Wednesday, October 28, 2015

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 Toscanini, Furtwängler, 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.”


Sunday, October 18, 2015

I'm so old that... (1)

I’m so old that I remember…

when drivers used hand-signals, to indicate if they were turning left or right or stopping….

having a coal bin, next to our house, where coal was dropped in. At the end of one winter, guess where we found our missing cat, Midnight….

we had a metal barrel in our yard, with round holes in it, for burning leaves and other debris in our yard…

we kept chickens—for eggs, and to eat. In the midst of a 40,000-pop city…

when boys before school played tag, hide-and-seek, and other physical games. The girls told us that they sang songs….

when the movies showed two films, and (sometimes) even three. My brother & I saw the three (cowboy) movies, then decided to see them again. While we were walking home, we met our mother walking to the theater:   Where the hell had we been?

when there were movie theatres all over the damn place…the Mayfair, the Alvin, the Temple, the Rivoli, the Rialto, the Capitol…

when cars had running boards and clutches…

when all TVs had test patterns…

when funny-looking people came around to sharpen your scissors and knives, and sell ice, and grind out music (with monkeys nearby)…

when everyone sat around the radio at 730pm to hear the William Tell Overture…before listening to The Lone Ranger…

 when we boys would check out various big dictionaries to see what they wrote about sexually suggestive words…


Friday, September 25, 2015

Highway Robbery

I stupidly backed my car into a garbage can in my driveway, breaking the rear lens cover on my Subaru Forester. So, how much would a new lens cover cost?

Over $300, it turned out.

No way I’m gonna pay that. Do you know how many books I could buy for $300?

Besides, I was formerly on the staff of Money magazine; I’ve written for Consumer Reports; I was a syndicated financial columnist for Gannett Newspapers. I’m no sucker; I wasn’t born yesterday.

I went online. Where could I buy a left rear lens cover? Found a place in New Jersey that would charge me only $150. Sent the money there.

I got back…something totally inappropriate. Big black plastic stuff.

Well, I did get my $150 back—minus the cost of postage ($8). The place never sent me the correct lens cover, and never asked me to return the big black plastic stuff. Suspicious.

Anyway, someone at the Subaru place in Rhinebeck eventually taped over my broken lens cover so skillfully, it hardly looked broken.Today I brought my car over to a local garage to be inspected. The state of New York requires an inspection by the end of September.

Damn car failed.

Broken lens cover.

Guess who’s gloomily thinking of spending over $300 to buy a new stupid lens cover.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Myths About Mozart


Myths about Mozart
 
By Warren Boroson

 Was Mozart poisoned by Antonio Salieri, a rival composer—a rumor repeated in the Academy Award-winning (“Best Picture”) film, “Amadeus” (1984)? No.
Was he poisoned at all? No.
Was his body thrown into a pauper’s grave? No.
Did he die a pauper? Unrecognized and unheralded? No.

There are so damn many misconceptions about Mozart! There’s even an erudite 285-page book called “The Mozart Myths,” by William Stafford, published by the Stanford University Press in 1992. In this article,  I’ve cribbed a lot from this excellent book.
 
One reason for the myths is that people like to embroider stories, make them more colorful and interesting and dramatic. So they exaggerate…and sometimes even fib. There’s a proverb among journalists: The facts kill many a good story. To put it another way: Good stories sometimes blithely ignore the facts.
 
Besides the temptation to goose up the truth, there are lots of honest disagreements about Mozart. One reason: Mozart did not have a scrupulously honest lifelong friend who wrote his recollections soon after Mozart’s death, when they were fresh. Mozart’s widow, Constanze, altered the facts to make herself look better. So did almost all of Mozart’s acquaintances. This isn’t unusual. Mahler’s wife, Alma, was such a liar that the phenomenon has been given a name: the Alma problem. And she was such a nutcase that she wouldn’t let Mahler’s music be performed at his funeral.
 
Rumors proliferate, especially when a famous person dies young. Think of all the rumors about the death of John F. Kennedy. One of my favorites came from the mother of Lee Harvey Oswald: She thought that Texas Gov. Connolly and the President got into an argument in their limousine and shot each other. Another time, she was asked: Did she really think her son was innocent and didn’t kill President Kennedy? I never said that, she replied. I never said he was perfect.
   
Beethoven had an acquaintance who wrote for newspapers — and liked to make things up. He wrote that Beethoven had told him that the beginning of the Fifth Symphony — dot dot dot dash — represents fate knocking at the door. So, another acquaintance of Beethoven’s said to him, I read that you said that the beginning of the Fifth Symphony represents fate knocking at the door. And Beethoven replied, I said WHAT? I said WHAT? And laughed and laughed.
 
A bounteous source of misinformation about Mozart is the film Amadeus — and we’ll see excerpts from it later on.
 
But first, the film did get something right. Mozart was a genius. And also a silly little kid.
 
Even his sister, Maria Anna (who was called Nannerl), said that “except for his music, he was a child.”
Once, while Mozart was playing the harpsichord for an aristocrat, a favorite cat of his came into the room…and Mozart stopped playing and followed the cat out of the room… — ”nor could we get him back for a considerable time.”
 
Another woman reported that Mozart, around 30 years old, had been improvising on the harpsichord in her presence, “only to break off suddenly and begin leaping over tables and chairs and meowing like a cat, and turn somersaults like an unruly boy.”
 
That someone can be an artistic genius and also a child is possibly the consequence of that person’s concentrating so much on art that he or she doesn’t  mature. And as you know, Mozart’s father, Leopold, dragged him all around Europe to show off his precocity…. Michael Rabin was an extreme example of an artist who never matured.
 
Now, the movie Amadeus centers on the rivalry between Mozart and the supposedly pathologically jealous Salieri. There’s even the implication that Salieri, wearing a mask, commissioned Mozart to write a requiem — which Salieri would have claimed to have written himself, and have played at Mozart’s funeral. (Actually, a Count Walsegg-Stuppach commissioned the requiem to commemorate his recently deceased wife.)
 
Movies and other media sometimes take ridiculous liberties with the truth. Remember the film biography of Beethoven — where Beethoven is secretly in love with his brother’s wife? The woman he fought with in court over her son — the woman whom he contemptuously called the Queen of the Night? Remember that Verdi wrote an opera about Joan of Arc — in which she gets married and rides off into the sunset? How about Prokofiev’s ballet about Romeo and Juliet, where they don’t die? (OK, he wisely revised it.)
I think if you’re going to write something, even fiction, about something that actually happened you should try very hard to adhere to the truth.
 
Here’s what one critic has written (from the High Country Press) about “Amadeus”:
 
“If rivalry did exist between the two composers, it was not likely as intense as the film suggests, as evidenced by the concerts the two presented together. Salieri did not play nearly so prominent a role in Mozart’s life as the film suggests. Also, Salieri is portrayed in the film as an incompetent musician. Though his abilities paled in comparison to Mozart’s and are not remembered by history, he was a good musician and a respected composer during his time. The idea that Salieri poisoned Mozart does date back to his death, but is not founded in fact. Mozart’s cause of death is more widely believed to have been a fever that was epidemic at the time.”
 
By the way, the notion that Salieri poisoned Mozart…well, Mozart on his death-bed said he had been poisoned. Salieri, while he himself was dying and had gone crazy,  said he had poisoned Mozart. In fact, Pushkin, the Russian playwright, had written a play (1830) conveying the notion that Salieri had poisoned Mozart, out of envy.
    
    O where is justice when the sacred gift,
    Immortal genius, comes not in reward
    For toil, devotion, prayer, self-sacrifice –
    But shines instead inside a madcap’s skull,
    An idle hooligan’s?
                                                                 --Pushkin
 
One critic, Neil Wenborn, writes in “Mozart” (1994) that “Mozart may have believed at one point that he had been poisoned, but there is not the slightest evidence that he was, or for that matter that Salieri — despite his self-accusatory deathbed ravings more than 30 years later — was in any way connected with his death....”
Salieri actually helped Mozart’s career and was in awe of his genius.
Well, if Salieri didn’t poison Mozart, who did? The Masons? No. Did he in effect commit suicide — by taking too much mercury for his syphilis? No. (He didn’t have syphilis.) Hmm. Who else might have done it? Oh, I know! The Jews! (General Ludendorff argued in 1926 that the Jews, along with the masons, had poisoned Mozart.)
But Mozart scholar William Stafford writes: “No anti-Semitic utterance by him is known to us. He had more contact with Jews than was usual, and his Jewish former landlord stood godfather to his first child.”
Stafford, spoilsport that he is, came to “a firm conclusion: Mozart died a natural death.”
 
Then there’s Mozart’s undisputed vulgarity.
Even in his early 20s, he wrote things that carry, to quote one Wenborn, “an embarrassing emphasis on bodily functions.”
But he shared his vulgarity with his parents and with many of his contemporaries. Scatalogical humor was not uncommon in those days. Mozart’s 56-year-old mother wrote to Leopold, her husband, from Munich: “Keep well, my love, Into your mouth your ass you’ll shove. I wish you goodnight, my dear, but first shit in your bed and make it burst.”
Well, as the French say, autres temps, autres moeurs.
     
Was he a womanizer? The film Amadeus implies that Mozart seduced a popular singer, whom Salieri had his eye on. Actually, Salieri himself had seduced her. Mozart was generally chaste — unlike so many other composers. He himself wrote that “he had too much horror and disgust, too much dread and fear of diseases…to fool around with whores and too much religion and honor ‘to seduce an innocent girl.’”
In fact, Mozart was his century’s equivlent of a member of the Tea Party. When Voltaire died, Mozart wrote: “that godless archrascal Voltaire has pegged out like a dog, like a beast! That is his reward.”
 
Was his wife Constanza an airhead, no help to him in his career?
To quote Wenborn, she “turned out to be a giddy and flirtacious girl, a bad manager, and no help at all to Mozart. But he loved her, and the marriage seems to have been happy….”    
 
Was he poverty-stricken just before his death? He was deeply in debt, yet he and his wife employed their own domestic staff, including two live-in maids and a servant. His financial problems, says Wenborn, stemmed from his lavish lifestyle — he owned expensive furniture and an extensive wardrobe. William Stafford’s conclusion: “…Mozart was by no means poor.”
 
Did he die in obscurity, cruelly forgotten by just about all? At the time of his death, writes  Wenborn, “he was by any standards a famous man, whose works were performed, studied and eulogized throughout Europe.” He continues: “The pauper’s grave is a myth, as are the rain and snowstorms that are said to have accompanied his body to its last resting place. He was given a third-class funeral…and the weather was unseasonably mlld.” (A third-class funeral was common.) And because cemetery space was scarce, headstones were not permitted. Writes Stafford, Mozart’s unceremonious burial was “normal” for that time. He was not “buried like a dog.”
 
Was he really a combination of a genius and an idiot, given to maniacal laughter, as in the film? Stafford writes: If you read his letters, you quickly recognize his intelligence. “…Mozart was a sophisticated man—certainly not the naïve child of legend….” He also concludes: “…he was a very strange and difficult man.”
 
Finally…did he really die “tragically” young? Some people believe that  “He lived a short life but this was simply because he lived much faster than normal mortals…. He was fully matured as an artist by the age of nine…. It is difficult to see what more he could have achieved. His musical output in his 36 years was greater than Beethoven’s, and not much less than Bach’s or Handel’s….” Goethe said that Mozart “had lived his creative life, spent his vital energy, fulfilled his mission as an artist.”
 
But William Stafford has a different view. At the time of his death, he argues, Mozart was not an exhausted composer; he was vigorously embarking on new ventures. “There is,” he concludes, “no consolation for his early loss.”
 
We can be grateful, though, that he lived as long as he did — and wrote music that will be played and admired until the end of time.
 
Odds and Ends
 
He had trouble all his life, Neil Wenborn writes, because he had “a remarkable facility for rubbing people the wrong way.” Some have speculated that he was autistic. Or that, he had Tourette’s syndrome.
 
Mozart’s father, who had nurtured his career, became cool toward his son later in life, leaving him “a distant and increasingly embittered observer of the career he had launched so spectacularly on the world….”
 
He had a deformed left outer ear, completely lacking the “outer convolution.”  So did his son.
 
He was five feet four.
 
Beethoven and others were offended by “Cosi fan tutte,” which conveyed the notion that women could not be trusted to be true to just one man.
 
 Joseph Hayden, the great composer, told Mozart’s father: “Before God and as an honest man, I tell you that your son is the greatest composer known to me either in person or by name.”
 
During Mozart’s lifetime, his most popular opera was “The Abduction from the Seraglio.”
 
The man who wrote the librettos for “Don Giovanni,” “Magic Flute,” and “Cosi” was Lorenzo da Ponte, a wildly colorful fellow. He spent time as a grocer in New Jersey, as well as a priest. He was exiled from Venice for adultery. He was the first professor of the Italian language and literature at Columbia College in NYC. I myself graduated from Columbia College, but unfortunately da Ponte taught there a couple of years before I matriculated.
 
In the audience during the first performance of “Don Giovanni” may have been da Ponte’s friend, Casanova — the model for Don Giovanni.
 
Harold Schonberg wrote about Mozart: “He was the finest pianist and organist in Europe, and the finest conductor. Had he worked on it, he could also have been the best violinist. There was nothing in music he could not do better than anybody else.
 
“The little man from Salzburg was a miracle. More Protean than Bach, musically more aristocratic than Beethoven, he can be put forward as the most perfect, best equipped, and most natural musician the world has ever seen.”
 

Monday, August 3, 2015

The Rise and Fall of Mario Lanza



When I was growing up, in the 1940s and 1950s, the tenor Mario Lanza was all over the place.
He had his own national radio program.
His record, “Be My Love,” in 1951, was a million-dollar hit.
His movies for MGM,  like “Toast of New Orleans,” made tons of money … in particular, “The Great Caruso.” It was the top-grossing film of 1951. Someone joked that the film company should be re-named Metro-Goldwyn-Mario.
Movie magazines were forever writing about him.
Maria Callas allegedly called him “Caruso’s successor.”
Toscanini allegedly said that his was “the voice of the century.” (I doubt he really said it.)
When he was introduced to Queen Elizabeth, she said, “Mr. Lanza, I didn’t know that such big sounds could come out of the human throat.”

And he did have a big, thrilling voice, effortlessly hitting high notes. Caruso himself sometimes had trouble with high notes.
But Lanza never sang at the Met—although he was interested and although the Met, at one time, was interested. La Scala actually wanted him to open a season!
             Still, near the end of his short life—he died at 38-- he owed $200,000 in taxes…MGM fired him—his wife, going off the deep end herself, was ready to divorce him (she died at age 36)—he became angry and paranoid. Here’s what he said about one of his co-stars in the movie “That Midnight Kiss”:  “That old bitch, Ethel Barrymore, she’s trying to steal my scenes! I’ll tell her where to get off!”

     The author of the best biography of Lanza (subtitled “Tenor in Exile”), Roland L. Bessette, put it this way: “His was a glorious and natural voice, with one of the broadest and most powerful ranges ever recorded. The worlds of music and film had not seen his like before. If he ultimately failed or disappointed, it was only when measured against his own dazzling potential.”
      The essential question is: What went wrong? He was dealt four aces and a king, and still  managed to get wiped out.
                                                            ***
His birth name was Alfred Arnold Cocozza (“Lanza” was his mother’s maiden name), and he lived from 1921 to 1958. He was born in the year Enrico Caruso, his idol, died.
     His parents indulged him, and for the rest of his life he seemed to think he was someone special, someone who needn’t obey the rules, someone privileged. As a young man, he would drive without a license. In the army, he sometimes wouldn’t salute officers; his excuse: he hadn’t seen them. He was expelled from high school for misconduct and never went to college.
     After Serge Koussevistsky, the conductor, heard him sing, he arranged for Lanza to study music at Tanglewood. Later Lanza joined a famous singing trio, with George London and Frances Yeend. He was the star, but both of them--unlike  Lanza--managed to sing at the Met later in life. His big break came after singing at the Hollywood Bowl; Louis B. Mayer heard him and promptly offered him a contract. Mayer said that he hoped Lanza would become a singing Clark Gable.
      For a tenor, after all, he wasn’t bad looking--although he had a terrible tendency to become bloated from overeating and overdrinking. He was 5 feet 7 or almost 5 feet 9.
           
            His arrogance and sense of superiority were one handicap. Another was his  vulgarity. A book about him, “Lanza: His Tragic Life,” by Raymond Strait and Terry Robinson, published in 1980 by Prentice-Hall, contains so much that is coarse and gross that I can give only a few examples.
        While he was making “That Midnight Kiss” with Kathryn Grayson, he”occasionally relieved himself on the set, choosing a potted plant, a bucket, a corner on a stage where Kathryn Grayson was rehearsing. Louis B. Mayer was furious” when he learned about the complaints and gave him a talking to.
        As for Doretta Morrow, a young singer who had been educated in a convent, he used such “vile” language toward her during the filming of “That Midnight Kiss” that she would leave the set in tears. (He told her she should be so close to him in the film that he could feel her sex organ.)
         He boasted of his sexual conquests…in front of his wife! Among them: Judy Garland, Inger Stevens.
       Another time he got mad at one of his film’s directors, so—to get even—he drove over to the director’s house in Hollywood at night and…pooped on his lawn.
      Another time…no, I better skip the tale about Inger Stevens. But get the book and read pages 78 and 79.

      He wasn’t well educated. He read mainly fan magazines and body-building magazines. He couldn’t read music, and learned songs by listening to recordings. Frances Yeend, who sang with him, said, “He provided a great treat for the ear, but there was nothing for the mind.”

      He didn’t associate with the best people. He did associate with gangsters. Rocky Marciano, the heavyweight champion, introduced him to some Mafia types. Like Lucky Luciano.

     Lanza gained prodigious amounts of weight. He went up to 260 at one time. When he made movies, the people who made the costumes  had to have two or three sets for him. Fat, not-so-fat, and very, very fat. To lose weight, he had himself injected with urine from pregnant women. He was put to sleep—and lost weight presumably while he slept.
   I’ll pass along his diet:
 A grapefruit for breakfast, a hard-boiled egg and a cup of coffee (no sugar) for lunch,
And some fresh shrimp for dinner. Yes, he lost weight when he followed the diet.

He became somewhat paranoid, talking about quote “all those fuckers who are out to get me.” Here’s a memorable quote: “That old bitch, Ethyl Barrymore, she’s trying to steal my scenes! I’ll tell her where to get off!” Bessette, who consulted with a psychiatrist, concluded that Lanza was bipolar.

Among all his woes later in life, the IRS hit him with a bill for $200,000 for back taxes.
He had trouble with MGM – which fired him because he repeatedly didn’t show up for work. MGM sued for almost $700,000 in special damages and $4.5 million in general damages.

    Lanza did so much damage at hotels when he was angry and drunk that some hotels would no longer rent to him--and some restaurants would not serve him.

      Ed Sullivan wrote in the New York Daily News, “Temperamental antics of Mario Lanza driving MGM daffy. The studio never having met a performer so incapable of handling success.”

His death was sudden, and there were rumors that the Mafia had done him in because he didn’t show up at a performance that Lucky Luciano had arranged for him. But his health wasn’t good. Bessette believes that Lanza died of acute phlebitis.

Today, some critics dismiss Lanza as  singer. He overdid it. There was no subtlety, no gradations.  He tended to sing everything the same. Loud and louder. Bessette the biographer put it well: “He leaned toward Pagliacci on arias that called for Rodolfo….”
     Rudolf Bing,  manager of the Met  from 1950 to 1972,  felt that  Lanza’s films and his singing had cheapened opera, and regarded the idea of Lanza singing at the Met as as joke. (He also despised Beverly Sills.)
     But when Lanza was young, his voice was powerful and beautiful. And as a human being, he was sometimes kind—as in his genuine concern for a child dying of cancer, a child he had befriended.
      His biographer, Bessette, seems to have two primary feelings about Lanza: (1) dislike and (2) utter loathing. But he does finally admit that “There was much that was genuinely good about the man.”
      And Bessette was grateful to Lanza for his singing. Music can be therapeutic, and whenever Bessette had trouble in his own life—the death of a son , the death of a brother—“the antidote was … a voice that could reach me like no other: that of Mario Lanza.“
                                                            ***
His Worst Recording?

Little Known Lanza Recordings:

A Pretty Girl Is like a Melody (Berlin)

On the Street Where You Live (Loewe)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98xxI-RAOvk&list=PL6ACBB8D2D1AC5881

Trees

Charmaine

Donkey Serenade (Friml)

Roses of Picardy

Ah sweet mystery (Herbert)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MezcPUe3-Y&index=3&list=PLdOiqur1qGkrW2z3JtVhoSOI7gkV1-oGM

Lord’s Prayer
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=mario+lanza+lord%27s+prayer

Bill Murray mocking Mario Lanza singing “Be My Love”