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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


Western  Jewish  History  Center 

Judah  Magnes  Museum 

Berkeley,  California 


RALPH  BERKOWITZ 

DEAN  OF  TANGLEWOOD  (1946  -  1964) 

PIANO  SOLOIST,  ACCOMPANIST  AND  TEACHER 

ADMINISTRATOR  AND  LECTURER 

1910- 


An  Interview  Conducted  by 

Carolyn  Erbele 

1989  -  1991 


Copyright  1991  by  the  Western  Jewish  History  Center 
Judah  Magnes  Museum 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 

GENEALOGICAL  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL  INFORMATION  SHEET 

INTERVIEW  HISTORY 

INTERVIEWER'S  INTRODUCTION 1 

EDUCATION 1 

The  Curtis  Institute 1 

Student  Years 1 

Faculty  Years 3 

The  Visual  Arts 4 

The  Barnes  Foundation 5 

Influences  and  Mediums 5 

PIATIGORSKY 6 

His  Early  Years 6 

Touring  Together 7 

TANGLEWOOD 8 

Executive  Assistant  to  Koussevitzky 8 

Becoming  Dean  of  Tanglewood 1 0 

The  Departments 11 

Background  of  the  General  Area 1 2 

Eleanor  Roosevelt 13 

On  the  Faculty 1 3 

Song  Repertoire  Department 13 

The  Faculty  Board 14 

Duties  as  Dean 1 5 

Friendships 15 

RECORDING 16 

The  Artists 16 

Making  the  Recordings 17 

LIVE  PERFORMANCE 18 

ORCHESTRATION 18 

"A  TELEPHONE  CALL" 1 9 

ONLY  GOOD  MUSIC 20 

ALBUQUERQUE 21 

The  Albuquerque  Symphony  Orchestra 22 

The  June  Music  Festival 23 

TEACHING  PIANO 24 

LOOKING  BACK 25 

"Would  You  Do  It  Again?" 25 

Artistic  Temperment 26 

WORLD  WAR  II 27 

Working  in  a  War  Factory 27 

Touring  Difficulties 28 

Plight  of  the  Jewish  People 28 


PHOTOS,  PAINTINGS  AND  OTHER  WORKS 29 

PROGRAM  FROM  EIGHTIETH  BIRTHDAY  CELEBRATION 

TEN  YEARS  AT  TANGLEWOOD 

WHAT  EVERY  ACCOMPANIST  KNOWS 

LETTER  FROM  LOS  ANGELES 

ORIGINAL  MUSIC  FOR  FOUR  HANDS 

RALPH  BERKOWITZ-HE'S  WORN  MANY  HATS 

INTERVIEWER'S  BRIEF  BIOGRAPHY 

INDEX 


ST  JOHN'S  COLLEGE 

SANTA  FE,  NEW  MEXICO  87501-4599  •  (505)  982-3691 
ANNAPOLIS,  MARYLAND  21404  •  (301)  263-2371 


FAX  (505)  989-9269 


SANTA  FE 


January  10,  1991 


Ralph  Berkowitz  is  an  extraordinary  musician  and  teacher  who  has,  over 
the  years,  championed  musical  interpretations  which  are  direct  and 
unaffected.  He  has  shown  me--and  many  other  musicians—what  such 
unidiosyncratic  readings  of  masterworks  might  reveal.  He  has  urged  us  to 
reconsider  our  quirky  rubatos  in  favor  of  a  noble  straightforwardness, 
to  moderate  our  immoderate  tempi,  to  soften  the  prolonged  and  deadening 
loudness  that  tempts  the  enthusiastic  pianist.  Paites  simple—like 
Escoffier,  Mr.  Berkowitz  knows  that  simplicity  is  the  mark  of  highest 
art . 

His  bearing  is  equally  rare  and  fine.  By  his  warmth,  generosity,  and 
largeness  of  spirit  he  shows  himself  to  be  not  of  the  current  world  of 
musicians,  who  are  too  often  rather  narrow  and  not  possessed  of  the 
depth  of  soul  needed  to  bring  the  great  masterworks  to  life  again.  In 
his  teaching,  particularly,  he  combines  keen  criticality  with  the 
support iveness  and  sympathy  that  encourages  and  enables.  Both  through 
his  present  example  and  his  marvellous  recordings  he  shows  forth  the 
soul  of  musical  art  and  of  warm  humanity. 


Peter  D.  Pesic 
Mus  ician-in-Residence 

St.  John's  College 
Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico 


, 


GENEALOGICAL  AND  BIOGRAPHICAL  INFORMATION  SHEET 


Name  of  interviewee:    Ralph  Berkowitz 
Place  of  birth:       Brooklyn,  New  York 
Date  of  birth:        September  5,  1 91 0 

Mother's  father:   Kalman 
Place  of  birth:       Romania 

Name  of  mother:  Matilda 

Place  of  birth:       Bucarest,  Romania 
Date  of  birth:        1886 

Name  of  father:    William 

Place  of  birth:       Roman,  Romania 

Date  of  birth:        1883 

Date  of  first  marriage:    1 932 
Place  of  marriage:        Philadelphia 
Name  of  spouse:          Freda 
Place  of  birth:       New  Jersey 
Date  of  birth:        1910 
Children:     Ellen  and  Joan 
Dates  of  birth:       1 935  and  1 941 

Date  of  second  marriage:      June  1 7,  1 965 
Place  of  marriage:        Albuquerque 
Name  of  spouse:          Beth 

When  did  the  first  member  of  your  family  come  to  this  country? 
My  father's  brother  came  first  in  1907  from  Romania.  My 
father  joined  him  in  1908  in  New  York  City  where  he  met  my 
mother. 

Why  did  that  person  come?  To  look  for  a  better  life. 


INTERVIEW  HISTORY 


My  high  school  chorus  teacher  in  Albuquerque,  George  Collear,  had 
mentioned  Ralph  Berkowitz  to  me  several  times  and  always  with  high 
praise.  However,  it  was  only  after  attending  college  for  a  couple  of 
years  in  California  and  returning  to  Albuquerque  that  my  curiosity 
about  him  was  piqued  by  observing  the  tremendous  progress  of  one 
of  his  students  who  was  an  acquaintance  of  mine.  At  that  time  (about 
1973),  I  contacted  Mr.  Berkowitz  about  lessons.  I  studied  with  him 
approximately  three  months  and  then  returned  to  northern  California. 

During  that  summer  I  felt  I  had  learned  more  about  piano  than  I  had  in 
the  previous  fifteen  years.  Mr.  Berkowitz's  encouraging,  positive 
approach  as  well  as  his  emphasis  on  technique  and  unaffected 
interpretation  quickly  improved  my  playing  and  made  me  want  to 
teacn  piano  which  I  have  enjoyed  doing  since  that  time.  I  continue  to 
take  lessons  from  him  whenever  I  visit  Albuquerque. 

After  studying  oral  history  for  a  semester  with  Elaine  Dorfman  at  Vista 
College  in  Berkeley,  I  decided  Mr.  Berkowitz  was  an  ideal  subject  to 
interview.  We  began  work  in  his  lovely  home  in  July  of  1989.  The 
interview  took  place  in  his  spacious  hvingroom  near  his  beautiful 
grand  piano.  The  lid  is  kept  down  and  is  covered  with  inscribed 
photographs  of  musicians  that  Mr.  Berkowitz  has  worked  with  and 
come  to  know  over  the  years.  The  walls  are  covered  with  oil  paintings, 
mostly  his  own  work.  It  is  a  room  that  I  had  been  in  many  times  before, 
but  always  at  the  piano.  It  seemed  odd  to  be  sitting  in  an  easy  chair 
across  from  my  teacher.  My  inexperience  as  an  interviewer  made  me 
nervous,  but  I  soon  became  totally  engrossed  in  Mr.  Berkowitz's 
narration.  His  experience  as  a  lecturer  was  evident  in  his  delivery  and 
made  my  subsequent  editing  job  very  easy. 

Several  months  later  I  persuaded  him  to  allow  me  to  photograph  his 
art  work  and  photos  to  use  along  with  the  material  gathered  in  the 
interview.  All  the  photos  were  under  glass  which  made  them  difficult  to 
photograph.  I  also  tried  to  take  pictures  and  record  his  comments  at 
the  same  time.  This  resulted  in  the  tape  not  being  turned  soon 
enough  and  so  some  commentary  was  missed.  Consequently,  I  was 
delighted  when  my  friend  Julia  Eastberg,  a  painter  and  photographer, 
was  able  to  visit  Mr.  Berkowitz  with  me  in  May  of  1 991 .  She  reshot 
some  of  the  photos  and  pictures  for  me  while  I  recorded  the  narration 
that  had  been  lost  during  our  previous  session. 

When  I  first  began  this  project  I  had  only  a  vague  idea  of  Mr. 
Berkowitz's  career.  It  has  been  a  privilege  to  find  out  about  his  many 


and  diverse  accomplishments  which  he  related  to  me  with  genuine 
modesty.  I  am  honored  that  we  have  become  friends  through  this 
process  and  that  I  have  come  to  know  him  more  fully  not  only  as  a 
marvelous  musician,  but  as  an  engaging  conversationalist  whose 
depth  of  thought  is  counterbalanced  by  his  lively  sense  of  humor. 

Copies  of  this  transcript  are  available  for  examination  at  the  Judah 
Magnes  Museum  in  Berkeley  and  at  the  Regional  Oral  History  Office 
at  U.C.  Berkeley.  The  tapes  are  housed  at  the  Judah  Magnes 
Museum  including  a  tape  of  Mr.  Berkowitz's  transcription  of  "Carnival 
of  the  Animals"  for  two  pianos  as  performed  at  a  concert  given  in 
honor  of  his  eightieth  birthday.  Preceding  each  movement  Mr. 
Berkowitz  narrated  the  delightful  verses  that  were  composed  for  the 
piece  some  years  ago  by  Ogden  Nash. 


INTRODUCTION 


C.E.: 


My  name  is  Carolyn  Erbele.  It  is  the  7th  of  July  1989.  I 
am  in  the  home  of  Ralph  Berkowitz  in  Albuquerque, 
New  Mexico.  We  will  be  talking  about  his  long  career 
as  a  classical  musician. 


EDUCATION 

The  Curtis  Institute 

Student  Years 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 

C.E.: 

Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 


Would  you  tell  me  how  you  got  started  in  music  as  a 
boy? 

I  started  like  most  children  at  the  age  of  six  or  seven 
and  had  the  usual  piano  lessons,  didn't  like  to 
practice,  and  that's  the  end  of  it. 

Did  you  have  any  teachers  that  you  think  were 
particularly  helpful  to  you? 

Yes,  I  had  a  number  of  piano  teachers,  but  when  I 
was  about  fifteen,  I  studied  with  Emil  J.  Polak,  who 
had  been  a  student  of  Dvorak's  in  New  York  City,  and 
it  was  he  who  really  made  me  feel  that  I  should 
pursue  music.  And  it  was  because  of  him  I  went  to  an 
audition  at  the  Curtis  Institute  in  1928  when  I  was 
eighteen.  It  was  the  first  year  that  the  Curtis 
announced  it  would  be  an  all-scholarship  school. 
That's  why  I  tried  out  for  it.  They  accepted  me  and  I 
graduated  in  '32,  I  believe,  and  then  stayed  on  the 
staff 'til  1940. 

It  must  have  been  very  helpful  to  have  a  scholarship 
during  the  Depression  years. 


Berkowitz:         Yes,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  school  had  so  much 
money  because  of  their  endowment  that  many 
students  received  a  monthly  stipend  of  eighty  dollars, 
which  in  those  days  was  colossal.  I  became  a  staff 
accompanist,  so  that  paid  also.  And  as  I  say,  I  stayed 
thereuntil  1940. 

In  that  year,  Piatigorsky  invited  me  to  play  with  him 
because  his  pianist,  Valentine  Pavlovsky,  was  a  very 
sick  man.  And  so  in  1940  that  began  a  relationship  of 
thirty  years. 

C.E.:  When  you  were  at  the  Curtis  Institute  as  a  student, 

were  there  other  students  there  that  were  a  big 
influence  on  you? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  we  made  very  good  friends,  of  course,  over  the 
years.  There  were  pianists  iike  Jorge  Bolet,  Abbey 
Simon  and  Eugene  Istomin,  Leonard  Bernstein,  other 
students,  like  Gian-Carlo  Menotti  and  Samuel  Barber, 
many  singers,  conductors,  composers.  The  school 
attracted  enormously  gifted  people.  Since  I  was  there 
from  '28  til  '40,  I  had  many  friends  and  colleagues 
who  were  lifelong  friends. 

C.E.:  Who  was  your  greatest  teacher  at  the  Curtis  Institute? 

Berkowitz:          My  piano  teacher  was  Isabella  Vengerova,  and  I  was 
much  influenced  by  the  English  cellist,  Felix  Salmond. 
He  was  one  of  the  great  musicians  of  this  century.  His 
pupils,  like  Leonard  Rose,  Frank  Miller,  Samuel 
Mayes,  and  Orlando  Cole,  became  teachers  and 
influenced  cellists  right  down  to  today,  so  that  a  great 
cellist,  like  Yo  Yo  Ma,  was  a  student  of  Leonard  Rose 
who  was  a  student  of  Felix  Salmond.  The  great 
teacher  produces  great  students  who  become  great 
teachers. 

C.E.:  I  notice  that  you've  done  a  lot  of  accompanying  in 

your  career.  At  what  point  did  you  decide  you  wanted 
to  spend  time  doing  that? 

Berkowitz:          It  was  in  my  early  years  at  the  Curtis  when  I  felt  that 
only  practicing  solo  music  wasn't  what  I  really  wanted. 
I  shifted  over  to  the  chamber  music  and  to  the 
accompanying  departments  so  that  I  played  a  greater 
variety  of  music  and,  of  course,  met  many  faculty 


Berkowitz:          members  such  as  Sembrich,  de  Gogorza  and 

Zimbalist.  All  together,  it  was  a  much  more  vivid  and 
energetic  life  than  just  practicing  solo  music,  and  I 
never  regretted  that. 

C.E.:  Do  you  have  a  favorite  instrument  that  you  like  to 

accompany? 

Berkowitz:         It's  not  the  instrument  so  much;  it's  the  music.  There's 
an  enormous  repertoire  for  violin  and  for  cello,  and  of 
course,  for  wind  instruments,  not  to  speak  of  the  great 
song  repertoire  which  is  endless.  All  of  those 
experiences  for  any  young  musician  are  extremely 
important.  They  color  your  life  as  a  professional. 
That's  what  they  did  for  me  so  that  when  I  began 
playing  for  Piatigorsky  in  1 940,  I  had  a  large 
background  of  chamber  music  and  ensemble  playing. 


Faculty  Years 


C.E.: 


Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 


I  notice  that  when  you  were  on  the  faculty  at  the  Curtis 
Institute  that  you  did  vocal  coaching,  taught  form  and 
analysis,  and  also  directed  a  historical  series  of 
concerts. 

The  Historical  Series  was  an  interesting  thing  which  I 
inaugerated  at  the  Curtis  with  my  colleagues  Joseph 
Levine  and  Vladimir  Sokoloff.  We  decided  to  make  a 
kind  of  living  history  of  music  each  season  so  that  in 
ten  or  twelve  concerts  we  could  go  from  Corelli, 
Vivaldi,  Purcell  and  John  Dowland  right  up  to  the 
present  times:  Stravinsky,  Hindemith  and  Bartok. 
Students  were  organized  to  form  ensembles  or  to 
play  solo  works.  It  was  an  important  thing,  not  only  in 
the  school,  but  in  Philadephia.  As  I  said,  there  were 
ten,  maybe  twelve  concerts  over  the  season.  I  also 
wrote  the  program  notes  for  it.  It  became  an  actual 
demonstration  of  the  history  of  music. 

It  sounds  very  exciting. 


Berkowitz:          It's  good.  Many  schools  probably  do  things  like  that. 

C.E.:  I  notice  you've  done  a  number  of  lecture  series  during 

your  career. 

Berkowitz:         Yes,  later  on  in  Albuquerque  I  did  a  series  on 

television  which  went  around  the  nation  called  "The 
Arts."  I  think  there  were  forty-five  weeks  of  programs. 
Each  was  an  hour  and  dealt  with  some  aspect  of 
painting  or  music,  sometimes  literature. 

It  also  included  interviews  with  artists  who  might  be  in 
Albuquerque  at  the  time.  These  were  important  things 
for  me  because  I  had  to  prepare  each  one  and  speak 
about  paintings  or  etchings  or  lithographs  or  piano 
music  or  whatever,  quite  knowingly.  It's  different  than 
reading  a  lecture  on  the  radio  where  nobody  sees 
you,  but  on  television  you  have  to  look  as  if  you  know 
what  you're  talking  about. 

C.E.:  What  year  did  you  make  that  series? 

Berkowitz:         Those  must  have  been  in  the  early  sixties;  they  were 
shown  for  a  couple  of  seasons.  I  know  they  went  to 
Georgia,  Minnesota,  other  states.  It  was  before  what 
was  known  as  public  television.  They  were  in  black 
and  white. 

I  did  other  radio  series,  talks  on  this  and  that,  and  also 
lectured  in  different  places  over  the  years.  I  like  to  do 
that  very  much. 


The  Visual  Arts 


C.E.:  In  1940  I  see  that  you  began  painting. 

Berkowitz:         Yes. 

C.E.:  What  stimulated  that  interest? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  I  loved  painting  as  far  back  as  I  remember. 
Living  in  New  York  City,  of  course,  there  are  so 


Berkowitz:          many  great  museums  and  galleries.  I  went  to  them 

just  because  I  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  then  I  began  to 
try  drawing  myself  and  painting.  I  just  stuck  to  it  so 
that  over  the  years  I  have  produced  more  than  600 
works  in  my  catalog. 


The  Barnes  Foundation 


C.E.:  Are  you  self-trained  or  did  you . . . 

Berkowitz:         I'm  self-trained,  but  I  did  go  to  one  of  the  great 
schools  of  America-of  the  world-the  Barnes 
Foundation.  It  was  a  collection  made  by  Dr.  Barnes, 
and  today  it's  simply  one  of  the  great  places  of  the 
world.  Their  collection  of  Renoir  and  Cezanne  and 
Matisse  and  Picasso,  and  many  works  from  the  past, 
makes  it  wonderful. 

I  went  there  for  three  years,  I  believe-they  had 
classes  and  lectures.  There  was  no  school  in  the 
sense  that  they  taught  anybody  how  to  paint;  nobody 
worked  there.  But  the  contact  with  those  pictures  and 
with  the  great  lecturers  was,  for  anybody  who  could 
get  in,  very  important.  You  couldn't  just  get  in;  you  had 
to  go  for  an  interview.  They  had  to  feel  you  were 
serious  about  studying,  and  you  had  to  stick  with  it. 


Influences  and  Mediums 


C.E.:  What  painter  do  you  feel  influenced  you  the  most? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  that's  hard  to  say  because  I'm  not  a  professional 
painter,  but  nobody  today  can  avoid  the  influence  of 
Picasso,  and  then  Matisse  and  Cezanne,  not  to  speak 


Berkowitz:          of  the  older  great  men  like  Manet,  Monet  and 

Rembrandt  and  Velasquez  and  so  on.  In  being  a 
painter  or  having  any  contact  with  art  you  have  to 
realize  that  you  are  in  the  shad9w  of  these  immense 
geniuses,  and  you  work  accordingly. 

C.E.:  I  see  on  your  wall  a  great  variety  of  styles  and 

mediums.  What's  your  favorite  medium  to  work  in? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  I've  worked  in  many  mediums  such  as  oil 

painting  and  watercplors  and  pastels  and  woodcuts 
and  wood  construction.  It's  more  the  kind  of  thing  that 
a  person  who's  not  in  the  profession  can  do  because 
you're  not  trying  to  prove  anything  except  to  yourself 
so  you  do  what  you  enjoy  and  what  you  want  to 
experiment  with.  That  I've  done  for  many  years. 


PIATIGORSKY 
His  Early  Years 


C.E.:  I  see  you  started  touring  with  Mr.  Piatigorsky  the 

same  year  that  you  started  painting.  Would  you  tell  us 
a  little  bit  about  him? 

Berkowitz:         Piatigorsky  was  a  Russian  cellist.  He  came  out  of 
Russia  when  he  was  about  eighteen,  in  Russia,  he 
was  considered  one  of  the  most  phenomenal  talents, 
and  as  a  teenager,  was  the  first  cellist  in  the  Bolshqi 
Opera.  He  was  enormously  successful  as  an  artist  in 
Russia,  but  he  wanted  to  get  out,  as  many  Russians 
did  in  those  years,  and  he  went--or  escaped  actually- 
to  Poland,  and  then  later,  to  Berlin.  Of  course,  he  was 
penniless,  a  simple,  poor,  penniless,  Russian  cellist. 
He  made  his  living  playing  in  cafes. 

One  day,  a  musician  who  knew  him  very  well  went  to 
the  conductor  of  the  Berlin  Philharmonic,  Mr. 
Furtwangler,  and  said,  "You  know  that  in  Berlin  right 


Berkowitz:          now,  there's  one  of  the  greatest  cellists  you'll  ever 
hear." 

And  Furtwangler  said,  "Well,  find  him!  Bring  him  to 
me.  I  want  to  meet  him." 

So  this  man  went  to  all  the  cafes  he  could  think  of,  and 
finally  found  Piatigorsky.  "Come  on.  I  want  somebody 
to  hear  you  play."" 

He  played  for  Furtwangler.  He  was  then  nineteen  or 
twenty.  On  the  spot.  Furtwangler  made  him  the  first 
cellist  of  the  Berlin  Philharmonic,  and  became  like  a 
father  to  him.  He  had  him  play  concertos  with  the 
orchestra  and  let  him  travel  giving  concerts,  and  so 
forth.  That's  how  Piatigorsky  made  a  tremendous 
reputation  in  Europe.  * 

He  came  to  America  first  in  1928,  and  by  odd  chance, 
I  heard  his  first  American  concert  with  the 
Philadelphia  Orchestra.  I  didn't  know  him  until  many 
years  later,  but  I  remember  the  impression  that  this 
giant  of  a  man  made  then. 


Touring  Together 


C.E.:  How  did  you  come  to  work  with  him? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  I  had  met  him  at  the  Curtis.  He  was  invited  to  be 
on  the  faculty  about  1 938.  We  had  shaken  hands  and 
had  a  word  now  and  then,  but  his  telephone  call  to  me 
in  1 940  came  put  of  the  blue.  It  was  because  his 
pianist  at  the  time  was  a  sick  man.  He  needed 
someone  to  travel  with  so  he  invited  me.  We  were 
very  close  for  many,  many  years. 

C.E.:  How  much  of  the  year  did  you  spend  touring  with 

him? 

Berkowitz:          It  varied.  It  varied  much.  Some  years,  we  might  play 
from  October  through  March-that  would  be  a 


8 


Berkowitz:          season.  Some  years  much  less  because  he  didn't  like 
to  travel,  but  over  the  years  we  played  hundreds  of 
concerts.  We  made  a  tour  to  the  Orient  once  which 
included  a  month  in  Japan  and  we  played  in  Korea 
and  the  Philippine  Islands,  Saigon,  Singapore,  and 
the  Malaysian  peninsula.  We  also  travelled  a  lot  in 
Europe.  We  made  a  South  American  tour  in 
Venezuela  and  Columbia.  We  used  to  play  in  Mexico 
a  great  deal.  We  were  in  Cuba  almost  every 
year... Also  Guatamala  and  Panama.  We  surely 
played  in  every  state  in  this  country,  lots  in  Canada. 
We  also  made  many  records  for  Colombia  and  RCA 
Victor.  Many  recordings. 

C.E.:  Were  these  tours  exhausting  or  enjoyable  or  a 

mixture? 

Berkowitz:          In  those  days  it  wasn't  as  tiring,  more  or  less,  as  it 

would  be  today  when  travel  is  a  very  tough  thing  to  do. 
A  lot  of  the  time  before  airplanes  were  used  we 
travelled  by  train... It  was  just  normal  work.  We'd 
arrive  in  a  city,  usually  where  we  had  friends,  and 
spend  a  day  or  two  that  way,  and  then  play,  then  go 
on  to  another  city.  Altogether,  as  I  look  back  on  it,  it 
was  very  wonderful... Nothing  not  to  like. 


TANGLEWOOD 
Executive  Assistant  to  Koussevitzkv 


C.E.:  In  1 946  you  became  the  executive  assistant  to  the 

famous  conductor  Koussevitzky  of  the  Boston 
Symphony  Orchestra.  How  did  you  meet  him? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  he  was  like  a  father  to  Piatigorsky.  Whenever  we 
played  in  Boston,  of  course,  we  were  with 
Koussevitzky.  Koussevitzky  was  a  legend.  He 
conducted  the  Boston  Symphony  for  twenty-five 
years.  He  made  it  one  of  the  great  orchestras  of  the 
world  and  he  formed  what  we  know  now  as 


Berkowitz:         Tanglewood.  Tanglewood  was  a  summer  festival  of 
the  Boston  Symphony,  and  along  side  of  it  was  a 
music  school.  It  was  Koussevitzky's  idea  to  combine  a 
great  school  with  a  great  festival. 

He  needed  someone  to  make  the  school  work  on  a 
day  to  day  basis.  The  members  of  the  Boston 
Symphony,  the  first  desk  men,  were  faculty  members 
of  the  school  along  with  other  faculty  members  who 
were  invited.  My  job,  among  other  things,  was  to  see 
that  the  teaching  schedule  of  the  faculty  worked  in 
relation  to  their  obligations  to  the  Boston  Symphony. 
Also  the  students  who  came--and  they  came  from 
around  the  world-were  given  chamber  music 
assignments  and  other  work  with  faculty  members,  all 
of  which  I  organized. 

So  when  you  say,  "How  did  it  come  about?",  the  then 
assistant  manager  of  the  Boston  Symphony,  Thomas 
Perry,  had  been  a  piano  student  of  mine  in 
Philadelphia.  We  were  very  close  friends. 

Once  in  Boston  he  said,  "You  know,  there's  an 
opening  in  Tanglewood.  Would  you  like  to  work 
there?" 

I  said,  "No,  no,  no.  I  never  sat  behind  a  desk  and  I 
have  no  way  of  knowing  what  to  do  in  that 
department." 

He  said,  "I  didn't  think  you  would,  but  I  wanted  you  to 
know." 

Months  later,  Piatigorsky  and  I  were  in  Bogata  in 
South  America.  A  telegram  came  from  Mr.  Perry 
saying,  "The  opening  is  still  available.  Would  you  like 
to  take  it?"  Something  of  that  sort. 

I  went  to  Piatigorsky's  room  and  said,  "Look,  they 
want  me  to  work  in  Tanglewood.  What  do  you  think?" 

He  said,  "Well,  take  it!  You  have  nothing  to  lose.  Your 
family  will  have  a  nice  vacation  there.  It's  a  beautiful 
place." 


10 


Becoming  Dean  of  Tanalewood 


Berkowitz:         So  I  accepted.  That  was  the  beginning  of  eighteen 
years  of  work  there.  That  was  in  1946  that  I  started. 
Dr.  Koussevitzky  died  in  '51 .  While  he  was  living,  I  was 
his  executive  assistant.  When  he  died,  they  named 
me  dean.  The  work  was  the  same,  but  the  title  was 
different. 

For  me  it  was  a  full  year  of  work;  it  was  full-time 
employment  in  the  sense  that  we  had  to  prepare 
Tanglewood  during  the  winter  months.  An  audition 
committee  of  three  or  four  men  along  with  myself 
went  to  the  major  cities,  Montreal,  Chicago,  Detroit, 
so  forth,  listening  to  applicants  for  Tanglewood.  We 
would  listen  to  dozens  of  clarinets  and  trombones  and 
horns  and  all  that. 

We  chose  students  and  gave  scholarships  so  that  in 
the  spring  we  had  formed  an  orchestra  of  about  a 
hundred  which  immediately,  within  a  week,  was  one 
of  the  great  orchestras  of  the  nation!  And  it  was  that 
orchestra  which  was  trained  by  Koussevitzky,  and 
later  by  Bernstein  and  by  Munch  and  Ozawa, 
Leinsdorf,  and  many  younger  students,  like  Maazel, 
Mehta  and  Claudio  Abbado. 

C.E.:  That's  very  exciting. 

Berkowitz:          It's  still  a  most  exciting  place.  As  I  say,  I  worked  there 
for  eighteen  years.  Then  as  I  was  getting  older,  I  felt 
all  that  was  too  much  because  at  the  same  time,  as 
you  know,  I  was  managing  the  symphony  orchestra 
here  in  Albuquerque.  I  was  running  the  June  Music 
Festival  and  playing  about... I  don't  know... twenty, 
twenty-five  chamber  music  works  each  season  and 
teaching  and  travelling.  It  all  became  too  much,  and  I 
slowly  resigned  from  all  those  posts. 

I  had  played  in  the  June  Music  Festival  for  twenty-five 
years.  I  resigned  from  that.  Then  I  resigned  from 
eleven  years  of  managing  the  symphony  orchestra 
here,  and  as  I  say,  eighteen  years  of  Tanglewood. 


1 1 


The  Departments 


C.E.:  I'd  like  to  find  out  more  about  Tanglewood.  How  many 

students  were  accepted? 

Berkowitz:         Relatively  few.  There  was  a  symphony  orchestra  of 
about  a  hundred  students.  What  does  that 
mean... about  three  flutes  and  three  clarinets  and  six 
horns.  Just  an  adequate  number  of  students  to  make 
a  symphony  orchestra. 

Then  there  was  a  composition  department  headed  by 
Aaron  Copland.  Every  year  he  invited  some  well- 
known  composer  like  Jacques  Ibert,  Messiaen,  Toch, 
Honegger,  Darius  Milhaud,  Carlos  Chavez,  Luigi 
Dallapicolla,  Petrassi,  Sessions-important 
composers  of  the  day  all  taught  in  Tanglewood.  So 
there  was  a  group  of  maybe  twelve,  fifteen  young 
composers  working  under  the  general  leadership  of 
Copland  and  these  guests. 

Then  there  was  a  full  opera  department  headed  by 
Boris  Goldovsky.  The  opera  department  not  only  had 
singers,  but  electricians  and  costume  designers  and 
choral  teachers  and  coaches,  and  of  course, 
wonderful  singers,  many  of  whom  are  famous  today, 
like  Sherrill  Milnes,  Evelyn  Lear,  Leontyne  Price... 

What  else?  There  was  a  choral  department  headed 
by  Hugh  Ross  the  conductor  of  the  Schola  Cantorum 
in  New  York.  The  chorus  numbered  about  a  hundred 
fifty  students,  and  it  would  sing  in  the  festival  concerts 
with  the  Boston  Symphony. 

Then  there  was  a  department,  and  I  think  it  still  exists, 
for  people  who  just  wanted  to  go  to  Tanglewood  and 
attend  rehearsals,  listen  to  classes,  listen  to  concerts, 
but  they  were  not  active  people.  They  didn't  do 
anything  in  the  school  except  audit  and  observe  and 
listen. 


12 


C.E.:  So  even  if  you  aren't  a  topflight,  professional 

musician,  you  can  experience  tanglewood. 

Berkowitz:         Absolutely.  That  was  one  of  the  important  aspects  of 
Tanglewood.  These  were  people  who  came  from 
small  towns  or  from  abroad... numerous.  Mature 
people,  teachers,  scientists,  doctors,  all  who  wanted 
to  have  a  summer  of  living  in  an  atmosphere  where 
music  never  stopped,  lectures  never  stopped, 
concerts  never  stopped.  It  was  the  most  stimulating 
spot  on  the  planet.  And  it  was  the  first.  You  realize  all 
the  great  places  like  Aspen  were  patterned  on  what 
Tanglewood  was  doing. 

C.E.:  How  many  weeks  did  it  last  each  summer? 

Berkowitz:          It  was  eight  or  ten  weeks.  A  long  time!  With  that 
pressure  it  was  a  tremendously  long  time.  The 
students  were  exhausted  at  the  end,  but  nobody 
wanted  to  leave.  They  just  couldn't  believe  that  they 
had  to  leave  that  glorious  place. 


Background  of  the  General  Area 


Berkowitz:         Tanglewood  is  an  extraordinarily  beautiful  spot  in  the 
Berkshire  hills  of  Massachusetts.  It's  at  the  western 
edge  of  Massachusetts.  The  estate  overlooks  a 
beautiful  lake.  It  has  a  wonderful  old  mansion  on  it. 

You  know,  the  great  American  author,  Hawthorne, 
lived  on  that  estate.  He  wrote  Tanglewood  Tales  a 
hundred  fifty  years  ago  or  so.  Melville  lived  nearby 
and  he  knew  Tanglewood  very  well,  too.  It  was  an 
area  of  Massachusetts  which  later  became  the 
playground  of  millionaries.  Numerous  mansions  were 
built.  The  great  writer  Edith  Wharton  had  her  home 
there.  President  Theodore  Roosevelt  used  to  spend 
summers  there.  There  was  a  Carnegie  mansion;  the 
Rockefellers  lived  there.  It  was  one  of  those  wonderful 
playgrounds  for  the  very  wealthy. 


13 


Eleanor  Roosevelt 


C.E.:  As  I  recall,  you  told  me  that  you  coached  Eleanor 

Roosevelt  for  her  performance  at  Tanglewood  as  the 
narrator  in  "Peter  and  the  Wolf." 


Berkowitz:         Dr.  Koussevitzky  invited  Eleanor  Roosevelt  to  perform 
Prokofieff's  "Peter  and  the  Wolf"  with  the  Boston 
Symphony.  As  she  knew  nothing  about  it,  he  asked 
me  to  go  to  Hyde  Park  and  coach  her,  show  her  how 
the  piece  went.  I  had  a  wonderful  day  there  with 
Eleanor  Roosevelt.  As  you  know,  she  was  one  of  the 
great  human  beings  of  our  time.  She  was  utterly 
simple  and  generous  and  friendly. 

She  was  fearful  about  appearing  with  the  Boston 
Symphony  Orchestra,  having  never  done  anything 
like  that  before.  But  I  had  prepared  the  score  for  her 
with  colored  pencils  which  would  show  her  when  to 
speak  and  when  not  to.  I  played  the  orchestra  part,  of 
course;  and  she  went  through  it  and  read  it  very 
charmingly.  She  later  recorded  it  with  the  Boston 
Symphony,  and  I  think  one  can  still  get  those  records. 

At  any  rate,  she  performed  it  on  a  Saturday  night,  and 
there  were  a  good  fifteen  thousand  people  who  were 
themselves  with  enthusiasm.  She  was  most 


impressed  by  the  ovation.  She  said,  "Do  you  really 
think  that  applause  is  for  me?!"  (pause)  I  assured  her 
it  was. 


On  the  Faculty 
Song  Repertoire  Department 


C.E.:  I  see  that  not  only  were  you  the  dean  of  Tanglewood, 

but  you  also  were  on  the  faculty. 


14 


Berkowitz:         When  I  had  time  I  did  some  chamber  music  teaching 
and  also  organized  a  song  repertoire  department. 
The  school  had  all  the  things  I  described  before, 
composition  and  opera  and  orchestra  and  chamber 
music,  but  it  didn't  nave  a  department  in  which 
singers  could  work  on  songs,  on  the  great  lieder  of 
Brahms  and  Schubert,  Debussy,  and  so  forth.  I  asked 
Dr.  Koussevitzky  about  forming  such  a  department. 
He,  of  course,  liked  it,  and  so  we  did.  In  recent  years- 
and  when  I  say  recent  years  that  means  twenty-five 
years  ago-it  was  taken  over  by  the  great  singer, 
Phyllis  Curtin.  She's  doing  it  to  this  day,  as  far  as  I 
know. 


The  Faculty  Board 


C.E.:  On  the  faculty  board  you  were  surrounded  with 

luminaries  such  as  Leonard  Bernstein,  Aaron 
Copland... 

Berkowitz:         These  people  were  the  heads  of  their  departments. 
After  Koussevitzky's  death  in  1951,  Charles  Munch, 
who  succeeded  him  as  conductor  of  the  Boston 
Symphony,  didn't  want  to  devote  time  to  Tanglewood 
the  way  Koussevitzky  had,  so  we  proposed  that  a 
faculty  board  be  formed.  This  board,  as  I  say,  had  the 
heads  of  each  department:  Bernstein  for  conducting, 
Copland  with  composition,  Hugh  Ross  for  chorus, 
Fritz  Kroll  for  chamber  music,  Gpldovsky  for  opera.  It 
was  an  amicable  group.  We  all  liked  each  other  and 
worked  well  together. 


15 


Duties  as  Dean 


C.E.:  Were  there  any  difficulties  in  running  such  an 

organization? 

Berkowitz:          Enormous.  Enormous  difficulties,  for  the  simple 

reason  that  a  faculty  of  about  fifty  people  and  a  school 
of  about  three  hundred  students  would  have  all  kinds 
of  ideas  which  were  brought  to  my  desk.  Everybody 
busy,  everybody  active,  everybody  trying  to  go  their 
own  road  in  some  way. 


Friendships 


C.E.: 


Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


imagine  that  in  working  with  these  musicians  for  so 
many  years  you  probably  became  quite  close  to  a 
)er  of  them. 


many 
numb* 


Oh,  yes,  we  were  really  friends.  Boris  Goldovsky,  who 
is  a  great  opera  man-as  you  know,  for  many  years 
he  had  the  intermission  feature  of  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  broadcasts-he  and  I  were  friends  in  the  Curtis 
Institute  from  about  1929. 

Mr.  Copland  and  I  were  close  friends,  indeed. 
Bernstein  I  had  been  friendly  with  before  he  came  to 
Tanglewood.  That  was  at  the  Curtis  Institute  when  he 
was  a  student  from  '38  on.  He  came  to  the  Curtis  as  a 
graduate  of  Harvard  University.  But  even  then  as  a 
poor,  young  musician,  one  knew  immediately  that  this 
was  going  to  be  a  great  career.  It  turned  out  that  way. 

You  could  just  see  it  in  the  eyes? 
Yes,  yes. 


1  6 


RECORDING 
The  Artists 


C.E.:  I  notice  that  you've  recorded  for  a  number  of 

companies. 

Berkowitz:          Piatigorsky  and  I  recorded  a  great  deal  for  Columbia 
Records,  and  later  for  RCA  Victor,  but  I've  made 
records  with  other  artists  as  well,  primarily  with  a 
wonderful  violinist,  Eudice  Shapiro.  She  is  a  professor 
at  DSC,  has  been  for  many  years,  and  also  was  one 
of  the  group  of  high  professional  players  in  the  movie 
studios.  She  was  the  first  violinist  of  Twentieth 
Century  Fox  so  when  you  see  or  hear  old  films  and 
there's  any  solo  violin  going  on,  you  can  be  pretty 
sure  it's  Eudice  Shapiro.  She  and  I  had  a  tour  in  ' 
Europe  many  years  ago.  She  also  was  a  Curtis 
student.  We  recorded  maybe  seven,  eight  years  ago 
for  Crystal  Records,  and  before  that  recorded  the  " 
three  Brahms  sonatas  for  Vanguard  Records. 

I  also  made  records  with  three  artists  from  the  Boston 
area:  Ruth  Posellt,  a  wonderful  violinist,  and  Samuel 
Mayes,  the  first  cellist  of  the  Boston  Symphony  at  the 
time,  and  Joseph  Pasquale,  the  first  viola  player.  We 
made  the  Brahms  First  Piano  Quartet,  and  also  the 
Clarinet  Trio  with  the  first  clarinet  of  the  Boston 
Symphony,  Gino  Cioffi.  With  him  I  also  recorded  a 
Brahms  clarinet  and  piano  sonata. 

Records  are  strange  in  the  sense  that  they  don't  live 
very  long.  AN  the  Piatigorsky  records  are  out  of  the 
catalog.  I  haven't  seen  any  listed  for  years.  The 
present  Schwann  catalog  has  a  listing  of  more  than 
75,000  titles  of  classical  music  so  you  can  imagine 
that  if  you  can  today  obtain  any  one  out  of  75,000, 
there  must  be  twice  or  three  times  that  which  don't 
exist,  that  are  out  of  print. 


17 


Making  the  Recordings 


C.E.:  What  was  the  difference  for  you  between  live 

performance  and  recording  experiences? 

Berkowitz:          Recording  is  a  very  difficult  thing  to  do.  When  we  first 
started  to  record  in  '41  or  '42,  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  tape.  You  recorded  on  a  disc  and  the  disc  played 
four  minutes  and  twenty  seconds.  You  couldn't  stop  it 
and  you  couldn't  correct  it.  You  had  to  play  the 
amount  of  music-at  most  four  minutes  and  twenty 
seconds.  If  you  recorded  a  sonata,  you  had  to  divide  it 
by  timing  carefully  so  that  it  would  work  out  that  way. 
When  you  were  playing  you  were  always  thinking,  "Is 
this  going  to  last  properly  for  these  four  minutes?"  A 
little  slip  or  so  and  then  you  stopped.  "OK.  Kill  it.  We'll 
do  another  one."  You  had  to  do  the  side  all  over  again. 

When  tape  came  in,  it  appeared  to  be  much  easier 
because  you  could  insert  one  note  if  you  wanted  to. 
You  could  patch  it  from  dozens  of  takes  and  that's 
how  recordings  largely  are  done  today,  although 
many  artists  or  orchestras  play  a  full  movement  or  a 
full  symphony.  If  they  make  mistakes,  they  correct 
that  area.  Anything  can  be  patched  up  and  taped 
together,  as  you  know,  and  as  I  say,  even  one  note 
can  be  added  or  taken  out.  They  can  do  wonderful 
things.  In  a  way  that  makes  recording  easier.  Still, 
when  you're  playing  for  no  public  and  you  know  a 
microphone  is  taking  it  all  in,  it's  a  kind  of  feeling  which 
is  not  very  pleasant. 


1  8 


LIVE  PERFORMANCE 


C.E.:  Have  you  always  enjoyed  playing  for  audiences  or  do 

you  get  excessively  nervous  before  performances? 

Berkowitz:         No,  no.  I  am  lucky  to  have  the  kind  of  nature  that 
doesn't  get  nervous.  One  gets  excited:  you're 
anticipating  playing,  but  if  you  feel  that  you  know  what 
you're  doing  and  you  feel  that  there's  a  knowing 
audience,  then  it's  a  gratifying  thing  and  very  pleasant 
and  quite  wonderful. 

C.E.:  I  understand  this  is  rather  different  from  Mr. 

Horowitz's  experiences  of  pre-concert  jitters. 

Berkowitz:         Well,  Horowitz  is  a  very  special  man.  What  he  says  we 
don't  necessarily  have  to  believe.  He's  such  an 
experienced,  old  artist  that  if  he  says  he  gets  very 
excited  or  very  frightened,  he  may  g_r  may  not. 

But  every  artist  who's  played  and  who  has  a 
reputation  to  uphold  can't  take  performing  lightly.  He 
knows  he  has  something  on  his  shoulders  that  he  has 
to  keep  upholding.  To  that  extent  the  Horowitzes  and 
Rubinsteins  and  Heifetzes  and  Piatigorskys  and 
many  others  have  an  emotion  on  their  minds,  on  their 
hearts,  on  their  feelings,  knowing  that  their 
reputation,  in  a  sense,  is  at  stake. 


ORCHESTRATION 


C.E.:  I  see  that  in  1954  you  were  doing  some  orchestration. 

Was  that  an  interest  all  along? 

Berkowitz:         Yes,  I  studied  orchestration  at  the  Curtis  Institute. 

When  Piatigorsky  and  I  travelled,  I  used  to  carry  along 
manuscript  paper  and  a  bottle  of  ink  and  pens  and 
would  orchestrate  some  great  work,  usually  a  work  of 
Bach.  It  was  a  good  pastime  in  hotel  rooms  while 


19 


Berkowitz:         waiting  for  concerts  to  take  place.  I  did  a  number  of 
those  and  some  of  them  are  played. 

I  noticed  the  other  day  that  in  the  Santa  Fe  Chamber 
Music  Concerts  which  take  place  right  now  [July], 
they're  going  to  play  a  version  of  mine  of  Saint  Saens1 
"Carnival  of  the  Animals"  for  two  pianos.  You  know,  I 
made  many  transcriptions  for  four  hands,  for  two 
pianos.  Saint  Saens1  "Carnival  of  the  Animals"  was 
written  for  two  pianos  with  orchestra  and  I  arranged  it 
for  two  pianos  without  the  orchestra.  That  is  a  very 
effective  piece  and  it's  played.  I  have  records  of  its 
being  done  in  Japan  not  long  ago  and  in  Copenhagen 
so  I  was  happy  to  see  that  they  chose  to  play  it  here  in 
Santa  Fe. 

I  played  the  "Carnival"  with  Arthur  Fiedler  in 
Tanglewood  once.  The  other  pianist  was  my  dear 
friend  Seymour  Lipkin.  Ogden  Nash  came  to  read  his 
own  verses  at  that  concert. 

C.E.:  How  exciting! 

Berkowitz:          He  did  it. 


"A  TELEPHONE  CALL" 


C.E.:  In  1957  you  had  a  composition  of  yours  performed  in 

Brazil. 

Berkowitz:          It  was  in  Brazil,  yes.  There's  a  short  story  by  Dorothy 
Parker  called  "A  Telephone  Call"  and  it  deals  with  a 
young  lady  waiting  at  a  telephone  for  her  boyfriend  to 
call.  Of  course,  the  phone  never  rings.  She  keeps 
thinking,  "Maybe  he's  sick,"  or  "Maybe  he  forgot,"  or 
"He  doesn't  love  me."  I  asked  Dorothy  Parker  for 
permission  to  set  that  to  music  and  she  said,  "Surely, 
do  it." 

So  I  did  it  for  voice  with  orchestra.  I  showed  it  to  my 
friend  Eleazar  de  Carvalho  who  was  conductor  of 


20 


Berkowitz:  the  Orquestra  Sinfonica  Brasileira,  and  he  went  back 
there  and  got  somebody  to  learn  it  and  sing  it.  I  never 
heard  it,  but  it  was  done  there. 

C.E.:  Do  you  have  a  recording? 

Berkowitz:  No. 

C.E.:  Has  a  recording  been  made  of  it? 

Berkowitz:  No,  I  doubt  it. 

C.E.:  Have  you  done  any  other  compositions? 

Berkowitz:  Not  to  speak  of,  no,  nothing  important  at  all. 

C.E.:  This  just  seized  your  imagination? 

Berkowitz:  Yes. 


ONLY  GOOD  MUSIC 


C.E.:  I  see  here  that  you  worked  with  Jan  Peerce. 

Berkowitz:         Yes.  I  played  concerts  with  a  number  of  my  friends 
such  as  Jan  Peerce,  Raya  Garbousoya,  Zara 
Nelsova,  Leonid  Kogan,  Eudice  Shapiro.  I  became 
friendly  with  Jan  Peerce  and  when  he  was  in  this  area 
he  asked  me  to  play  with  him.  Houston,  Albuquerque, 
Denver,  I  believe,  and  Kansas  City.  Not  many 
concerts,  but  over  a  period  of  four  or  five  years  I  did 
play  with  him.  He  was  a  great  gentleman,  a  very  great 
artist. 

C.E.:  Do  you  prefer  opera  repertoire  or  lieder  when  you 

play  for  singers? 

Berkowitz:          Only  good  music. 

C.E.:  Who  are  your  favorite  composers? 

Berkowitz:          Everybody  (laughter  -  Erbele).  Well,  Mozart, 

Schubert,  Haydn,  Beethoven,  Chopin,  Liszt,  Brahms. 


21 


Berkowitz:         The  great,  great,  great  classics.  Stravinsky, 

Hindemith,  Tschaikovsky,  Shostakowich,  Prokofiev. 

Any  professional  artist  who  says,  "I  like  him,  but  I  don't 
like  him,"  is  making  a  mistake.  You  can  have  some 
affinity  for  somebody  more  than  for  somebody  else, 
but  to  say,  "I  don't  like  Tschaikovsky,"  "I  don't  like 
Hindemith,"  or  "I  don't  like  Brahms."  that's 
preposterous.  You  have  to  know  you're  facing  great 
mentalities  if  you  face  Tschaikovsky  or  Brahms.  You 
meet  these  people  halfway  and  learn  from  them  and 
make  yourself  know  that  you  must  appreciate  them. 

C.E.  Do  you  find  that  because  you  taught  form  and 

analysis  that  this  gave  you  a  greater  appreciation  of 
these  works? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  yes.  Any  contact  with  the  work  of  a  composer's 
mind,  which  means  the  form  of  the  thing  they're 
working  on,  has  to  enhance  your  appreciation  and 
your  understanding  of  music.  Nobody  can  play  music 
if  they  don't  know  what  the  form  of  it  is,  what  the 
harmonic  structure,  what  the  skeletal  idea  is.  The 
composer  isn't  interested  in  writing  a  lot  of  notes  and 
very  nice  tunes.  He  has  to  make  a  structure  like  an 
architect  makes  a  blueprint  for  a  building. 


ALBUQUERQUE 


C.E.:  What  first  brought  you  to  Albuquerque? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  I  came  here  in  1958  to  manage  the  symphony 
orchestra  and  because  I  had  made  friends  here  since 
1946,  when  I  first  played  in  the  June  Music  Festival  [in 
Albuquerque].  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  East 
Coast  and  this  was  an  opportunity  to  do  so  since 
managing  the  orchestra  would  fit  in  with  my  work  in 
Tanglewood,  the  June  Music  Festival  and  with  my 
travels  with  Piatigorsky.  It  was  a  move  that  I  never 
regretted. 


22 


C.E.:  What  drew  you  to  this  part  of  the  country? 

Berkowitz:         As  I  say,  I  had  known  it  since  '46.  It  was  a  nice  place  to 
come  to!  When  I  first  came  here  in  1946  Albuquerque 
was  a  very  small  town.  Central  Avenue,  as  you  know, 
the  main  thoroughfare,  didn't  exist  with  any  buildings 
on  it  beyond  the  university  campus.  From  there  going 
east  it  was  just  fields  with  a  few  little  huts.  It  was  the 
war  [WWII],  of  course,  that  brought  many  people  here 
to  work  at  Sandia  [Airforce  Base].  It  developed  into  a 
much  bigger  city  then.  Now  it's  about  350,000,  isn't  it? 
Or  more. 

C.E.:  Half  a  million,  I  hear. 

Berkowitz:         Yes.  It's  a  wonderful  place  to  live.  It  doesn't  have  the 
great  defects  of  big  cities  with  traffic  and  smog  and 
crowds  and  all  the  other  perils  of  big  city  life.  Although 
I'm  a  New  Yorker,  I  don't  miss  New  York,  except  for 
great  museums,  great  theaters,  great  concerts,  which 
we  do  not  have. 


The  Albuquerque  Symphony  Orchestra 


C.E.:  What  were  your  responsibilities  in  managing  the 

Albuquerque  Symphony  Orchestra  [now  the  New 
Mexico  Symphony]? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  there  is  the  matter  of  the  personnel,  the 
rehearsal  schedules,  the  contacts  with  the 
conductor.--At  that  time,  it  was  Maurice  Bonney,  a 
very  talented  young  conductor.  He  was  here  for 
eleven  years.  He  came  the  same  season  I  did. --And 
the  choice  of  soloists  to  go  within  the  budget  of  the 
orchestra.  At  that  time  it  was  a  very  modest  budget. 
Now  the  orchestra's  gone  to  about  a  three  million 
dollar  budget. 

But  every  orchestra  in  every  city  has  to  start  from 
something  and  develop.  It  can't  start  full-blown  like 


23 


Berkowitz:         the  Boston  Symphony  with  a  budget  of  forty  million 
dollars  a  year. 

It  was  made  up  of  amateurs  and  housewives, 
students  and  doctors  and  others  who  could  give  their 
time.  They  got  very,  very  little  money  for  it,  but  of 
course  relatively,  they  still  do.  An  orchestra  is  one  of 
the  most  expensive  beasts  that  you  can  think  of, 
along  with  opera  companies.  They  have  to  be 
subsidized;  they  have  to  be  supported  by  donations. 
No  matter  where  it  is,  if  it's  Washington  or  Chicago  or 
Albuquerque,  the  problems  are  the  same:  raising 
money,  getting  good  players,  getting  a  conductor  who 
can  lead  it  and  develop  it. 

C.E.:  Was  Maurice  Bonney  conductor  the  whole  time  you 

were  manager? 

Berkowitz:         Yes,  yes.  We  came  together  and  left  together. 


The  June  Music  Festival 


C.E.:  What  was  the  June  Music  Festival  all  about  and  what 

year  did  it  begin? 

Berkowitz:         It  started  before  the  war,  about  1 938  or  so.  There  was 
a  wealthy  man  in  this  city  named  Albert  Simms  and  he 
and  his  wife  loved  chamber  music.  They  invited  a 
group  of  musicians  to  give  concerts  which  were  free 
to  the  public.  One  had  only  to  write  to  Mr.  Simms  and 
he  sent  tickets.  That  went  on  for... five  years  or  so  with 
a  group  of  artists  of  which  I  was  not  a  member.  The 
person  who  arranged  the  concerts  was  the  cellist 
George  Miquelle  whom  I  knew  very  well. 

He  once  called  me  and  asked  if  I  would  like  to  come  to 
Albuquerque  to  play  chamber  music.  Well,  I  jumped  at 
that.  Josef  Gingold,  one  of  the  great  teachers  of  this 
nation  right  now,  and  George  Miquelle,  who  died  a 
few  years  ago-he  was  a  wonderful  cellist-and 


24 


Berkowitz:         other  men  were  invited.  There  were  Ferenc  Molnar 
and  Frank  Houser  from  San  Francisco.  We  arranged 
programs  of  sonatas,  trios,  quartets,  quintets. 

After  awhile  Mr.  Simms  said  he  couldn't  afford  to 
subsidize  it  anymore.  Miquelle  and  Gingold  and  I 
talked  it  over  and  decided  we  would  run  it  because 
there  had  been  a  nucleus  of  four  or  five  hundred 
people  we  thought  might  be  willing  to  pay  ten  dollars 
for  a  series  of  concerts.  We  got  a  nucleus  of 
subscribers,  backers,  donors,  and  to  this  day,  that's 
what  the  June  Music  Festival  is. 

In  recent  years,  it's  been  the  Guarneri  String  Quartet, 
one  of  the  great  quartets  of  the  world.  Previous  to 
that,  there  had  been  the  Fine  Arts  Quartet  for  eight, 
ten  years.  In  all  of  the  twenty-five  years  that  I  played, 
the  pianist  did  the  bulk  of  the  repertoire  because  the 
public  seemed  to  want  piano  music  so  on  every 
program  I  played  at  least  two  works.  If  there  were 
eight  concerts,  that's  sixteen  works  every  season. 
That's  a  lot. 


TEACHING  PIANO 


C.E.:  I  guess  all  this  time  since  you  taught  at  the  Curtis 

Institute  you've  had  piano  students  as  well. 

Berkowitz:         Well,  I  taught  much  before  I  went  to  the  Curtis.  I 
started  teaching  when  I  was  fifteen  or  sixteen  and 
never  stopped.  Anybody  who  wants  to  be  a  teacher 
should  teach  from  his  youngest  years.  It's  very  hard  to 
become  a  teacher  when  you're  thirty  or  forty  and 
actually,  it's  not  fair  to  students.  Teaching  is 
something  you  learn  to  do  by  teaching  and  you 
cannot  learn  unless  you  do  it.  But  of  course,  if  you're  a 
writer  you  can  only  write  by  writing,  etcetera.  If  you're 
a  baseball  player  you  really  only  play  baseball  by 
playing  baseball. 


25 


Berkowitz:          In  the  matter  of  teaching  it's  important  to  have 

patience,  to  know  what  you're  talking  about,  to  try  to 
be  articulate  and  to  be  consistent.  You  cannot  one 
week  say  one  thing  and  then  contradict  it  the  next.  Or 
on  the  other  hand,  you  can't  show  indifference  to 
people  who  are  not  as  gifted  as  they  might  be  from 
God.  You  have  to  do  the  utmost  to  make  everyone 
appreciate  music,  love  music  and  devote  their 
interest  to  music  unless  they  don't  like  jj  in  which  case 
they  shouldn't  study  at  all. 

C.E.:  So  to  some  degree  it's  a  task  in  the  psychology  of 

each  student.  * 

Berkowitz:          Sure.  You  have  to  know  who  you're  teaching  and  you 
have  to  want  them  to  like  the  art  of  music,  not  only  to 
jike  it,  but  to  love  it  and  to  devote  themselves  with 
integrity.  It's  easy  to  say  and  very  hard  to  do.  A 
teacher  who  works  eight  hours  a  day  all  week  long  is 
not  likely  to  have  that  lovely,  noble  spirit.  He  can  lose 
his  temper  and  so  forth;  but  I  don't  teach  that  much 
and  never  have,  so  that  I  can  really  feel,  in  a  sense, 
fresh  with  each  student  at  each  session. 


LOOKING  BACK 
"Would  You  Do  It  Again?" 


C.E.: 


Berkowitz: 


Many  of  the  positions  you've  held  in  your  lifetime  have 
involved  all  sorts  of  scheduling  problems  and  other 
organizational  matters.  Looking  back,  would  you  do  it 
again? 

Oh,  yes.  I  would  gladly  go  to  the  Curtis  Institute  again. 
I  would  gladly  go  to  work  in  Tanglewood  again,  if  I 
were  young,  of  course,  or  gladly  begin  a  career 
travelling  with  Piatigorsky  again.  I  don't  know  about 
managing  the  symphony.  That  was  gratifying  in  a 
way,  but  that  I  could  have  lived  without  even  though  I 


26 


Berkowitz:         enjoyed  doing  it  and  I  think  I  contributed  something  to 
the  job.  It's  always  an  interesting  thing  to  say,  "Would  I 
do  all  that  again?"-"Would  I  lead  my  life  the  same 
way?"  In  the  professional  part  of  it,  I  would  pretty 
much  say,  "Yes,  I  would  do  it  again." 

C.E.:  So  you  liked  having  a  variety  of  activities? 

Berkowitz:  That  certainly,  yes.  Playing  and  teaching  and  studying 
and  managing  and  being  a  dean,  all  of  that  I  liked  very 
much. 


Artistic  Temperment 


C.E.:  People  often  think  of  artists  and  musicians  as 

tempermental.  Did  you  experience  that  in  your 
dealings? 

Berkowitz:         Well,  the  greater  the  person  the  less  tempermental. 
That's  for  sure.  In  any  field,  if  you  meet  a  great 
executive  of  General  Motors  for  instance,  you're 
going  to  find  a  refined  gentleman.  The  tempermental 
in  the  arts  is  for  the  fourth  raters  and  the  amateurs 
and  those  people  who  just  want  to  show  off.  I've  never 
known  an  important  artist  who  wasn't  a  great  lady  or  a 
great  gentleman.  The  more  important  they  were,  the 
more  one  noticed  their  sense  of  humanity  and  dignity 
and  integrity-anything  farthest  removed  from  what 
people  usually  think  of  as  artistic  temperment.  That 
doesn't  exist. 


WORLD  WAR  II 
Working  in  a  War  Factory 


27 


C.E.:  How  did  World  War  II  affect  your  career? 

Berkowitz:         In  the  early  forties  there  was,  as  you  know,  the  draft 
for  all  men  of  age  for  the  army.  I  was  eligible  for  quite 
awhile,  but  they  changed  rules  every  few  weeks 
according  to  the  needs  of  the  army  and  navy.  At  one 
time  they  said  that  a  man  with  children  who  had  a  war 
job  would  not  be  drafted  into  the  army. 

Berkowitz:          I  knew  an  important  industrialist  in  Philadelphia.  He 
took  me  to  a  factory  where  they  made  war  equipment 
and  introduced  me  to  the  owners.  They  gave  me  a  job 
as  an  inspector  so  that  for  about  two  and  a  half  years 
during  the  war,  I  actually  did  work  in  a  war  factory. 

They  were  nice  enough  to  let  me  go  off  on  tour  now 
and  again  with  Piatigorsky.  All  of  that  was  legitimate 
with  my  draft  board.  I  had  already  had  what  you  call 
an  induction  test. 

I  very  much  enjoyed  that  work  in  a  war  factory  and 
made  many  good  friends  there... as  much  as  I  was 
frightened  of  a  factory  when  I  first  entered  it.  The 
noise,  the  clanging,  metal  machines.  It  seemed 
impossible.  How  could  one  live  with  that  eight  hours  a 
day!  But  you  acclimate  yourself  very  well,  and  of 
course,  it  was  a  very  good  lesson.  I  did  it  with 
pleasure. 


28 


Touring  Difficulties 


C.E.:  Was  it  difficult  to  travel  during  the  war  years? 

Berkowitz:         Oh,  yes.  During  the  war  everything  was  difficult.  The 
answer  that  anyone  gave  you  anytime  at  all  to  cover 
up  anything  was  to  say,  "Don't  you  know  there's  a  war 
on!"  Anything!  Bad  meals,  no  service,  lost 
reservations,  anything  you  want,  they  would  cover  up 
simply  by  saying,  "Don't  you  know  there's  a  war  on!" 
Trains  were  enormously  crowded.  Soldiers  and 
sailors  were  travelling  all  the  time.  They  had  to.  Life  in 
America  was  no  picnic  even  though  we  didn't  have 
the  horrors  of  war  in  the  way  Europe  did.  Still,  the  war 
years  in  America  were  not  pleasant. 


Plight  of  the  Jewish  People 


C.E.:  Did  you  know  what  was  happening  to  the  Jewish 

people  in  Germany? 

Berkowitz:         No,  people  had  no.  idea  of  the  severity  of  that  horror. 
We  knew,  of  course,  the  whole  world  knew,  what 
Hitler  said!  He  wasn't  ashamed  to  say  he  wanted  to 
exterminate  the  Jewish  race.  We  knew  that  the  Nazi's 
policy  was  that,  but  there  wasn't  that  knowledge 
whicn  came  later  on.  But  it  didn't  save  six  million  Jews 
from  being  exterminated.  The  world  will  never  live  that 
down. 

C.E.:  Did  you  have  any  relatives. . .  ? 

Berkowitz:         No!  Fortunately,  no  one  I  knew  was  in  that  situation  in 
Europe. 

C.E.:  Well,  thank  you  for  this  interview  and  for  giving  me 

your  time.  Thank  you  very  much. 


29 


PHOTOS,  PAINTINGS  AND  OTHER  WORKS 


C.E.:  When  did  you  start  painting? 

Berkowitz:         It  must  have  been  about  1 940.  (pause)  Why? 

Because  I  was  travelling  so  much  with  Piatigorsky.  In 
hotel  rooms  and  even  on  trains  I  would  draw.  It  was  a 
good  way  to  spend  time. 

It  was  Piatigorsky  who  said  to  me,  "Why  don't  you  get 
some  canvas  and  make  bigger  paintings?"  The  usual 
thing.  I  mean  everyone  goes  through  the  same  thing. 

Well,  I  went  into  it  enthusiastically  for  many  years.  My 
catalog,  which  I  kept  methodically,  has  more  than  600 
items/ 


C.E.:  (reads)  "Chinese  Twins,  Sea  Captain  and  a  Lamp 

Post."  Oh,  I  like  that. 

Berkowitz:         That  was  one  of  the  earliest  ones  of  its  kind. . .  1 978, 
twelve  years  ago. 

C.E.:  So  you  started  the  wood  construction  ones. . . 

Berkowitz:         About  then.  I  started  because  a  student  of  mine  who 
makes  violins  has  millions  of  pieces  of  wood.  I  didn't 
do  anything  except  pick  them  up  and  put  them 
together. 

C.E.:  Her  name  is  Anne  Cole? 

Berkowitz:         Yes.  She  plays  the  piano  and  she's  a  fine  cellist,  but 
she  makes  fiddles  professionally. 


30 


Berkowitz:         This  is  one  of  a  series  I  call  "Oracles."  They  all  are 
seated  women.  Purely  abstract.  I  must  have  about 
twenty  of  them. 


Berkowitz:         That's  a  collage. 
C.E.:  Does  it  have  a  title? 

Berkowitz:         ISto.  It's  just  a  lot  of  pasted... stuff.  There's  a  lot  of  nice 
things  in  it.  Railway  tickets.  It  really  has  to  do  with 
travel. 

C.E.:  So  it  has  railway  tickets? 

Berkowitz:          Some  little  bit  there  in  pink  from  a  sleeper-car  ticket, 
isn't  it? 

C.E.:  Oh  yes. 

Berkowitz:         And  fragments  of  a  music  program. 


Berkowitz:  This  is  an  artist  bowing. 

C.E.:  Do  you  remember  when  you  did  this? 

Berkowitz:  ...a  date.  There,  in  the  corner. 

C.E.:  Yes.  '58. 

Berkowitz:         The  artist  is  bowing;  here  are  the  footlights  and  the 
curtain  above  the  stage. 

C.E.:  Would  it  be  a  lot  of  trouble  to  move  that  plant? 

Berkowitz:          I  could  move  the  wall  (laughter  -  C.E.).  Just  take  it  with 
the  plant;  it  will  be  lovely. " 


31 


C.E: 
Berkowitz: 

C.E.: 

Berkowitz: 

C.E: 

Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


Did  you  do  this  wooden  construction? 

Yes!  This  is  supposedly  a  Japanese  teahouse.  A 
model  for  one. 

I'd  like  to  photograph  you  holding  that. 
You  can  see  part  of  a  fiddle  that  is  cut  there. 

Oh  yes.  So  it  looks  like  you  had  a  lot  of  fun  doing 
these. 

Tremendous  fun.  The  thing  about  doing  artwork  is 
that  when  you've  done  it,  it's  there.  If  you  give  a 
concert  in  Kansas  City,  after  it's  over,  so  what.  It's 
gone!  The  next  day  a  travelling  artist  goes  to 
Wyoming.  He's  got  the  money,  of  course.  He  earns  a 
living,  but  the  difference  in  being  a  creative  artist  is 
immense.  That  why  everybody  paints... If  you  think 
how  many  things  are  created  that  didn't  exist  the  day 
before-pictures,  poetry,  compositions,  construction, 
every  day-it's  amazing.  Isn't  it? 

Yes! 

And  it's  always  a  source  of  joy  to  the  creator  at  the 
time.  Later  on  I  say,  "The  hell  with  it!"  No  interest  at  all, 
but  the  act  of  doing  it,  and  the  fact  that  it's  there... 


Berkowitz:         These  boxes  have  different  figures.  This  woman  was 
a  very  great  painter.  Her  name  was  Sofonisba 
Anguissola.  I  put  an  earring  on  her.  This  is  a  key  from 
a  piano.  There  are  various  objects.  The  main  point  of 
it  is  that  it's  a  collection  of  boxes  pasted  together. 
Basically  cigar  boxes.  See  here's  a  name. 

C.E.:  Did  you  smoke  cigars? 

Berkowitz:         Present  tense.  Emerson  once  said,  "Tell  me  the  music 
he  likes  and  the  cigars  he  smokes  and  I'll  tell  you  who 
he  is." 

C.E.:  What  was  the  woman's  name  in  this  box?  I  forget. 


32 


Berkowitz:          Sofonisba  Anguissola. 
C.E.:  What  a  beautiful  name! 

Berkowitz:         You  know  the  writer,  of  course,  Germaine  Greer.  She 
wrote  a  big  book  about  women  artists.  You  can't 
imagine  how  many  there  were  in  the  seventeenth, 
eighteenth,  nineteenth  centuries.  Their  work  is  in 
museums  around  the  world  and  yet  they  are 
completely  unknown.  It's  a  most  fascinating  book! 

C.E.:  My  friend,  Julia,  is  an  artist.  She  said  that  when  she 

was  in  art  school  she  was  told  several  times  by  her 
male  professors  that  there  were  no  important  women 
artists. 

Berkowitz:         I  would  say  the  same,  honestly,  about  women 
composers.  There's  Fanny  Mendelssohn,  Clara 
Schumann.  Nobody  the  stature  of  a  Beethoven,  but  in 
paintings  there  were.  They  weren't  Rembrandt  or 
Titian,  but  they  were  great  painters  and  they  are 
absolutely  unknown  now.  Sofonisba  who  died  in  1635 
was  one  of  six  sisters,  all  of  whom  were  fine  painters. 
She  was  for  twenty  years  court  painter  in  Spain. 


Berkowitz:          See  this  box?  It's  a  construction  within  a  given  space 
and  I  put  things  here  made  by  children.  That  back 
there  is  a  relief  made  by  Michaelangelo.  He  made  that 
when  he  was  a  child. 


C.E.:  And  what's  this  one  called? 

Berkowitz:          "Don  Quixote."  That's  a  collage.  It's  all  pasted  paper. 

C.E.:  The  texture  is  lovely.  It  looks  so  smooth. 

Berkowitz:         You  see,  that's  Don  Quixote  riding  a  horse.  See  the 
reins  he's  holding?  See  his  face?  And  this  is  his 


33 


Berkowitz:          Dulcinea  who  he  thinks  is  a  princess.  Actually  she's  a 
scullery  maid.  She  is  on  the  back  of  the  horse.  There's 
the  horse's  mane. 


Berkowitz:          (holds  up  a  wood  construction)  This  is  the  Biblical 
figure  of  Job.  Doesn't  he  look  like  a  Job? 

C.E.:  Yes.  Those  eyebrows. 

Berkowitz:         You  know,  all  that's  natural  wood.  I  didn't  do  anything 
to  it  but  paste  it  together.  Driftwood. 

(He  holds  up  another  wood  construction.)  The  hair 
goes  with  this  character,  too.  It's  Stravinsky. 


Berkowitz:         This  is  a  nice  box.  Inside  you  see  a  pussycat. 

C.E.:  (laughs  and  looks  inside)  Oh  yes.  And  a  map,  some 

glasses,  seashells... 


C.E.:  What's  the  name  of  this  painting? 

Berkowitz:  It  is  a  woman's  head.  No  special  name. 

C.E.:  It's  beautiful.  Do  you  remember  when  you  did  it? 

Berkowitz:  I  would  say  about  twenty-five  years  ago. 


34 


Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 


What  else  is  here?  This  is  in  the  program  book. 
Piatigorsky,  Franz  Waxman,  Isaac  Stern  and  myself. 
This  photo  was  taken  about  1946  or  '47.  It's  at  the 
Russian  Tearoom  in  New  York,  a  famous  little 
restaurant  near  Carnegie  Hall.  Why  we  were  all 
together  I  couldn't  tell  you.  The  name  Waxman 
means  nothing  to  you.  He  was  a  very  important  movie 
composer  in  the  thirties  and  forties  and  was  very 
highly  regarded.  He  died  young. 

Did  your  friend,  Eudice  Shapiro,  ever  play  in  his 
orchestras?  Didn't  you  say  she  did  a  lot  of  movie 
work? 


Berkowitz:         Sure.  She  played  everything! 


Berkowitz:         Here's  a  very  touching  picture  (looking  at 
Koussevitzky). 

C.E.:  It  is.  How  old  was  he  when  he  died? 

Berkowitz:         He  was  in  his  seventies  I  would  estimate,  but  he  had 
worked  so  hard.  He  conducted  the  Boston  Symphony 
for  twenty-five  years. 


C.E.: 


This  is  your  wife,  Beth. 


Berkowitz:         This  is  Perry,  manager  (on  the  right),  and  Erich 
Leinsdorf  when  he  was  conductor  of  the  Boston 
Symphony  (center).  Read  what  he  says.  It's  very  cute. 
"To  smiling  Ralph  from  prayerful  Erich."  And  Perry 
writes,  "From  wary  Perry." 


35 


Berkowitz:         This  is  in  the  Curtis  Institute.  It  must  be  about  1935. 
Here  is  Rosario  Scalero  who  was  the  teacher  of 
Samuel  Barber  and  of  Gian  Carlo  Menotti.  I  also 
studied  with  him.  This  photo  seems  to  show  us 
listening  to  something.  We're  sort  of  looking  down  at  a 
piece  of  music. 

C.E.:  And  the  one  next  to  you  is. . . 

Berkowitz:         That's  Barber.  Then  Menotti  and  that's  Rosario 
Scalero. 


Berkowitz:         This  is  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Intermission  narrator 
Boris  Goldovsky.  He's  a  great  opera  man. 


Berkowitz:         This  is  a  cute  picture.  This  was  taken  on 

Koussevitzky's  birthday.  Here's  me,  Copland, 
Koussevitzky  and  Eleazar  de  Carvalho,  the  Brazilian 
conductor.  And  above  are  men  of  the  Boston 
Symphony:  first  trumpet,  first  clarinet,  bassoon, 
flute... 

C.E.:  This  man  from  Brazil  performed  a  piece  you  wrote, 

didn't  he? 

Berkowitz:         That's  the  one. 

C.E.:  What  was  the  name  of  it? 

Berkowitz:         "The  Telephone  Call."  Eleazar  de  Carvalho  was 

conductor  of  the  St.  Louis  Symphony  at  one  time,  and 
of  the  orchestra  in  Brussels.  He's  an  international 
conductor. 


36 


Berkowitz:          Below  me  is  Frederick  Fennel!.  He  made  many 
recordings  with  the  Eastman  Symphonic  Band. 


Berkowitz:         That's  Jascha  Heifetz. 

C.E.:  "To  Ralph  Berkowitz  with  warm  greetings  and  best 

wishes.  Heifetz." 

Berkowitz:         Heifetz  wrote  a  very  formal  inscription.  He  didn't  go  in 
for  flowery  phrases. 

C.E.:  When  did  you  meet  him? 

Berkowitz:         Oh,  I  met  him  first  in  1 940,  '41 .  He  was  a  close  friend 
of  Piatigorsky,  of  course,  so  we  were  together  on 
many  occasions.  We  were  together  in  Israel  in  1970. 
The  last  time  Piatigorsky  and  I  sat  on  a  stage  was  in 
Tel  Aviv  in  1 970.  That  was  the  last  concert  we  played 
together.  Mr.  Heifetz  was  there,  too.  We  played  one 
night  and  he  played  the  next.  After  he  played  I  went 
backstage  and  said  to  him,  "Mr.  Heifetz,  you  play  like 
a  god!" 

He  said,  "Wait  a  minute.  Wait  a  minute.  Did  you  ever 
hear  God  play?" 

That  was  his  sense  of  humor.  I  said,  "Never  mind.  You 
play  really  like  a  god." 

He  was  an  old  man  then.  He  was  well  in  his  sixties.  He 
was  born  in  1903  and  this  was  1970.  He  really  played 
fantastically.  He  was  such  a  master.  He  looked  like  an 
Adonis  on  the  stage;  the  way  he  held  the  fiddle. 


Berkowitz:          This  is  Efrem  Zimbalist,  Jr. 
C.E.:  Oh,  right.  When  was  this  taken? 


37 


Berkowitz:          Not  long  ago.  That  was  in  L.A.,  maybe  five,  six  years 
ago  [1985].  He's  an  old,  dear  friend.  His  father  was 
Efrem  Zimbalist,  one  of  the  great  fiddlers  of  the  world. 
When  Heifetz  was  a  student  of  Leopold  Auer  in 
Russia,  Auer  had  three  students  who  were  to  become 
the  greatest  of  the  world:  Heifetz,  Zimbalist  and 
Mischa  Elman. 


C.E. 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 


Would  you  tell  us  about  this  photo? 

That's  Aaron  Copland  in  the  sixties,  I  think.  In  1961 . 
By  then  he  was  already  an  old  friend  because  we 
started  working  together  in  1946  in  Tanglewood.  Next 
to  it  is  a  picture  you  haven't  seen  [not  shown  here]. 
This  was  from  the  memorial  concert  a  few  weeks  ago, 
after  his  death. 

He  was  ninety  years  old. 

It  is  amazing  that  he  should  die  just  a  few  months 
after  Bernstein  because  they  were  great  friends. 
Copland  was  a  large  influence  on  Bernstein's  life. 
There  was  eighteen  years  difference  in  their  lives- 
and  they  died  so  close  together. 

Did  they  work  together  for  many  decades? 

Well,  work  together  isn't  quite  it.  They  were  close 
friends.  Bernstein  played  and  conducted  all  of 
Copland's  music.  After  all  when  Bernstein  was  a 
teenager,  Copland  was  a  world  famous  figure. 

Do  you  know  when  they  met? 

Bernstein  wrote  about  their  meeting  at  a  concert.  He 
went  to  a  performance  in  Town  Hall  in  New  York.  Next 
to  him  was  a  man  he  didn't  know  and  somehow  or 
other  he  was  introduced-"Here's  Aaron  Copland."  It 
was  by  mere  chance.  I  don't  know  that  Copland  knew 
of  Bernstein  at  that  time. 

I  take  it  they  worked  together  at  Tanglewood  for  quite 
a  long  time. 


38 


Berkowitz:         Well,  Copland,  Bernstein  and  myself  were  together 
hundreds  of  times  in  those  eighteen  years  that  I 
worked  in  Tanglewood,  at  meetings  and  so  forth. 

C.E.:  The  inscription  on  this  one  says,  "For  Ralph  with  the 

affection  of  his  friend.  Aaron.  1961." 


C.E.: 

Berkowitz: 
C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 

Berkowitz: 
C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 
Berkowitz: 


C.E.: 


Here  we  come  to  one  of  your  old  friends. 

That's  Bernstein. 

What's  the  inscription  on  it? 

He  sent  this  to  me  on  my  seventieth  birthday  so  he 
says,  "Affectionate  congratulations  to  my  dear  old 
friend  Ralph  B.  who's  70  from  Lenny  B.  who's  only  62. 
More  power  to  you." 

That's  a  lovely  photograph  of  him. 
Oh,  it's  a  great  picture. 
And  he  lived  to  be  how  old? 

Seventy-two.  Of  course,  he  lived  so  many  lives  at  the 
same  time,  he  was  probably  28p.  He  lived  the  life  of  a 
great  conductor,  the  life  of  a  writer,  a  composer,  world 
traveller,  great  teacher.  The  thing  he  was  most  proud 
of  was  his  teaching. 

Really! 

Oh  yes.  The  Children's  Concerts  with  the 
Philharmonic  are  historic  documents.  The  many 
books  he  wrote  are  all  based  on  the  teaching  he  did. 
He  felt  most  at  home  as  a  teacher.  In  Europe  he's 
considered  much  more  of  a  composer  than  in 
America,  although  now  we're  coming  to  see  that  he 
was  an  important  composer. 

I've  always  been  very  impressed  by  his  compositions. 
I  think  he  wrote  the  best  orchestral  score  of  any 
musical  ever  written. 


39 


Berkowitz:          West  Side  Story.  Certainly.  Candide  and  On  the  Town. 
Colossal  output.  That's  why  I  say  he  lived  at  least 
three  lives  because  all  of  this  was  going  at  the  same 
time. 

C.E.:  I  remember  seeing  his  children's  concerts  on  TV  at 

school.  They  were  electrifying.  He  made  the  music 
come  alive. 

Berkowitz:         Absolutely.  It  was  memorable. 


C.E.:  Here  we  are  in  front  of  your  lovely  house  in 

Albuquerque,  New  Mexico. 


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music  festival 

C/    OF  ALBUQUERQUE.  INC. 


Ralph  Berkowitz 

An  80th 

Birthday 

Celebration 


September  5,  1990  at  8:15 
Keller  Hall,  University  of  New  Mexico,  Albuquerque 


Ralph  Berkowitz  born  New  York 
City  1910 

Graduate  of  Curtis  Institute  of  Music 
1935  -  Staff  until  1940 

Joins  Gregor  Piatigorsky  1940  for  30 
years  of  association  —  Tours  in  many 
parts  of  the  world  —  recordings  for 
RCA  Victor  and  Columbia  Records 

Pianist  in  June  Music  Festival,  Albu 
querque  —  1946-1972  —  appeared  250 
times  in  123  works 

Executive  Assistant  to  Serge 
Koussevitzky  —  1946,  and  later  Dean 
of  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra's 
Tanglewood  Music  Center  until  1965 

Manager  of  Albuquerque  (now  New 
Mexico)  Symphony  Orchestra  — 
1958-1969 

Pianist  with  Felix  Salmond,  Janos 
Starker,  Raya  Garbousova,  Jan  Peerce, 
Josef  Gingold,  Leonid  Kogan,  Joseph 
Silverstein,  Phyllis  Curtin,  Zara  Nelsova 
and  Eudice  Shapiro  in  various 
performances  —  1930-1970 

Summer  1950  -  coaches  Eleanor 
Roosevelt  for  her  narration  of  'Peter 
and  the  Wolf  with  Serge  Koussevitzky 
and  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra 

Transcriptions  and  arrangements 
published  by  G  Schirmer,  Elkan-Vogel, 
Associated  and  Galaxy  in  USA;  in 
Europe,  Universal  Editions,  Austria; 
Durand  et  Cie,  France;  B  Schott 
Sohne,  Germany. 

Articles  published  by  Penguin  Books 
(London),  Etude  Magazine  and  The 
Juilliard  Review. 

Television  programs:  "The  Arts"  63 
half-hour  talks  on  Channel  5 

Lectures  at  Columbia  University, 
University  of  Southern  California, 
Albright  Museum,  Buffalo;  Franklin 
Institute,  Philadelphia;  Tanglewood 

One-man  shows  of  paintings: 
Philadelphia;  Berkshire  Museum, 
Pittsfield,  Mass;  Jonson  Gallery, 

UNM 


Norman  Rockwell  and  Ralph  Berkowitz 


Ralph  Berkowitz  and  Erich  Leinsdorf 


Ralph  Berkowitz  and  Witold  Lutoslawski 


Ralph  Berkmvitz  addressing  students  at  Tanglewood. 
At  Right:  Mrs.  Serge  Koussevitzky  and  Aaron  Copland 


Left  to  Right:  Cregor  Piatigorsky,  Franz  Waxman,  Isaac  Stern  and  Ralph  Berkowitz 


Ralph  Berkountz  and  Eugene  Ormandy 


Left  to  Right:  Lutes 
fbss,  Ralph  Berkowitz, 
Felicia  Bernstein, 
Leonard  Bernstein  and 
Hugh  Ross 


Ralph  Berkmvitz  and  Gregor  Piatigorsky  in  Tokyo 


Serge  Koussmitzky,  Cregor  Piatigorsky  and  Ralph  Berkowitz 


Eleanor  Roosevelt  and  Ralph  Berkowitz 


Letters  , 


KURT  FmOMICK 
«70»   »AWl«  »VINU« 


" 


ISAAC  STERN 


January  12.  1990 


Sfngr^ich  e"r1ch«  us  *"• 

" 


DEAR  Ralph: 

Congratulations 
many  of  you  wit 
I  could  be  With  you  on  this  sisniri™, 


cn  your  aothll   There  .„  not  too 

of    ou  with  your  brmiint  background.°y°° 

' 


> Stern 


/ 
yfc 


fc*-^4 


/ 


Tangleivood  ivos  my  musical  alma  mater,  and  Ralph  Berkowitz  one  of 
my  maestri  there.  I  do  not  remember  meeting  Ralph,  I  simply  see  us 
right  now  in  a  corner  room  of  the  main  house,  I  singing  away  and 
Ralph  leading  me  into  the  unexplored  wonders  of  Hindemith's  Das 
Marienleben  just  as  though  we  had  known  one  another  for  a  long  time. 
I  learned  an  enormous  amount  and  Ralph  fortunately  had  great 
patience  and  humor.  The  humor  made  the  great  things  in  the  music 
we  studied  together  available  and  vital.  Certainly  Ralph  then,  later  and 
throughout  my  singing  years  was  there  in  the  humanity  of  music, 
loving  it  and  smiling  over  all  those  years.  What  a  delight! 

from  Phyllis  Curtin,  Dean,  School  for  the  Arts,  Boston  University 


LEONARD  BERNSTE 


December  1,  1989 


NEW  YORK.   NEW  YORK   IOI2B 


Ralph  Berkowitz 
523  14th  street  NW 
Albuquerque,  NM  87104 


Dear  old  friend  Ralph 


musical  giftedness 
Long  life, 


INDIANA  UNIVERSITY 


Oil  0i  US-  * 


««   j 


Berkowitz  is  a  wa«  o/  impeccable  man 
ners  and  taste,  awesome  erudition,  unflap 
pable  temperament,  and  a  pixieish  sense  of 
humor  that  combine  to  make  him  a  true 
Superman  of  our  time.  Long  may  he  enrich 
the  lives  of  all  who  know  and  love  him. 

from  Martin  Bookspan,  New  York  City 
Radio  and  TV  commentator 


I  can't  believe  its  80!  Felicitations,  love 
and  greetings.  A  toast  to  our  togetherness 
of  so  many  years! 

from  Eudice  Shapiro 
University  of  Southern  California 


Honorary  Patrons  &  Friends 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clinton  Adams 

Martin  and  Phyllis  Atkin 

Beth  Hodgson  Berkowitz 

Leonard  Bernstein 

Jorge  Bolet 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  Bookspan 

Frank  Bowen 

Nancy  Briggs 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Albert  Carlin 

David  and  Anne  Cole 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maynard  Cowan 

Phyllis  Curtin 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Dalley 

Joanna  de  Keyser 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  H.  Dolde 

Mrs.  Rudolf  Dreyer 

Maurice  Dubonnet 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Artemus  Edwards 

Carolyn  Erbele 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Esenwein 

Leonard  and  Arlette  Felberg 

Mrs.  Stanley  Fletcher 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Kurt  Frederick 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morris  Gerber 

Josef  Gingold 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gary  Graffman 

Jeanne  Grealish 

Ronald  F.  Grinage 

Bennett  A.  Hammer 

Nancy  Lee  Harper 

Helen  Heath 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Hooton 

Anthony  B.  Jeffries  and 
Susan  Stockstill 

Joye  Johnson 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dale  Kempter 
Drs.  Mario  and  Asja  Kornfeld 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kurt  Kubie 


Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ulrich  Luft 

Beverly  Marfut 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rosario  Mazzeo 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  Monte 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Federico  Mora 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Juan  R.  Mora 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  S.  Morrison 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  Myers 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Avrum  Organick 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peter  Parnegg 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  D.  Perry 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peter  Pesic 

Mrs.  Gregor  Piatigorsky 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mark  Pike 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Randall 

Mrs.  Helen  Reiser 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Robb,  Jr. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Robert 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Rosenberg 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Sol  Schoenbach 

Joan  Schuman 

Eudice  Shapiro 

Robert  Sherman 

W.  H.  Shultz 

Mrs.  Sherman  E.  Smith 

Jane  Snow 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  David  Soyer 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  H.  Spiegel 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  Steinhardt 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Isaac  Stern 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Peter  D.  Stern 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Neal  Stulberg 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Taichert 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Yoshimi  Takeda 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Michael  Tree 

Ray  Twohig  and  Rebecca  Sitterly 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Weinrod 

Faine  Wright 


Artists 

Frank  Bowen 

Flute 

Joanna  de  Keyser 

Cello 

Artemus  Edwards 

Bassoon 

Arlette  Felberg 

Piano 

Leonard  Felberg 

Violin 

Shirley  Gerber 

Piano 

George  Robert 

Piano 


Leonard  Felberg 

Program  Coordinator 


The  June  Music  Festival  wishes  to 
issue  a  special  thank  you  to  tonight 
artists  for  their  donation  of  time  an 
talent  and  to  Virginia  Mora  for  her 
fund  raising  efforts  for  this  concert. 


Program 


Beethoven        Trio  for  Flute,  Bassoon  and  Piano 
Thema  andante  con  variazioni 

Debussy        "Syrinx"  for  Solo  Flute 

Faure        Sonata  in  A  Major  for  Violin  and  Piano,  Opus  13 

Allegro  molto 
Allegro  quasi  presto 

Corelli        Adagio  for  Bassoon  and  Piano 

Arensky        Trio  in  D  Minor  for  Violin,  Cello  and  Piano,  Opus  32 
Allegro  moderate 


INTERMISSION 


Saint-Saens        Carnival  of  the  Animals:  Grand  Zoological  Fantasia 

Introduction  &  Royal  March  of  the  Lions 

Roosters  and  Hens 

Fleet  Animals 

Tortoises 

The  Elephant 

Kangaroos 

Aquarium 

Personages  with  Long  Ears 

The  Cuckoo 

Birds 

Pianists 

Fossils 

The  Swan 

Finale 

Version  for  Two  Pianos 
by  Ralph  Berkowitz 

Rhymed  Commentaries  by  Ogden  Nash 
Narrated  by  Mr.  Berkowitz 


BOARD  OF  DIRECTORS 

James  K.  Walton,  President 
Michael  Langner,  Vice  President 
Lillian  Dolde,  Secretary 
Bruce  Howden,  Treasurer 

Mrs.  James  Conrad 
Arlette  Felberg 
Douglas  Fuller 
Col.  Stacy  Gooch 
Jeanne  Grealish 
Lyn  Hagaman 
Tom  Holley 
Mary  Keeling 
Dale  Kempter 
Carol  N.  Kinney 
Dr.  Michael  Linver 
Arthur  Loy 
Don  Robertson 
Ruth  Ronan 
Alison  Schuler 
Libby  Spiegel 
Susan  Stern 
Col.  F.  E.  Timlin 
Marva  Vollmar 
Barbara  Wasylenki 
Harold  Van  Winkle 

HONORARY  BOARD  MEMBERS 

Robert  L.  Bovinette 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  E.  Clark 
George  Hinson-Rider 
Arthur  H.  Spiegel 

THE  JUNE  MUSIC  FESTIVAL 
50TH  ANNIVERSARY  COMMITTEE 

Arlette  Felberg,  Chairman 
Mrs.  James  Conrad 
Lillian  Dolde 
Leonard  Felberg 
Jeanne  Grealish 
Dale  Kempter 
Carol  N.  Kinney 
Michael  Langner 
Arthur  Loy 
Virginia  Mora 
Ruth  Ronan 
Libby  Spiegel 
Susan  Stern 
Diane  Teare 
Col.  F.  E.  Timlin 
James  K.  Walton 
Barbara  Wasylenki 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Department  of  Music, 
University  of  New  Mexico 

College  of  Fine  Arts, 
University  of  New  Mexico 

Artists  on  tonight's  concert 


This  Concert  Inaugurates 
the  50th  Season 

of 
The  June  Music  Festival 

of  Albuquerque 


For  more  information  about  the  June  Music  Festival,  write: 
June  Music  Festival,  P.O.  Box  35081,  Albuquerque,  New  Mexico  87176 

or  call  505  888-1842 


Thr  Dean  of  the  Berkshire  Music  Center  gives  a  highly 

ter eating  behind-the-scene  vieiv  of  the  details  involved 

in  getting  400  students  lined  up  for  their 

summer  musical  experiences. 

• 

by  RALPH  BERKOWITZ 


N7INE  O'CLOCK  on  a  Monday  morning  last  July,  some  400 
music  students  from  all  corners  of  the  earth  began  a  six 
session  of  study  at  Tanglewood — a  place-name  which  has 
ved  more  fame  than  any  other  musical  center  in  our  country, 
lewood,  with  its  literarj  associations  going  back  for  a  century, 
low  become  a  source  of  vital  interest  to  students  of  music  in 
ra.  Rio  de  Janeiro,  Tel-Aviv,  and  Los  Angeles.  At  no  time  in 
:ica  s  musical  growing-up  has  a  school  accomplished  so  much 
lickK ,  nor  have  influences  made  themselves  so  apparent  as 
emanating  from  Tanglewood's  Berkshire  Music  Center, 
e  Berkshire  Music  Center,  Serge  Koussevitzky's  name  for 
nusic  school  he  founded  in  association  with  the  Berkshire 
val,  which  had  begun  the  Boston  S\  mphony  Orchestra  summer 
:rts  in  the  Berkshire  Hills  a  few  years  earlier,  has  recently 
'leted  its  tenth  anniversary  session. 

may  be  interesting  to  share  a  behind-the-sccne  view  of  what 
ens  in  order  to  get  400  students  to  begin  their  summer  of 
;il  experience  on  that  Monday  in  early  July.  Work  on  the 
session  began  directly  after  the  last  concert  of  the  Berkshire 
lal  more  than  a  year  ago.  Soon  after  the  10.000  listeners' 
use  had  stopped  reverberating  in  the  great  Shed,  while  the 
in  Symphony  musicians  were  slowly  packing  their  travel 
5  and  crews  began  their  usual  after-concert  cleaning-up  of 
lewood's  vast  rolling  lawns,  the  school's  Faculty  Board  met 
e  Library  for  the  last  time  that  summer.  This  meeting  of 
les  Munch  who  was  to  become  the  Music  Center's  director, 
Aaron  Copland,  Leonard  Bernstein,  Boris  Goldovsky,  William 
,  Hugh  Ross,  Richard  Burgin,  Thomas  Perry,  the  executive 
tary,  and  myself,  consisted  of  a  critical  estimate  of  the  school's 
and  a  man  by  man  platform  of  what  ought  to  be  done  for 
allowing  summer's  musical  planning, 
is  necessary  to  understand  that  music  study  at  Tanglewood 


does  not  consist  of  getting  lessons  in  voice  or  on  one's  instrument. 
It  was  Koussevilzky's  view  that  qualified  young  musicians  should 
come  together  for  ensemble  work  of  a  type  which  no  private 
teacher  or  consenatory  could  offer.  So  that  from  the  numerous 
chamber-music  groups  up  through  the  larger  choruses,  the  opera 
productions  and  the  student  symphony  orchestra,  the  young  musi 
cian  at  Tanglewood  is  constantly  in  a  milieu  which  his  winter 
study  is  not  likely  to  afford  him.  The  summer's  work  is,  therefore, 
in  no  sense  a  form  of  competition  with  private  or  conservatory 
stud\,  but  rather  a  pendant  which  broadens  the  future  musician's 
horizon. 

The  Berkshire  Music  Center's  five  departments  each  in  their 
way  offer  this  type  of  music-making.  Department  One  is  the 
chamber  music  and  orchestral  division  of  the  school. 

An  oboe  student  in  Cleveland,  let  us  say,  has  heard  of  Tangle- 
wood  and  wants  to  come  there  to  play  in  the  orchestra.  He  wntes 
to  Symphony  Hall  in  Boston,  where  each  mail  from  Noveniber 
,on  brings  queries  and  requests  for  acceptance.  Application  forms 
are  sent  along  with  word  that  an  audition  committee  from  the 
Berkshire  Music  Center  will  be  in  Cleveland's  Severance  Hall 
on  April  17th  from  1  to  4  o'clock.  As  the  weeks  go  by  oboists 
in  Chicago,  New  York.  Tulsa  and  Dallas  also  apply.  With  one 
of  the  letters  will  come  a  recommendation  from  a  1946  conduct 
ing  student  at  Tanglewood  that  this  boy  in  Kansas  City  is  a 
terrific  talent  and  looks  like  a  coming  first  oboe  for  any  major 
orchestra.  Several  former  oboe  students'  applications  also  roll  in 
toward  spring  and  a  few  European  students  apply  as  well. 

Guileless  in  spirit  and  armed  with  forms,  audition  reports  and 
lots  of  orchestral  music,  a  committee  leaves  Boston  in  April  for 
a  few  weeks  of  auditions  in  an  area  bounded  by  Toronto,  St.  Louis 
and  Baltimore.  Duly  on  April  17th  at  1  o'clock  they  are  in 
Severance  Hall  in  Cleveland  and  among  violinists,  sopranos,  trum- 


ETIJDE—FERRVARY 


n  Copland    \\ith    inembrr*   «t    hi-    composition    rla--    al     ljni:lr 


Taniilcwood  stml.-iil-  relaxing  during  lunch  hour  in  front  of  Concert  Hall 


und  tubas  the  oboe  applicant  appears.  He  plays  a  increment 
adandel  Coneerto  in  which  the  warmth  and  steadiness  of  his 
are  apparent.  The  stylistic  treatment  of  the  music  shows  a 
ml  refinement.  The  quick  movement  is  dashing  and  spirited, 
:rtirulation  of  some  passages  is  rather  lacking  in  control.  He 
Ifed  to  read  some  music  at  sight.  Has  he  had  orchestral  ex- 
ik-e?  No.  He  has  only  been  studying  three  and  a  half  years, 
boe  part  of  a  Mendelssohn  Symphony  is  placed  before  him. 
j*mically  weak  but  tonally  a  good  result.  Another  try  at  it. 
itime  much  better  rhythmically  but  as  the  passage  goes  along 
eadiness  of  tone  is  lost.  How  about  a  try  at  some  Brahms? 
eirst  reading  is  poor.  A  few  moments  to  look  at  it  and  then 
a  shines  through  again.  A  grasp  of  the  style,  good  tone,  some 
•It  rhythms  well  achieved. 

•about  ten  minutes  the  auditors  know  whether  this  young 
lian  is  likely  to  hold  his  own  in  a  first-rate  student  orchestra. 
«he  have  the  solid  make-up  for  the  first  desk?  Is  he  flexible 
^h?  Is  his  mastery  of  the  instrument  up  to  following  a  can- 
w'*  stick  in  an  unfamiliar  work?  Can  he  learn  quickly?  Is 
ftveak  talent  well-taught  or  a  fine  talent  poorly-taught?  Will 
I  able  to  take  part  in  a  woodwind  quintet  working  on  Hinde- 
:lin  the  afternoon  following  a  morning  of  orchestral  rehearsal 
fcthoven  and  Stravinsky? 

lew  weeks  later  in  Boston,  having  listened  to  several  hundred 
iants  in  more  than  a  dozen  cities,  their  audition  reports  bear- 
tile  tale  of  talents  high  and  low,  the  auditors  begin  to  weed 
:ke  unprepared  as  well  as  the  too  professional.  When  the -oboe 
on    is   considered,   it   is   done    in   collaboration    with   Louis 
lr,  the  faculty  member  from  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra 
'tenting  that  instrument.  It  is  necessary  to  choose  five  oboists 
•  of  whom  shall  also  pjay  the  English  Horn — from  the  many 
ried  out,  and  also,  of  course,  from  those  too  far  away  to 
been  able  to  travel  to  an  audition  city, 
things  considered,   the  Cleveland   oboe  student   is  written 
ling  him  that  five  oboes  have  been  selected  for  Tanglewood 
liat  he  is  not  among  them,  but  that  his  talent  and  ability  have 
him  on  an  alternate  list  and  in  the  event  that  someone  should 
out.  etc.  etc.  Ten  days  later  one  of  the  accepted  oboists  writes 
delighted  as  he  is  to  have  been    (Continued  on  Pace  50) 


(above)    Charles  Munch  conducts  a  rehearsal  of  the  student  orchestra, 
(below)    Leonard    Bern?tein   conducting   the   student  orchestra. 


rui  ....  educational 

ILDHOOD  DAYS 
iMOUS  COMPOSERS 

a  series  by 

illsworth  Coit 

and  Ruth  Bampton 

offer  well-known  and  appealing  little  pieces 
•ortunity  for  young  students  to  gain  under- 
ml  appreciation  of  the  works  of  famous 

contains  a  simply  written  biography,  a  pic- 

composer,  and  scenes  from  his  life.  Easy- 

ces  have  heen   arranged  so   that   they   retain 

il  elements  of  the  original  composition.  Also 

re   directions   for   constructing   a   miniature 

jestioiis  for  a  musical  playlet,  and  a  list  of 

nrdings.   For  use  in  school  or  at   home,   for 

jom  5  to  12.  Each  hook  $.40. 

DBACH  410-40023 

(O  Saviour  Sweet,  Musette,  Minuet  in  G-minor,  While 
by  (from  the  "Peasant"  Cantata).  Piano  Duet:  My 
aithful. 

:  BEETHOVEN  410-40024 

>1  A  Country  Dance,  Minuet  in  G,  Theme  (from  the 
^ny),  The  Metronome  Theme  (from  the  Eighth  Sym- 
fale  (from  the  Ninth  Symphony).  Piano  Duet:  Al 
ii  the  Seventh  Symphony) 

:BRAHMS  410-41014 

iFavorite  Waltz  (from  Waltz  in  Ab),  Waltz,  Lullaby, 
hdman.  Piano  Duet:  Hungarian  Dance  No.  5 

KHOPIN  41040025 

•Nocturne  in  Eb,  Valse  in  A  minor.  Prelude,  Theme 
lliade  in  Ab  major),  "Butterfly"  Etude.  Piano  Duet: 
flA  Major. 

JHANDEL  410-40026 

(Minuet  in  F,  Air  (from  Rinaldo),  Hornpipe,  The  Har- 
iksmith,  Largo  (from  Xerxes).  Piano  Duet:  Hallelujah 
»  the  Messiah). 

»HAYDN  410-40027 

iGypsy  Rondo,  Minuet  and  Andante  (from  the  "Sur- 
»ny),  Andante  (from  the  "Clock"  Symphony),  Beauty 
i  (The  Emperor's  Hymn).  Piano  Duet:  The  "Toy" 

>MOZART  410-40028 

lAllegro  and  Minuet  in  F  (both  composed  at  age 
(Don  Juan),  Theme  (from  the  Sonata  No.  1  1  in  A 
'from  Don  Juan).  Piano  Duet  is  from  No.  39  in 
I,  composed  at  age  eight. 

SCHUBERT  410-41003 

»  Hark!  Hark!  the  Lark,  Moment  Musical,  Theme 
'hfinished"  Symphony).  Piano  Duet:  Military  March 
iMilitaire. 

ffSCHAIKOWSKY  410-40029 

t'heme  from  the  "Allegro"  of  the  "Sixth  Symphony," 
i"Marche  Slav,"  Theme  from  "June"  (Barcarolle), 
»he  Piano  Concerto  No.  1.  Piano  Duet:  Troika 

:DORE  PRESSER  co. 

fN   MAWR,   PENNSYLVANIA 


i!iliili!iililii!iiiiiiiii!ilii!i!n  •  liil.  i.1.  .•!. 


(Continued  from  Page 


honored  by  our  acceptance  and  as 
much  as  he  has  been  looking  forward 
to  spending  a  summer  in  Tangle- 
wood,  he  has  just  been  offered  a  job 
playing  for  the  summer  opera  in 
New  Orleans  and  since  he  needs  the 
money  badly  he  hopes  we  are  not 
too  inconvenienced  by  his  with 
drawal  at  this  time,  very  truly.  Al 
ternate  lists  are  brought  out  and  a 
telegram  goes  to  Cleveland.  Our 
young  applicant  has  made  it. 

The  choice  of  all  the  other  orches 
tral  students  takes  place  in  a  like 
manner.  Auditions,  recommendations 
by  astute  musicians,  attendance  at  a 
previous  Tanglewood  session,  re 
quests  from  UNESCO,  the  winning 
of  a  National  Federation  of  Music 
Clubs'  contest — from  these  and  sim 
ilar  sources  the  40  violins.  12  violas. 
10  cellos.  10  contrabasses.  5  flutes. 
5  oboes.  5  clarinets.  4  bassoons.  8 
French  Horns.  5  trumpets.  5  trom 
bones,  the  tuba.  3  harps,  and  5  per 
cussion  students  are  assembled  for 
work  under  Leonard  Bernstein. 

All  the  orchestral  students  are 
given  scholarships  but  will  be  obliged 
to  pay  for  tlfeir  living  expenses, 
which  in  the  dormitories  is  $175. 
The  tuition  scholarship  in  the  value 
of  $150  is  part  of  the  Tanglewood 
Revolving  Scholarship  Fund,  and 
each  student  signs  a  promise  of  will 
ingness  to  repay  a  like  amount  when 
his  circumstances  win  permit,  so 
that  other  orchestras  will  be  able  to 
assemble  in  the  Shed  in  years  to 
come.  This  intricate  procedure  of 
putting  a  student  orchestra  together 
from  all  points  of  the  compass  dur 
ing  the  spring  weeks,  is  matched  by 
other  departments  and  divisions  of 
the  school. 

Department  Two.  the  choral  de 
partment,  is  assembling  with  a  two 
fold  purpose.  It  must  form  a  class  of 
choral  conductors  for  work  with 
Hugh  Ross,  and  a  Small  Choir  of 
40  to  50  choral  singers  that  will 
form  the  nucleus  of  the  great  Fes 
tival  Chorus  which  will  perform 
later  with  the  Boston  Symphony  in 
the  Berkshire  Festival. 

Department  Three  is  devoted  to 
Composition.  It  is  the  most  restricted 
in  numbers  and  accepts  students  of 
what  one  might  call  post-graduate 
level.  After  examining  a  mountainous 
heap  of  scores,  about  twenty  com 
posers  were  accepted  in  1952  for 
study  with  either  Aaron  Copland. 
Luigi  Dallapicolla  or  Lukas  Foss. 
The  list  of  former  instructors  in 
vited  from  Europe  who  have  been 
associated  with  Copland  in  Tangle- 
wood's  Department  Three  is  extraor 
dinarily  strong  in  the  varied  influ 
ences  which  young  American  com 
posers  have  faced.  Past  summers 
have  seen  such  figures  as  Hinde- 
inirh.  Lopatnikoff,  Honegger,  Mil- 
baud,  Messiaen,  and  Ibert  in  resi 
dence  at  the  Berkshire  Music  Center. 
The  Opera  Department — Depart 


ment  Four — of  necessity  becomes  one 
of  the  most  complex  problems  of 
assembly.  In  order  to  function  as  a 
complete  opera  theatre,  students  are 
accepted  for  work  here  in  stage  di 
recting,  scenic  design,  costuming 
and  lighting.  Student  coaches  and 
stage  directors  are  interviewed.  Boris 
Goldovsky,  the  opera's  Head,  and 
other  faculty  members  such  as  Paul 
Ulanovsky  and  Felix  Wolfes  listen 
to  hundreds  of  singers  in  various 
parts  of  the  country.  Those  accept 
able  are  assigned  to  one  of  three 
divisions — Active,  Associate,  or  Au 
ditor — depending  upon  vocal  ability, 
knowledge  of  operatic  repertoire, 
and  character  type. 

Audition  reports,  applications,  sup 
plementary  forms  with  height, 
weight,  studies,  and  operatic  reper 
toire,  song  repertoire,  questionnaires, 
and  numerous  letters,  swell  the  opera 
department's  files  quickly.  By  June 
first  they  are  enormous.  But  by  thai 
time  there  are  about  fifty  singers  and 
around  thirty  students  chosen  for 
the  other  divisions  of  coaching,  stage 
directing,  and  scenic  design.  These 
are  all  briefed  by  letter  during  June 
concerning  the  productions  they  will 
work  on  during  the  summer. 

At  that  Faculty  Board  meeting 
more  than  a  year  ago.  one  of  the 
things  most  discussed  was  the  choice 
of  a  suitable  musician  to  head  De 
partment  Five.  Many  musicians  and 
educators  were  considered  as  pos 
sible  for  this  invitation  until  the  field 
was  narrowed  down  to  a  California 
composer — Ingolf  Dahl. 

Tanglewood's  Department  Five  is 
the  division  to  which  musical  ama 
teurs  and  the  less  advanced  student 
are  invited.  It  also  is  intended  for  the 
music  teacher  from  Arkansas  who 
wants  a  clean  sweep  of  new  musical 
excitement  and  the  New  York  teacher 
who  wants  to  relax  under  an  elm 
and  listen  to  the  Boston  Symphony 
Orchestra  rehearsing  in  the  distance. 
I  brought  this  challenge  of  the  het- 
erogenous  group  to  Ingolf  Dahl  in 
California  last  September,  and  a 
month  later  we  again  met  in  New 
York  with  Aaron  Copland.  Hugh 
Ross,  and  Thomas  Perry  to  plan  a 
workable  musical  activity  for  De 
partment  Five — renamed  the  Tan 
glewood  Study  Group. 

Enrollment  in  the  Study  Group  is 
simple;  it  only  requires  the  ability 
to  read  music.  In  order  to  keep  to 
a  well-defined  and  not  over-ambitious 
project — the  music  to  be  studied — 
sung  and  played — was  restricted  to 
16th  to  18th  century  compositions 
and  simple  modern  ones  adaptable  to 
groups  of  various  sizes.  Here  the 
amateur  flutist — during  the  rest  of 
the  year  an  industrial  engineer,  and 
the  violist  who  teaches  mathematics 
at  a  large  university — could  indulge 
in  serious  music-making  under  ex 
pert  guidance,  for  fun. 

Another    factor   which    sought    to 


the  Taniilewood  Study  Group 
oils  musical  holiday  was  to  per- 
wo-week  and  four-week  enroll- 
in  it,  as  well  as  for  the  usual 
eeks  of  the  session.  The  110 
joined  the  work  with  Ingolf 

•  •jaUn  sanj;  in  the  Festival  Chorus 

•  I    Charles    Munch,    listened    to 
»,jn     Symphony     rehearsals     and 
iilh«  it  were,  a  constant  bird's-eye 
(Mof  Tanglewood's  numerous  ac- 
ijljs.  The  nature  of  Tanglewood's 
I  ties — its  40  or  so  student  con- 
fa  its  lecture  courses — is  one  of 
t  ominant    problems   during   the 
tr  mouths  of  planning. 

I    nunl    Bernstein  says  he  would 
»  he    student    orchestra    to    play 
Iff'   "Don    Quixote"    at    one    of 
JJekly  concerts.  Fine.  But  will  we 
il  a    cellist    strong    enough    for 
jjlo  part?  Mr.  Munch  plans  the 
ilz  "Requiem."   Will   our   brass 
Ints  be  capable  of  taking  part  in 
I  ctra  bauds  which  the  score  re- 
14?    Will    the   choral    repertoire 
jaogni/anci-  of  the  newest  trends 
iral  writing  and  still  give  con 
's   and    -in<rers   enough    of   the 
:    repertoire?     William     Kroll 
;ts  that  an  American  work  be 
ed  on  each  of  the  six  chamber- 
concerts.   Is  the   talent   avail 


able  in  the  Department  to  undertak 
this?    Hugh   Ross  would  like  to  in 
elude  a  new  work  on  a  Small  Choi 
program  which  needs  13  instruments 
Can  some  students  of  orchestra  am 
chamber-music    find    lime    for   this 
The  opera  department's  major  pro 
duclion    will    be    Mo/art's    "Titus. 
The   orchestra    for    it    is   small    an< 
needs    few    winds.    What    work    can 
he   found   for   the   remainder   of  til* 
orchestra     now     largely     woodwind 
and  brass?  The  Heifet/.  Award.  th< 
I'iatigorsky     Prize,     the     Wechsle 
Award  must  be  given  to  worthy  tal 
ents  at  the  end  of  the  session.  Are 
they  appearing  in  the  enrollment? 

The  winter  meetings  in  New  York 
and  Boston  for  such  problems  anc 
for  the  discussion  of  ideas  which 
occur  to  thinking  musicians  seeking 
as  a  group  to  carry  out  an  ideal 
makes  the  year  go  by  quickly.  Tan 
glewood's  ideal  is  a  living  and  work 
ing  in  music  by  a  body  of  musician* 
and  music  students  seeking  to  fur 
ther  the  art  they  serve,  and  also  to 
further  the  art  of  this  country. 

For  those  of  us  who  work  for  Tan- 
glewood  there  is  not  much  time  to 
slow  down.  July  1953  and  Tangle- 
wood's  eleventh  session  are  almost 
here.  THE  END 


SMALL  PIPE  ORGANS 
CAN  BE  EFFECTIVE 

(Continued  from  Puge  24) 


ne  era  is  that,  compared  with 
my  orchestras  of  that  day.  it 

e  only  instrument  capable  of 

a  cathedral  with  sound, 
•y  instrument  has  its  charac- 
tinibre.  its  individual  tone- 
An  organ  which  is  voiced  with 
clmique  used  by  Mr.  White 
to  an  astonishing  degree 
we  think  of  as  characteristic 

tone.    It   is   the   sort    of   tone 
encourages      congregational 

;.  There  is  no  fat  llute  tone 
ter  I  lie  sound:  one  is  not  con- 

of  loud  solo  stops  as  such, 
•merge*  i>  a  fine  "chorus"  tone 
ed  by  an  unusually  small  nuin- 

pipes. 

luch  for  the  small  Miiller.  The 
is  equally  worth  investigat- 
ne  of  these  sjnall  organs  is 
ed  in  the  chapel  of  the  Uni- 

of  Chicago,  another  is  at  the 
sity  of  Michigan,  and  a  third 

he    Metropolitan    Museum    of 

New  York. 

Rieger  is  one  of  the  most  in- 
sly  built  organs  of  our  time, 
rallv  any  music  can  be  played 
as  Robert  Noeliren  of  the  Uni- 

of  Michigan  proves  when  he 


demonstrates  the  Rieger. 

It  may  not  be  quite  fair  to  place 
the  Rieger  in  the  same  category  with 
the  small  Miiller  and  other  small 
organs  now  being  built  in  the  United 
States.  The  Miiller  has  about  200 
pipes:  the  Rieger  has  something 
over  1200.  Obviously,  then,  in  sheer 
physical  resources  the  Rieger  has 
about  a  six  to  one  advantage  to  start 
with. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Rieger  can 
only  be  classified  as  a  small  iu~lru- 
ment.  It  occupies  little  more  floor 
space  than  a  grand  piano,  its  entire 
assembly  is  less  than  eight  feet  high, 
and  il  i>  semi-portable.  Within  this 
tight  space  is  fitted  a  complete  organ, 
two  manuals  and  pedal,  with  twenty- 
one  registers  and  twenty-three  ranks 
— a  very  respectable  total. 

Comparing  the  Miiller  and  Rieger 
instruments,  it  might  be  said  that 
the  Miiller  represents  fine  results 
achieved  with  absolute  economy  of 
means,  while  the  Rieger  is  an  in 
strument  of  ample  resources  tied  up 
in  an  unusually  neat  package.  Both 
reflect  highest  credit  on  the  men  re 
sponsible  for  their  design  and  con 
struction.  THE  E>n 


Ernftlo  llrrumrn 


ERNESTO  BERUMEN  ENDORSES  GUIl 

Address.    La    Forqe-Berumen    Studios 
1040    Park    Aye..    New   York   28.    N.   Y 

"Congratulations,  Dr.  Allison! 

To  my  mind,  the  outstanding  thing  about 
Guild  is  the  outside  adjudication.  The  stu 
becomes  accustomed  to  his  teacher's  ways 
to  the  repeated  commendations  and  correct 
When  the  adjudicator,  who  is  a  stranger,  s( 
some  of  the  same  things  in  different  wore 
re-awakens  the  pupil  to  renewed  efforts." 

—Ernesto  Berum< 


NATIONAL  GUILD  OF  PIANO  TEACHERS 


Founded   1929   by   hi   Allison    M.A.,   Mat.  D. 


BOX  1113 


AUSTIN.  Tl 


TANGLEWOOD-1953 

BERKSHIRE  MUSIC  CENTER 

Charles  Munch,  Director 
Aaron  Copland,  Assistant  Director 

A  summer  school  of  music  maintained  by  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra 
connection  with  the  Berkshire  Festival  concerts. 

X  July  5  to  August  16 

Courses  in  Orchestra  &  Conducting  (Leonard  Bernstein),  Chamber  Mi 
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Chavez),  and  Opera  (Boris  Goldovsky).  Faculty  includes  twenty  members 
the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  including  the  Principals. 

, Tanglewood  Study  Group — Ingolf  Dahl 

A  special  course  for  music  educators,  general  music  students  and  amateurs.  Enr 
ments  of  two,  four,  or  six  weeks. 

for  Catalog  please  address  Miss  E.  Bossier 

Berkshire   Music   Center 
Symphony   Hall.   Boston   15.   Massachusetts 


Solid  Silver  Flutes  —  Piccolos 
108  ffiassadiugfttg  Sbe.  Boston  15,  #1 


THE  JOY  BOOKS  by  Nell  Wait  Harvey 


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WHAT  EVERY  ACCOMPANIST  KNOWS  41 

si.ic  of  the  net  to  respond  to  the  demands  of  the  game,  so  in 
evaluation  by  music-critics,  it  would  seem,  the  efforts  of 
both  partners  in  music-making  should  be  considered. 
Ihis  code  towards  accompanists  is  reminiscent  of 
critical  practice  a  generation  ago  in  the  reviewing  of  string 
quartet  performances.  Until  fairly  recently  the  first  violinist 
'1  a  string  quartet  was  considered  its  'leader',  and  one 
would  read,  as  for  instance  in  a  George  Bernard  Shaw 
mus.c  review  of  ,890,  'every  quartet  I  have  heard  Joachim 
lead  this  season  has  renewed  and  increased  my  admiration 
»  him  .  The  music  critic  of  to-day,  hand-in-hand  with  all 
serious  artists,  is  building  a  solid  musical  culture  in  this 
untry.  He  would  not  distort  for  his  readers  the  absolute 
equality  of  a  string  quartet  when  wridng,  say,  of  the 
Budapest  Quartet,  by  considering  solely  Mr  Josef  Rois- 
mann,  its  first  violinist.  And  therefore  the  plea  of  the 
accompanist  to-day  is  certainly  not  for  undue  prominence 
It  is  rather  a  hope  that  his  work  will  receive  critical  evalua 
tion  commensurate  with  the  part  a  composer  has  given  him 
to  perform. 

Because  his  role  is  a  vital  one,  the  musician  at  the  piano 
tries,  by  a  nice  combination  of  qualities,  to  serve  music  and 
also  enhance  the  characteristics  of  the  soloist's  art.  Detailed 
and  painstaking  rehearsab  have  taken  place  to  establish 
correctly  the  numerous  facets  which  go  to  make  up  an 
artistic  performance.  How  much  care  must  be  exerted  to 
maintain  correct  proportions  if,  for  example,  in  a  certain 
phrase  the  piano  is  to  recede  to  the  merest  murmur  and 
then  a  few  moments  later  by  its  rhythmic  drive  to  come  to 
the  forefront  of  the  music's  expression.  And  yet  after  much 
consideration,  discussion  and  rehearsal  it  sometimes 
happens  that  there  is,  as  one  hears  so  bh'thely  stated,  'not 
enough  piano',  or  'too  much  piano'.  This  is  an  easy  pit- 
fall  for  even  the  most  experienced  accompanists  and  an 

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found,  are  not  ignored  in  all  of 
e  space  of  a  few  pages  evaluates  m 
ennie  Tourel,  Efrem  Zimbalist,  J 
Stern.  Miss  Tourel's  programme 
songs  in  which  the  piano  is  of  pri 
the  violinists'  programmes  inc 
oven,  Mozart,  Richard  Strauss 
his  witty  and  often  penetrating 
:r  did  not  find  it  within  himself  to 

erning  the  accompanist's  role  at  a 

happens  that  the  accompanists 
:h  Itor-Kahn,  Vladimir  Sok 

id  Alexander  Zakin,  four  of  the 
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WHAT  EVERY  ACCOMPANIST  KNOWS  43 

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heard  it'.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  numerous  smaller 

halk  where  the  tone  appears  to  stop  dead  on  the  stage, 
and  simply  refuses  to  move  to  its  required  destination.  In 
between  there  are  all  sorts  of  acoustical  posers.  There  is  the 
stage  where  one  barely  hears  oneself,  yet  is  assured  by 
listeners  that  everything  is  luscious  and  brilliant.  Con 
versely  the  impression  on  the  stage  may  be  wonderful, 
but  people  arrive  back-stage  after  the  concert  and  com 
plain  that  they  didn't  hear  a  note. 
Tonal  balance,  therefore,  faces  the  pair  of  artists  in  each 
concert  hall  as  a  fresh  issue.  And  if  they  continue  to  wrangle 
over  it  after  two  hundred  concerts  together,  don't  think 
they  are  temperamental  or  partially  deaf.  The  fact  is  that 
both  are  in  the  worst  positions  possible  to  judge  of  each 
other's  sound.  The  soloist,  vocal  or  instrumental,  is  some 
what  to  the  front  of  the  piano,  but  none  the  less  close  to  it. 
Therefore  it  usually  sounds  to  him  like  an  augmented 
symphony  orchestra;  so  his  usual  plea  is  for  not  too  much 
piano,  and  the  hope  that  you  will  Vemember  that  he 
doesn't  want  to  force  his  tone,  and  not  to  forget  that  the 

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the  thought  of  how  comfortably  you  could  carry  on  a  con 
versation  with  someone  sitting  with  his  back  to  you,  who 

continues  speaking  while  you  speak,  to  realize  that  when 
two  performers  play  superbly  well  together,  and  of  course, 
it  is  being  done  at  numerous  recitals  under  all  sorts  of 
conditions,  both  artists  are  responsible  for  the  solution  of 

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part  in  this  decision.  The  great  vocalists  and  instrument 
alists  must  possess  an  extraordinary  combination  within 

themselves,  and  in  the  proper  mixture,  of  enormous  talent, 
expert  training  and  knowledge,  an  ability  to  work  and 

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A  pianist,  therefore,  who  finds  himself  deflected  from  the 
narrow  and  arduous  path  leading  to  a  solo  career,  because 
of  widening  interest  in  the  vast  fields  of  chamber-music, 
and  vocal  and  instrumental  works  of  all  kinds,  will  as  likely 
as  not  find  that  there  are  opportunities  for  him  in  the  field 

of  accompanying. 
Soon  enough  he  discovers  whether  he  is  born  to  the  task. 
In  the  same  manner  in  which  a  soloist  requires  a  rare 
combination  of  qualities,  the  true  accompanist  finds  that 
he  also  needs  a  certain  measure  of  elements  fitting  nicely 
together  which  will  permit  him  to  function  properly.  After 
the  basic  one  of  mastery  of  his  instrument,  he  requires  that 
special  talent  which  many  piano  soloists  do  not  have  and 
which  they  generally  do  not  need.  This  is  the  ability  to  play 
with  someone  else.  Simple  as  the  requirement  sounds,  it  is 
actually  the  rarest  gift  even  among  many  very  talented 
musicians.  The  day  is  gone,  of  course,  when  one  thought 
of  the  accompanist  as  a  musician  whose  job  it  was  'to 
follow*.  Following  is  the  one  thing  an  artist  wishes  an 
accompanist  not  to  do.  Actually  it  is  anticipation,  together 
with  the  ability  to  feel  and  grasp  instantaneously  those 
qualities  which  go  towards  making  the  artist's  individuality 
stand  out  in  performance.  These  inflections,  nuances  and 
other  means  of  musical  expression,  the  gifted  accompanist 
can  sense  at  the  very  instant  they  are  to  be  accomplished. 

C7 

— 

3 

3 

their  problems  and  the  successful  projection  of  the  com- 

noser's  intentions. 

We  may  now  very  well  ask,  since  from  a  purely  musical 
viewpoint  it  seems  unjustifiable,  why  the  accompanist's 

name  does  appear  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  in  small  type. 
The  engagements  of  a  soloist  are  obtained  on  the 
strength  of  his  reputation,  and  the  question  who  the 
accompanist  for  these  concerts  may  be  will  not  have  the 
slightest  bearing  on  their  being  secured.  An  artist  and  his 
manager  feel,  with  the  greatest  justification,  that  people 
who  buy  tickets  for  recitals  do  so  because  of  the  artist's 

general  appeal  to  that  public,  and  again,  the  accompanist  s 
role  here  does  not  aid  in  the  sale  of  a  single  ticket  -  or 
perhaps  one  or  two  at  most.  So  to  give  both  performers,  as 
Hollywood  says,  equal  billing,  seems  entirely  unjustified  in 
respect  to  those  demons  which  forever  prey  on  the  soloist's 
mind  -  reputation  and  box-office. 
An  accompanist,  therefore,  cannot  aid  the  soloist  in 
obtaining  his  engagements,  nor  can  he  be«of  any  import 
ance  in  the  sale  of  tickets.  But  he  should,  and  does,  play  a 
vital  part  in  the  artistic  domain  when  the  engagements  are 
actually  being  fulfilled.  Thus  it  is  that  the  relationship 
between  an  artist  and  his  accompanist  is  a  close  one  in  the 
reahn  of  musical  artistry,  and  distant  in  the  material  one  of 
fees,  and  the  size  of  type  in  which  their  names  appear. 
Accompanists  do  not  like  to  be  classified  as  disappointed 
soloists.  Of  course  they  all  began  the  study  of  the  piano  and 
for  years  worked  at  it  in  the  same  fashion  and  perhaps  with 
the  same  tnd  in  view  as  those  who  remained  in  the  pro 
fession  as  solo  pianists.  But  somewhere  along  the  road  there 
were  various  influences  which  made  themselves  felt  and 
served  to  deflect  their  soloistic  zeal.  Self-knowledge  is  prob 

ably  not  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues  of  musicians  as  a  class, 
yet  in  many  instances  where  gifted,  extremely  competent 

"0 

o> 

0 

D 
S 

To  follow'  after  a  fait  accompli  in  the  soloist's  playing  or 
singing  can  only  be  for  the  auditor  a  disturbing  and  useless 
effort,  even  though  he  may  know  nothing  of  the  manner  in 
which  artistic  performances  are  created. 
The  accompanist  who  develops  the  'technique'  of  his 
art  finds  that  he  is  creating  for  himself  the  ability  to  absoxb 
quickly  (and  master  instrumentally)  works  from  eveiv 
epoch  of  musical  art.  He  becomes  conversant  with  opera, 
oratorio,  cantatas  and  lieder;  he  gets  to  know  sonatas, 
fantasias  and  concertos  from  pre-Handel  to  post-Copland! 
By  the  very  nature  of  being  required  to  learn  a  great 
amount  of  music  he  develops  a  wider  musical  vision  than 
i»  vouchsafed  to  the  specialists  of  flying  octaves  and 
machine-gun  wrists. 
His  technique  also  requires  that  he  occasionally  transpose 

songs  to  new  keys  so  that  a  soprano  with  a  touch  of  stage- 
fright  may  be  spared  the  embarrassment  of  missing  a  high 

More  often  than  not  he  is  a  first-rate  chamber-music 
player  with  a  real  love  for  piano  trios,  quartets  and  quin 
tets;  so  that  in  addition  to  knowing  the  standard  repertoire 
he  can  sit  down  and  play  at  sight  some  unknown-trio  by 
Raff  or  a  new  sextet  by  Poulenc. 

The  abilities  just  described  must  be  wide  enough  to 
embrace  such  important  factors  as  a  keen  sense  of  rhythm 
and  a  fine  ear  for  tone-colour. 

With  the  accumulation  of  these  qualities  he  becomes 
eligible  for  the  one  word  which  means  most  to  performers 

in  every  category,  especially  when  spoken  by  a  fellow-artist  ; 
he  is  a  'musician'. 

In  addition  .to  all  this  an  accompanist  must  have  a 
psychological  viewpoint  towards  musical  interpretation, 
which  permits  him  to  see  virtue  in  someone  else's  ideas  of 

bo 

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3 

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'S. 

1 

Letter  from  Los  Angeles 

or 

The  Violoopa  in  the  Hollywood  Hills 

By  Ralph  Berkowitz 


If  you  ever  write  to  a  musician  in  Los  Angeles  don't  take  the 
trouble  to  look  for  his  address  in  the  telephone  book.  If  your  friend 
makes  more  than  $475  a  week  (and  which  musician  out  there  makes 
less?)  he  will  have  issued  a  strict  injunction  to  the  telephone  people 
not  to  print  his  name  and  address.  This  is  de  rigueur,  and  also  avoids 
unsought  meetings  with  cousins  from  the  hinterlands  who  happen 
to  have  an  Aircoach  round-trip  with  stop-over  privileges  permitting 
a  tour  of  Beverly  Hills. 

So  it  is  that  recently  in  order  to  find  a  Hollywood  address  I  went 
straight  to  the  heart  of  the  matter  and  thumbed  through  the  Mu 
sicians'  Directory  of  Local  47,  A.F.  of  M.,  Los  Angeles,  California, 
a  tidy  volume  which  most  Los  Angelenos  would  as  soon  be  without 
as  a  pair  of  turquoise  nylon  shorts.  The  little  book  contains  the  names 
and  addresses  of  musicians  who  pay  their  yearly  dues  to  the  Los 
Angeles  Local;  its  second  half  lists  these  same  musicians  under  the 


Ralph  Berkowitz  is  Dean  of  the  Berkshire 
Music  Center  at  Tanglewood,  an  institution 
which,  like  Juilliard,  evidently  does  not  offer 
major  instruction  in  "violoopa"  or  "jug."  A 
painter  as  well  as  pianist,  Mr.  Berkowitz  has 


recently  had  a  one-man  exhibition  of  his  work 
in  Philadelphia.  He  is  this  season  giving  sixty- 
four  lectures  on  "Related  Arts"  at  the  Phil 
adelphia  Museum  School  of  Art 


39 


7~ 


Letter  from  Los  Angeles 


instrument  which  they  serve  in  the  practice  of  their  art.  I  was 
slightly  shaken  as  I  went  along,  to  notice  in  firm  bold  print  along 
with  such  stand-bys  as  'clarinet'  and  'string  bass'  the  instruments 
'basifon'  and  'bass  can.' 

Now  I  am  a  musician  from  way  back  who  can  hold  his  own  with 
the  Harvard  boys  in  any  discussion  of  hidden  fifths  in  Brahms  or 
the  realization  of  a  figured  bass  in  a  Bach  Cantata.  I  can  also  sound 
wise  when  it  comes  to  the  cancrizans  of  a  tone-row  in  Schoenberg, 
but  I  realized  that  Local  47,  A.F.  of  M.,  had  me  when  it  came  to  a 
'basifon'  or  a  'bass  can.' 


A  good  musician  is  an  honest  soul  and  one  thing,  as  Cherubini 
said,  leads  to  another.  Having  chanced  upon  'basifon'  and  'bass  can' 
under  the  B's,  I  thought  that  the  rest  of  the  alphabet  would  perhaps 
reveal  a  few  more  instruments  native  to  the  Hollywood  Hills.  Missing 
50  or  60  pages  in  my  ardor,  I  came  up  suddenly  among  the  V's  and 
ran  my  finger  slowly  down  the  list.  There  they  all  were :  'viola,'  'viola 
da  gamba,'  'viola  de  pardessus' — how  many  musicians'  unions  in  the 
whole  world  could   boast  of  listing  players  of  this  dignified  old 
beauty? — 'viola  d'amour.'  Fine:  Local  47  was  but  another  proof  that 
Hollywood  had  drawn  to  it  the  cream  of  the  world's  artists.  'Viola 
d'amour,'  with  its  lovely  name  linked  in  the  mind's  eye  to  Bach  and 
Frederick  the  Great  and  Potsdam  and  Voltaire,  was  followed,  how 
ever,  by  'violoopa.'  Yes,  'violoopa,'  and  underneath  it,  the  name  of 
Harry  Lewis,  its  sole  practitioner  in  the  vast  reaches  *of  Los  Angeles 
County.  Did  Harry  invent  the  'violoopa'  or  had  he  discovered  it  in 
the  Copenhagen  Museum?  Did  he  work  for  long  years  to  perfect 
this  new  achievement  in  man's  search  for  self-expression,  or  had  he 
walked  into  Wurlitzer's  and  bought  one  for  $79.50,  black  leatherette 
case  and  music  stand  included?  I  don't  think  I'll  ever  know.  But  I 
do  know  that  if  Jack  Warner  or  Sam  Goldwyn  want  a  'violoopa'  in 
their  next  opus,  Harry  Lewis  is  their  man.  Close  on  Harry's  heels 
came  'Washboard'  and  'Artistic  Whistling."  Lawrence  Vogt  is  the 
'Washboard'  boy  and  even  the  thought  of  Larry  practicing  wasn't 
fascinating  enough  to  stop  me  from  reading  the  six  names  of  the 
'Artistic  Whistlers.'  Nothing  could  persuade  me  that  three  of  them 
weren't  more  artistic  than  the  other  three.  When  I  engage  an  Artistic 
Whistler  my  choice  will  be  either  Ruby  O'Hara,  Rubye  Whitaker  or 
Muzzy  Marcellino. 


Ralph  Berkowitz 


As  in  all  other  fields  of  American  enterprise,  music  in  Hollywood 
is  undoubtedly  controlled  by  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand.  Yet  one 
is  given  cause  for  wonder  and  serious  reflection  by  some  of  the 
statistics  in  Local  47's  directory.  There  are  for  instance  no  less  than 
2,036  dues-paying  clarinet  players  but  only  four  are  listed  as  avail 
able  for  the  contra-bass  clarinet.  Similarly  there  are  about  2,400 
violinists  vying  for  those  lush  moments  accompanying  screen  credits 
at  the  opening  of  a  picture,  but  only  two  of  the  boys  have  taken  up 
the  'electric  violin.'  For  all  its  vaunted  progressiveness  I  think  Holly 
wood  is  lagging  here. 

Some  of  the  instruments  listed  in  the  directory,  such  as  'Gooch- 
Gadget,'  'Cow  Bells,'  'Chinese  Moon  Harp'  or  'Goofus  Horn'  are  so 
patently  required  by  the  wide  demands  of  the  film  industry  that  one 
easily  understands  their  sharing  directory  space  with  the  piano, 
English  concertina,  or  mandolin.  But  when  you  stumble  upon  a  'Jug' 
or  'Music  Cutter'  the  problem  becomes  deeper.  What  for  instance 
does  one  do  with  a  'Jug,'  and  how  is  it  practiced?  Is  it  blown  into, 
scratched  with  a  mandolin  pick  or  tapped  with  drum  sticks?  Sim 
ilarly  with  the  work  of  Louise  Field,  who  is  down  as  the  only  'Music 
Cutter'  in  the  Local.  Does  she,  I  wonder,  work  with  shears  or  a  razor 
blade?  Is  she  engaged  by  slow-witted  pianists  who  don't  know  what 
to  leave  out  in  Liszt's  6th  Hungarian  Rhapsody,  or  does  she  get  along 
entirely  on  her  own,  snipping  a  phrase^here,  a  cadence  there,  and  in 
general  reducing  compositions  to  size? 

Of  all  the  instruments  which  have  sprouted  in  the  halls  of  Local 
47  down  on  Vine  Street  only  one  has  achieved  international  renown. 
This,  of  course,  is  the  'bazooka'  which  Bob  Burns  immortalized.  Its 
other  exponent,  Clyde  B.  (Rusty)  Jones,  has  not,  to  my  knowledge  at 
least,  developed  his  public  to  the  point  of  becoming  a  household  name 
who  can  pull  down  $2,000  for  an  appearance.  I  feel  certain  that  others 
among  these  instrumentalists  .are  only  biding  their  time,  waiting 
for  the  nation  to  learn  the  fascination  of  the  'Drumbukki,'  the 
'Linnette'  or  the  'Marimbula.' 

On  the  other  hand,  such  a  well-known  phenomenon  of  musical  art 
as  the  'One  Man  Band,'  indigenous  to  every  Amateur  Hour,  is  rep 
resented  in  Southern  California  by  only  three  union  men!  Here 
again  is  one  of  those  strangely  unbalanced  situations.  For,  while 
there  are  only  three  'One  Man  Bands'  paying  dues,  there  are  3,652 

41 


Letter  from  Los  Angeles 


pianists,  enough  to  give  piano  recitals  in  Carnegie  Hall  every  night 
including -Sunday s  for  the  next  ten  years,  before  one  of  them  has 
to  learn  a  new  program. 

I  like  to  think  that,  like  musicians  all  over  the  world,  the  Holly 
wood  folk  also  enjoy  getting  together  now  and  then  for  an  evening 
of  chamber  music.  What  repertoire,  for  instance,  wafts  out  over  the 
smog  when  Obed  0.  Pickard,  Jr.  at  the  'Autoharp,'  Friday  Leitner 
on  the  'Tin  Whistle,'  H.  Garcia  Granada  on  the  'Bandurria,'  and 
Dorothy  Hollowell  at  the  'Bass  Can'  get  together?  Can  it  be  that  they 
let  go  on  a  transcription  of  Schubert's  Death  and  the  Maiden  quartet, 
or  is  it  now  and  then  a  slow  movement  from  one  of  the  opus  18*s? 
Or  perhaps  Irving  Riskin,  the  Local's  'Tune  Detective'  comes  forth 
with  an  original  work  for  the  combination,  something  midway  be 
tween  a  Chopin  Ballade  and  the  third  act  of  Wozzeck.  Whatever  the 
case  may  be,  I  do  hope  for  an  invitation  to  one  of  these  get-togethers 
on  my  next  trip  to  the  coast.  Come  to  think  of  it,  I'm  going  to  stop 
in  at  Wurlitzer's  in  the  morning  and  try  to  pick  up  a  violoopa.  That 
way  I'd  be  able  to  join  in  the  fun. 


42 


Original  Music  for  Four  Hands 

A  Reference  Article  of  Real  Value  to  Teachers 


o 


u 


Ralph  Berkowiti,  successful  Philadelphia  pianist  and  teacher,  is  now  on  a  trans 
continental  tour  with  the  noted  violoncellist,  Gregor  Piatigorsky. — EDITOR'S  NOTE. 


FEW  PIANO  MASTERWORKS  are  as  little 
known  as  those  for  two  players  at  one  in 
strument.  Many  pianists  as  well  as  music 
lovers  are  probably  unaware  of  the  richness  and 
variety  of  original  music  for  four  hands,  a  reper 
toire  considerably  larger  than  that  for  two  pianos. 

There  is  a  peculiar  misconception  in  most 
people's  minds  concerning  piano  duets.  These  are 
generally  thought  to  consist  of  orchestral  and 
chamber  music  arrangements,  and,  perhaps,  some 
salon  pieces  by  Moszkowski  and  Scharwenka. 
Most  duet  collections,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  are 
made  up  of  these  very  things.  Yet  almost  all  the 
great  masters  composed  four-hand  music;  and 
in  some  instances  one  may  discover  truly  re 
markable  works  in  this  medium.  The  finest  of 
these  compositions  are  much  more  than  piano 
pieces  set  for  a  larger  range  than  one  pianist 
can  manage.  The  great  piano  duets  are  essen 
tially  great  pieces  of  chamber  music. 

Let  us  make  a  brief  survey  and  point  out  some 
of  the  more  important  and  interesting  composi 
tions  of  this  repertoire.  For  a  truly  rewarding 
experience  pianists  should,  of  course,  play  and 
study  this  type  of  ensemble  music  for  themselves. 

In  addition  to  five  duo  sonatas,  Mozart  wrote 
a  charming  set  of  Variations  in  G,  a  Fugue  in 
G  minor,  and  two  Fantasias,  both  in  F  minor. 
These  Fantasias,  originally  composed  for  a  musi 
cal  clock,  were  arranged  by  Mozart  himself  for 
four  hands,  a  setting  more  in  accordance  with 
their  rich  musical  content.  The  "F  major  Sonata" 
(K.  497),  composed  at  the  height  of  his  creative 
life,  is  one  of  Mozart's  greatest  chamber  music 
works.  This  "Sonata"  is  a  veritable  model  for  all 
other  four-hand  music  and  is  pervaded  by  that 
atmosphere  of  sublimity  which  is  felt  in  Mozart's 
greatest  products.  The  "Sonata  in  C  major"  (K. 
521)  is  also  a  vigorous  work;  stirring,  imagina 
tive,  and  rich  in  melodic  beauty. 

Beethoven's  four-hand  works  were  all  written- 
in  his  early  years.  These  include  the  "Sonata 
Opus  6,"  "Three  Marches"  and  two  sets  of  Varia 
tions,  one  on  a  theme  of  Count  Waldstein's  and 
the  other  on  an  original  song.  Both  sets  of 
Variations  are  filled  with  a  delightful  and  spon 
taneous  charm.  They  are  Mozartean  in  a  sense, 
but,  as  in  much  of  Beethoven's  early  works,  there 
are  moments  foreshadowing  the  Beethoven  of 
later  periods. 

Of  all  who  composed  four-hand  music,  Schu 
bert  was  the  most  prolific.  His  works  fill  four 
volumes  in  Peters'  Edition  and  run  to  nearly  five 
hundred  pages.  Here  are  compositions  from  every 
period  of  Schubert's  tragically  short  life,  many 
of  them  works  of  superb  beauty  and  profundity. 


r 


"FORWARD  MARCH  WITH  MUSIC"  I 
JANUARY,  1944  ~1 


The  Prolific  Melodist 

The  Fantaisie  in  F  minor,  Opus  103  begins  with 
a  theme  which  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  haunt- 
ingly  beautiful  in  all  the  wealth  of  Schubertian 
melody.  The  whole  Fantaisie  is  an  intensely  mov 
ing  and  dramatic  work,  rich  in  invention  and 
beautifully  scored  for  the  instrument.  Another 
work  in  which  the  theme  itself  is  unforgettably 
beautiful  is  that  of  the 
Variations    in    A     flat 
Op.  35.  This  is  the  best 
of  Schubert's  five  sets 
of  duet  Variations  and 
is  technically  very  ex 
acting.  The  work  as  a 
whole  is  endowed  with 
a  particularly  enchant 
ing  grace,  but  in  some 
contemplative     and 
grave    passages    there 
are   moments   of   har 
monic     boldness     with 
which    Schubert    con 
tinues    to    surprise    us 
after  more  than  a  cen 
tury. 

The  "Grand  Duo 
i  Sonata)  in  C  major, 
Op.  140"  is  believed  by 
some  musicologists  to 
be  Schubert's  own 
four-hand  arrange 
ment  of  his  lost  "Ga- 
stein"  Symphony.  But 
since  other  authorities 
question  that  a  so- 
called  "Gastein"  Symphony  was  ever  written,  the 
matter  is  another  of  those  intriguing  problems 
which  constantly  confronts  musical  historians. 
There  is  little  doubt,  however,  that  the  "Grand 
Duo"  is  more  orchestral  in  conception  than  any 
of  Schubert's  other  four-hand  music.  It  is  a 
spacious  work  of  symphonic  proportions,  and  on 
every  page  one  finds  some  extraordinary  touch 
of  the  inspired  Schubert.  There  is  a  fine  orches 
tration  of  this  "Grand  Duo"  by  Joseph  Joachim. 
And  there  is  one  of  the  F  minor  Fantaisie  by 
Ernst  von  Dohnanyi.  Conductors  should  occa 
sionally  permit  us  to  hear  these  works. 

It  is  possible  to  mention  here  only  a  few  of  the 
other  Schubert  compositions,  which  present  a 
wide  range  of  form  and  style.  Of  the  larger 
works  there  is  the  tempestuous  Allegro,  Leben- 
stiirme.  Op.  144,  and  the  charming  "Divertisse 
ment  a  la  Hongroise,"  Op.  54.  Among  the  short 
er  works  are  the  many  "Marches,"  one  of  which. 


RALPH  BERKOWITZ 


the  ever-popular  Marche  Militiare,  is  known  in* 
countless  transcriptions. 

Brahms'  first  and  only  big  work  for  piano  duet 
is  his  Variations  on  a  Theme  of  Schumann,  Op. 
23.  The  theme  Is  Schumann's  so-called  "last 
thought"  which  he  wrote  when  already  mentally 
unsound,  believing  that  the  spirits  of  Mendels 
sohn  and  Schubert  had  sent  it  to  him.  Brahms' 
Variations  are  poetic,  profound,  and  masterfu' 
in  construction. 

From  the  Master  Brahms 

It  is  not  generally  realized  that  the  "Waltzes 
Op.  39"  and  the  "Hungarian  Dances"  were  com 
posed  as  original  four-hand  music,  although 
they  are  now  better  known  in  several  other  ar 
rangements.  The  only  other  Brahms  works  for 
piano  duet  are  the  two  sets  of  "Liebeslieder," 
Op.  52  and  Op.  65.  These  have  a  quartet  of  voices 
which  are,  however,  not  indispensable — they  are 
marked  ad  libitum  in  the  first  set — but,  of 
course,  the  music  gains  much  by  a  performance 
with  the  vocal  parts. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  pieces  in  all  the 
repertoire  is  Mendelssohn's  scintillating  Allegro 
Brillant,  Op.  92.  He  composed  this  strikingly 
effective  work  for  a  performance  with  Clara 
Schumann.  An  Andante  and  Variations  Op.  83a 

is  the  only  other  Men 
delssohn  composition 
in  this  medium. 

Lake  Brahms'  "Hun 
garian  Dances,"  Dvorak 
composed  his  delight 
ful  "Slavonic  Dancds" 
as  original  four-hand 
music.  These  two  cap 
tivating  volumes,  Op. 
46  and  Op.  72,  are  ad 
mirably  designed  for 
the  instrument.  Dvorak 
maintained  a  charac 
teristically  high  stand 
ard  in  his  duets  and 
they  are  a  constant 
joy  for  four-hand  play 
ers.  In  addition  to  the 
"Slavonic  Dances"  his 
works  include  the 
Legende  Op.  59;  From 
the  Bohemian  Forest, 
Opus  68;  a  "Suite"; 
and  a  Polonaise. 

Many  modern  com 
posers  have  sought  to 
explore  the  possibilities 

of  duet-writing.  Their  variety  and  range. of  ac 
complishment  is  highly  interesting.  From  the 
large  number  of  such  compositions  there  is  the 
amusing  suite  "Pupazzetti"  by  Casella;  Rach 
maninoff's  "Six  Morceaux',  Op.  11";  and  Stravin 
sky's  "Trois  Pieces  Faciles,"  afld  Francois 
Poulenc's  witty  "Sonata."  Ravel's  famous  "Ma 
Mere  1'Oye"  is  also  an  original  four-hand  suite, 
and  ona  of  Debussy's  maturest  works,  "Six 
fipigraphes  Antiques,"  is  a  splendid  example  of 
modern  craftsmanship  in  this  medium.  His 
"Petite  Suite"  is  better  known  in  various 
transcriptions. 

Finally,  there  is  the  Hindemith  "Sonata,"  a 
significant  work.  This  is  one  of  the  newest  addi 
tions  to  the  repertoire,  and  the  product  of  an 
outstanding  musical  mentality. 

Perhaps  this  brief  survey  will  serve  to  indicate 
the  scope  and  interest  of  original  four-hand 
music  to  those  oianists  (Continued  on  Page  61) 


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^_ 


Ralph  Berkowitz  — 
He's  Worn  Many  Hats 


Nancy  Lee  Harper:  You  are  perhaps  best  known 
in  your  capacity  as  pianist  in  collaboration  with 
Gregor  Piatigorsky.  How  and  when  did  this  asso 
ciation  begin? 

Ralph  Berkowitz:  I  met  Piatigorsky  for  the  first 
time  in  1940  in  Philadelphia.  He  had  been  playing 
with  Valentine  Pavlovsky  who  became  very  sick, 
so  he  asked  if  I  could  join  him  for  a  few  concerts. 
Those  few  concerts  turned  into  thirty  years  of 
playing  together  in  many  parts  of  the  world.  I  had 
heard  Piatigorsky  in  his  debut  concerts  with  the 
Philadelphia  Orchestra  in  1 928  when  he  first  came 
to  the  United  Slates,  but  at  that  time  I  never 
thought  that  he  would  become  a  very  close  friend, 
collaborator,  and  life-long  companion. 
NH:  Did  you  ever  argue? 

KB:  No,  we  didn't  really  argue.  You  can  play  with 
some  people  and  have  no  chemistry  or  musical 
contact.  I  still  remember  our  first  few  concerts.  The 
third  or  fourth  one  was  in  Orchestra  Hall  in  Chi 
cago.  It  was  a  program  which  included  the 
Brahms  E  minor  Sonata.  We  had  not  played  this 
sonata  at  previous  concerts.  The  days  went  by  and 
I  finally  said,  "You  know,  we  really  ought  to 
rehearse  that  piece."  Piatigorsky  said,  "Yes,  of 
course  we  have  to."  But  it  never  happened.  And  I 
give  you  my  word  that  we  sat  on  the  stage  of 
Chicago's  Orchestra  Hall  and  played  that  work 
together  for  the  first  time!  Of  course  he  had  to  have 
more  confidence  in  me  than  1  in  him. 
NH:  Piatigorsky  is  quoted  as  saying,  "When  you 
get  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  stay  there  and  look 
around  for  a  while."  Did  he  mean  this  as  a  refer 
ence  to  a  musical  phrase,  or  was  there  another 
significance? 
RB:  (laughing)  Well,  of  course  that  ought  to  apply 


to  a  musical  phrase!  Being  a  man  of  wealth  (he  was 
married  to  Jacqueline  de  Rothschild),  Piatigorsky 
could  afford  not  to  play  when  he  didn't  wish  to 
and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  in  later  years  he  played 
very  little.  So  in  that  sense  "he  looked  around."  He 
taught  at  the  University  of  Southern  California 
and  had  a  class  of  devoted  young  cellists  includ 
ing  Nathaniel  Rosen  and  Lawrence  Lesser.  His 
interest  in  young  people  was  really  very  special. 
Once  when  we  played  in  Seoul,  a  young  family,  a 
father  and  mother  with  their  three  little  children, 
came  to  the  hotel  to  meet  Piatigorsky.  The  chil 
dren  were  perhaps  four,  five  and  six  years  old. 
One  played  the  cello,  one  the  violin,  and  the  other 
played  the  piano.  Piatigorsky  was  so  taken  with 
the  talent  of  these  children  that  he  gave  the  family 
money  to  come  to  America.  Years  later  "Grischa" 
and  I  went  to  a  high  school  in  Beverly  Hills  and 
heard  those  three  children  who  were  by  then 
teenagers.  One  of  the  girls  was  Kyung-Wha 
Chung,  who  is  now  one  of  the  great  violinists  of 
the  world,  and  the  pianist-brother  has  just  been 
named  the  director  of  the  Bastille  Opera  in  Paris. 
Piatigorsky  was  kind  to  many  young  people  giv 
ing  them  bows,  helping  them  acquire  cellos,  etc. 
He  was  not  only  interested  in  them  as  musicians 
but  as  human  beings. 

NH:  Did  family  members  travel  with  Piatigorsky 
on  your  tours? 

RB:  Mrs.  Piatigorsky  did,  especially  in  the  later 
years.  Sometimes  Pialigorsky  would  be  joined  by 
his  mother-in-law,  the  Baroness  de  Rothschild. 
She  and  her  husband,  Baron  Eduard,  were  very 
close  to  Grischa.  Once  in  Florence  we  were  joined 
by  the  Baroness.  She  had  received  an  invitation  to 
the  home  of  Bernard  Bcrenson,  the  legendary  art 


SPRING  1991    The  I'iuno  Quarterly  No.  153       43 


critic.  (I  Ito  villa  in  Horcncc  is  now  owned  by 
Harvard  University.)  Later  in  the  afternoon  I  had 
lea  with  the  Baroness,  and  I  asked  her  if  it  had 
been  a  large  lunch  party.  She  replied,  "Oh,  a  very 
small  one,  just  myself  and  the  Uerensons."  And 
then  she  hesitated  and  said,  "No,  wait  a  minute. 
The  King  and  Queen  of  Sweden  were  also  with 
us." 

NH:  The  two  of  you  produced  an  enormous 
number  of  recordings  for  RCA  Victor  and  Colum 
bia.  What  were  some  of  those  recording  sessions 
like? 

RB:  We  began  recording  for  Columbia  perhaps  in 
1941  or  1942.  The  first  work  was  Beethoven's 
Sonata  in  D  Major,  Op.  102/2.  That  was  the  time 
of  the  78' s.  The  maximum  playing  time  was  4'20" 
and  the  disk  had  to  have  no  errors  on  it;  otherwise, 
you  did  it  again  and  again  and  again.  You  would 
have  to  try  again  if  you  exceeded  4'20".  Recording 
then  was  much  more  difficult  than  recording  onto 
tape.  Still,  I  remember  that  when  we  recorded  the 
Hindemith  Cello  Sonata  (1948)  for  RCA  (and,  by 
the  way,  we  premiered  the  work  at  Tanglewood ) 
to  everyone's  horror  it  was  discovered  that  eight 
bars  had  been  lost  in  editing  the  tape.  I  had  to  go 
from  Philadelphia  to  Los  Angeles  in  order  to 
record  those  eight  measures. 
NH:  You  were  bom  on  Septembers,  1910,  in  New 
York  City,  to  parents  of  Rumanian  descent.  Nei 
ther  were  musicians.  Please  pick  it  up  from  there. 
RB:  I  began  piano  lessons  when  I  was  five  or  six. 
My  father  especially  encouraged  me  by  taking  me 
to  concerts  and  to  the  Metropolitan  Opera.  I  par 
ticularly  remember  an  early  teacher,  Emil  Polak, 
who  was  a  very  fine  coach  and  accompanist.  He 


1886 


125th  Anniversary 


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August  12  -  September  1,  1991  Moscow,  U.S.SJR. 

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Suite  Conservatory.  Cotttat  Credit  AvnifaMe! 


OVER    THIRTY    LEADING    PROFESSORS    CONDUCTING    LECTURES    AND    INDIVIDUAL    LESSONS    IN: 

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Your  Slay  will  include:    j)  Hotel  accommodation*       J)  All  meals       J)  Interprrten      J)  Concerts  and  loure 

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Telephone  and  Fax:     (609)  795  -  1830 


had  been  a  pupil  of  Dvonik  in  Now  York.  I  must 
have  been  in  nw  early  leena  when  1  decided  to 
become  a  musician.  I  told  my  parents  I  did  not 
want  to  attend  regular  high  school.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  a  music  school.  Around  1924  or  1925  1  went  to 
the  Institute  of  Musical  Art,  which  later  became 
the  Juilliard  School.  I  took  courses  in  theory,  har 
mony,  and  art  history,  but  no  piano  lessons. 
NH:  Who  were  some  of  the  pianists  you  heard  in 
your  student  days? 

RB:  I  was  certainly  very  impressed  with 
Hermann,  Rachmaninoff,  and  Gieseking.  I  re 
member  vividly  also  the  enormous  playing  of 
Moritz  Rosenthal.  I  heard  de  Pachmann  play  and 
saw  his  antics  on  the  stage.  You  know  he  was  one 
of  those  people  who  acted  as  if  he  were  crazy.  For 
instance,  he  would  walk  onto  the  stage  of  Carne 
gie  Hall  and  immediately  walk  back  to  the  wings 
and  come  out  with  another  man  who  would  lift 
the  end  of  the  piano  and  slip  a  sheet  of  paper 
under  the  leg  to  make  it  more  level.  Or  he  would 
sometimes,  with  his  right  forefinger,  point  at  his 
left  hand  as  if  to  say,  "You  see  what  my  left  hand 
can  do?"  Actually  he  was  a  very  beautiful  pianist. 
Other  great  pianists  1  heard  then  were  Donald 
Francis  To  vey,  Ossip  Gabrilowitch,  Harold  Bauer, 
Mischa  Levitski,  who  died  after  a  short  but  bril 
liant  career,  Myra  Hess,  the  wonderful  English 
pianist,  and  Guiomar  Novaes. 
NH:  How  did  you  decide  upon  the  Curtis  Insti 
tute  or  rather  how  did  it  decide  on  you? 
RB:  In  1928,  the  first  year  the  Curtis  Institute 
offered  full  tuition  (which  it  still  does  for  all  stu 
dents),  I  auditioned  and  was  accepted.  They  only 
took  a  few  pianists  in  those  days.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  don't  know  why  they  ac 
cepted  me.  I  had  absolutely  no 
idea  of  music.  I  was  truly  a  musi 
cal  illiterate,  but  I  must  have 
shown  something,  some  pianis- 
lic  talent.  The  jury  included  Isa 
bella  Vengerova,  David  Saper- 
lon,  Abram  Chasins,  and,  I  be 
lieve,  Alexander  Lambert.  If  they 
chose  you,  then  you  had  to  re 
turn  to  Philadelphia  and  play  for 
the  director  Josef  Hofmann.  He 
was  already  a  legend  in  those 
days.  My  father  had  taken  me  to 
Carnegie  Hall  to  hear  Hofmann 


1991 


44       The  Piano  Quarterly  No.  153 


many  times.  I  felt  about  Hofmann  what  a  kid  who 
loves  baseball  would  have  felt  if  he  came  face  lo 
face  with  Uabe  Ruth.  Rachmaninoff  used  to  say 
that  Hofmann  was  the  greatest  pianist  who  ever 
lived. 

I  was  assigned  to  study  with  Isabella 
Vengerova.  She  had  been  a  notable  musician  in 
Russia  and  was  one  of  the  first  pianists  to  play  the 
works  of  Brahms  in  that  country,  especially  his 
chamber  works.  Her  instruction  was  utterly  new 
to  me  and  utterly  strange  from  a  mechanical  point 
of  view.  Vengerova  was  a  terribly  hard  taskmas 
ter,  very  autocratic,  and  in  a  sense  rather  cruel  to 
her  students.  She  always  had  her  students  come 
into  the  studio  at  the  time  of  their  lesson  and  wait 
even  if  she  was  not  yet  finished  with  the  previous 
lesson.  Samuel  Barber  use  to  follow  my  lesson. 
One  day  Mme.  Vengerova  was  saying  something 
like,  "You  know  you  played  the  Bach  pretty  well 
today,  and  such  and  such  is  coming  along  very 
nicely."  At  that  moment  in  walked  Sammy  Barber 
and  sat  down.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  she  said, 
"And  I  don't  know  why  you  don't  practice.  It's 
not  right  for  you  not  to  work  as  hard  as  you  can." 


That  gave  me  an  insight  into  her  nature.  Years 
later,    Leonard    Bcrmilein    «aid    that    Mine. 
Vengerova  was  the  only  person  who  could  terror 
ize  him!  Imagine  someone  who  could  terrorize 
Leonard  Bernstein! 
NH:  And  did  she  terrorize  vou? 
RB:  Always.  Always. 
NH:  What  was  her  approach  like? 
RB:  First  of  all,  she  was  very  determined  to  get  the 
sound  that  she  was  looking  for.  Tone  production 
to  her  was  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  piano  playing.  She 
started  every  student  with  very  slow  scales,  an 
enormous  legato,  the  fingers  overlapping  one 
another  in  order  to  make  sounds  coalesce. 
NH:  What  were  Vengerova's  strengths  as  a 
teacher? 

RB:  She  was  a  very  experienced  teacher — a  great 
diagnostician,  and  she  imparted  a  sense  of  integ 
rity  and  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  making 
music.  She  was  endless  in  her  ambition  to  keep 
students  working  and  devoted  to  music.  Thaf  s 
quite  a  contribution  to  young  people. 
NH:  The  name  Felix  Salmond  is  not  exactly  a 
household  word,  and  yet  you  have  said  that  he 
was  the  greatest  musical  influence  on  your  life. 


PIANO  PERSPECTIVES  '91 


For  more  Information: 

Hoft-Barthelson  Music  School 

25  School  Lane,  Scarsdale,  NY  10583 

914.723.1169 


A  Two-Day  Conference  Presenting 
Perspectives  on  the  Art  of  Teaching 

featuring 

ROBERT  SILVERMAN 
BRADFORD  GOWEN 
MARIENNE  USZLER 
WILMA  MACHOVER 
WILLIAM  BAUER 
MARY  HELTON 
ANN    SCHEIN 


June  17  &  10,  1991 

The  State  University  of  New  York 
at  Purchase 

Co-sponsored  by: 

SUNY  Purchase 

The  Piano  Quarterly 

The  Hoff-Oarthelson  Music  School 


The  Piano  Quarterly  No.  153       45 


RB:  Salmond  was  an  Englishman  who  came  to  the 
Slalcs  aboul  1924  or  1925.  Me  became  the  head  of 
the  cello  department  at  the  Curtis  and  at  the 
Juilliard  School.  He  produced  many  of  the  great 
cellists  of  yesterday  and  today.  The  first  cellists  of 
the  Boston  Symphony,  Philadelphia  Orchestra, 
and  the  Chicago  Symphony  were  students  of  his. 
His  knowledge  of  music  and  his  sense  of  musical 
style  were  superb.  His  mother  had  been  a  student 
of  Clara  Schumann.  And  while  Felix  never  played 
the  piano,  he  knew  the  piano  repertoire  as  well  as 
any  pianist.  It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  many 
of  the  great  pianists  of  the  30s  and  40s  first  played 
their  programs  privately  for  Felix  Salmond  and 
that  included  men  like  Josef  Lhevinne  and  Arthur 
Rubinstein.  Salmond  knew  everything  by  mem 
ory,  any  cello  part  in  any  quartet.  He  knew  the 
piano  and  song  literature  just  as  well.  Were  he 
alive  today  he  would  still  be  an  important  musi 
cian,  cellist,  and  teacher. 

I  don't  want  to  overlook  the  great  influence 
on  me  of  another  sensitive  artist  and  beautiful 
pianist,  Harry  Kaufman.  He  organized  the  accom 
panying  department  at  Curtis. 
NH:  You  were  also  the  dean  at  Tanglewood. 
Piatigorsky  was  the  head  of  the  chamber  music 
department.  Did  he  help  you  get  the  position? 
RB:  No.  Tanglewood  is  the  summer  home  of  the 
Boston  Symphony  Orchestra.  The  assistant  man 
ager  of  the  BSO  was  Thomas  Perry,  a  former  pupil 
of  mine.  He  asked  me  to  come,  but  I  told  him  I'd 
never  worked  behind  a  desk  and  wouldn't  know 
what  to  do.  But  many  months  later  he  sent  me  a 
telegram  while  I  was  in  Caracas  on  tour  with 
Piatigorsky  telling  me  the  job  was  still  open.  I 
discussed  it  with  Piatigorsky  who  said,  "What  do 
you  have  to  lose?  You'll  have  a  nice  summer  and 
your  family  will  enjoy  it."  So  I  became  Kousse- 
vitsky's  assistant  until  his  death  in  1951,  and  then 
I  was  named  dean  of  what  is  now  called  the 
Tanglewood  Music  Center. 
NH:  Did  those  duties  intrude  upon  your  concer- 
tizing? 

RB:  No.  I  had  to  be  in  Boston  one  week  out  of  the 
month  to  assign  scholarships  and  the  like.  I  was 
also  a  member  of  the  Audition  Committee.  We 
went  around  to  a  dozen  cities  each  spring  listen 
ing  to  performers.  At  the  same  time  I  was  travel 
ing  with  Piatigorsky  and  I  also  taught.  And  I 
began  going  to  Albuquerque  to  play  in  a  chamber 


music  series  called  the  June  Music  Festival.  I  went 
Ihcrc  for  Ihe  next  for  twenty-five  years. 
NH:  You've  met  some  important  people  at  Tan 
glewood  and  throughout  your  travels. 
RB:  Of  all  the  conductors  with  whom  I  was  asso 
ciated  my  closest  attachment  was  to  Dr.  Kousse- 
vitzky.  He  was  not  only  a  musical  genius  in  the 
broad  sense,  and  I  don't  use  that  word  lightly,  but 
he  had  a  vision,  an  imagination,  and  an  inspira 
tional  way  with  young  musicians. 

I  knew  Walter  Damrosch  slightly  when  he 
was  the  conductor  of  the  New  York  Symphony — 
not  the  New  York  Philharmonic.  Damrosch  was 
the  man  who  brought  Tschaikovsky  to  New  York 
when  they  opened  Carnegie  Hall  in  1890.  He  was 
a  friend  of  Wagner.  He  knew  Liszt.  Mr.  Damrosch 
heard  me  play  on  various  occasions.  Felix  Sal 
mond  and  I  played  a  Brahms  sonata  at  his  75th 
birthday  celebration  in  1937.  It  was  given  at  the 
home  of  Harry  Harkness  Flagler,  a  New  York 
millionaire. 

Pierre  Monteux  used  to  come  to  Tangle- 
wood  when  Charles  Munch  was  the  director. 
Monteux  and  Koussevitzky  were  never  close,  so 
that  in  all  the  years  of  Koussevitzky's  reign,  Mr. 
Monteux  never  conducted  the  BSO.  I  sat  with  him 
once  at  a  concert  during  which  Lukas  Foss  played 
his  own  Second  Piano  Concerto.  As  it  was  going 
on,  Mr.  Monteux  mumbled  under  his  breath,  "Oh 
terrible!  Oh  dreadful!  Oh  terrible!"  After  the  per 
formance  I  said  to  him,  "Mr.  Monteux,  of  course 
you  remember  that  when  you  conducted  Strav 
insky's  Sacre  du  Prinlcmps  in  Paris  it  caused  a 
scandal  and  everyone  said  it  was  terrible  and 
dreadful,  and  now  you  are  saying  the  same  thing 
about  Lukas  Foss'  concerto." 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "they  were  wrong  then 
and  now  I  am  right." 

I  was  once  at  a  dinner  party  at  the  Piati- 
gorskys,  given  for  Charlie  Chaplin,  his  wife,  and 
Arthur  Rubinstein.  It  remains  in  my  memory 
mainly  because  Chaplin  spoke  until  2  or  3  A.M., 
telling  stories  of  Hollywood  and  constructing  or 
making  up  part  of  the  story  of  the  movie  he  was 
working  on  called  Limelight.  He  seemed  to  be 
improvising.  The  extraordinary  thing  was  that  he 
referred  to  himself  as  "he."  He  never  spoke  in  the 
first  person.  What  was  most  memorable  about 
Chaplin,  close  up,  was  the  power  of  his  eyes  and 
the  use  of  his  hands.  His  hands  were  always 


46       The  Piano  Quarterly  No.  153 


mobile,  always  moving  in  beautiful  balletic  mo- 
lions.  I  le  i:i  one  of  Ihe  few  persons  of  whom  one 
could  say,  "This  is  a  genius." 

In  the  summer  of  1950  Eleanor  Roosevelt 
was  invited  by  Koussevitzky  to  be  the  narrator  in 
Prokofiev's  Peter  and  the  Wolf  at  Tanglewood. 
Koussevitzky  asked  me  to  go  to  Hyde  Park  to 
show  Mrs.  Roosevelt  how  the  piece  went.  I  gave 
her  a  piano  score  which  I  had  marked  with  colored 
pencils  to  indicate  the  entrances  of  the  speaker.  I 
played  the  music  for  her.  She  learned  the  work  in 
a  few  hours.  At  the  performance  Mrs.  Roosevelt's 
reading  was  a  triumph  for  her  and  for  Kousse 
vitzky! 

NH:  In  1951  you  wrote  an  article  for  Penguin 
Books  entitled  "What  Every  Accompanist 
Knows."  Did  that  article  reflect  any  frustration 
with  your  career? 

RB:  Yes,  in  a  way.  The  article  discusses  the  social 
aspect  of  an  accompanist's  career,  relating  it  to  the 
soloist.  It  also  discusses  fees  and  the  attitudes  of 
the  critics.  It  tries  to  reflect  an  objective  view  of  the 
life  of  an  accompanist. 

NH:  You  sum  up  everything  by  saying,  "By  the 
very  nature  of  being  required  to  learn  a  great 
amount  of  music  (quickly)  he  (the  accompanist) 
develops  a  wider  musical  vision  than  is  vouch 
safed  to  the  specialists  of  flying  octaves  and 
machine-gun  wrists."  You  obviously  feel  that  an 
accompanist  must  have  many  more  musical  skills 
than  a  soloist. 

RB:  Without  question.  All  the  young  musicians 
who  have  changed  their  focus  from  soloist  to 
ensemble  player  know  much  more  about  the  art  of 
music,  the  history  of  music,  and  the  repertoire  of 
music  than  those  pianists  who,  by  the  nature  of 
their  profession,  have  to  dwell  on  solo  repertoire. 
That's  a  very  limiting  life,  no  matter  how  talented 
or  successful  the  pianist.  If  the  solo  pianist  is  going 
to  play  recitals  and  concertos  with  orchestras,  he 
has  to  wo  rk  much  more  diligently  in  a  much  more 
restricted  field  than  the  pianist  who  has  to  play 
one  day  with  a  singer,  the  next  with  a  cellist,  the 
next  with  a  woodwind  player  and  so  on. 

It's  a  very  underrated  profession.  Psycho 
logically  the  accompanist  plays  "second  fiddle." 
Yet  a  second  fiddle  in  a  string  quartet  is  as  impor 
tant  as  the  first  or  the  violist  or  the  cellist.  But  an 
accompanist,  especially  if  he  plays  sonatas  or 
Lieder,  is  as  important  on  the  stage,  from  a  musi 


cal  point  of  view,  as  the  soloist.  However,  in  the 
eyes  of  manngem,  the  music  critics,  or  many  solo 
ists,  the  accompanist's  place  is  in  the  background. 
The  other  side  of  the  coin  is  that  when  a  manager 
engages  a  soloist  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  him 
who  the  accompanist  is.  It  is  also  of  no  interest  to 
the  public  to  ask  when  they  went  to  hear  Heifetz 
or  Zimbalist,  "Who  is  the  accompanist?"  But 
when  Beethoven  wrote  a  sonata  for  violin  and 
piano,  he  always  called  it  a  sonata  for  piano  and 
violin.  He  wasn't  writing  subsidiary  music  for  the 
piano  part.  It  was  no  obbligato. 

When  Brahms  or  Hugo  Wolf  or  Schubert 
wrote  songs,  they  didn't  think  the  piano  part  was 
some  unimportant  background  part  to  fill  in  for 
the  soloist.  You  know  the  famous  story  of  Rubin 
stein.  He  always  insisted  when  he  played  trios 
with  Heifetz  and  Piatigorsky  that  the  pianist  was 
named  first.  Heifetz  didn't  like  this  at  all  and  said, 
"Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  call  it  the  Heifetz, 
Piatigorsky,  and  Rubinstein  Trio?"  To  which 
Rubinstein  retorted,  "No,  even  if  God  were  play 
ing  the  violin  it  would  still  remain  Rubinstein, 
God,  and  Piatigorsky." 

Years  ago  the  first  violinist  of  a  string  quartet 
was  considered  the  leader.  I  recall  a  review  by 
George  Bernard  Shaw  in  which  he  speaks  of 
Joachim  as  the  leader  of  the  Joachim  Quartet. 
Actually  Joachim  thought  of  the  quartet  in  that 
way.  When  he  came  to  England,  he  would  engage 
three  musicians.  They  wouldn't  be  the  same  three 
who  played  with  him  in  Germany.  Times  have 
changed.  Still,  in  the  art  of  playing  with  a  cellist  or 
violinist  on  the  stage,  the  accompanist's  role  is 
and  will  always  be  referred  to  as  secondary.  After 
a  concert  some  people  will  try  to  praise  the  accom 
panist  by  saying,  "I  listened  to  you  just  as  much  as 
I  did  to  the  soloist."  If  they  didn't  then  they  were 
wasting  their  money.  It's  a  problem  that  goes  to 
the  heart  of  social  and  economic  matters  in  music. 
NH:  One  of  the  biggest  riddles  of  the  musical 
profession  is:  Why  do  some  musicians  make  big 
careers,  while  other  who  are  equally,  if  not  more 
talented,  get  lost  in  the  shuffle? 
RB:  Well,  it  is  one  of  the  great  mysteries.  Some 
careers  are  meteoric  such  as  that  of  Van  Clibum. 
Other  careers,  like  Arthur  Rubinstein's,  took  a 
lifetime  of  building.  I  must  tell  you  that  one  day  in 
the  early  1940s  Pialigorsky  and  I  were  having 
lunch  in  Chicago  with  Mr.  Rubinstein.  He  asked 


The  I'iano  Quarterly  No.  153       47 


s,  "Do  you  know  when  I  first  played  in  Chi- 
.»go?"  We  didn't  hnvc  any  idea.  "In  1904,  "  he 
;plied.  Can  you  imagine?!  That  was  nearly  forty 
ears  prior  to  that  luncheon. 
IH:  You  have  also  had  quite  a  career  as  an 
rranger  and  transcriber.  One  of  the  most  valu- 
ble  transcriptions  you  made  was  a  two-piano 
ersion  of  the  "Carnival  of  the  Animals"  by  Saint 
ae'ns. 

.B:  There  are  about  forty  works  of  mine  pub- 
shed  for  two  pianos,  or  one  piano,  four  hands, 
ome  of  them  have  remained  alive  and  some  have 
ied.  They  were  published  in  this  country,  in 
ranee,  and  in  Germany.  The  "Carnival  of  the 
mimals"  is  still  very  popular.  Only  recently  I 
eceived  some  royalties  from  Japan  for  perform- 
nces.  I  made  numerous  transcriptions  of  Bach, 
xmperin,  Tschaikovsky,  Gershwin,  Ravel,  De- 
ussy,  Haydn,  Purcell,  Frescobaldi,  Weber, 
Ihopin,  Wagner,  etc.  When  I  saw  Van  Cliburn  last 
e  said  to  me,  "You  know,  when  I  was  a  little  boy 
.iy  mother  used  to  buy  your  two-piano  transcrip- 
ions  and  make  me  play  them.  I  can  still  see  your 
iame  in  the  corner  of  the  page." 
<JH:  You  are  also  known  as  a  lecturer  on  both 
adio  and  television. 

IB:  I  used  to  have  a  radio  program  called  'The 
•ubstance  of  Music."  I  remember  doing  a  series  of 
4  lectures  at  the  Philadelphia  Museum  School  of 
^rt.  I  also  gave  a  series  of  lectures  in  Albuquerque 
m  Public  Television  called  'The  Arts."  And  I  gave 
he  intermission  talks  for  the  Boston  Symphony 
Orchestra  broadcasts  in  New  Mexico. 
<JH:  You  also  compose. 

IB:  I  can't  call  myself  a  composer  although  I  have 
vritten  some  songs  and  other  pieces.  The  most 
uccessful  work  I  wrote  is  called  "A  Telephone 
la  11"  and  is  based  on  a  short  story  by  Dorothy 
Jarker.  This  work,  for  soprano  and  orchestra,  was 
:onducted  by  my  friend  Eleazar  de  Carvalho  in 
tio  de  Janeiro.  There  was  no  tape  made,  so  I  never 
leard  it. 

^H:  Another  side  of  your  life  is  that  you  have  been 
HI  active  artist.  Do  you  ever  wish  you  had  been  an 
irtist  by  profession  rather  than  a  musician? 
RB:  It's  not  something  one  can  wish;  either  one  is 
3r  one  isn't.  If  you  are  a  writer  then  you  write. 
Hans  von  Biilow  was  once  asked  how  to  become 
3  conductor,  and  he  replied,  "One  fine  day  you 
step  onto  the  podium.  If  you  can,  you  will,  and  if 

48       The  Piano  Quarterly  No.  153 


you  can't,  you'll  never  learn." 
Nil:  What  do  you  feel  has  been  your  contribution 
to  the  musical  world? 

RB:  I  think  as  a  teacher  and  a  musician  devoted  to 
music.  I've  been  active  since  the  age  of  sixteen,  a 
very  long  time.  I've  found  that  you  don't  learn 
anything  until  you  have  to  teach  it.  I've  never 
stopped  teaching  the  piano.  I've  had  some  grati 
fying  results  over  the  years.  And  I  have  played 
with  great  artists,  like  the  violinists  Eudice 
Shapiro  and  Josef  Gingold;  great  singers  like 
Phyliss  Curtin  and  Gerard  Souzay;  and  had  warm 
friendships,  among  other  with  Bernstein  and 
Copland,  Barber  and  Menotti,  Bolet  and 
Leinsdorf,  the  Guarneri  Quartet  and  Boris  Gold- 
ovsky,  Gary  Graffman  and  Isaac  Stern. 
NH:  Do  you  have  any  regrets  in  your  career, 
perhaps  not  being  known  as  a  solo  pianist? 
RB:  That  is  something  I  have  often  thought  about. 
When  you  are  young  and  ambitious,  you  hope  to 
see  your  name  in  lights  or  on  billboards  in  front  of 
Carnegie  Hall  or  read  long  articles  about  your 
playing  in  The  New  York  Titties.  Those  are  childish 
pipe  dreams.  Everyone  has  them  and  with  luck 
most  people  live  through  them.  The  career  of  a 
musician  has  many  sides,  but  by  your  twenties 
your  life  has  to  be  settled.  Some  of  my  colleagues 
never  accepted  the  fact  that  they  wouldn't  be 
world-beaters.  In  order  to  eat  they  had  to  take  jobs 
in  universities  or  colleges  of  music,  and  they  still 
resent  it.  They  feel  it  is  demeaning,  and  they  feel 
frustrated.  Other  musicians  have  accepted  the  fact 
that  they  will  never  be  world-famous  names  or 
glorious  solo  performers,  but  they  have  felt  that 
they  can  contribute  to  music  in  their  community 
and  to  younger  artists  who  will  carry  on  the  art  of 
music.  They  realize  they  are  in  a  profession  of 
consequence;  they  are  among  the  people  who 
makes  a  contribution  which  is  more  or  less  lasting 
and  has  a  truth  connected  with  it.  It  is  something 
which  is  hard  toexplain,and  it's  incredibly  harder 
to  explain  to  young  people.  So  that  in  the  years 
that  I've  been  an  administrator,  a  manager,  a 
teacher,  a  performer,  a  chamber  music  player,  and 
an  author  —  all  those  things  have  been  much 
more  gratifying  than  if  I  had  been  a  solo  artist.  The 
course  I  have  followed  has  allowed  me  to  get  to 
know  and  work  with  some  of  the  great  people  of 
this  century,  and  for  that  I  consider  myself  very 
fortunate. 


INTERVIEWER'S  BRIEF  BIOGRAPHY 
Carolyn  Erbele 

Born  in  upper  state  New  York,  consequently  lived  in  rural  Illinois  and 
Albuquerque,  New  Mexico.  Bay  Area  resident  since  1970. 
Attended  Mills  College  (Oakland)  and  San  Jose  State  as  a  music 
major.  Attended  Vista  Community  College  (Berkeley)  to  study  oral 
history  with  Elaine  Dorfman. 

Professional  music  experience  includes:  teaching,  primarily  piano,  but 
also  pedagogy,  beginning  voice  and  young  children's  music  classes; 
performance  as  a:  pianist  (solo,  four  hand  piano,  ensemble  work), 
church  organist  since  high  school  (currently  regular  substitute 
organist  for  Epworth  United  Methodist  Church,  Berkeley,  additional 
studies  in  France  during  the  spring  of  1988);  accompanist  (solo  voice 
and  instrumental,  choral  and  opera  including  work  with  The  California 
Bach  Society  and  Oakland  Opera  Theater);  mezzo  soprano  (formerly 
a  member  of  the  Pacific  Mozart  Ensemble  and  alto  soloist  in  their 
presentation  of  Handel's  Israel  in  Egypt,  formerly  a  member  of  A  Little 
Opera  in  the  House,  a  chamber  performance  ensemble,  featured 
primarily  in  that  group  as  Miss  Todd,  the  lead  role  in  Menotti's  The  Old 
Maid  and  the  Thief.) 

Interviewer/transcriber/editor  of  four  other  oral  histories:  1 .  Michael 
Mills,  Director  of  Vista's  International  Trade  Institute,  Veteran 
Teacher  and  Program  Planner.  This  was  the  first  interview  to  be 
completed  for  the  Vista  Community  College  Oral  History  Project 
(1974  - 1989)  and  accepted  by  the  Vista  Community  College  library 
as  well  as  the  Regional  Oral  History  Office  at  U.C.  Berkeley.  2.  Sophie 
Marmorek  Tritsch:  The  Early  Years  (Editor  only).  This  interview  is  a 
life  history  that  includes  Sophie's  many  accomplishments  such  as 
being  a  nurse  in  WW1  and  getting  her  husband  out  of  Dachau  when 
Hitler  came  to  power.  Copies  have  been  given  to  family  members  as 
well  as  the  Judah  Magnes  Museum  in  Berkeley  and  to  the  Regional 
Oral  History  Office  at  U.C.  Berkeley.  3.  Gretta  Goldenman, 
environmental  activist  who  co-founded  the  Pesticide  Action  Network 
and  currently  is  serving  as  a  consultant  to  the  Directorate  General  of 
the  Environment  for  the  Commission  of  the  European  Communities  in 
Brussels  (in  progress).  4.  Julia  Eastburg,  local  artist  and  feminist 
whose  environmental  activism  originated  from  seeing  her  place  of 
birth,  the  Santa  Clara  Valley,  destroyed  and  displaced  by  the  Silicon 
Valley  (in  progress). 


Abbado  10 

Albuquerque  4,  10,  21,  23 

Albuquerque  Symphony  Orchestra  22 

Anguissola  31 

Aspen  12 

Auer37 

Barber  2,  35 

Barnes  Foundation  5 

Berkshire  hills  12 

Berlin  6 

Berlin  Philharmonic  7 

Bernstein  2,  10,  14,  15,  37,  38 

Bolet  2 

Bonney  22 

Boston  8 

Boston  Symphony  Orchestra  8,  13,  14,  23,  34 

Carnegie  12 

"Carnival  of  the  Animals"  1 9 

Chavez  1 1 

Children's  Concerts  38 

Cioffi  16 

Cole  2,  29 

Copland  11,  14,35,37 

Curtin  14 

Curtis  Institute  1,  3,  35 

Dallapicolla  1 1 

deCarvalho  19,  35 

de  Gogorza  3 

Eastman  Symphonic  Band  36 

Elman  37 

Emerson  31 

Fennell  36 

Fine  Arts  Quartet  24 

Furtwangler  6 

Garbousova  20 

Germany  28 

Gingold  23 

Goldovsky  11,  14,  15,35 

Greer  32 

Guarneri  String  Quartet  24 

Hawthorne  12 

Heifetz  36,  37 

Hitler  28 

Honegger 1 1 

Horowitz  1 8 

Houser  24 


Ibert  1 1 

Istomin  2 

June  Music  Festival  10,  21,  23 

Kogan  20 

Koussevitzky  8,  10,  13,  14,  34,  35 

KrolM4 

Lear  1 1 

Leinsdorf  10,  34 

Levine  3 

Lipkin  19 

Ma  2 

Maazel  10 

Massachusetts  12 

Mayes  2,  1 6 

Mehta  10 

Melville  12 

Menqtti  2,  35 

Messiaen  1 1 

Michaelangelo  32 

Milhaud  11 

Miller  2 

Milnes  1 1 

Miquelle  23 

Molnar  24 

Munch  10,  14 

Nash  19 

Nelsova  20 

New  York  City  4 

Ozawa  1 0 

Parker  1 9 

Pasquale  16 

Pavlovsky  2 

Peerce  20 

Perry  9,  34 

Peter  and  the  Wolf  1 3 

Petrassi  1 1 

Philadephia  3 

Piatigorsky  2,  6,  8,  16,34,36 

Polak  1 

Posellt  16 

Price  1 1 

Prokofieff  13 

Rockefellers  12 

Roosevelt  12,  13 

Rose  2 

Ross  11.  14 


Russia  6 

Salmond  2 

Scalero  35 

Schola  Cantorum  1 1 

Sembrich  3 

Sessions  1 1 

Shapiro  16,  20 

Simms  23 

Simon  2 

Sokoloff  3 

St.  Louis  Symphony  35 

Stern  34 

Tanglewood  9,  11,  13 

Tanglewood  Tales  12 

Tel  Aviv  36 

The  Arts  4 

The  Historical  Series  3 

Toch  1 1 

Vengerova  2 

Waxman  34 

Wharton  1 2 

World  War  II  27 

Zimbalist  3,  37 

Zimbalist,  Jr.  36 


/V5S 

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