CECILs STAUB Gy HR BIOGAn. AY asy CONCHPTS OF PIAKO PLAYING Presented by Stewart Lynell Gordon Zo fulfill the thesis requirement for the degree of Doctor of Musical Arts In Performance and Pedagogy Department of Piano Thesis Director: Dr. Eugene J. Selhorst Eastman School of Music of the University of Rochester June 1965$9698 weeg VITA Goo” Cope Stewart Gordon was born in Olathe, Xansas, on August 28, 1930. As the son of the prominent writer, Guanetta Gordon, and a career army officer, he received his early education in a number of states, for his family moved to a new station every few years. He studied piano with Olga Samaroff Stokowski, Walter Gieseking, and “Cecile Genhart. te received his Bachelor of Arts Degree in Speech and Drama from the University of Kansas in 1953 and his Master of Arts Degree in Music from the same institution in 1954. He was elected to both Phi Beta Kappa and Pi Kappa Lambda. From 1954 to 1957 he served as an officer in the United States Navy. From 1957 to 1960 he was Chairman of Music at Wilmington College, Wilmington, Ohio. In 1960 he joinea the faculty of the University of Warylend where he is now an associate professor, a member of the graduate faculty, and‘head of the piano department. In addition to teaching, he has concertized widely, having played over 200 concerts in this country (including two New York recitals), in Cansda, and in the Middle Zast. He has recorded four albums which have been released by Washington Records, Inc.Caribe Staub Genhart PIANISTPreface Since Cecile Staub Genhart joined the faculty of the Eastman School of Music in 1926, she has trained a great number of fine pianists, men and women who con- e United States and certize and teach in many parts of Europe. She possesses a great deal of valuable knowledge, gleaned from years of experience, and is able to offer an abundance of excellent ideas to any student of piano. She has quite rightfully earned an international repu- tation as a great pedagogue. Mrs, Genhart has expressed many times the wish that she might be able to put some of her experiences and ideas into writing, but in the same breath she has in- sisted that she could never face the mechanics of organ- ization and expression involved in such a project. This volume is an attempt to make Mrs. Genhart's wish become a reality. The late Olga Samaroff Stokowski and the late Walter Gieseking, the former one of the leading American pedagogues of this century, the latter one of its most magnificent performers, left behind only a few notes sketched in a notebook or in the margin of a score here aaand there. In each case there have been attempts by their students, myself included, to assemble this material so that it might reveal soue of the greatness of the teacher. Such attempts have met with but little success, for pedagogical concepts and musical ideas which are not carefully written down fade with time. Even the most well-intentioned student is apt to distort his teacher's ideas as a result of personal experience and thought. The importance of putting Mrs. Genhart's ideas into writing while she is still ectively teaching thus becomes apparent. hat she has contributed verbally to this work, that she has insisted upon its revision until accuracy of expression was achieved, that she has demonstrated in teaching situations many of her principles have all helped to insure true representation of her ideas. ‘The notes for Parts I and II were taken in a series of interviews with Mrs. Genhart. Many of the sentences are composed of her own words. In other sentences the words have been altered for the sake of syntax. Quite often the order of presentation of her ideas has been altered to conform to a logical sequence. In making all such changes, however, the writer has considered accuracy of reporting to be of prime importance. Toward that end, a conscious effort has been made to exclude any influence adiof the writer's personal views. The style of writing which has been used in the first two parts of this volume might be viewed as some- what unorthodox for an academic dissertation. ‘The use of the literary device of the first person in these two sections is in itself unusual for a presentation of this type. Justification for such stylistic freedom cones from the fact that the purpose of these sections is not only to” impart information about the life and teaching of Mrs. Genhart, but also to capture soxeta ng of her personality. Thus an attempt has been made to capture the mood irs. Genhart established as she retold ier life's experiences and the enthusiastic spirit which attends her consideration of technical principles or passages of repertoire. Indeed her personal characteristics are inextricably tied up with the projection of her ideas, as is the case with many great teachers. It is impossible, of course, to capture completely the personal touch of a great teacher. Bven partial success, however, is of inestinable value, for little by little, the reader may feel that he has begun to know the Person whose ideas he is studying. He may be able to perceive some of Mrs. Genhart's vitality and begin to Sense some of the magic of her greatness. ivThe portions of this volume which do not cone from Hrs. Genhart, but rather from the writer, are the preface, Part III, bracketed footnotes, the appendix, and the bibliography. The translations into English of irs. Genhart's reviews are also uy own, but translations of other material (personal correspondence, conversational comment, etc.) were made by Mrs. Genhart. My expression of gratitude to Mrs. Genhart for her time, patience, and effort in seeing this project through to its completion will be shared, I feel sure, by many other of her students and vy those readers who find helpful ideas herein. JI wish to thank Dr. Eugene J. Selhorst for his willingness to invest in this project time and energy far beyond the call of duty, for he graciously made himself available for conference not only at normal times, but also often at the irregular ours wade necessary by the schedule demands of both Mrs. Genhart and the writer.Statement by Cecile Staub Genhart The following is a copy of a statement made by Cecile Staub Genhart regarding the accuracy of this volume: I nave read Cecile Staub Genhart: Her Biography and Concepts of Piano Playing as it has been written by Stewart Gordon following my serics of interviews with him, I find that the volume is an accurate representation of those incidences in my life which it relays and of those of my ideas and teaching concepts on which it touches. ih Diet Cecile Staub Genhart Rochester, New York ho, Rees Date: <=. el et let fe f fgeiss viTABLE OF CONTENTS CeCe eee LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ©... .......+4. ix PART I: BIOGRAPHY OF CECILE STAUB GENHART . . . . 1 LAUNCHING MY CAREER» we eee et ee ee 49 SEPTLING DOW we ee wee 8D PART II: CONCEPTS OF PIANO PLAYING OF CECILE STAUB GENHART . 2... 2+ ee eee 117 INTRODUCTION... ee. ee ee ee ee 8 CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS ... 121 CHAPTER II, BASIC CONCEPTS ......... 130 CHAPTER III. Tz HNICAL EXERCISES ... ~~... 151 CHAPTER IV. RHYTHM AND ACCENTUATION ... . 179 CHAPTER V. THE MELODIC LINB .-...... 202 CHAPTER VI. PEDALING....--..-4. 218 CHAPTER VII. FACILITATIONS-........ 231 CHAPTER VIII. ON PLAYING POLYPHONIC MUSIC . 239 CHAPTER IX. ON PLAYING BEETHOVEN. ..... 263 CHAPTER X. SOME MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS . . . 289 viiee 07-2 APPENDIX A 6 6 ce ee ee ee ee ee ee FD BIBLIOGRAPHY «6 ee ete ee ee ee ee eee 324 vidiLIS? OF ILLUSTRATIONS following page spiece: Cecile Staub Genhart Der Jug der Schmetterlinge by Cecile Staub .... 20 Eugen d'Albert and two childhood photographs of Cecile Staub... eee ee ee eee BL il Frey and Ferruccio Busoni... -.-...-- 42 Cecile Staub at the Pestalozzi Schule and Bmile Jacques-Valcroze .. +... eee 44 Josef Pembauer and Gottfried Staub... 2... 57 The program of Cecile Staub's Berlin debut .... 88 fobias Matthay - 6 ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee 105 ixPart I Biography of Cecile Staub GenhartGrowing Up I was born in December, 1698, in Basel, Switzerland, one year and a few days before the twentieth century began, so that I can say in truth that I am a nineteenth-century musician. Such an observation is more than a matter of mere dates, for long after the year 1900 the musical tastes and ideals of the nineteenth century still dominated the culture in which I grew up. The Classical and Romantic traditions provided the basis of training for tne music student, and the serious challenges which were to come in the next 50 years to such concepts as tonality, netered rhythm, and form were scarcely even clouds on the horizon. This was an atmosphere in hn Debussy's use of the tritone and the interval of the second was considered incredibly bold. " y was the youngest of three daughters of Gottfried Staub and his wife, Fannie (nee Hdusler). My father was a famous musician in Switzerland. During the earliest years of my life, he taught at the Basel Conservatory and was the organist at St. Peter's Church. When I was in my teens, my family moved to Zurich, for my father 2nad accepted a position on the faculty of the Zurich conservatory. Gottfried Staub was probably one of the first pianists to perform the 32 Beethoven sonatas in a series of eight recitals in one season. As composer, he had had his Op. 2, Five Rowances for Piano, published by Breitkopf and Hartel. Publication by such a famous ‘ira was a mark of distinction for any musician of that dis naue was well-known to nost of the major artists day. of the day and they held his work in high esteem. Many times offspring never understand the significance of the achievements of their parents. Gottfried Staub was to me simply my father, loving at times but difficult at other times, sometimes understanding and sometimes tyrannical, a man capable of partaking of the intimacies of family life, but also capable of assuming the role of the sternest pedagogue even with his wife and children. Gottfried's overpowering but somewhat enigmatic nature came to him directly from his own father. My granéfataer, Jakob Staub, had in his own lifetime dominated, shocked, inspired, and terrorized his ssiall village of Billach, Canton Zurich. Jakob Staub took pride in walking eight miles to the senate meetings in Zurich with his gold-headed walking stick marking time to his long strides. ie would walk almost as far to his music lessons, Also hes in which he par- regularly held string quartet cone ted in his home. Although he was indeed a phi- jocosher and a savant, he was nevertheless a man of slosive tenper. His domestic life was punctuated with Joys of terrifying anger aad occasional violence. A man of great imagination, he was tae first in the unity to own a magic lantern, and ke gave a public tration of it in which he projected shadows of a exon: well-known village personages onto the tombstones oF lage church yard by the light of a full midnight the v: noon! Thus having earned the title of the devil's Gisciple, he left his neighbors gossiping even after his death, for he was the first citizen of canton Zurich to have left specific instructions for the cremation of his own body. As I look back upon my own father's tempestuous nature, I can see that as the eighth and youngest child of Jakob Staub, he came by it naturally. Moreover, uy father's importance was brought home to me quite clearly when, during a recent visit to Switzerland after many years of absence, I was introduced for the first time to’ people who would exclaim with impressed awe: "You are the daughter of Gottfried Staub!" My father's name lives in Zurich after these many years, and I now nunderstand that he was muuch more highly revered than nad ever before realized. Even wore indicative of ay father's stature as a usician wag the fact that so wany of the musical giants of that day knew him personally. Oftentimes such famous sen would visit in ou: As a young girl growing up, I brought away Ivos sach visits impressions which contained 4 carld's cauc.a appraisal, but often only of the most insignificant features of our guest's : appearance. Yet combinc. vith such appraisals of height, weight, general appearance, ané uanner wes a definite awareness of the misical greatness which av giants. I was a d, for example, when Max Reger visived in our home. He appeared to me utterly pleveian, I thought he looked like a deer brewer, ‘et ns sat at the piano and played the S major Prelude from the .. st voluue of the Well-tempered Clavier of Bach, and I was transported into another world. His performance of this small piece remains one of my first and deepest impzes- sions of poetry at the keyboard. Later of course, I came to ku.w anc to play his nore aware and as © é.. so, I became m. wx, of the fact tha: wc was a true aristocrat —- .-s art.e--and somehow quite akin His music is schwerblitig my so Mozart and Brahms. He composed on two music stands at once, working alternately on two different compositions. His masterworks still need to be discovered in the United States, His piano works such as the sets of variations on themes of J.S. Bach and Telemann are indeed monumental. He was a complete master of counterpoint and the variation forms. Studying the complexities of Reger's counterpoint can, nevertheless, be quite time consucing. I remember wnat Bugene Goossens, waco was a great admirer of Reger, complained once that in spite o? vhe greacness of the orchestral works of Reger, they could be performed but seldon, for rencering clearly the chromatic complexities of this writing took too much rehearsal time. Fritz Kreisler's visit to our hone stands out clear_y accoupanist B in my memory. My father was the offi for the visiting soloists of the Abonnements Konzerte. Ny father and “ceisler had rehearsed for hours one after- mance.’ When they had finished, my Zather noon for a p asked if he might present to Kreisler one of our friends, Anna Hegner, a fine violinist who had wished so muck sehwerbliitig is translated "welancholic" by dictionaries, put as applied vo the music of Reger such an adjective must be supple. : ved by others, for example "profound" or even "moni ato play for the master that we had invited her to come. Areisler was warmly gracious and asked Anna what she wented to play. When she announced the Brahus Violin Concerto, my father uttered a moan of despair, for he reueabered immediately that the score was not in the house. He had lent it to a friend. Unruffled, Kreisler sat down suilingly at the Bechstein and played the orchestral reduction to the entire concerto from memory. ‘Thus Anna not only was able to play for the master, but also had the honor of his having accompanied her. I was floating on a bubble of excitement by the end of the performance. Just then my mother announced dinner. 4s I drifted into the dining room, my bubble suddenly burst, for I saw that ay nother was serving bowls filled With unglamorous catmeal soup. I knew that a few days previously, Kreisler had been honored by the King of Sweden with a lavish banquet, and I wondered how ay mother could dare serve such @ mundane dish to such a famous master, Yet after dinner Kreisler assured my mother in genuine sincerity that he had never had such 3 “gemtttliches Nachtessen." Unfortunately my impression of Albert Schweitzer's visit is not clear, I remember only that ne and nyner nad met when my father was concertizing in Muhl- usen, and that when Schweitzer played in our city the following year, he came to spend several hours with my father in our home. = was a young lady when shortly after the first world War Walter Gieseking came to visit. He was in d-twenties but already a master, He practiced regularly in the Jecklin 2ianchaus am Pfauen in Zurich, 2 was consulting with ay father on a project ne had undertaken. Tho project was one which was trying to equate orchestral color to piano touch. its aim was to arrive at 2 system through which one could produce tive on the piano qualities ox tone which would ve imi: of various orchestral instruments. My father was excited about this young artist and his project. Gieseking visited our home many times during his stay in Zurich. Once he antsed us all by glaying a witty sey of variations which he had written on the "chopstick" thee. We-all roared in appreciation. Not only did musicians visit our salon, but also poets, painters, and an entourage of intelligent, cul- tured people who, if not practitioners, were nevertneless vitally interested in the arts. Tu. entire atmosphere in which I grew up was one thus charged with artisvicvitulity. I had but to listen and to observe in order to gain a great deal of background. In the opinion of gottfried Staub, however, just listeni: B and, observing were not nearly enough. : when there was no famous or talented guest for dinner with whom to strike up < conversation and thus broaden our knowledge, tne evening meal was eccompanied with a lecture. rom the moment the meal begen until as no discussion, no conversation, 4% completion there no exchange of views, “here was only Govtfried's Lecture. Since there were my nother, ths three of us girls, « usually two or three students whe were staying with us, there was always an ence Zor my father--an audience which, i ausgry, was necessarily captive. Gottiried would lecture on music, art, literavure, poetry, politics, history, philosophy, or any other subject on which he felt the need to expound. tTaere was only one possible point of view on each: bis point of view. He permitted no other opinion and even tempted those around him to venture some other point of view in order that he might rebuke them, Once, sor example, one of the students who was staying with us was from the western part of Switzerland, which is chauviaistically French, and he was known to20 ardent admirer of Napoleon. Gottfried, who hated a passionate fleir, selected an evening nich ‘the student was present and proceeded to into the famous conqueror with unmitigated fury. the student took it as long as he could. Then with a, he rose to his feet to defend his idol. Gottfried had been waiting for just such a re~ : action. He flushed an-angry red and drew back his hand in preparation to box the student on the ears should he really dare to utter a word of argument. My father and the student hovered over the table like two great eagles about to battle. An awful moment of silence ended when the student wisely sat down again. Gottfried gained control of himself and having won hie battle, tured the lecture to another subject. In sharp contrast to the nightly lectures at dinner were the meals’ during the weeks imediately preceding one of wy father's concerts. During these periods silence was complete. No monastery could have served as wore rigorous discipline. Very occasionally one of us would forget and start to utter a sound. There would be a gasp of indignation from my mother, She would whisper in a tone of wounded urgency: “Have you forgotten!" ‘There would follow several seconds while the full impact of1 tit message was to sink in, Then she would verbalize er of evenings before any of us would forget again. The tonsion in the house would mount day by day uatil the night of the performance. The horse and carriage would arrive to take us to the concert hall. I vas permitted to sit up by uy father and hold the ater vottle Zor his Sands. It was a moment which g ne feel proud, growi-up, and useful. Later Gott- tried woulé appear on stage. 1 wondered why he looked so gncatly white, ana why I felt Zrightened and xiser- able when I should be happy. I think I began to realize ese uoments that pieno playing was not always surrounded only by ease and glamour and that ny father was paying some kind of terrifying price on these nights. Sundays were irrevocably comsivted to museums and art galleries, It wattered not how many times ve three girls had seen the collections, nor how tired we were of viewing the works of the masters, nor how many times we were reminded that our country claimed Holbein the Younger (in spite oy the fact that he was born in Augs- burg), and Arnold Bécklin. We knew that visits to these institutions were not open to dispute, and that if there12 _g not Gone special event taking place on @ given Sunday, «ould spend it absorbing masterpieces. The experiment was, in any case, not a toval failure, = id develop quite a taste for the hig! ~flown late nomunticisa of Arnold BUcklin. A friend of uy father, by the name of Voirol, had built quite e local seputation for experthess in cogying the masterworks oirol's of Bueklin. “In our hone Aung Spakreon, and Di Lin's style very much represented the of the world in which I grew up. He rtist with whom musicians of affinity, as in the & 4 o whose Isle of Dead and Preiuége in Bainor, Op. 32, No. 10, were inspired by Bécklin works. adoxically, my parents, wae were so vitally concerned with my cultural indoctrination, were very lax about uy attendance at school, I remember that I was allowed to miss for almost any conceivable excuse. oreover, my mother would often even encourage ue not to go to school. She would suggest in the tone of an invitation that instead of going to school, I should go to the zoo, Basel had a very famous 200, one which I Grew to know intimately as a result many days13 leugh and assert that I cre. I sonew: y education in 2 soo, so that what I know ween learned from ny students nee on school matters y parents’ attitude of indu! the fact that voth ny nother and father nsiderations. There with routine acad o weny things which interested thes in the in- tellectual and artistic realms, and these things they wished to share with their daughters, by force if necessary. y parents, nevertheless, did not want to be bothered with the moment-by-monent or day-by-day routine of read- ing, writing, or other elementary mechanics of a basic zéucation. We girls knew that we aust never cross them, never disagree with them, never say no” or "but" to ex. Aside from these rules we could do pretty much as we liked, provided we used the proper diplomatic approach. We were not often burdened with household chores, for we had two maids, one of whom, in accordance th our own social standard and the fashion of the time, was French-speaking. Thus we grew up in a bi-lingual household. One area of elementary factual knowledge was not overlooked in our home, however: knowledge of our native land, Switzerland. With patriotic zeal, Gottfried would26 of certain facts waich we were expected to ay available in our memories. Auong then that Switzerland world's oldest ‘zerlané speak four euphatically neither of that language), French, Italian, goto-Rouanic. Stevisties end daves would accompany such facts in those years. Quo subjects were never Ciscussed. Tney simply did not exist as far as my parents were concerne : money Although the problex of finance for the family tude that was never an easy one, my father took the att. noney was quite beneath the level of artistic or intel- lectual considerations. It was a vulgar necessity which me never Giscussed and did nov think about until one s Zorced to it by the demanés of the moment. 4s for the subject of sex, it was so completely beneath a Victorian veneer, that I cannot venture vo state what anyone's attitude on it might have been. In -ay case, modesty reigned supreme. Bathing was scheduled cace a-week om the traditional Saturday night. In order to conserve hot water, we three girls were trained to bathe simultaneously. But even so, we each wore a long-tailed shirt in the tub so that nothing but legs@ be revealed. I also remember that as a d the usual child's curiosity tne source of vabics and was immediately sent to ; a form of punishuent. vy earliest musical training was with my father. cr begrudged each hour he taught, for he would have practiced. Moreover, teaching one's a children seemed even a greater waste of time. Such 5 attitude toward ce anyway: Margrit, my elder sed the great pianistic talent serious matter, set by Wargrit's side while she practiced. ny own lessons were inZrequent, sometizes only cace a month. They were alvays unhappy experiences, usually ending in tears. My father believed that ny mistakes at the keyboard were willful attempts to sabotage his instructive efforts, and his temper usualiy showed itself early in the lesson. When I was eight years old, I brought to my lessons pages and pages of Richter's Sigured basses. This was the one area in which I de+ ligated my father. I loved to do them, for they were like wonderful games to ze. Sometimes Gottfried would rake up some examples which were especially tricky,filled with traps. He would bean happily when I would avoid the pitfalls and solve the problens faultlessly. For such training in figured bass, I shall be forever grateful. wing taken such an interest and delight in the theoretical aspect of ausic, I was not long in beginning to coupose. The pieces of ay childhood were well put together (How could it have been otherwise with all whose exercises!) and had an original turn occasionally with the use of an augmented or quartal harmony, & piece vould coe to me in a sudden Slash of inspiration, and I would work it out completely at the keyboard witnout writing down a note, Oftentimes a piece would stay in my head or my fingers for weeks or months before any attempt at notation was made. Sometimes only a sketchy vat 2 notation would convey to me an entire passag or an entire composition. One of the pieces, Der Zuz etterlinge, was first weitten by using letters the alphabet. My performance of my own pieces at the keyboard became skilled and polished, perhaps because I enjoyed playing them so much. Our relationship with Gottfried was not always centered around the classroou, the dinaer table lectures, or the concert hall. Gottfried shared adventures withonclly. I remenver, Zor example, that ther the to the top. We guides, and the other ghernalia, Since it took us two days, it was necessery to spend the night in a shelter provided for the wountain-climbing populace. It was a crude building with only one large room. Since the mountain- climbing season was going full swing, the shelter was quite crowéed with folk, sleep: sonage vas in our midst. Lackeys were bustling around to set up a vedstead. Rapidly t the distinguished man will night was Henry Wladimir Albert Schwerin and consort to Queen na of the Netherlands. AS sercastic comments were being dropped loudly vedstead, it was learned that the German vas to climb the M&nch the next day. (The ‘the Minch, and the Eiger are the three pes! Jungizen, fors the famous backdrop to Berne, Switzerland's capital city.) Commentary about that fact was not much16 to the top. @ no sooner scttled down e restless. Since and since quite pungent. ‘he nobler: of his bed, spent the noving sone of iss were openly barbed a to him. Such an attitud o of nobility seemed to challenge the Swiss concept of democracy. I had just passed ny fifteenth birthday when ny Be ather accepted a posi aculty of the Zurich Conservatory. Such a move was forward in his career as a teacher and pianist, and we were an excited fanily as we moved into Buchner strasse 24 in a city vustling with cultural activity. Indeed during those years, and the years of World War I which followed, Zurich was bursting at the seaus with musical excitement. In addition to a regular orchestra series, there were the so-called "popular" symphony concerts whichyaa programs. A were devoted to all-Mozart or all: great number of contemporary operas were being performed at the Sta@ttheater: Busoni's & » a$ well as his ‘Leeghino; Eugen d'Albert's Tiefland, his Die Toten Augen, and his Revolutionshochzeit; Paul Graener's Juans Letztes Abenteuer. Singing at the Stadttheater were Alexander Moissi, Ines Encke, Karl Schmid-Blass, Bosevsi, Siena Gernardt, and Ilona Durigo. of the city wao gave reguler recitals in- a cluded Agol? and Fritz Busch, Ferruccio Busoni, Blley Ney, and Rudolf Serkin. (GottYried announced emphatically after hearing Serkin for vhe first time: "Watch Serkin! He will ve the greatest.") Snortly after our arrival in the city, Noveaver 19, 1914, Gottfried gave a recital. ‘he evening was of sreat importance for nim. Havang just been appointed to tne faculty of the conservatory, he wanted to make the best possible impression on the audience of musicians and knowledgeable msic lovers. fhe program included two extremely difficult masterworks: the Sonata, Op. 110, of Beethoven and the B minor Sonate of Lisat. Gottfried played well; the eve:ing was a great success; and we settled dow for a long stay in our new none. Gottfried decided that it was time to take stepsqnorg arto09 Aq SHIPS ORS Tp Tz TT \ se niles peer, yt Sele ee — 2 a =. ————to have me ent, the well-imo the Zurich Conservatory in 187 audition 2 senber that the audition took place in one of of ti bare classroon: reat old building. Hogar a told me to go to the blackboard, turn ay back to hia, take a piece of chalk, and grep: dano and played chord progressions. One He sat at the blackboard panel after another was filled as the pro- gressions becaiie more and wore complicated. Finally when there wes no more room to write, I turned around. Hegar was beaming. He thon asked me to play for h I pleye| He sailed with de. piec.3, including Dex hen he told me that y in which my would sound even better. ith that he came to and, using illustrations Zrom my own melodies, se how to heighten the melodic line. This demonstration was my first in agogic touch. The wonder of this new expressive tool made a-deep impression on me. Hegar2. told me at the end of the audition that’ personally he still believed me too young to enter the conservatory, wut that in spite of his personal opinion he would permit me to come to study. I continued to study piano intermittently with my father, repeating month after xo: scenes at my lessons. L to come to Margrit, who was only a few years older then I, but who was playing the most difficult piano literature with breatht: erit had studied with ing facility. two famous ausicians after her earlier training with Gottfried: Willy Renberg, who was the most famous piano teacher at the Geneva Conservatory and the conductor ° of the Geneva Municipal opera, and Bernhard Stavenhagen, a pupil of Liszt who concertized extensively as both conductor. Margrit played concerts in Zurich pianist an at the Tonhalle in 1915 and 1916. Included on these programs were such works as the Waldstein Sonata of Beethoven and the P minor Sonata of Brahms. The programs had been well received by the press. ‘Thus with one potential ster in the family, ay father felt more and nore impatience with spending his precious time grooming me. In the weeks during which I had no lessons, I often worked on the three-partit urtil I reached a place which couldn't t easily. it out, eé over it. Oftentimes I'd wait a few days see how far I could stop gard training and my question- able practice procedures, I still made a certain amount of progress. Indeed I Lurprised everybody by winning a stipend of one thousand francs in the city of ny first home, Basel. My success in this was aided vy the fact that the repertoire requirements were small, and the importance of theoretical groundwork was great. I played the F minor Three-Part Invention of Bach and the Capriccio Brillante in 3 minor of Mendelssohn. Brnest Isler, the powerful critic of the Noue Zircher and the editor of zeitung, was on the panel His reputation as a critic whose tongue was as poisonous as his pen caused a im to be the most feared meuber of the board. My per formance of the Bach piece was too slow for Isler's ct aste. With mutterings under his breath about "dragging’ he vegan to conduct from benind the judges' desk and to tap his foot. Determined not to be distracted from23 his conzotioa, I ignored hin tempo. were given both a melody and ficult figured bass on whic! solfeggio tests to complete, required to modulate and to improvise at the keyboard. During my inprovisation, Ernest Isler interrupted ne with a sneer and the comment: "Kind of sequ al, uh?" After having wilted unéer these two stinging attacks from Isler, I ey was overcome with shock i ‘was 2 ounced that I had won the stipend. Secretly I coveted its meaning, for I had proved to all, and most particularly to wy father that I was a well-trained musician and that I was at least capable at the keyboar I took to my academic work at the Zurich Conservatory ith great enthusiasa. ly counterpoint teacher was lipp Jarnach, the young Frenck composer who was to complete Busoni's last opera Doktor Faustus after the master's death, Two American students were in Jarnach's hh me Class wi Otto Iuening, now blazing trails in the field of electronic music at Columbia University in New York City, and Ottokar Cadek, who became influential24 Imening wes a very fine flutist. secied terribly glamor- a secret crush on him It was, thus, with great enthusiasm that I undertook violin sonata of his. I especially looke forw the times he would come to our house to hear rehearsals still see h: of the work, and I c: stending in our music voom, listening intently, with Bécklin's Der Hermit hanging in the backgroun Since Philipp Jarnach was a close friend of Ferruccio Busoni, I was introduced to the great Italian musicien. My father end I nad been great eduirers of Busoni for many years, and Busoni knew my father. when we were still living in Basel, Busoni had once given anaster class, The class had taken place on stage, and an audience nad been present. Sone of my father's students had participated. I remember Busoni sitting upstage in a corner, wearing a dark velvet jacket, cigar smoke pouring out of his mouth and nostrils. He looked dark and ominous as one after another of the students played for him.ece progressed more into pyroteck the work, I was stunned. Busoni stirred himselZ out of his corner, and puffing cigar smoke like a steam- boat, he made his way across stage to the piano. Looking over the boy's shoulder, he squinted at the page for a few moments, turned back a page or two, and finally found the spot in the score he wanted, "Sonza pedale," he said without enthusiasm and pointed with his finger as he spoke. He turned back to his corner and called for the next student. Such behavior was inéicative of the fact that Busoni had lost a good deal of interest in the piano and its literature. Always a fantastic performer himself and a man who practiced Chopin etudes, scales, and double thirds until the end of nis lize, he nevertheless ugnt greater goals than fine pianism. Composing ané to some extent conducting apparently offered the right kind of challenges gor him. He thus turned more and more to these areas of music and finally reached26 to the envire city. 3 hed for hin vas constar tly suffered from the frustration of being con- fined by the narrowness he believed he encountered here. She entourage in his ciodest apartment on Scheuchzer- trasse was indeed color? 1. His eccentric friends sent, for Busoni felt Busoni enjoyed the27 ould throw, Saint Bernard city, to let the dog oxeape trem the o} nim back ifth Synphony. of course, woule stand open-nouthed, picturesque apparition. Busoni gave a cycle of Led "The Developm nt of the Piano Cone " She cycle cjened with the Bact inor Concerto, covered most of the standard concer 0 liter: ture, and closed with Busoni's ow piano concerto with male chorus. and I attended all of these concerto concerts and ell of Busoni's solo recitals with scores of the works to be performed. ficent pianist that he was, occasionally Busoni, magn: lived life a bit too fully just before a performance. At one of these concerts, a Chopin Abend, Busoni came on stage with insecure steps and a confused look on his strong face. It was lmown that he loved to drink champagne before concerts, and when I saw tue way Busoni came on'stage, I thought immediately of this fact and looked at my father. Gottfried would not glance ny way, but I could see the apprehension in his face.28 He regained control ané the magic began. The soun ‘ich ne then began to draw Zron the piano was unbelievable. The difficulties had passed, and we thon experienced an evening of dazcling virtuosity and masterful inter- pretation. @aus when my counterpoint with arrenged 4 private that in sy young life. Yet, thouga I fully realized my father's worship of Susoni ané in a juvenile way wes aware of Busoni's ortance as a musician, the full impact of being able to play for the master was still not felt. I remember that as Jarnach escorted me into th: living room of his apartment, we were greeted by aaame Busoni, a blond beauty from Finland. I was then permitted to play my compositions for Busoni. He made the passing comment, "She is a good pienist,"” and wentartistry, live today in an that oftentimes Busoni's wortay of study. His own aesthetic reasoning in this context is expressed so b wtifully by Busoni ine00% on aesthetics siteé dur: en d'Aloert., like Busoni, s life the critics of London ned hailed hin as the second Mendelssohn. His wnd nad been in the repertoire of the Stadv- theater in Zurich for over ten years, and his newest 2 e Toten Augen (1917) was indeed one of the turel conversation pieces of the hour. The two piano concerti (in B minor and # major) were frequently per- formed and were part of the required repertoire for advanced ew York: Dover Publis tions, Inc., 3fSor further comment by Mrs. Genhart on Busoni's editions of the keyboard works of Bach, see p. 298./1 ath crtche as we reached the top of t% to face vreath, we came face offer than the view before me. Suddenly I exclained, svoll!" sy coment was the strongest dation I could nave had. D'Albert paused for ich in the loveliness with e © looked down at me as if we were friends already and said softly with twinkling eyes, Ag we entered d'alb: studio, I noticed on the , beautiful vase filled to overflowing with dozens and dozens of sharpened pencils. Such an extra- ordinary sight probably served as a constant rewinder to bert to the task of the next creative project.é § Qwo childhood \ Pa 4i photorraph: of ay i i Ce wa deve kos wertcmnmen tease Feemosphere which & my childhood. was a young er teens during part of this period, I still it as childnood, be: cloués. Life was a ser of wishes; of having been nome! cted to an idea, The connection between intensively sustained effort. range goal which I felt I must achieve.sheltered more than I had reali: or perhaps being the youngest of the three daughters of Gottfried, I looked to uy mother as the center of uy universe 's enignuatic atti- I had known; turn nvardly to my ction I had needed while growing up waich Gottfried had not provided. Whatever the correct psychological analysis migut be, ted from my mother's that point my life Iwas still ng hole in ny life, av i and I decided that not order, but also a Plans were ¢ Jaques-Daleroze school wythnics Scheiblau diploma from It was by way of her ex- lent instruction thet I had become such an enthusiastic van of curythmics. The course had included some workthe unestnetic in bouncing rubber vail. From all over Europe caue musicians of all types, etors and actresses from the wost fanous theaters, dancers-~all eagerly wanting to eter introduced York City and then went on to become femous Dessoff Choir, and valter Lang, who later36 became a well-lmown pianist throughout Europe and who from 1922 until 1941 held a professorship in piano at ny Alma Mater, the Zurich Conservatory. Of course, one must mention M. Jaques’ most famous star, the mag- - nificent Isadora Duncan. All of Zurich had at once loved and been shocked by her during the tine she lived there. (She too had come there to escape from the first World War.) Indeed Margrit had acted as her accoupanist in her studio for some months. I used to enjoy watching the small children filing to their lessons through the | streets of the city dressed in their multi-colored dancing tunics. The work in keyboard improvisation was considered one of the most important phases of the study. In this area I was utterly void of self-consciousness and uy enthusiasm soared. During the first flush of excitement, I became absolutely sure that I would make this work ny career. M, Jaques was particularly pleased with my work in improvisation, and my career was peaked by a performance with M. Jaques on two pianos for a small audience. To work in this way with such a master was a fantastically thrilling experience. Likewise I enjoyed the elementary training in gym- nastics and eurythmics. I practiced diligently and37 achieved my most stunning triumph as one of the voices in a three-part invention of Bach, The choreography had been very carefully worked out by M. Jaques, who presided at the keyboara when we performed it. Bach dance was worked out so that when the voices of the composition would move close together, so would the éancers. When the voices moved apart or took free reign, so would the dancers. If only two voices sang, only two @ancers danced. Suspensions, anticipations, appoggiatura and other non-harmonic tones were each represented by a certain movement. Indeed after the performance of this work, I felt so elated that I felt I would dance ny way to fame. Little did I realize that I was due for a change of heart. As the dancing became more complex, it also began to call more and more for the expression of personal, intimate feelings. Inhibitions about such feelings were to be cast aside, and the body was to take over the job of giving full expression to private, sensitive, or spiritual perceptions. ‘The music used to accompany such expressions oftentimes contained deep philosophical implications, its purpose being to help one release emotionally meaningful movements. I began to react badly to these exercises almost‘rom the beginning. Perhaps my northern Swiss heritage had something to do with it; but more likely it was echo of the Victorian aspects of my childhood. In ny case, even to attempt such display in front of the other dancers, much leas in public, ran quite against my sense of the proper and dignified. The entire battle within me reached a elimax one day when M. Jaques himself wae at the keyboard. The setting was the classic one associated with the. Jaques- Daleroze school: we were all in vhite tunics, presumably modelled after those of the Greeks. The dance area was decorated only with simple steps and Doric columns. The music to which we were to respond was one of the most profound slow movements of a Beethoven sonata, As the others began to warm up, they started to bend and sway, to leap and spring, to sigh and to wave army and hanés in long, arched patterns, As I began to try to imitate them, I suddenly thought of my true inner response to this Beethoven movement. Something snapped within me, for I knew that the perception I felt for this music was indeed the most painfully sensitive thing of my being, and that it could never be expressed, not by me at any rate, in the waving of limbs or the bending39 of torso. Nor did it need to be so expressed, for I had other means at my command, the proper means for this piec my musical mind and my fingers. As I thought of these things I suddenly realized that I had climbed the steps and was standing quite erect with folded arms, like a matronly housekeeper, surveying the others but not in the least caring to participate. I mst have ppeared to be acting defiantly superior. I was also aware of funny little noises from the direction of tne piano. As I turned my head to see what they might be, I set eyes upon a furious M. Jaques, trying to keep Beethoven going with his two hands, but using every other device at his command--face, legs, body, and whispers--to beckon to me, or to coerce me into action, or at least to let his state of livid rage be known! lis efforts were useless, for I continued to stand there quite in my own world. Thus it was that N. Jaques and I learned that in sgite of my obvious talent for many of the aspects of eurythnics, I was still to turn from his teaching back so the piano. I returned to Zurich with a fresh deter- nination and fortunately to a new teacher. Emil Frey had been trained in the principles of 2udolf Breithaupt, the famous Berlin pedagogue whose40 pooks on relaxation and weight techniques were causing a pianistic revolution at this time in central Europe. Frey had been a professor at the Moscow Conservatory since 1912, When the Bolshevik revolution began, his existence was caught up in violence, like that of many other foreigners in Russia. His manuscripts and music library were burned, his pianos and violins broken, his studio ransacked, and he was left penniless in the streets. In 1916 he had made his way back to Zurich, where his mother was living. He had to begin again. He shared her attic apartment and taught there privately. The combination of a new teacher, of a need for @ burning drive to help blot out the disturbing death of ay mother, and the renewed love for the piano as a result of my Geneva experience gave me the impetus I needed. I practiced exercises by the hour. I worked on the Bach Well-tempered Glavier, taking to Emil Frey one prelude and fugue each week. ‘Then after I had learned one, I practiced transposing it to all keys and would never let myself rest until I could play it in any key. I added Beethoven sonata after Beethoven sonata to ay repertoire. Chopin etudes became a daily rill, Soon I was practicing six hours a day. Long since my courses at the conservatory had been completed,neeseprcnaepteenamptatreriesteces eee4. and I had been granted my diploma in theory, counter- point, and composition. Now I was determined to become a pianic’ ' My sisters had left home by this time. For the first time, my father began to encourage me and to approve of my new dedication. He was a very sensitive nen musically, ané already he was aware of the fact that Margrit was beginning to run up against an in- surmountable psychological difficulty. Things haa vegun so beautifully Zor Margrit's career., Her early concerts were highly successful, and ner facility was fantastic. Like many prodigies, however, she was be~ ginning to show sigas of nervous anxiety and had apparent- ly reached a point beyond which it was extremely difficult to proceed. Some prodigies reach that point and after great soul-searching manage to rise avove it and then to vecoue artists. Others are never able to recapture on a more mature level the emotional qualities they pro- jected as children, Oftentimes a more normal chilé- hood would nave provided the necessary emotional stamina. @ a plant which has veen denied one essential mineral, these young musicians seem to shoot up with lightning-- like speed,.only to reach suddenly the point where the42 ieficiency is felt, only to wilt without apparent reason, and to remain withering at that stage without further srowth. Such sadly was to be Margrit's plight. After the yar my father had enthusiastically sent her to study with our friend, Carl Friedberg, wno was teaching in Jologne. Margrit studied with Friedberg for several years, In his heart, however, my father knew already wnat Was happening. Thus Gottfried began to dream a new dream. This time it was I, the youngest of the three daughters, ino was to become the great pianist. I did not suspect the implications of his changing attitude at the time, but simply was happy that he let me go about my work and that he encouraged me. Little by little he began to build for me the requisite attitudes of a career pianist. He discouraged y interest in boys and ignored a young woman's desires ‘or marriage and a family. He insisted that I devote 1 my time to my own practicing and not become burdened ith students. . In the latter case, such insistence was useless, wv long before students had come to me, although I Kd not solicit them. I had taught classmates as a45 natter of Zact since I had entered the conservatory. I tutored in theory, counterpoint, and composition from the tine I was twelve years old and later of course gave piano lessons. Thus by the time Gottfried began to show disapproval of this phase of my activity, it'was far too late, for teaching had got in my blood. Juat as the smell of grease paint is supposed to enslave a soul forever to the theater, so the excitement of giving a lesson has held me captive these many years. Life without teaching is inconceivable. For a short time, I even taught school, and ay wish for teaching Jaques-Dalcroze techniques belatedly came true. Actually I had not earned my diploma from the daques-Daleroze school in Geneva, for I had not been there long enough. However, the Pestalozzi Schule pressed me to come to teach their youngsters eurythuics just a few months after my return from Geneva. My protests were drowned in the exigency of the hour, and I agreed. I presided for several weeks at the piano where classes of youngsters responded to my playing. When I played a turn, the youngsters would turn around. nen I played a canon, the youngsters would respond with follow-the-leader movements. When I changed meter,a Rian as Sit 7 ‘ Cecile Staud at the Pestalozel s ile Jacques-Daleroze (1865-1950)44 they would respond by conducting a bar or two of the new meter, The fact that the actions always followed the music (the youngsters’ response always lagged by several seconds) made playing an enormously difficult task. I not only had to continue to add new music for them to interpret, but at the same time I had to watch them to see that they were executing correctly the figuration I had just finished playing. This skill was difficult to learn, but I mastered it in the weeks I taught. At the Pestalozzi Schule I could see firsthand the value of the Jaques-Dalcroze teaching, There is no doubt but that it accuatoms one to the handling of com~ plex rhythms, uakes one enormously pulse conscious, and gives one an increased sense of co-ordination. The rhythmic development I witnessed in the youngsters of the Pestalozzi Schule is brought back to me each time I observe rhythmic problews in my own piano students. I have come to wish that there were wore of the Jaques Daleroze teaching in the schools of the United States. My standing as a young pianist of promise and as a teacher was ever increasing in the city. I was in fact beginning to take great pride in ny local reputation, I was not at all taken by surprise, therefore, when45 rey told me one day at my lesson that ne would way on concert tour for several weeks, and he would for me to take over his students for nin. I nodded with full professional authority and pro~ néed to reshape my weekly schedule accordingly. I vp pleased that Emil Frey had instructed his students to come to me while he was away, but not vy any means aonglussed. Oa the first day of his absence, I arrived at his studio at the appointed hour, primed to carry out my assignuent with élan, My student had uot. yet arrived, so I sat and waited. Cne hour went by. There was still no sign of a dent. The next hour passed. Still no one appeared except zsil Frey's mother who looked in and smiled hesitantly. Still another hour ticked away. Finally I had to face the cruel reality that some of Beil Frey's students were not going to come to me in spite of his suggestion. I was determined, however, to wait, for I was still sure that other students would come. I sat waiting hour by hour for each student the entire week, but not one student appeared. I was dis~ appointed and hurt and finally after several days let46 my countenance fall‘in reflection of uy feelings. “But look at yourself," Emil Frey's mother said to me, pulling me over to the wirror gently. "My dear, no one believes you can substitute for my son, for you look so young. Behold! It is the cowbination, I think, of the long hair down your back, the hair ribbons tied in great bows, and the long white dress." I looked in the mirror and then wistfully smiled at her. Indeed I did see how it could be! But alas, it was too late to remake my appearance into something nore impressive, ily challenge was lost! The weeks of intensive work grew into months, and the months grew into seasons, and the seasons into years. I had lost all sense of time, for my focus was caught up in fingerings, technical studies, pedaling, tonal coloration, phrasing, and the constant desire to increase ny repertoire, I was so busy doing my work, completing my tasks one after another, gaining the immediate goal at hand, that I lost my perspective for a time. Suddenly without warning the time arrived when I was told that I should make my local debut. ven this task I took in my stride. There was no great anxiety over this step, for I viewed it as necessary and proper. Hy urprise was only at the fact that I had arrived47 at the point of a debut so soon and with so little premeditation. I had worked hard, to be sure, but in retrospect I believe that I was more naive than anything else. hus I took the plunge without the bat of an eyelash, like a dumb star-struck country girl. Such an analysis is not a confession of incompetence, for indeed contemporary reports of my debut would bear out my memory that things went reasonably well. It is only a confession of the fact that the years to come were to bring much greater fear with regara to public performance, for they were to give me a much greater awareness of the nore subtle values of my art. ‘Thus with the years which followed, the quick, naive accept~ ance of the correctness of expressiveness of my per~ formences vanished forever. The debut took place in Zurich on November 23, 1920. The small hall of the Tonhalle was filled with the cream of the music-loving crop of the city. Arnold Niggli wrote the following account of the progran: On yiednesaay the 23rd of Noveuber, Cecile Staub, the younger of the two highly gifted daugh- ters of Gottfried Staub, faculty member of the Zurich Conservatory, presented her own first piano recital in the small hall of the Tonhalle, and achieved a great measure of success. The per~ former commanded a highly polished style, match- ing the most demanding pianistic protleus with ‘echnical control; and the intelligence, warmth,48 and tonal beauty of her playing completely cap- tivated her audience. iler large program opened sith Busoni's classic transcription of the fanous Chaconne from Bach's D minor solo violin Sonata. In the problematic variations tarough which the master takes the compact theme, the young artist drew from the piano a richness of color, a full cnotionally exciting scale of light and’ shados All of this gove ample evidence of her subtle concepts of tonal coloration, Her keenly-felt individuality was perhaps even more apropos in the two following compositions of the rowantics: Schwnann and Chopin. In Schumann's Toccata, Op. 1, Hiss Staub imew how to lift the melodic line out of the tortuous technical passe, ing sing througa the entire texture the passion- ve romantic surging. And the perforzance of the Chopin B minor Sonata, Op. 58, was truly poetic. In ‘the first movement the wandering intimate second thene was magnificently contrasted wit the ener- gctic first, There was delightful fluttering to and fro in the capricious arabesque figures of the Scherzo; and no less beautiful were the playing of dreamlike song of the Largo, a nocturne of great calm, and the ery drive of tne Presto which forms the finale. Liszt's Spanish Rhapsodie, a majestic offspring of the well-loved Hunsarian Rhapsodies, formed the vrilliant close of the program, Here Cecile Staud proved with thrilling consistency that she commands virtuoso bravura of the kind which is equal to the solution of any sort of problem. After this brilliant performance the storm of applause from the audience could not be calmed until the performer sat at the piano once more and crowned her recital with delicate sweetness of sound in a performance of Chopin's D-flat Nocturne. Thus with this success, modest but promising, my career was begun. gchweitzerisohe Musikzeitung LX (1920), 342.Ir Launching ily Career With a successful debut behind me, I was not long in beginning to consider my next important move. I wanted to expand my horizona ané to begin to build a concert career outside of the confines of ny native Switzerland. To the north lay the culture of Germany and from ita metropolitan centers, one covld build a name in the music world. ‘Two cities in particular were thought of as cultural centers: ifunich, representing the apex of culture in southern Germany, and Berlin, the even more powerful city in the northern part of the country. Aa a first step in trying my wings away from home, I decided early in 1921 to enroll at the Royal Academy in Munich. I regretted the Zact that I would no longer be able to continue my wonderful association with Emil Frey, but ne along with Gottfried was the very one té insist on pushing me out of the nest. In spite of the fact that I was never to study with Frey again, we remained good friends and in close contact until his death in May of 1946, 4950 Munich had much to offer as a city, Ludwig I of Bavaria is supposed to have declared his intent to make Munich such an honor to Germany that no one who visited the country could feel his trip was complete until he had spent some time there. For the most part, Ludwig succeeded. Munich is warm-hearted city which contains beauties and art treasures of every century from the present back to those of medieval times. Munich's galleries held masterpieces of Durer, Rembrandt, Rubens, and Titian. I was furthermore over- whelned to discover an unequaled collection of Bucklin and Schwind in the Schack Gallery. The National Museun @isplayed a fascinating and colorful artistic history of Bavaria, and the Glyptothek held an assemblage of masterpieces of Greek sculpture with which no gallery north of Rome could compete. Add to such treasures the good-natured attitude of most of the city's inhabit- ants-~an attitude made up of equal portions of nature worship, good Munich beer, and Gemtitlichkeit--and it is emall wonder that I felt at home immediately. ‘The Royal Academy had an excellent reputation. One of its important faculty members was Josef Pembauer, a 46-year-old pianist from Innsbruck who had taught at the conservatory in Leipaig for some years, and who51 was reputed to be one of the finest Liszt players any: where. I looked forward eagerly to beginning my studies with Bembauer, for I was painfully aware of certain rtcomings in ty own pleying. My technique had been acquired rapidly through nara work, but I knew that there were still weaknesses which needed immediate’ atten~ tion. Penbauer's reputation was so excellent that I was hopeful of encountering a keen analytical mind, one which vould not only sive ne musical insight, but which would also show ue how to eliminate the rough ges of my physical approach to keyboard problems. I took a room with a piano on Gabelsbergerstrasse, where under my window 2 small group of young men held political meetings. Litvie did I know that I was eeping and practicing on top of a literal keg of political dyna- mite. dusy two years later thet group of young men, who were sometimes noisy beneath uy window, were to make the now worlé-famous Munich Bierputsch! I began my work with Pembauer by taking to him the Brahms-Handel Variations. I dutifully recorded his interpretive suggestions in a swall black notebook, trying to gain as wich insight as possible from every sentence. Oftentimes I found mysel? in a master-class52 situation, so that I was able to take advantage of suggestions offered the other students over a wide range of repertoire. These master classes would often conclude with Pembauer himself playing and talking about a certain piece of piano literature. In this way, I was able to hear him play and discuss the Chromatic Fantasy and fugue of Bach, the Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, of Beethoven, the F minor Fantasy of Chopin, as well as pieces by Mendelssohn, Brahms, and of course Pembauer's great love, Franz Liszt. 4s the weeks went by I took to Pembauer several Chopin etudes, the Schumann Toccata, Op. 7, the Kreis. leriana, and the Symphonic Utudes, as well as a number of Liszt pieces including Feux Pollets, the A major Concerto, and the twelfth Hungarian Rhapsody. Not many weeks after I had been enrolled at the Royal Academy, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation from Frau Professor Ludwig Quidde to attend a jour fixe in her home. I have no idea how my name was called to the attention of Frau Professor Quidde~ possibly through Peubauer himself or one of the other socially prominent members of the Academy family. I knew only that to be asked to such a gathering was a hallmark of acceptance into Munich's most elegant social53 and artistic milieu. Frau Professor Quidde bore both her husband's fame and his notoriety with great pride and dignity. Iudwig Quidde was one of the most famous of German statesmen, a member of the Bavarian diet, and later of the Reichstag. Mie upheld the right wing of the pacifist movement in Germany at that time. His writings had already resulted in his being imprisoned for three months at one point, and the future in Germany, holding as it did the rise of the Nazi party, was to bring the Quiddes even more turbulent times, In 1927 Ludwig Quidde won the Nobel Peace Prize. In 1931 he was forced to resign from the Reichstag, and in 1933 he and Frau Quidde fled to Geneva where they eventually settled permanently. The musical open house staged weekly in Frau Quidde's salon during these years attracted the elite of the social and artistic worlds, not only artists, both established and unknown, but also a great number of ladies and gentlemen of noble birth. Counts and count- esses, barons and baronesses were frequently present at these informal concerts, mingling with misicians, poets, and painters in a social world which prized the vudding young artist as highly as noble lineage. Ossip Gabrilowitch, visiting from the United States,54 @ was conductor of the Detroit Symphony Orchestx: attended one evening with his wife, the mezzo-soprano Clara Clemens, who, incidentally, was s daughter. another time Bruno Walter heard ue play there. I re- neuber that he wrote in the guest log just before I Out of curiosi to see what he musikalische éuséruck ist con a: I was quite at a loss to follow with anything so tender. I finally jotted down rou a scherzo I had written. a theme On those evenings I played at the Quiddes' jour , I was toasted by the last vestiges of Suropean royalty. I look back on that world now as’a fantastic and rozantie dream. At that time I was so young that I was not able to appreciate the tradition and the heritage waich these colorful men and wouen represented. Nor dia I realize thet the romantie grandeur which I took Zor granted was the last glow of 4 way of lize woich had been seriously weakened by one war and which “in the next twenty-five years would be dashed into a million fragments by another even more devastating one. The master class of Pembauer was once honored by ivgne most beautiful musical expression is gon amore."55 a visit of the Princess Gisela, wize of Leopold of She was born Archdéuchesa Gisela, the second daughter of the Eupress Blisabetn of Austria. When she entered the room, we were all on our knees, a tra- ditional form of respect for one once go close to a throne. Such solicitude ran very much agains? my grain, ny beliey in a Swiss-type democratic equality being But when I locked up at her my heart softened. was an apparition of tragedy. Dressed in black @ revealed in from head to toe with a bone collar, s! her ancient, wrinkled face the endurance of one tragedy after another: her brother's scandalous suicide, her nother's assassination, and the violent disintegration of her father's empire. played for her wo works of Schumann, the Sycohonic Me maent to me afterwaré 1 Sie spielen innes was "Das ist fabelhafy wie sehne I felt, was not worth very Etudes and the Toceata. der oi which artistically speaki: 2 much as a compliment.* Josef Penbauer, unfortunately, did not prove to possess the analytical insight I sought. He was a poet at the keyboard, and he did indeed play Liszt beautifully. 2ur¢ is fabulous how fast you can play."56 A deeply religious man, Pembauer would pray fervently vefore thunderstorms and concerts. He used a great nuaber of picturesque allegories from the Bible as a means of guiding his students toward interpretive concepts. The opening of the Schumann Toccata, for example, with its sharp chords followed by a sixteenth-note pattern was described as Noses striking the rock, and the nystical spring bubbling forth. The closing eadential chords of the Liszt D-flat Concert Etude were likened unto the Virgin Mary's ascension into heaven. For my very veal problem of a weak thumb joint, however, Josef Pembauer could only shake his head, look at me sympa thetically, and mutter, “Too bad, my dear, too bad." Thus discouragement and a problematic thunb caused me to leave Munich, Early in October, I decided to go to Berlin, There a pianist by the name of Zdwin Fischer was making his name kmown in the world of music. A native of Basel, Edwin Fischer had adopted Berlin as a base of operations for his concert tours, and in the opinion of many he was the best pianist in that city. Berlin, in addition, still held. an aluost magical allure. For the young artist of that day trying to begin a career in central Europe, the name Berlin held the same promise and incited the same awe-struck wonderST hat the name New York does in a young hopeful in the States today. From a practical viewpoint, moreover, Berlin was the most auspicious center in which to make a debut, to secure manageaent, and to build a concert career. For example, if one cowld play with the Berlin Philharmonic, one's career, I felt, was all but insured. Josef Penvauer unuerstood more than I explained mas I took uy 1 revealed through these words which he wrote to me weeks a afterward: I an very sorz; I never did meet) teaching suit art that you ty father (whoa I ane you did not find ‘ole, and I wish with ell x be able vo find in Berlin rvner your great talent in an opportunity to 2 the most advantageous way. Wita friendly greetings, - Josef Pembauer armed with letvers of recommendation from Frau Progessor Quidée, the desire to study with Bdwin Fischer, and the dream of a concert career, I took the train to Berlin. It was my first visit to that bustling metropolis; I had no relatives there and knew no one in tne city. Arriving in the city gave me a wonderful sense of adven- ture. deed Berlin was a city wi’ ha strong, unique personality in that year of 1921..58 Berlin covered an area of over three hundred square niles and was sprawling out even further each day to make room for its growing population. Between 19124 and 1929 the population of the city was in the process of doubling, growing from two to four million; furthermore the years following the first World War in that city were both exotic and turbulent. There one found extremes side by side. Great luxury and wealth were contrasted with abhorrent social condi- tions, The disciplined rigor of Prussian imperialism was in the air during the day, but at night the atmosphere was one of almost excessive abandon with night clubs and centers of amusement being filled to overflowing. Dwell- ings and businesses which were crowded close together, particularly in the old section of the city by the Spree, were set off by the open space of the Tiergarten, stretch- ing for two miles from the Brandenburger Tor to Charlotten- burg. ‘The brusque hurried urgency of Berliners in Potsdamer Platz could be transformed into.an indolent liesure within the walls of a cafe--one such as the famous Cafe Bauer on Unter den Linden, where Strindberg, Ibsen, and other famous artists at one time sat and talked by the hour. My first problem upon arrival in the city was to59 find a-place to live where I could practice without disturbance. I was fortunate to find the hoae of neighbors, The gnidiges F had had musicians in her family and loved music. This I came to believe, for my lendlady's pride in my staying with her showed in that she nourished me with strict kosher cooking for over a year, In the beginning I made a few errors in the proper procedure for consuming such meals, cowbining the wrong foods or eating the wrong thing at the wrong time, Fraulein Bloch, momen~ tarily aghast, would correct ne immediately. I learned quickly. I was at the keyboard every morning at eight o'clock, seven days a week, and began the day with two hours of finger exercises. My Swiss sense of discipline kept ne at this schedule week in and week out. The finger exercises were justified in my own mind by @ conversation I had had with Liszt's housekeeper when I had visited Weimar, She confirmed to me the report that Liszt had risen very early in the morning60 every day and had practiced two hours of finger exercises vofore going to mass. She had added with touching sim- plicdty, "Er war ein fleissiver fann."? Hy regime consisted of scales, arpeggios, Hanon (norrors!), Busoni's finger exercises, and countless studies wich I invented on the spur of the moment to help solve various types of technical problems. Through such inventions I found my own solution to the problem of my weak thumb joint. My attitude toward the relative merits of the standard volumes of such exercises has been similar to that regarding the relative merits of com- peting brands of tooth paste. It doesn't really matter so much which brand you use as long as you brush faithfully every day. At ten o'clock Fraulein Bloch interrupted me with an omelet and complaints. She insisted that none of the musicians in her family had spent much time at all on such exercises as she had been hearing. She always heaved a sigh of relief when the "technique" was over for the day, and I could settle down to "real music." Lunch delayed my practice for as long as it took for the food to go down. iy energy seemed endless. 30¥e was an industrious man."I was never tired. I was interrupted again at four in the afternoon for a quick cup of hot chocolate, and finally two hours later I was forced ty the teras of my agreement to give it up for the day. My evenings were devoted to reading, mostly operatic librett: + My financial status did not permit me to go out a great deal. Gottfried continued to help ae fi Inancially, although it was not always easy for him either. It had never thought of piano playing as a means of liveli- hood, It seemed to be an end in itself, and although I ad taught in Switzerland, my father's repeated warnings bout getting tied down with too many students had tem- orarily begun to take effect. I was determined to repare myself for public performance. Months later, yen my father's financial reserves were diminishing nd conditions in Berlin became nore difficult, I did lave a few students whose fees were wele rae « Once in a while, however, I did see my way clear spend the money for a concert or theater ticket. ying to decide what to attend was almost impossible, r Berlin offered an entire gamut of important, excit~ @ events from which to choose. ‘There were seven concert lls in operation: Philharmonie, Beethovensaal, Bluthner- al, Schwechtensaal, Scharwenkasaal, Bechsteinsaal, andagemie. ach offered either a recitalist or an orchestral concert virtually every night of the week during the season. Four different opera houses were st: ag performances in the city, of these was the Kaiserlict Oper, since @ the Staatsoper, located just east of the palace of Willian I. It: stage s considered one of the best in existence, and its seating capacity wes nearly two thousand. /.t that time one would find Brich Kleiber, Georg Szeli, and occasionally Richard Strauss conducting there. (I remember that when I first saw Strauss conduct, my experienced friends had warned me, "He conducts like a stick, but watch his eyes, if you can, for there you will see the emotional 4) The Stdétische Oper (Municipal Opera) was on Bismarc intensity strasse in Charlottenburg, about three miles out from the Brandenourger Tor. The Kroll Oner was located just across the Platz der Republik from the Reichstag. It was adjacent to a section of the Tiergarten and a large open-air restaurent where one could dine on the terrace atch thousands of Berliners dancing in the garden below. The fourta opers house was the Yolksoper, which unlike the connotation its name suggests, did not specialize63 in light opera, but rather in experimental, avant-garde works. These were the years which saw the unforgettable productions of Max Reinhardt in Berlin, The season of 1921-1922 opened with a production of Schiller's Die Rauber. There followed plays of Strindberg, Georg Buchner, and a fantastic production of the light opera Qrphée aux Enfers of Jacques Offenbach. Even being able to partake of such great artistic attractions as these did not woo me away from giving ny full concentration to my work at the keyboard, for I had begun my study with Edwin Fischer only a few days after my arrival in the city. then I first spoke with him on the telephone, I found that he recognized my name instantly, for he ‘mew uy father. I was invited to come to play for him without delay. My audition consisted of a prelude and fugue from the Well-tempered Glavier and a Beethoven sonata. He accepted me immediately as a student, but he added that he felt that I was ready to concertize, He was thoughtful for 4 moment and then said, "I can help you to gain distinction in your playing. Remember distinction! For that is the moat important quality, My association witha Edwin Fischer did not turn out64 as I expected, for like Peubauer, he not the analytical pedagogue I thought I needed. His immediate warmta, however, the greatness of his artistic stature, and the professional world in which he woved all captivated me at once and resulted in one of the greatest associations of ny lige. Edwin Fischer was carried at that time to Elinor von Mendelssohn, @ chars ful, vealthy woman of the nost aristocratic coterie of Berlin's cultural society. Her family tree included both the Zanous musician, Felix iendelssonn, and e noted philosopher, Moses von Mendelssohn, The family was so wealthy that Elinor's Jather was reported to have lent money to the Kaiser himsel?. . awin Fischer was the first to admit that, had he not played in the Mendelssohn salon, been accepted there as an artist, and later married into the family, his career would not have seen as sudéen and sure a rise as it did see, At the time I appeared on the scene, Edwin Fischer concertized a great deal. He nad only four or five students who came to him regularly. He would never permit me to pay him for my work with hin, although ced personally he was penniless and occasionally suff the pangs of pride which oftentimes befail men whose65 wives have a great deal of money. Blinor ran the householé efficiently and almost frugally. Edwin practiced regularly on a emall upright piano in a back room in order "to save the Bechsteins," the two magnificent grand pianos which adorned the living room of their spacious apartment. Money was never wasted, ang yet the couple lived anong examples of priceless artistic splendor such as the medieval Spanish canvas, some twelve by fourteen feet which hung on the wall £ their foyer. ion to my work with Edwin which drew me to their abode, a closeness with Elinor soon develo, I found myself becoming something of a functional part of the household. Oftentimes I would spend an entire day at the Fischers, When I would arrive mid-morning, Blinor would probably be having brealtfast in bed, the luxury of her bedroom framing her striking loveliness. Thus she would hold court over coffee chattering gaily at Sdwin and me. ‘he rest of the day would consist of writing business letters for Edwin, many times rehears~ ing @ concerto which he was to play (I would play the orchestral reduction on the second piano), auditing lessons of other students, and studying my own reper- toire with hin.Sometimes I would be invited for dinner, and Fréulein Bloch would always prompt me to take flowers. Of course, Elinor could have had greenhouses full of flowers at any tame, but my modest token of appreciation always seemed to please her anyway. "Cecile," she ula often say to ne, "you are not like any other Swiss!" slinor meant this as a compliment, for she actually considered the Swiss somewhat boorish, in spite of the fact that her own husband was from Basel. I studied a great deal of Bach with Edwin Fischer. I also took to him the C major Fantasia of Schumann, a great deal of Mozart, and the two concerti with which I was to make my Berlin debut, the Beethoven 0 major @ the Brahns B flat major. I performed with him the najor Sonata for two pianos of Mozart in an informal ‘put public) concert. At the second piano, I played rehestral reductions of all five Beethoven concerti ith him, as well as most of the Bach and Mozart concerti. Bdwin Fischer's coaching was marvelous. le had y beautiful ideas ang could demonstrate them for his dents. He could not, however, always impart to the dent exactly now he achieved his effects. I remember a stormy lesson with an American girl. was at one Bechstein and she was at the other. He67 would play the first piano entry in the Beethoven ¢ major Concerto and then ask her to play it. She would play it, note perfectly to be sure, but without the asterful sense of continuity or time inflection he ha or as mich attention to the fact that some of the notes of the melodic line were harmonic and others were non- harmonic. The result was a much coarser rendition. He would shake his head and demonstrate the assage again, this time with the admonition to "listen very carefully" and "play to the harn ny." idhen he had finished another sensitive rendition, he would nod in her direction, and she would follow with another failure. This process continued until the poor girl finally burst into tears and fled from the room. The girl was unable to perceive in terms of physical values the difference which she undoubtedly heard and recognized. As a result she was unable to produce the effect she wanted. Fischer was unable to help her, because he had never abstracted as principles the concepts nich he used almost subconsciously to achieve the beauty which was so. apparent in his playing. When occasionally he did cite a principle, such as his comment to the girl to "play to the harmony," he did not explain the principle or was not able to analyze it carefully enough at a lessonin the context of the passage under discussion. dwin Fischer was not a happy man, His nother ic dominated him, and she realized it, but apparently could do little to fight her compulsion to do so. She was enormously jealous of Zdwin's career, his marriage, or anything else which came to mean a great deal to him. Naturally this made things difficult and strained often- times between dwin and Elinor. He was a sensitive man, given to fluctuating, un- predictable moods. He oftentimes wept like a child in the early evening because he could not tear to see the day slip avay and die. Before every concert there was a scene which bor- dered on hysteria. Zlinor and I would sit in the green room watching’ Hdwin pace up and down, working himself inte a bundle of nervous tension. He would repeat again and again in the dialect of Basel, "I' ka' net; I' ka’ Inet; I! He would stare at Elinor first and then at me. He would throw his hanés in the air and shake his head. ometimes he would sigh with a whimper, "I' ka' eitvach et." Elinor and I would say anything to help: "They ‘Dialect for the German Ich kann nicht: I can not. 6869 are nothing but cabbage heads in the audience," or “They all have on red underwear out there," or truthfully, "You xnow how they adore you." Havin Fischer was a great and sensitive artist. He played with a marvelous romantie flair, which of course resulted in many livertics but which seemed rignt somehow when he took then, later in life he tried to temper the alrost improvisatory mood of some of his playing in keeping with prevailing taste. In spite of the fact that he worked diligently at technique (having memorized Clementi's Gredus ad Parnassum twice during the course of his career), he had many pianistic accidents in public. He made grotesque faces when any detail was the least bit amiss. Once when he was playing the D major Prelude from the first volume of the jell-tempered Clavier as an encore, he could not find nis way back to the tonic key from G@ major near the end of the piece. He tried several times to find the pivot on which to modulate, but could not, so he finally made up a cadence in G and ended. Then he went on and played a Mozart minuet ravishingly. These and other accidents happened not infrequently, One does not remember such shortcomings because one wants to cast shadows on the great artistic stature of men such710 as Edwin Fischer, nor attach feet of clay to these idols. One remembers rather because one loved these artists so much that their anxiety and their suffering at such moments are somehow magnified and stamped on the heart. We want to cry and suffer in their place so that they can be fully freed to express the beauty that is in their souls. Edwin Fischer was terribly worried at times about the stability of his career. In his uid-thirties, ne viewed younger pianists with great alarm. His attitude toward them was so serious indeed that its effect was almost humorous. His voice took on the ring of doom as he would say, "Oh-oh, there's another one. And he plays 80 well! How old do you suppose he is?" The counterpart of Frau Professor Quidde's jour fixe in Berlin was the entertaining done by the second wife of Hans von Billow. A gifted actress from Meiningen, Marie von Billow was in the process of finishing her late husband's biography. Her favorite composition was Venezia ¢ Napoli of Liszt, and I played it many times for her at the informal concerts she held in her home. A young pianistic star named Claudio Arrau played the 48 preludes and fugues of the Well-tempered Clavier in a series of concerts there. The literary set was well represented in Marie71 vo: Billow's salon. I mber hearing the controversial aywright Hermann Sudermann read frou hi a Ss 2 inrich Namn, a greatly respected writer although not as favous as his brother Thomas, read from his new book Axx 1, which in his own words was a description of the life of the proletariat. Heinrich Mann's greatest clain to fame was the adap ation of an earlier book and later the sereen. vehicle Der patience. but I was made to understand +] move. I found a off of Kurfurstenéama. Of course the Kurfurstendam was the most elegant portion of the city, but Liltzowstrasse, a side street, was less elegant, and the Gartent aus, in ack of the main house on the street was indeed quite nodest. I had one room with a piano. One gained access to my aboge by crossing through an olé courtyard in which underaourished street urchins were constantly at play. By the following summer the economic situation in Berlin had become desperate. Inflation had set in12 and famine followed in its wake. It was not an unusual sight to see people carrying satchels full of money in order to buy bare necessities. ‘The amount of money needed to purchase a grand piano this week might purchase a loaf of bread next week. The most expensive musical instruments and art treasures were sold to farmers for food. One never quite got used to the sickening sound of a thud as a passerby would drop in the street from hunger and exhaustion. One encountered such sights nearly every day. A few gold Swiss francs would have bought a castle.” I lived simply with my piano in my Gartenhaus and continued to intensify my schedule. I was fortunate in that my financial support came from Switzerland, a country in whic the currency remained completely stable. I aid my own cooking on limited rations. Bread was a luxury. A potato was a meal. Curiously enough I was able to obtain raw oatmeal quite often, With it and a little fresh fruit, I could £ix a wonderful "health" dish which was famous all over Switzerland. It is known as Birchers-mllsli. It was named 5 /firs. Genhart's dramatic account of inflation in Berlin during the summer and fall of 1922 is documented in reat detail by James W. Angell in The Recovery of Germany New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1929), pp. 21-22.71% after one Dr. Bircher wno ran a famous retreat in the Swiss mountains. Overworkeé, tired men and women went there to regain strength. ‘the establishment served nothing but Bir: ors-nilsli morning, noon, and night. The Busches, Rudolf Serkin, and Blly Ney, all of whom visited the retreat, can testify to the effectiveness of such a diet.o I found two new friends close to my new residence. The twin daughters of Woldesar Bargicl lived nearby. Bargiel had veen a half-brother of Clara Schumann and was a musician admired by both Robert Schusann and Johannes Brahms. My two new friends spoke often of their "Zante Clara" and showed me letters of Brahms to Clara. The contents of the letters were such, de- clared the ladies, that they did not wish to sell them, in spite of the difficult times. Besides they realized that the money received for one such valuable letter today might become a mere pittance in a few days. From time to time I found a way to take food to them, for they ® fies. Genhart has kindly provided the recipe for Brichers- Sli: Soak two cups of raw oatmeal overnight using just enough water to be absorbed by worning. In the morning add two grated apples with peels (washed with soap), the juice of one-half lemon, a handful of walnut meat (when available). Mix thoroughly with one tablespoon full of sweet condensed milk. Variations of the recipe may be encountered depending upon wnat fruits are in season.14 were both retired and were trying to live on their savings in difficult times. My debut in Berlin had been arranged for early December, It was to be with the Berlin Philharaonic, Edwin Fischer conducting. I was to play the C major Concerto of Beethoven and the B flat major Concerto of Brahms. Adjoining walls and ceilings of my roon would vibrate day and night with the sounds of these masterworks, and also quite frequently with the sounds of irate neighbors pounding back their protests. I persevered nevertheless. One day as I began to brush my hair, a wad of it came out. I looked at it questioningly, lying there in my hand, and then I tried brushing somewhere else. Another wad came out there too! Very soon I realized that every place I touched my hair it was ready to come out into my hands. I was desperate. Ny debut was only a few weeks away. Surely I didn't want my hair to fall out at any time, but especially not at this point in my life! After several frantic telephone calls, I was able to find someone who recommended a doctor. I went to the doctor, who examined me and referred me to a neurologist many blocks away. The neurologist was a man of gruff manner whose75 very appearance told me that he would put up with no . I told him rapidly who I was, wl nonsens about my problem. He glared at then asked me, "hat do you do besides practice the piano?” “why, nothing," I answered, wondering wide-eyed what else he expected me to do in the face of such an . all-consuming passion. He scowled and barked at me, “Physical exercise! That is what you need. Your nerves arc shot." He then informed me that I was to take two hours of my precious practice time every day and use it for walling--just walking. I must have looked quite astounded when thinking of ny debut, I uttered in aluost a whisper, "But I can't. I siwply can not do that." The neurologist exploded and nearly threw me out of the office. When he gained control (I was already cowering), he announced, emphatically spitting out each syllable in his best Prussian manner, that either I would conforn to his advice completely or he would throw me out and make no further effort to keep me from going completely bald. I conformed.i walked in patterns, joining blocks to blocks in é@iegonal fashion, walsing around every block one way on one day, and the opposite way on the next. I xed for two hours by the clock, not one second more and not one second less. I walked in sunshine, rain, snow, fog, mist, and drizzle, but I did not miss a day. I threw myself into the exercise with the same kind of oe grease. my skin black. re I was to ruy it into my forehead and scalp vigorously every day for one uonth without washing it out. Reluctantly I blackened my scalp and forehead that first evening, the black salve glistening under the lamp by the mirror, Waen I had finished, I looked jus like a rat pulled out of a puddle! Zyeing painfuliy ay exotic visage, I decided to retire early in order not , to have to consider how I was to endure looking like this for a whole month. Just then the telephone rang. It was Bdwin Fischer. "Cecile," ne said, "I am so happy to find you at hone. Furtwingler has just agreed to come over thisTT evening to hear me play the ?fitzner Concerto! Cone right over so you can play the orchestral reduetion for ne. Hurry! Furtwlngler is on his way now." I was seated at the Bechstein, slightly ducking my head, when Fischer and furtwingler entered the room. As Fischer introduced me, Rurtwingler nodded courteously tovard me in an offhand manner. Se then did a literal double take. Instantly he tried to resume his offnand manner and not to stare at the strenge apparition I must have been. But it was too late. I felt that ny month-long ordeal had been indeed baptized with raging fire! The days passed and I began to realize hair would be saved, that uy nerves were holding up peautifully, and that my debut was probably going to ve given as scheduled. As uy walking stimulated ay circulation, so the pressure of my debut stimulated my diligence. The neighbors pounded harder on my walls, put Brahms and Beethoven roared more persistently than ever. The two concerti I had programed added up to quite a task for one evening. ‘ven an experienced artist would find such a program a challenge, and of course I was a mere novice. As I look back over the years78 ané many performances of these works, I yealize that one's work on these masterpieces is never really complete. I am stunned by ay brashness in attempting to perform both on an important debut. Between the two concerti had been scheduled a major orchestral work, Symphoniseher Prolog fiir grosses Orchester za eine: DragSdie by Max Reger. The work was particularly appropriate, for it was dedicated to Arthur Nikisch who had died earlier that year and who had been very closely identified at many points in his career with the Berlin Philharmonic. As a conductor, Zdwin Fischer was most at home with a chamber orchestra. He did his best work with such groups, playing Baroque and Classical nusic, oftentines conducting from the keyboard. when Fischer was conduct= ing, he did not suffer from the same anxiety attacks which plagued him before piano concerts. Such relief from nervousness was part of the reason he turned more land more to conducting either from the podium or from he keyboard. I was very much at ease with Fischer on he podium, for not only was he sympathetic to my playing, ut also he had, of course, marvelous insight into the oncerto repertoire and knew every passage inside out. Having never played with orchestra before, I needed719 some experience before the debut concert. Fischer, whose name as a conductor was quite well-known, had no trouble in arranging several concerts outside of Berlin to give me the experience I needed. I would be able to lear a great deal about the particular techniques required of @ pianist in giving an expert perfornance of a concerto with an orchestra. Three dates were arranged during November, 1922. The first two were in two industrial towns in the Ruhr Valley, Bochum and Gelsenkirchen. The former was an old city which dated back to the Middle Ages. It had had a long and distinguished commercial history and at the time of uy concert boasted a population of about sixty thousand. Gelsenkirchen, only a few k Fi lometers away from Bochum, had been but a small cluster of cottages until around 1900, when industrial expansion of the valley had caused it to becowe a boom town, swelling in popu~ lation within a few years to match that of Bochum. Unfortunately whatever beauty the suall village may have once possessed had been swallowed up by the rapid construc~ tion of pretentious buildings of red brick or colorless stucco. It represented the most unattractive face of industrial expansion.60 The orchestra for both perforzances was from Bochum. Ht 4 was small and of limited capacity, but since only the Beethoven concerto was scheduled for these two per- formances, it was able to turn in a spirited performance. The reviews of the Bochum and Gelsenkirchen concerts were quite encouraging. I was, of course, presented as a stusent of Edwin Fischer. The concert in Boch a was, in addition, announced as my "first public appearance," which was stretching the truth somewhat, but which nevertheless made effective newspaper copy. It was, after all, my first appearance with orchestra. Of the Bochum concert the newspaper reported that I turned in an "extraordinary performance, displaying obvious artistry." Gelsenkirchen press-reoorts used such phrases as "spirited, clean, artistic reading." The road to success in Berlin seemed to be wide open now, but first there was vunich. The third warm-up date was at the Odeon there, and I was to play both the Beethoven and the Branus concerti. Returning to the city of my earlier study gave me T/Bhe quotations from reviews of these two concerts are taken from clippings in one of Mrs. Genhart's scrapbooks. Neither the names of the newspapers nor the dates of publication are available. ‘The concerts took place on November 13 (Bochum) and 14 (Gelsenkirchen), 1922./81 an opportunity to sce many old friends. I was returning as something of a success. idwin Vischer's name was famous all over Germany, and my being featured as his soloist must have made a striking impression. Some had never forgiven my hasty departure for Berlin, for they had been irritated with me for having considered Berlin a more important cultural center, My auspicious return must have added to that irritation, Others had wished me well without malice upon my departure and were warmly enthusiastic over my return. In any case, I remember that the hall was jammed to the rafters. Hany rows of spectators were crowded in extra chairs close to the orchestra so that I alnost had to step over people to make my way to and from the piano. Edwin Fischer's name was such an impressive one that even as a conductor he could sel2 out a hall. As our entourage traveled back to Berlin the next day, no one seemed to know if any review had appeared yet, or if it had, what it had said. This was not particularly unusual in itself, for oftentimes concert reviews do not appear in European newspapers the day after the concert, but rather are delayed several days. As the days went by, however, no news of any reviews was received. very time Edwin would inquire about82 the matter, everyone was suddenly struck dumb. finally one suall review fron citun; filtered through. It called the perfors the Beethoven "noteworthy in every way." I apparently was a young pianist of "obvious musicality, interpretive individ- uality, and enormous technical facility." Of the Brahms concerto the critic coumented that he had never heard ta loveliness. "® it "£illed more to the brin Other reviews, however, were not forthcoming. Later I found out that uy suspicion was true: we had been miserably panned. Fischer's conducting was par- ticularly attacked. Our entourage had hid those reviews so that they would not cause me to be nervous about the dwin would not go performance in Berlin, and so that 2 on weeping jags for the next week, as he always did when the press was unkind. Edwin did find out eventually that the reviews were unfavorable, Such notices may have marked a turning point in his career as a conductor, for beginning in 1923, he started to refuse engagements which involved conducting full symphony orchestras.and turned his attention almost exclusively to conducting chamber groups. ®/Snis review is in one of Hrs, Genhart's scrapbooks. The clipping is identified by a note written in longhand as follows: Bayrische Staatszeitung No. 279. December 1, 1922.785 The important first weeks of December finally arrived. Berlin was at the height of its concert season. A small published concert guide was on the newsstands everywhere, listing concerts for tne two-week period from the 4th through the 17th of December, During that period over twenty pianists were appearing including Claudio Arrau, Alexander Borowsky, walter Gieseking, Wilhelm Kempff, Max Pauer, Bgon Petri, and Nicolai Orloff. My name appeared in a suall box near the bottom corner of the page along with those of Edwin Fischer and the Berlin Philharmonic. I was announced there as Cicile Straub! Well, I consoled myself with the thought that even with the misspelling my friends would be able to recognize the name anyhow. I began to learn just how difficult it was to set forth one's name in the busy concert world of Berlin, a world which catered only to the most famous stars in the musical firmament. Héwin took me througa rehearsals with a sure hand, and Zlinor spent hours reassuring me, as‘well as inviting all of the important people she knew in Berlin's social world. I approached the evening of the 16th of December with what appeared to be Olympian calm, All was in readiness. About noon on the 16th my telephone rang, It was84, Frau Fischer, Edwin's mother. Sue spoke rapidly and to the point. She stated that she had discovered that win had the flu. She had insisted that he go to bed. He would not conduct that night, but he had called and made arrangements for Herr Marienhagen to conduct instead. he said she was sorry and hung up. I stood completely stunned looking at the dead telephone in my hand for several uinutes. I sat down to recover. ‘hen my mind began to work again, I had no idea where to turn or what to do. Ny first thought was that I couldn't go om with it. #ut then I realizea that the concert had been announced for days. Tickets had been sold. Most of the audience would arrive ex- pecting an evening of music. It would be aluost impossible to let the audience kmow of a change in plans. I had never worked with the concertmaster, Otto + Marienhagen. I wondered aow I could manage if nothing went right between us, I weighed the question carefully once more. Would it be better to cancel altogether or to turn in a bad performance which would take me years to live down? For a moment, the vision of all of my friends, of all the people of importance Blinor had invited, of the critics, of all of the people who knew and admired Edwin and who had heard about me from him85 a with haunted me. I could see ta rely polite les, with eubarrassed congratulations, with raised eyebrows behind my back, or secretly shaking their heads. I coule see the frightened look of pity in the eyes of genteel ladies who wantca to be kind and the annoyed impatience around the mouths of those who had known great performances. Better to cancel altogether than to let this ca- tastrophe occur! No sooner had I wade that decision than the stern voice of reason stepped in to take control. The entire failure was only. in my imagination. There was every reason to expect a creditable perfornance. The two concerti were ready to go, I had rehearsed with the orchestra, Otto Marienhagen haé been sitting in the concertmaster's chair during every moment of the rehears-. als. I had every right to expect him to know how I played the concerti and to be able to work with me, even in an emergency. The concert must go on as scheduled. I drew a deep breath, This was the right decision, come what may, and I knew it! The evening of December 16th, 1922, is something of a dream. The Singakadaaie was packed with an audi- ence which glittered with prestige, both social andmusical. My being was, however, so much in focus on a particular job, centered arcund a keyboard, a baton, and a complex of sound, that I rewewocr few of the details. Karienhagen was certainly equal to the euergency. He substituted the Haydn Variations of Johannes Brahms for the Synnhoni¢ Prologue of Reger and provided fine accom paniments to both the concerti. When small details which Edwin and I had worked out slipped by Marienhagen unnoticed, I paid no attention, but rather continued to project the overall impression. When the job was over, I felt that we had turned in a respectable per- formance. We had made it with room to spare. Backstage was jammed with friends and well-wishers. I was gratified to find that their enthusiasm seened genuine. As I received the last of the congratulations and listened to the footsteps of the last of the well- wishers echo through the emptiness of the stage and the nall, I began to feel a little lonely, a little depressed. There was apparently no reason for such a feeling, but suddenly all of the little things which were not right about the performance came flooding in upon me. The disappointment of Bdwin Fischer's not having con- ducted began to disturb me in a new and perplexing way.87 d behing me, all In a flesh I could see the ro: the way from Gottfried's house in Zurich to that very moment. I could see every stop along the way, every hour of work, every hour of waste, every achievement, | and every mistake. I knew that I had arrived at another formal goal in the course of my career. In the eyes of many, the performance that evening would be a pinnacle from which I need not venture further, I mew that it should, on the other hand, be only a threshold to a more exciting and demanding world. I knew taat not even a day should pass without wy setting out on the next stretch. In actuality my debut had siuply proved once and for all that I could achieve what I desired in the way of a career. Whether or not I consummated the possivilities before me was another matter. For some very strange reason I wondered if my goal was really worth the price I kmew I would have to pay. "Cecile, my dear! Let me tell you again how per- fectly beautiful it was! Edwin will mow of your success from all of us, and he will be so pleased." Hlinor had come in quietly and was standing by the stage door. “Come now, I have a surprise." Elinor took me gently by the arm and led me out into the small street behind the Singakadamie. There88 waiting for us was an open one-horse droshxy, filled to overflowing with zresh-cut flowers! "On such a night as this," said Elinor softly, "you should be with the one person in the whole world who holds the key to your heart. But since you are not, since you are alone tonight, extravagance such as this is the next best thing. I will not have you lonely tonight! Come, let us ride." Hour after hour, through the streets of Berlin, warmed only by the glow of the lamplights, under a canopy of’ bright Decewber stars, drunk with the scent of spring from the flowers, we rode talking, laughing, singing, and dreaming of the wonder and tae beauty w still held in store.(Klavier) mit dem Philharmonischen-Orchesler unier giiliger Leilung von EDWIN FISCHER ‘ Lt pe | leahitvrte, yon Benespeey (tox VORTRAGSFOLGE L Klavierkonzert C-dur, op. 15, Nr. Allegro con brio Largo Rondo (Allegro) §/,#29 Hagite L nto foor ey 7 X Symghonischer Prolog Tir grdases Orchester — 7 Zire oan odie . ‘ ee A Max Reger : eAsthur Nikiseh 2uge _ 3. Klavierkonzert B-dur, op. 83, Nr. 2 . oe ee .Joh. Brains Allegro non troppo Allegro appassionato Andante Allegretto grazioso L. v. Beethoven Konzertiliig Bechstein Wahrend der Vortrige bleiben die Saalttiren geschiossenIII Settling Down Once the Berlin debut was behind me, life returned to normal. The reviews were good. I had seemingly won my foothold, which the press was willing to concede with a somewhat watch-and-wait attitude. Such was to be expected in a sophisticated music center like Berlin. All three reviews dealt with my performance within from five to seven lines of the newspaper colum. ‘Typical was the one from the Berliner Tageblatt which appeared the following 30th of December: The pianistic performance showed the young pianist to have a good technique, a refined art of touch, clear concepts, and enough artistic maturity and level-headedness to bring off leud- ably a work like the Brahms B-flat Concerto.1 I was actually beginning to feel like a professional! Soon I secured the services of a concert manager and even a newspaper clipping service. The manager was able to arrange for a respectable-sized tour the follow- ing spring, and the newspaper clipping service. well, 1ffhis is another review from one of Mrs. Genhart's scrapbooks. ‘The clipping is identified by a note written in longhand as follows: Berliner Tageblatt No. 594. December 30, 1922.7 89about all the newspaper clipping service was able to do (although I'm sure its staf? was quite efficient) was to send me 2 total of five little commentaries about @ recital I played in Berlin the following March. kven so I was attempting to gather about me the trappings of a public pergorner. Both the Fischers and I were so busy the following months that we saw less of one another. idwin was in the middle of his season, and I was preparing my suall spring tour. I am sure too that both dwin and Zlinor felt that once I had been pushed out of the nest, that is, launched in my career, I should be capable of pu: ng ahead without quite so mich attention from thea. Coach- ing with Edwin did continue, of course, but after the Berlin debut ny lessons with him were more irregular. I had not thought more about the incident of Zdwin's last-minute illn ess, but days later I received a somewhat strange, almost guilt-ridden letter from his mother: Esteemed Frdulein Staub: I have thought about you for a long tine and wonder why we do not hear from you. Then the thought cane to me that mayoe you assumed that it was my fault that xy son did not con- duct your concert at the last moment--that it was a8 a result of my overly great motherly love and apprehension. But I am not guilty. I felt so sorry for you that Edwin had to beg off on the morning of the performance. He hadaS not even able to come to see he that morn nen he called, my first question was, "How about Cecile's concert?" fo which he replied, "It has already been changed." I waited for Méwin to send me a ticket to the concert. But in vain. 4 the grippe. He And by that time I had the grippe myself. I suffered for fourteen days! IT always rejoiced at your visits. I would feel badly if you did not hold me in good regard. Yours, A. Fischer I often wonder as to the nature and complexity er to t nis of the forces which worked togett ‘ing out rather curious expression. Undoubtedly much of the undercurrent in this family situation escaped me and will forever remain a mystery. The time of my associa- tion with Edwin end Elinor, with Madame Fischer in the background, wes one during which we all rode pleasantly on the crest of a wave. Our lives nad already begun to drift apart, and our paths were to separate completely long before the collapse of that household was to take place. I was thus never called upon to be witness to the unhappiness which was to plague each of them. Some years later, after I had come to the United States, I received a communication ‘om Edwin which conveyed undercurrents of desperation and unhappiness. ‘~ asked me for detailed information about the possibility92 of nis coming to this country to work. He indicated that he felt both his life and creative energy had come to a complete halt in the old world. I lost contact with Blinor completely after the separation. She had begun a prouising career as an actress in Berlin, working with vax Reinhardt even while she was still with Kéwin. The career never got off the ground however; her personal life disintegrated, and years later she met her death in bitterness and tragedy. . Christuzas of 1922 was upon me so soon after my debut that I scarcely had time to consider it. I was out of money so that a trip home to Zurich was out of the question. Besides I wanted to begin preparing new repertoire without delay. Inflation had put the usual Christmas luxuries far beyond the reach of most, and for many even the necessities were obtainable in pitifully small rations. Thus images of hungry children, ignored in my preoccupation with my debut, began to haunt me regularly as the Christmas mood settled dow, The children were always there in the courtyard through which I passed to get to my Gartenheus. Street urenins who sometines played, seemingly without making as much noise as well-fed children; who sometimes simply93 watched as you hurried through their private worl: watched with eyes that seened too large and lusinous in heads perched precariously on undernourished little vodies. Once in a while, I was able to turn loose with a few of my valuable Swiss francs in order to buy extra zwieback to pass out among the children. But my own resources were suall, and with the beginning of the Christmas season their faces seemed to grow sadder and their thin little bodies colder. On Christuas eve perhaps I myself was feeling a bit of loneliness mixed with self-pity, for I began to sh that I were hone in Switzerland instead of in my Gartenhaus in a great, strange city, by myself. I looked out of the window for some human contact and saw Martha Prussak, the concierge of the building. Martha too was apparently without companionship this Christmas eve. In the months I had lived there we had often stopped momentarily to visit, end our concern for the hungry little ones was a bond between us. Suddenly I found myself outside talking to her. As we stood in the evening shadows of the doorway, we could see the children in the snowy courtyard. Then something snapped, and Martha and I suddenly decided94 to take action, I don't even remember how we hit upon our plan, but suddenly I was flying back into my Garten h us, straight to the hiding place of tne few extra francs I had received for Christmas. Excitedly Kartha Within an hour we had created a veritable mountain of cooxics, whatever kind we could buy the most of for the m artha cooked hot chocolate, and we had ney. managed to get hold of a tiny tree with a few candles. Then we invited our guests i Cautiously, they entered, looking bewildered, with an occasional darting, furtive glance in the direction of the cookies. Their eyes shone too brightly in the candlelight from the sunken nollows of their little faces. At first they were afraid to trust the reality of the moment. But then suddenly the reserve was gone, .. and they began to gobble everything in sight. I remember het I had'to keep reminding them to eat slowly. Some of them, with the attituée of a sneak thief, tried to fill their pockets. Martha and I continued to encourage them and tried to convince then that what they could not eat at that moment, they could indeed put in their pockets and take with them. After a while the children relaxed a little. le95 all sang Christmas carols, and finally with full hearts and tears in our eyes, Martha and I sent them back to whatever pitiful hones they knew. I remeber that Christmas as one of the most beauti-~ ful of my life. With this act of sharing, I experienced a great lesson, one which I shall never forget. In addition, Martha and I created a bond between us which was to link our lives, for several years later when ay first daughter, Cecile, was born, I sent for Nartha Prussak to help care for her. Martha had told me in Berlin that she would be pleased to become a part of my home and my life in the United States, and indeed she did for many years, The concert tour in the spring went well. It opened in Halle on March 1. I played chorale preludes of Bach-Busoni, the Op. 101 of Beethoven, two Chopin ballades, and the Symphonic Btudes of Schumann. My program re- mained the same for the following concerts in Leipzig, Dresden, Berlin, Frankfurt, Mannheim, end Hamburg. My reception in those cities was uniformly good. Occa- sionally a critic would find some point with which he did not agree, but such adverse comments were infrequent thorns among roses of praise. Even the Berlin notices were quite good, albeit they were still confined to96 two or three lines. For the next mths my life continued to revolve around teaching, studying, and an occasional appearance. This was the pattern that I took for granted as day-to- day living. Only a few snort years ago such a pattern had been a dream. Now that it was a reality, other dreams began to take snape. Among them were those waich were to mold my personal life, which were to lead me to the United States, and which were to launch me on a carcer which emphasized teaching wore than perforu: I had met Herman Genhart in Zurich, where he had deen a student of my father. Later we had studied to- getaer in Munich with Josef 2enbauer. Subsequent to that he had been invited by Dr. Howard Hanson to join the faculty of the Bastman School of Music and had accepted the invitation. The road which was to lead me to teaching at the Eastaan School, the nost rewarding phase of my career, began with my going to Rochester, New York, to join Herman Genhart as his wife. Thus early in 1924 I gave up my activities in Berlin, said goodby to my friends and students, and to a way of life which I had foug' nt hard to gain. There was but a tinge of regret. I was young and had before ne the high adventure of beginning anew in the wonderlandthe United States. wave of tine future held, I was able to crop even those dear ust without auc! things of the p ceremony. First I went back to Zurich, to visit my father, to live in my early environment for a few weeks, and to play the piano. I returned, as oftentines is the cose with home-grown talent, a much more celebrated person than the real cireunstances y modest career would suggest. With two dozen excellent reviews from all over Germany, the names of Josef Penbauer and Edwin Fischer glittering in ny artistic crown, and an orchestral appearance with the Berlin vhilna: monic all to my credit, I was honored in a manner befitting a far greater, more experienced artist. On Warch 4, I played the Beethoven Fourth Concerto with Dr. Volkmar Andreae and the Tonhalle orchestra of gurich. less than three wecks later I played a recital the Tonhalle which includ 4 the Reger Variations and neglected, phenomenally difficult masterpiece. I was highly praised in the press, and Gottfried was at last seemingly witness to a dream-come-true. It was a pleas- ant, warm, and somewhat unrealistic combination of home- coming and leave-taking.98 Gottfried was to continue actively in concert life for over ten more years. On the eve of his seventy-fifth virthday, November 4, 1936, he officially retired vy ving his lest public recital. He spent the last years 5 ih & ° ? his life living peacefully in Zurich, the city which o adored him as an artist and pedagog Hy adjustment to life in the United States took place rapidly and without much disturbance. Rochester ich reminded in those early days had an atmosphere me of that which surrounded old-fashioned European royalty. The enornious, imposing homes on Hast Avenue, the most fashionable avenue of the city at that time, were built in the heavy northern German style. ‘The men of wealth of the city could afford to support concerts in their homes and musicians in their schools. ven though musical perception was sometimes rather naive on the part of these benefactors, it was nevertheless delightfully sincere and refreshingly waffected. Rochester had nuch the cultural atmosphere of a United States type of jour fixe. Most fauous artists who toured this country visited Rochester for just this reason. Once settled in this artistic climate, my career began to center around teaching, and my professional reputation began to spread from the confines of my studio99 at the Zastman School. How I was appointed to the faculty of the Hastman School is an amusing story in eans to itself, for originally my appointment was a quite another end. conductor At that time Zugene Goossens of the orchestra in as serving on the izing his importance ty of the Bastman School. as a conductor and his magnificence as an accompani: I very soon gathered my reviews together and sent then to hin with a request to play as soloist with the orchestra under his baton, His answer was courteous, but made it clear that good reviews were not enough evidence to convince him and that it would be necessary for we to audition for hin. The audition went well, and Goossens was sufficiently pressed. Before I could play with the orchestra, however, an administrative problem needed to be solved. At thet time one had to be a member o: the faculty of the Wastman School in order to appear with the orchestra. We went to Dr, Hanson, who suggested that I might be able to teach part time in order to qualify Zor the appearance. Dr. danson suggested that I teach ten hours a week. Zen hours! I would much rather have practiced, out since there seemed no alternative, I agreed to the plan.B certo and set a date, he received news of ncellation. The pianist who was to play the © minor Concerto of Seint-Saéns two weeks later had become ill. I was asked if I knew the work. No, I did not. "Well," said Goossens, "it won't be very difficult for you." It was obvious that he was not about to change his program and that e the matter of it if I was to pur: ing with his would@ be necessary to please the maestro and learn the Saint-Salas. I have no idea how many hours a day I worked in order to get ready. I stopped counting. I xnow only that when I went to bed at night that concerto kept right on going. I used to pray to God that sonehow the blasted thing would stop so that I could get some sleep in order to begin all over again the next day I really felt as if I were going to meke my deadline three days before the concert when Goossens sat at the second piano rehearsing with me. I had made, however, i a miscalculation, when we finished, I knew that Goossens was not pleased, although he was trying to be very tactful I began to try to draw him out. Goossens was so gentle, put so devastatingly effective when he said, "Well, you see, Cecile, I was in Paris a few weeks ago, and I playedthis concerto with Camille. Let me give you an idea how he handled it." “It came like a flash! Oriented ds I was to German romantic tradition, I had mi letely the suave estraint, the sophis even some of the Goossens didn't teri even have to finist imew exactly what had to ne in the next three days. Fortunately my stamina held and I was able to re~ shape the concerto in the allotted tine. The performance went off as scheduled. Goossens was quite pleased with the new concept of the work and told we afterward, "I did not think it was possible three days ago for you ‘to play that concerto as you have just played it. The transformation is almost superhuman. A source of some of my greatest joys has been the th orchestra under such masters opportunities to appear as Eugene Goossens. After the Saint-Salns we did the Franck Symvhonic Variations, the Brahms Second Concerto, and the B-flat minor Concerto of Tchaikovsky. Through the years I have played the Honegger Concertino and the of Richard Strauss under Sir Hamilton Harty, the Beethoven First Concerto under Guy Fraser Harrison, the Piston Concertino under Howard Hanson, and the102 K. 488 under Zrich Leinsdorf. Occasionally I have wade tours of the United States playing recital programs. hy New York debut took place in November of 1925 not very long after I had arrived in this country. That concert along with subsequent appearances in New York in 1927 and 1944 was well received by both the public and the critics. I have also par- ticipated actively in a nunber of chauber music concerts in and about the Eastman School. This concertizing has been necessary to me for ay orn personal development and satisfaction. However from 1926, when I joined the faculty of the Eastman School, to the present I have seen my passion for teaching grow from oceupyii ng a small portion of my life to consuming the greater part of my waking hours. Teaching has become ny greatest love, job, duty, and hobby all rolled into one. As I look back, I can see that in spite of my having taught since I was twelve (even having earned a good share of my living at it in Berlin), I was woefully inexperienced when I first began at the Zastman School. Not only was ny actual teaching technique that of a novice in many respects, but also my knowledge of the academic systems of this country was quite lacking. I was completely unconcerned with the matter of assigning grades and103 failed to understand at first why my students seemed to set up as their immediate goal the earning of a degree! It is a tribute to Howard Hanson that in spite of the fact that he must have sensed my naivety, he did an wien I went to the Eastman School, he had a young fantagtic wisdom which one could somehow sense after a few moments with him. I learned frow his very presence, and I must give him-a great deal of credit for my ée- velopment as a teacher. One of the strongest influences on my teaching came from the famous English pedagoguc Tobias Hatthay. I met him in 1929 when I took time avay from the Eastman School to go to his famous piano studio to observe and to learn. He had a tremendous reputation of course, so I went with great curiosity and came away believing that he was the greatest teacher I had ever known, jatthay was well along in years when I knew hin, at Be Was still full of great fire and capable of great enthusiasm. Often he would come bounding into a lesson with a gleam in his eye and would announce with a small voy's wonder, "I have discovered something new! Let me104 show you." If one of the criteria of a great teacher is the ability to make every one of his students play beautifully, then surely Tobias Matthay is master of us all. He himself felt that every one of his students should play as if they possessed a great talent. It is true of course that he did have a number of very talented students. He also had, however, a number of students who went to him because they had somehow got confused and tangled in technical problems and musical distortions. Thus in many cases talent was there, but it was not readily apparent at first. Matthay was a master psychologist and diag- nostician, and he rightfully earned his reputation as a teacher who could discover and correct pianistic illness. The fact, then, that he very nearly succeeded in naking all of his students sound like shining stars in the pianistic firmament was due to his special kind of genius. Perhaps the uost startling examples of this greatness were those set forth in the children's recitals, These children were not child prodigies, but rather simply represented a cross section of children whose parents were interested in having them study piano in the Matthay School. Undoubtedly each possessed some narked degree of aptitude for the piano, but probablyTOBIAS MATTHAY | 4 ON ae WD bin barb avs wl 2 a j= Lite Yen yn Aes _ ut Le, 7 (1858-1945)no nore so than that possessed by children of a similar group in alnost any city. Yet it was observe as each child came forward to play, each eserged a5 a miniature artist, with technique adequate for the selection, with marvelous understanding, and yes! even with an evidi ce of individual temperment. @ne children's recitals at the Hatthay School remain an perience which I treasure increasingly as the years go by. I freely acknowledge iavthay's influence on my own musical thought and teaching. In spite of the fact thet my .arly training jhad been of the highest quality and that my formative years were long since passed when I came under his influence, I still feel his ideas constantly at work in my teaching. In the pages which follow there will be numerous references to Hatthay, his teruinology, and his techniques. As I look back over the years of teaching, I must admit that the price in terms of effort has been great. Being a good teacher is an all-consuming task. It must be the center of one's life. I have observed that so many freshmen come to the Bastman School without realizing the challenge of teaching and as a result without any interest in it whatsoever, They are all young virtuosi106 the fulfillment of a carcer in public performance. Ss not until they have learned valucs and matured personally and susically that they begin to realize her must make s which a good ¢ elf ond the tradition he upholds. me in that I am not able to devote enough tine to ny dreaus in fact al: own practicing. Hy unha, of having to play in public when I am not well prepared. (I usually dream that I begin a piece in the wrong key.) dual I know of no solution to the dilezma of living th role of teacher and performer. It is simply impossible to practice enough if one teaches unselfishly, with heart and soul. nt fo teach by playing constantly for your stué is not a solution. There are those teachers who get in a good bit of practicing by playing during lessons. It is true that there may be a certain anount of gen- eralized benefit from such a coaching technique. The student may gain a better concept of the long line, of a climactic point, or a general mood. For the wost part, however, such procedure is unproductive, and unfortunately too much. teachers who love to play sometimes rely on I remember one teacher (Forgive me! It was my father.)107 who practiced his finger exercises while I sat at the other piano trying to figure out a fingering for some complex passage! Establishing the initial relationship with a student is always an exhausting process. One has to overextend oneself in order to create a bond with the new student, and yet one has to begin correcting immediately. The corrections must be exacting, and yet the rigors of new, high standards mst not be s0 great that the student is destroyed. Even during the most stormy sessions,, those in which a student's inadequacies begin to dawn upon him, a certain amount of his dignity must remain, Thus it is easy to see why I do not believe in ever being sarcastic in teaching. The difficult situations in a student's first lessons with me are so often created as a result of bad previous training. It sometimes takes me two years to undo what other teachers have done. During that process the student must undergo a psychological reckoning with himself, a torturous process in itself, and one which will make those first months of lessons all the more difficult for both teacher and student. Possibly the most comuon fault of teachers is their lack of judgement in assigning material. A teacher108 so often commits the grave error of assigning only that repertoire which he covered in his own student days. Oftentimes much of this material is too difficult for the student. Perhaps the teacher thinks that if his student studies such difficult material, someone somewhere will be very impressed. It is through just such faulty reasoning that students come to the Eastman School as freshmen without having had either the proper discipline or the proyer background. They come playing Rachmaninoff concerti without having studied any of Mozart. ‘They come having developed wrong, harmful habits as a result of trying to master material which is beyond them. I remember the classic case of a young lady who thundered through a rather undisciplined performance of the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. ‘when she had finished, someone asked her to play a melodic minor scale in the key of the concerto. The young lady replied immediately, "Oh, but I haven't had the melodic minors yet!" We who hear such auditions are not impressed at all, needless to say, but only sign wearily snowing that the job of correction will be that much nore difficult. How much better it would be for a student to play less109 ambitious material, but play it with control and security! A three-part invention of Zach, an early Beethoven sonata, or one by Mozart, a Chopin waltz or nocturne, soue of the easier pieces of Schumann--any of these compositions would be such a joy to hear played beautifully on auditions. Many times when freshmen students turn to their year of study with me, they must undergo a tremendous psychological comedown. when my students do begin to realize what is wrong, they also begin to realize how much is wrong. As a result a student may go home during the Christman vacation of his freshman year with very little to show. He is confronted with doting parents and relatives who eagerly ask hin to play something. Alas! He can manage only half of a three-part invention or part of the first movement of a Beethoven sonata, whereas he had left in the fall playing an entire Rach- maninoff concerto! What kind of judgement, then, should a teacher use in assigning a piece? ‘The rule to rewember is to look for the hardest moment in the composition. Find the toughest passage and measure your student against that. If he cannot handle it, then the piece is too hard. It has been said that the United States is the country of obedient teachers and parents. Perhaps such110 a statement is an exeggeration, but it is true, never- theless, that teachers and parents too often default in bringing up a child who shows uusical talent. If parents discover talent in their child and wish to develop it, they should establish a regiae whereby he learns to practice every day without fail. Contrary to some popular notion, it is wost definitely not cruel to force a child to practice, for only througn such Gaily discipline will he snow the rewards of achievement and be able to enjoy a built-in technical security as he reaches maturity. Perhaps the old wives' tales regarding the evils of enforced practice spreng up from another era in another land. There was indeed probably too much strict- ness in Burope at one time in this regard, perhaps in ny own home for that matter. As a result, on the child's freedom came to be the fashion. I do indeed believe that allowing freedom of expression for children (which American parents in particular seem to want to achieve) is a step in the right direction. Zo allow such freedom to run to the point of destroying the best which discipline has to offer, however, is to Gefeat one's own purpose. Busoni had his own inimitable way of epigrammatizingtne seakness of the Auerican sce: an unsuccessful tour (we oe averaJe that in his opinioa it would soon all be average. too harsh. and yet the pernissive attitude with which we treat talented children results in those conditions which ght lend some degree of truth to just such an observation. Even today the difference between the American most cases. My foreign students are so obedient that I must be careful to weigh every word I say to then. Bach of my utterances is taken as gospel and will be acted on with such amazing exactness in most cases, that the responsibility of always saying exactly the right thing becomes great. This is certainly not true of American students in general. The teacher should rightfully be souething of an influence on the entire personality of the student. a student is to reach the goal both of us want for fim, that of becoming a combination of both artist and top-notch teacher, then he must realize that every aspect of his life and his personality must be evaluated inwants to play a piece in its entirety without working over, details, without the teacher's interruptions. One cust learn to sense such times, and both the teacher and the student may regaré then as performances. The student then should be prepared to see his performance through to the end with no stops, no corrections, and no stuttering. oruiance should Nore formal arrangements for pe ve a regular part of the student's training. One way for the teacher to include this aspect of troining is to schedule periodic repertoire classes during whi the students play fer each other. ‘The teacher may be present at some of them, although not necessarily ell. I alvays feel that those which I attend reveal a great nunber of things to me about my students. I make copious notes so that I will remember the weak spots in great detail and be able to work with them in order to build them up. One aspect of the student's training which I insist upon is that of getting to know one's instrument from a113 keyboard standpoint. Most students are terribly weak in matters of modulations at the keyboard, improvisation, and sight reading. Students play late ecthoven sonatas and yet stumble like beginners when they are asked to modulate from one key to another, to improvise for five minutes, or to transpose even the simplest piece. Good teachers must take time to see that tiese skills are developed, for the ability of a student to deal with music--not on the printed page necessarily, out many times almost as substance under one's fingers-~is highly valuable. Absolute pitch, incidently, has very little to do with these skills. It is my personal opinion that absolute pitch for a pianist is a highly overrated ability. Some of my students who have absolute pitch are not necessarily gifted in the skills I have been describing, and conversely some of those who do not have absolute pitch can find their way around the keyboard with 2 formidable efficiency. On the other hand, the development of a keen avareness of pitch relations, both melodically and harmonically, is most essential. Over and beyond the difficulties and problens, the years of teaching have been blessed with many rewards. At the Eastman School I have been in a situation which114 % me some of the best talent of the country. hag brougl y students have gone forth to occupy significant posi-~ tions of teaching in this country and abroad, to con- certize throughout the world, and to exemplify through all their musical activities a sense of high dedication to their art, ther honors have cozie my way. Since 1951 I have served, both as a uember and as chairuan, on the National: Screening Committee of Fulbright Awards of the Institute of International Hducation. I was awarded a University Chair from the University of Rochester, and in 1960 that institution honored me with an Alunni Citation. It is with a sense of grateful humility that I received this citation and that I quote its text herewith: ‘usic hath charms and so do you! Vivacious, effervescent and enthusiastic, you nave added gaiety and spirit to the Mastaan School of Music. Coming to us from Zurich, you have been a member of the piano faculty since 1926 end chairman of your department since 1954. Making music is your very life. You have concertized extensively as a pianist in Switzer- land and Germany and as a featured soloist with symphony orchestras in Zurich, Munich, and Berlin. You made your American debut in 1925 in New York, followed by many concerts. As a teacher, you have been extraordinarily successful. Your students are now concertizing in Burope and Asia, as well as in tae Americas. A large majority of your students have won com- petitions, Fulbright awards, and grants too nu- merous to mention. Your influence has transcended the limitsYr a ¢ Teacher, you have &: to your profession, inspira to your and honor to the Bastwan School of" tion of your contributions, the favion of The University of Rochester Be But when ke hes Gone it, when I zeei been part of his vievory, the well of joy and content- ment overflows momentarily. I know that I can ser nim on His way into the world of music to live116 productively and to serve his wrt well. So when he leaves my studio for I bid nim a fond farewell, for a little picce of maickly, however, I turn to absence will have made room for a ncwconer, and the cycle will begin once avain.