432 p.; BvD Books on Demand; Norderstadt.

Anybody remembers that famous book on journalism: “Anybody here who has been raped and speaks English? “. The answer was: “Nobody speaks English!”  Conclusion: nobody has been raped.” That’s the reality of the situation nowadays in the operatic world and on English language opera fora. Utter lack of knowledge of interesting books or publications written in another language. A reminder of the days in our old university city of Leuven where a small coterie of French speakers decided that anything not written or translated in French was not worthwhile buying for the university library. They were finally expelled in 1968 and in a few years’ time Flemish students could finally consult important books in other languages than French. Sorry for the rant but the parochial mentality  of English speakers never fails to amaze me. Two years ago “Wilhelm Furtwängler – Im Brennpunkt von Macht und Musik” appeared which gave us final conclusions on the conductor’s life and his struggle with Goebbels and co. A movie with Harvey Keitel (“Taking Sides”) as denazification officer was produced in 2001 and heated discussions followed on fora. In 2022 silence outside  Germany as English opera lovers are not able to read a few sentences in one of the three most important languages in opera even though some pretend they can (On Opera-l an on-line chatgroup there is a fascist -posing as an antifascist- who thinks less educated people should not have the vote and pretending he knows German. The vulgar moron is not even able to spell correctly the simple word “Liebchen”.)

Time for a long review and a biography of a fine self-published hard cover state of the art book which appeared in 2016 and to the best of my knowledge disappeared without making ripples. Though it is still available on Amazon US, there is no single comment from a reader. A pity as the book is meticulously researched. Rainer Bunz did a thorough job though he admits he couldn’t visit personally some places where Weissmann conducted as he didn’t have the money. He admits too his interest in Weissmann started when he noted the conductor lived for a time in the author’s town. Bunz had few personal sources to work with as Weissmann didn’t write diaries, lost a lot of his personal belongings and probably destroyed a lot of letters. Therefore one can ask oneself: is the life and career of a third rank conductor worth a whole book? The answer can only be a resounding yes for two reasons. One is the number of shellac records Weismann made: 4.000 according to the conductor himself; 2.000 according to Bunz. Still an astounding number and even more astounding are the names of the singers he accompanied. Every vocal record collector has Weismann recordings though not all transfers (especially on LP; better on CD) mention the names of conductor and orchestra. And then there are “ the life and times of…”. Should HBO, Disney or Netflix need a subject for a riveting television series they need no look further.

FROM SEMY TO FRIEDER

Samuel Weissmann was born in 1893 in a small German town. His whole life he upheld an old operatic tradition: presenting himself as two, five and seven years younger than he was in reality. He even falsified his American passport converting the 3 into 8. Cynically Bunz writes that  “of course it took a German customs official to discover the manipulation” two years before the conductor’s death. His father was a Polish Jew who not long after Samuel’s birth became a cantor in Frankfurt. The main part of Poland was part of the Russian empire and therefore the family was officially Russian. “Semy” was a pupil in a liberal Jewish school before attending high school where he soon took his leave from Jewish traditions and rituals as he liked dogs and horses; animals not appreciated at home. He soon showed his talent for music but his father ordered him to study history and philosophy in Munich. In reality he dallied in music, composing a few pieces of chamber music and attending a lot of opera performances. In August 1914 he dreamt of becoming a cavalry “Ulan” in the Prussian army, offered himself as a voluntary and was rejected as Russia was now an enemy of Germany. Still it was not 1939 when confinement was obligatory for enemy subjects. His younger brother Richard followed suit two years later and by that time anybody was welcome. His brother got a German passport in early 1917. A few months later he was killed in Arras in France. By that time Weissmann had returned to his senses and found employ as an assistant at the Frankfurt opera house and a piano player in a local café. Soon afterwards he became the second conductor at the opera of Stettin (now in Poland) where he learned his trade and changed his name in the German sounding Frieder. At the end of the war he left for Berlin where notwithstanding the material penury  music life continued as if nothing had changed. He conducted his first concert with the Berliner Symphoniker (Mendelssohn and Brahms); the second orchestra of the German capital. Weissmann had still not concluded his studies so he returned to Munich (and was not ashamed to call himself during his musical activities a “doctor” years before he promoted) where he wandered at the edge of history. Bavaria temporarily succumbed to a Bolshevik putsch while music life continued. Weismann fled to Berlin where another communist coup d’état failed. In the meantime Poland became independent but the family didn’t want to apply for a passport. Bolshevik Russia didn’t recognize former inhabitants of Poland and the family was stateless. During his travels Weismann had met a Finnish diplomat and the man secured a passport for the conductor (not for the family); the second of his five nationalities. He once more started composing and produced even an opera: Der Student von Prag which was never performed. He had to survive by taking lowbrow jobs and composed the music for Holiday on Ice. He finally got a job at the Staatsoper as a chorus repetiteur. Occasionally he accompanied a singer at the piano and his chance came when soprano Barbara Kemp -wife of general manager and composer Max von Schillings- liked “ that boy with blue eyes”. The boy was 28, looked younger, had charm and was tall and had mesmerizing blue eyes (a predecessor of another famous Jew: Paul Newman). So he was called upon a “Der fliegende Holländer” in an emergency. Nobody had forgotten that ice revue and Schillings noted the young conductor had an exceptional talent for ballet. No real famous conductor wanted to harm his career by performing long ballets in the theatre. It takes long hours of rehearsal, coordinating with dancers and reacting quick in distress. Weissmann proved to be perfect for Delibes’ Sylvie, for ballet music culled from Schubert, Liszt, Meyerbeer and Johann Strauss. Gradually and probably against his will he was put into that “Fach” while he dreamt of conducting symphonies and concertos. Were it his good looks or his all-purpose talents that resulted in a duo as a pianist with a young aspiring female violinist? The lady was good but her legs were even better and shortly afterwards she decided upon acting: Marlene Dietrich. 

PROLIFIC RECORDING

Thanks to soprano Emmy Bettendorf** Weissmann started his recording career. The soprano wanted a good accompanist, not too difficult and not too proud to look down on acoustic recordings. Almost all top conductors in that age of the cult of the conductor couldn’t bring themselves to devote their time to such an imperfect medium. Weissmann hadn’t their choice and needed the money. The orchestras he conducted for Parlophone (part of EMI from 1931 on) consisted of 25 members. He recorded most of the time one week per month and was paid twice the amount he earned at the Staatsoper for three weeks. A lot of the singers he accompanied are forgotten but names as Bettendorf, Gertrud Bindernagel and especially tenors (tenors and baritones recorded better than female singers) Nino Piccaluga and Costa Milona still ring a bell. Weissmann did well and Parlophone engaged him for orchestral recordings as well. But once more Germany was in uproar. According to France Germany was slow in paying war damages. In 1923 French and Belgian soldiers occupied the industrial Ruhr to run coal mines and steel plants and ripe all benefits (They succeeded in extracting half the benefits of the amounts the Germans would voluntary have paid). A small war broke out with hundreds of victims among occupiers and occupied. The German government ordered a general strike for months. Inflation already was high but with presses printing German money without interruption it became a monetary catastrophe still unequalled in world history.  Money’s real worth often halved in one day. At the height of this hyperinflation one dollar was worth 4 billion marks. Weissmann barely survived as recording stopped but at the end of November 1923 the German government stopped printing money, provided a new Mark and next year France (silently) conceded the occupation’s defeat. Parlophone immediately resumed an ambitious recording programme and Weissmann conducted Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique. Even more ambitious was his recording of all of van Beethoven’s symphonies though with cuts in some movements. At the same time he didn’t neglect singers. Fritzi Jokl and Lauritz Melchior*** made their first recordings with him.

META SEINEMEYER *

If Weissmann’s name still resounds, this is due to  his relationship with Germany’s greatest Verdi soprano ever: Meta Seinemeyer. He had probably attended a few opera performances with her and he knew she had made a few recordings in 1919. In the meantime the voice had matured and by 1925 she was a sensation; a German soprano with the amplitude, the warmth  and the colours of the best Italian sopranos. Weissmann and Seinemeyer met in November 1925 for a series of acoustic records and they immediately fell in love.  Rainer Bunz writes that even then the soprano was often ill though only thirty years old; not knowing she had only four years to live. It was the start of relationship we remember from Sutherland-Bonynge or Horne-Lewis. The soprano was the star of a Wagner festival at the Colon in Buenos Aires in the spring of 1926 and Weissmann was to be the conductor. This was the moment he discovered Finnish bureaucrats refused to extend his passport and once again he was stateless. Young Fritz Reiner replaced him. In September 1926 Parlophone began producing electrically miked records. Weissmann started with van Beethoven but within a month was recording his “fiancée” in arias and duets. Seinemeyer’s records were hits as the new technology finally allowed female voices to be recorded without distortion. The soprano had an extra attraction. Her father  was a police captain and he initiated proceedings to nationalize his future son-in-law. Bad historians describe the Weimar Republic as a heaven of tolerance and multiculture. In reality Weissmann’s application for a German passport was an uphill battle. The Weimar republic has a reputation too of sexual liberty. In Dresden where Seinemeyer was almost deified the couple had to take two suites (with a connecting door) in a hotel and were officially not allowed to live in one. Weissmann earned good money accompanying other singers as well. Vocal buffs all have an extended collection of Preiser LP’s and Cd’s of Lotte Lehmann, Adele Kern, Tino Pattiera, Hans Reinmar etc. etc. A singer Weissmann particularly appreciated was Richard Tauber; a composer (“Du bist die Welt für mich”) and conductor as well. Weissmann didn’t restrict himself to the recording studio but took with two hands all assignments in concert halls and opera  houses. To his frustration he couldn’t accept invitations abroad (e.g. in Vienna at Richard Strauss’ request) as he remained stateless. Seinemeyer in the meantime continued her career as well as she could while almost collapsing under leukaemia. In her last year of life she frenetically recorded without pause. Heart wrenching is her recording with Weissmann of Listz’s “O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst” in March 1929. Her last photograph with the conductor was taken in August of that year. She needed a walking stick. The end came a few weeks later. She literally married Weissmann on het deathbed. She was so weak she couldn’t even sign the act of marriage and just nodded her consent. Seinemeyer was 34. (A few months ago Walloon soprano Jodie Devos died from cancer, aged 35).

Click here to visit Seinemeyer’s website 

CRASH AND THE RISE OF NAZISM

Meta Seinemeyer was barely buried, when Wall Street crashed though nobody at the time had any idea of all the consequences. A few months later it was Germany’s turn. However there was one bright spot in Weissmann’s life. His father-in-law had finally succeeded and at 37 he officially became a citizen in the state where he was born and had lived his whole life. The economic crisis he couldn’t escape. Parlophone sold 30 million records in 1929; 8 million in 1933. Weissmann’s task shrunk to four days a week. Moreover the demand and recording of “high-brow” music practically stopped and Weissmann got a choice. Either he recorded tangos, waltzes, operetta hits, movie tunes or popular songs or Parlophone did no longer need his service. It was no real choice and he accepted the label’s proposal. He conducted an ad hoc orchestra which switched musicians all the time. He had to employ guitars, xylophones, trumpets, marimbas etc. in popular music. Parlophone baptized it “Wiener Bohème Orchestra” and didn’t even put the conductor’s name on the record. Musicians didn’t keep silent and Weissman’s hope of conducting important orchestras slowly dwindled. It became even more an illusion when he agreed to conduct the nemesis of vocal collectors: Kurzoper and operettas. Singers sang highlights from opera and operettas in shortened form; arias cut in two, no recitatives, one quarter of an ensemble etc. Popular at the time but frustrating nowadays. Serious critics accused Weissmann of being a conductor of “garden music”. A relief came from engagements at radio stations which often had their own orchestras where he once more set his teeth in Richard Strauss, Mozart and Lalo. He also became second conductor of the Berliner Symphoniker; Berlin’s second orchestra which barely survived on meagre city subsidies. On other days he recorded arias and popular songs with “The three tenors”: Richard Tauber, Joseph Schmidt and Jan Kiepura (far more popular in their days than Pavarotti, Domingo and Carrerras and at least they didn’t record horrible potpourris). He finally succeeded to get a few engagements abroad in the Dutch speaking countries Flanders and The Netherlands. In September 1932 the Berlin Symphoniker collapsed and Furtwängler allowed him to conduct (for the first and last time) the Berliner Philharmoniker in a recording of the Rienzi overture. As Weissmann didn’t keep a diary we don’t know his thoughts on the rising storm in German politics. Did he follow events? Probably. Was he relieved when the nazis got a clobbering in the last democratic elections of Weimar Germany in November 1932? Probably. He and other guests (Tauber, Kleiber, Furtwängler, Schönberg) were at a party in Berlin on the 29^th of January 1933 when they heard president Hindenburg had dismissed the government. Next day Hitler became chancellor with the aid of other conservative parties which were sure he would wipe away “the reds” before they themselves wiped him out. In a few months’ time and at a speed the nazis themselves could barely believe Hitler’s party put the whole left and right in the dustbin. On the 15th of March Weissmann conducted Tauber in his last German recordings. In April he got the notice he was in future no longer welcome at Parlophone and at the end of June he conducted his last recordings for the label with soprano Elisabeth Rethberg. Contrary to many German Jews who hoped the wind would blow over, Weissmann knew he didn’t have a chance of ever working again as a conductor. And he had the prescience to realize the nazis were there to stay while a lot of people naively thought it would be a question of months before common sense took over in Germany. Weissmann left for Amsterdam at the end of June 1933 and didn’t take any risk. Precious objects he left at his parents and he only had bare necessities with him. There were no problems with German officials at the frontier.

GUEST CONDUCTOR

Weissmann accepted work as guest conductor of a radio orchestra in The Netherlands. He could even conduct the first performances abroad of his former own Wiener Bohème Orchestra. A lot of the musicians were Jewish but they didn’t recognize the signs of time and returned to Germany. Reiner Bunz all the time mentions names and destiny of greatly forgotten Jewish soloists in classical music. We all know the names of the great ones who fled but according to the author most of the less famous ended their life in the gas ovens. In the Netherlands Weissmann probably realized he always would remain an honest though not a great conductor. He had the “honour” of accompanying singers like Marcel Wittrisch and the extremely popular tenor Jan Kiepura (son of a Polish Jewish lady and a catholic Pole and a favourite of the nazis till 1937). Weissmann nevertheless still hoped to be more than a competent artist and changed his name to Marco Ibanez in several operetta performances for radio for fear he would stay in that Fach for the rest of his days. He succeeded due to his early recording fame in getting engagements in Argentina: radio performances and two concerts at the Colon with music from Richard Strauss and Ludwig van Beethoven. The movie script of his life continued when he returned to Europe. In the vicinity of a Portuguese port his ship was rammed by a Portuguese one and went under in ten minutes time. All passengers were saved but the conductor lost all his luggage and scores. He soon returned to Buenos Aires and got two things in 1935: a new wife (daughter of a well-to-do Anglo-Argentinian family) and a passport as the country’s president was a fan. Once more he was lucky as the Nürnberger laws were proclaimed only a few months later. From now on German Jews were subjects of the state but no longer held German citizenship and couldn’t vote. Jews who had fled became stateless. Thanks to hiss Argentinian passport the conductor avoided this fate . For three years Weissmann regularly conducted concerts (mostly pieces by late romantic composers) in The Netherlands and Argentina when a new opportunity arrived. The concert agency of Arthur Judson invited him to make his début in the US  in Cincinnati.  There was a strange prologue to that performance. NBC started to build a new radio orchestra for Toscanini and had it “exercise” before the arrival of the Italian. Monteux conducted the first two concerts, got ill and Weissmann conducted the third one without preparation (Franck, d’Indy, Stravinsky), made a successful official début in Cincinnati but a promised tour never got a start. I was surprised to learn that Weissmann’s parents could still visit him in The Netherlands as late as April 1938. They duly returned to Germany to their fate. At the end of the year his ill father decided to emigrate but too late. He died in February 1939. Weissmann used all his influence and his reputation in The Netherlands to get a visa for his mother. Bunz tells in detail how the 68 year old woman was deprived of every Mark and Pfennig before she finally arrived in Amsterdam in June 1939. Saved by the bell the family wrongly thought. Tenor fans have one recording from these days: the Hilversum radio concert with Jussi Björling.  Weissmann could finally start a serious career in the US with seven concerts in Lewisohn-stadion. Reviews were mixed. Critics applauded his versatility , the way he got the orchestra to play as he wanted it though some thought his tempi eccentric and all agreed his conducting technique (“a bat” one wrote) was not to be found in any textbook.

WAR

When the war started in Europe (with repercussions on shipping all over the world) Weissmann went for a career in the US. He had one advantage. His was not a name the big five orchestras were competing to recruit and his financial demands were modest. In his first year he only earned 700 dollars while other emigrants like Reiner, Steinberg or Stiedry had an income of 4 to 5000 dollars (And Toscanini got 40.000 $ for radio concerts). By now he realized his career would be restricted to guest conducting in the US. Thanks to mayor Fiorello la Guardia a new orchestra was founded: The New York City Symphony, subsidized and recruited among musicians out of job. They performed in Rockefeller-Centre and Weissmann successfully conducted a series of concerts with Melchior, Rethberg and Schorr. Ticket prices were cheap. Weissmann got engagements too with second rate orchestras such as the  New Jersey Symphony and Essex County Symphony. His New York performances gradually became more rare due (not withstanding cheap tickets) to a lack of interest. A series of concerts at Carnegie Hall was a disaster: Klemperer always sold out, Weissmann had to do with 35 % of seats filled. Finally he got an orchestra of his own in Pennsylvania: The Scranton Philharmonic (140.000 inhabitants at the time). Anyway it was a job in difficult times while he wondered how his mother survived in The Netherlands. Bunz unearthed her last of 9 Red Cross letters which were never delivered. In December 1942 she was put on transport and probably immediately murdered in Auschwitz. Bunz tells a story that somewhat reminds me too much of a movie. Weissmann said that just after the war a woman approached him who had met his mother in Auschwitz where she received the walking stick of Weissmann’s father. She survived and this way the conductor got the news and always considered the stick to be a relic. After starting his life as a Russian and becoming a Finn, a German and an Argentinian Weissmann got his last new nationality as an American in August 1944. At the end of the war someone at RCA remembered Weissmann accompanying pre-war vocal stars and for a few years he became “first opera conductor” for shellack records of Milanov, Albanese, Merrill, Peerce, Warren and Melton and he ended his recording career with Traubel in 1950. He no longer was satisfied with records compared to live performances. Anyway, that’s his story. Probably nearer to truth is the reality RCA wanted better known names or at least conductors working at the Metropolitan Opera.

AFTER THE WAR

After the war Weissmann continued his quest for a well-paid job. He remained convinced of his talents though he probably knew the chances were slim he would succeed. Either he was called a has been or otherwise considered to be a conductor for open-air concerts (Toronto 1947 and 1948) or one to be engaged to step in for an ailing more famous colleague. Even some of his successes didn’t help. Older musicians formed an “Old Timer’s Symphony Orchestra” in New York and proved they had not lost all their abilities; neither had Weissmann as their conductor. Some reviews were positive while showing an aura of sympathy only for the brave grumpy old men. In 1951 Weissmann finally succeeded in having his own orchestra; not world class but professional: Orquesta Filharmonica de la Habana. Those were the heady days in Cuba when Battista reigned. He gave his blessings to Meyer Lansky, Lucky Luciano and others to use Cuba as a headquarters for mafia operations. Their money from gambling and heroin trade was not interested in high culture. In 1953 the Filharmonica went bust and Weissmann once more had to take the road. (click here to read Weissmann’s personal view on the those days)Once more he returned to The Netherlands and Flanders (Ghent and the Paleis voor Schone Kunsten in Brussels) and once more he proved himself to be a man for all seasons and music (Mahler, van Beethoven, Telemann). RAI-orchestra hired him for a few concerts with Giuseppe Taddei and young Teresa Berganza. Beggars cannot be choosers and as an inveterate womanizer with expensive tastes like horse riding he finally accepted engagements in Germany in 1955. He was even willing to speak his mother language (his correspondence in 1953 with German refugee Carl Ebert was in English on purpose). Weissmann got one concert with the Berliner Philharmoniker and a few opera performances in Munich. Reviews were mixed and often emphasized his “lively, circling movements which were not fine to look at”. In 1958 Scranton preferred a more popular conductor and Weismann concentrated himself on The Netherlands (Die Fledermaus and Tosca) and Italy.

LOLITA

Rainer Bunz’s biography titles a chapter “Lolita” and he is not shy to mention the conductor’s warts. In Amsterdam Weissmann met 14 year old Sylvia Quiëll who fell in love with the 65 year old conductor. It started as a flirt but became more serious in ensuing years. “Better destroy my letters” he wrote the 16 year old and by that time Sylvia’s mother was suspicious and filed a complaint with the vice squad. At the last minute Weissmann escaped to London. For a few years he became a travelling conductor all over the world: Bari, Stuttgart, London, Cape Town, Rio de Janeiro etc. He was now in his seventies, estranged from his wife (though he didn’t divorce her) and he resumed his relationship with Sylvia after she became an adult. Engagements became more rare till they finally ended at eighty. Even Sylvia left him when she met the famous Dutch painter Carel Willink, willing to divorce his wife and a youngster only 44 years older than Sylvia, compared to Weissmann’s 51 years. The end of the story once more is worth a movie project. Sylvia took care of her two men and she lovingly looked after the conductor during illnesses with Willink’s benediction. The painter died in 1983 and Weissmann survived him for a year until at almost 91 he died of a heart attack in Amsterdam.

All in all a life worth telling and Rainer Bunzin does it well with few small mistakes. Robert Merrill and Leonard Warren would be surprised to learn they were basses. Schmidt was Joseph and not Josef. Father Weissmann couldn’t have written a letter in December 1939 as he died seven months earlier. As many Germans Bunz has no clear idea of the difference between “Holländisch” and “Niederländisch” though that’s not his fault as most people in Holland (only the Western part of The Netherlands) still prefer to call the country with that imperialistic name. Recently the government decided that in all official documents only The Netherlands is acceptable (so that people in Brabant, Gelderland, Groningen, Limburg, Overijssel, Friesland and Drenthe feel included). Mr. Bunz often quotes reviews of Dutch newspapers. He either understands the language or he had a translator. He prefers quoting a small unimportant French language newspaper now long gone for Weissmann’s Antwerp performances; a city that always was and is Dutch speaking.

Jan Neckers, September 2024

NOTES :

*Peter Hugh Reed and Weismann on Seinemeyer (1946)

 I asked Dr. Weissmann to tell us about the artist who stood out most vividly in his memory. Unhesitantly he answered: “The soprano, Meta Seinemeyer, occupies a special niche in my memory. We were friends for many years, and I coached her in so many roles and assisted her in her meteoric climb to the top. She was a female Caruso, blessed with an opulent voice of unusual warmth and beauty. She sang German and Italian opera equally well, and she also had a fine feeling for Lieder. Before her tragic death in 1929, we had signed her to make for Parlophone and Odeon forty record sides a year for a long period of time, a contract which no one else had been given up to that period.”

 Record collectors who know the voice of Meta Seinemeyer will agree with Dr. Weissmann on the extraordinary quality of her voice. The writer once heard her as Eva and the memory of her beautiful singing is still fresh. She had hardly achieved a decade of her career before her untimely death occurred. In 1929, she came to Covent Garden in London for the first time and was hailed by the critics. The late Herman Klein wrote: “Versatility is evidently among the virtues posessed by this clever German soprano, in addition to the beauty of her voice in the interpretation of Wagner that has distinguished her recent work at Covent Garden .” Speaking of her Tosca, he said: “In Vissi d’arte she came near to the ideal established by the illustrious Milka Ternina, who created this role in London. Would that every would-be imitator of that great artist were so succesful as Meta Seinemeyer. The touching quality of her plaintive approach is really exquisite; her breath-control and vocal technique generally, beyond praise.”

**Peter Hugh Reed and Weismann on Emmy Bettendorf and Lotte Lehmann (1946):

“But I am digressing from recordings. And I know that readers will be most interested in the singers that recorded. Does anyone know who owns a phonograph not know the beautiful voice of Emmy Bettendorf which I once heard an Italian characterize as the German Muzio? Ah, but Bettendorf was not only a great singer but a great musician; she floated her exquisitely lyrical tones with incredible ease. I have always been envious that it had not fallen to my lot to make the Easter Hymn with her from Cavalleria Rusticana, for it is one of the great vocal records of all times. I recall my work with Lotte Lehmann, whose mellow tones and exquisite lieder singing, besides her operatic work, are unforgettable to my ears. So many of her lieder recordings had the required orchestral backgrounds, but a few she made with me at the piano. All revealed her spontaneity and precious feeling for poetic line.”

So far the only ‘complete’ opera recording (live) by Frieder Weissmann. When I discovered the tape and transferred it and passed it on to Nedda Casei (real name Nedda Casey and of Irish origin) she was delighted and spoke glowingly of the Maestro (Founding editor)

***Peter Hugh Reed and Weismann on singers he worked with (1946)

 “My memories of Lauritz Melchior also take me back to the Royal Flemish Opera in Antwerp, where I conducted annual Wagnerian festivals. It was 1932, and Melchior had arrived with the earnest desire to sing Tannhauser, a role specified in his contract, but found himself instead cast as Lohengrin with Tiana Lemnitz as Elsa and Anna Konetzni as Ortrud (two beautiful voices). Although displeased at the change of roles, he should have been happy since he was a fine Lohengrin, but somehow subsequent events were to increase his annoyance. All went well in the performance until the Bridal Chamber Scene.  Near the end, the singer cast as Telramund (Emil Treskow, Ed.) failed to make his appearance and Melchior was left fighting a duel wildly yet majestically with himself, while Lemnitz and I watched him with awe. I must say his off-scene battle was a most convincing impromptu affair.”

 “My memories of Richard Tauber are plentiful. This fine artist was as gifted an interpreter of Mozart’s Tamino and Don Ottavio as he was a singer of lieder and of light opera. It has always been the delight of many to cast aspersions on tenors. But I worked with many tenors and found few that were not as cooperative as any other artist. I made records with the noted Bayreuth tenors, Heinrich Knote, Gotthelf Pistor, Sigismund Pilinsky, and Walther Kirchhoff. The latter sang at the Metropolitan. Like Caruso, he was an expert caricaturist and he often made drawings of me conducting, all of them having a puddle of water surrounding my feet, the result of perspiration streaming from my face.

 “I remember recordings I made with the noted Dalmatian tenor, Tino Pattiera, a singer with precious vocal material, but afflicted with asthma. He often sang his recordings on his knees instead of standing up, instisting that he could breathe more easily in that position. It created quite a bit of difficulty in the placement of the microphone, particularly in that lovely duet from Othello he made with Seinemeyer. Italy sent us two great tenors, who, of course, had to make specified recordings from Italian operas; these were Aureliano Pertile and Nino Pittaluga.

 “One of the popular tenors in Germany in the late 1920s was the Pole, Jan Kiepura. He made many records and always appeared at the studio with a handbag of assorted medicines which were applied to his throat during intermissions by a pretty secretary. The baritones I recall are headed by that wonderful Wagnerian interpreter, Friedrich Schorr. At twenty-two I conducted a performance at the Berlin State Opera of the The Flying Dutchman, with him in the title role. His praise of my work was a great encouragement to me at that time. He said that I evidently understood the need for breathing on the part of the singer. This casual remark helped me a great deal in my work with singers, and I remember late having the same compliment paid me by Michael Bohnen, when he sang with me his famous Hans Sachs.

 “Speaking of baritones makes me recall that famous singing actor Georges Baklanoff, a Russian, whose work was so greatly admired in the US, especially with the Chicago Opera. He had an estate near Potsdam, where I once celebrated a Russian New Year with him and his six Russian wolfhounds – all sitting around the table. At the high point of the night, he went to a shrine of the Virgin, crossed himself, said a prayer, pressed a hidden button and the picture opened to disclose behind it the rarest collection of French cognac I ever saw. In deep solemnity, Baklanoff took out two bottles and we went to it.”