I don’t think he was. But you shouldn’t let facts get in the way of a good story.)
      When I was a kid, I heard her talk to a group of New York City high school students. They laughed when they heard someone announce her Schwarzkopf’s ususual name. She proceeded to berate them for laughing. I thought: She must be missing some gray cells to seriously scold teenagers for laughing at anything at all.
   So, Schwarzkopf was, I think, a shade of gray. Along with Furtwangler, von Karajan, and Richard Strauss.
        And then, of course, there were the smart heroes: Jewish and non-Jewish musicians who condemned the Nazis and fled.
                                   
Among them: Adolf Busch, a violinist married to a Jew. With the rise of Nazism, he left Germany for Switzerland. Asked to come back, he said he would “return with joy on the day that Hitler, Goebbels,  and Goering are publicly hanged.” Busch started the legendary Busch Quartet; his daughter, Alice, married Rudolf Serkin, the pianist. At the start of World War II, he immigrated to the United States.
     Another hero was Erich Kleiber, an Austrian conductor. He led a performance of an Alban Berg opera in Berlin, and someone who disapproved shouted, “Heil Mozart!” Kleiber callled back: “You are mistaken—that piece was by Alban Berg!”
   Kleiber left Germany for Argentina. And when La Scala refused to let Jews into its theater, Kleiber declined to conduct there, too. His son, Carlos Kleiber, was not long ago voted the world’s greatest conductor by a group of critics. Carlos learned a lot about conducting while in Argentina…listening to a conductor who regularly visited Argentina: Wilhelm Furtwangler.
    Another hero was Titto Ruffo. An Italian baritone. The Voice of the Lion. Unlike so many other Italian singers—like Gigli, like Ezio Pinza—he was opposed to Mussolini and the fascists.  Mussolini put him in jail, but there were worldwide protests. So Ruffo was let out. Ezio Pinza, by the way, boasted so much about his frindship with Mussonli—that he was putin jail! In New York!   

A genuine hero: Arturo Toscanini.
   "If I were capable of killing a man,” he once said, “I would kill Mussolini." (Italy’s standin for Hitler.)
     He refused to conduct at Bayreuth after Jewish musicians were banned. Hitler himself wrote a flattering letter to Toscanini asking him to return. Toscanini refused.
     And Toscanini was the first person to conduct the Palestine Orchestra, made up  mainly of Jewish musicians who had lost their positions because of the Nazis. (It’s now  the Israel Philharmonic.)

                                                A final question:
Should decent people avoid the music of Nazi collaborators – as Israel itself generally has done? Or ignore the backgrounds of those who wrote the music or played it, and try to just enjoy whatever they created?
    It’s an individual decision. How much do you like the music or the playing? How forgiving can you be about the musician?
   In my case, it’s fortunate that I don’t particularly like Richard Wagner’s music.
    I agree with Mark Twain, who actually visited Bayreuth, Wagner’s opera house. Twain’s verdict: Wagner’s music was better than it sounds. He also said he hadn’t heard anythinhg like it since the orphan asylum burned down-
      I  also concur with Woody Allen, who said that whenever he listened to Wagner’s music he felt like invading to invade Poland.
    Still, I love the voice of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and the conducting of Wilhelm Furtwangler, and they weren’t the worst. And I don’t even hear anything fascistic in Orff’s Carmina Burana. As for pianist Walter Gieseking, there are so many OTHER great pianists whom I can listen to that I can readily deny myself the pleasure of listening to a Nazi sympathizer.

       it’s not a matter of being rational. I used to love an italian tenor named Titto  Schipa…until I discovered that he, too, supported mussolini—I’m not enthusiastic anymore—

  Finally, let me quote Michael White, journalist:

“As for Furtwängler and the others who performed under the swastika, there was an undoubted mixture of foolishness, delusion, opportunism and cowardice. You can say of all these people that they should have had more courage, more integrity, and been prepared to sacrifice careers, futures and maybe lives. But that’s a big ask. What would you or I have done? I like to think I’d have been brave, but I can only thank God that I’ve never had to find out.”