Martin Berkofsky April 10, 1975

□ear Kay,

Returning home after seeing you this morning, I spoke again with Lord Boyle in London. He was very happy about the strong possibility of the National Endowment's funding for the Bruch documentary he is writing.

We^talked more about the make-up of the film, and I can report that he has secured as one possible presenter/narrator, Edward Heath; who in addition to his fame as statesman,is a very fine musician in his own right- a conductor of the London Symphony on occasion, CNI recording artist, and presently on tour in Germany conducting with Andre Previn.

Additionally, Lord Boyle has obtained the promise of violinist Yehudi Menuhin to speak in the film about Max Bruch. He is presently contacting Leopold Stokowski (who conducted the '’counterfeit” version of the work in 1916Î,) with the hope that iie, too, will be able to appear and relate his experiences about the Two Piano Concerto and the Sutro Sisters.

When I last saw Ewald Bruch in Germany, some four months be­ fore he died, he showed me a most beautiful letter from Arthur Rubinstein, confirming that he was the "Arteck" of his boy­ hood memories, and speaking i^ith interest over the discovery of the Two Piano Concerto. In Ewald Cruels memoirs (l enclose both the original German and English translation here,) you see the wonderful reminiscences that he had of Rubinstein's visits to his father's home.

I remember vividly meeting- Arthur Rubinstein in youf home just several years ago,shortly after the discovery of the manu­ script and my amazement to find that he was a composition stu­ dent of Max Bruch. Iow wonderful it would be now if he could bo 2

contacted to find out if he, too, would be willin,; to be in this production speaking- about Bruch, the visits to his home, and the musical life and personalities of the time. Do you think you might be able to write him about this?

In connection with the July 5th premiere of the work with Sergiu Comissiona and the Baltimore Symphony, I should men­ tion that the second pianist will be Justin Blasdale ( a pro­ té, ;c'of William üasselos.) Although Nathan Twining appears on the London Symphony recording with me, I have not worked with !}im since the time of the recordin.,.

Lord Boyle is having his House of Lords documentary sent me; perhaps I can arrange for a viewing soon. I understand that it has the first scenes ever filmed in the House of Lords, that it is quite unique in many other aspects too.

• • I find I do not nave the original German of Ewald Jruch's memoirs: the discovery of the Two Piano Concerto has started a minor Bruch revival here and my copy is presently with the Baltimore Symphony's concertmaster who is performing the third Bruch violin concerto. HIGH SEPTEMBER__ 1974 FIDELITY musical america

A Major “New” Bruch Concerto by Harris Goldsmith

Sometimes it is no bad thing to buy a cat in a bag! In 1971 Nathan Twining, the second pianist in this first-ever recording of Max Bruch's two-piano concerto, attended an auction of effects of the late Ottilie Sutro (the Sutro sisters were famous as a duo-pi­ ano team in the early years of this century). Twining was unable to afford the books that interested him. but he bought a box. contents unspecified, for Sil and discov­ ered the manuscript of this concerto. Later discoveries included the fact that the sisters had tampered with Bruch's score and that the original version had never been per­ formed. The present world-premiere recording claims to present the music as its composer intended. And very good music it is. Many listen­ ers tend to frown on Bruch today, clas­ sifying him as either a German Saint- Saëns or a poor man's Brahms. But. as I have said before, the slight is as unjustified as it is uncharitable. Actually Bruch's mu­ sic. if it is derived at all. owes more to clearly structured, vigorous when neces­ Schumann than to Brahms. And its pre­ sary. and completely unpretentious. The dominantly serious content has consider­ music falls gracefully on the ear. Repro­ able substance, with virtually none of duction is airy, spacious, and brightly de­ Saint-Saens's sterile facility. fined. A delightful record of music that The newly retrieved work is piercingly ought to be heard in our concert halls. poignant, tellingly orchestrated, and And now what about recordings of cogently constructed. If you like the two Bruch's symphonies and chamber music? violin concertos and the Scottish Fantasia. It would be especially interesting to dis­ you will be overjoyed with this companion cover whether all eight of the Op. 83 pieces opus. 1 was constantly reminded of the two for viola, clarinet, and piano are as fine as Schumann Konzertsti'tcke for piano and the three arbitrarily chosen for concert orchestra—and that may be taken as high presentation. praise indeed. The concerto, vintage 1912. is a rework­ Bruch: Concerto for Two Pianos and ing of an abortive orchestral suite begun in Orchestra, Op. 88a; Six Pieces, Op. 12; 1904. The solo works here recorded by Two Pieces, Op. 14. Martin Berkofsky Martin Berkofsky are youthful affairs, and (in Op. 88a) Nathan Twining, pianos: more naive in their workmanship and har­ London Symphony Orchestra, Antal Do­ monic content. Naive, perhaps, but none­ rati, cond. (in Op. 88a). [John A. Willan theless masterfully written for the piano. and George Sponhaltz, prod.] Angel S All the performances are sensitive. 36997, $5.98. Personal Recollections of My Father Max Bruch

by

Ewald Bruch

(Translated from "Max Bruch-Studien", edited by Prof. Dr. Dietrich Kämper, 1970, Arno Volk-Verlag, Cologne) An inner duty forces me to write these pages of memories on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of my father's death - 10-2-70. First of all I thank my father reached in life. Secondly, the "Max Bruch Archive", which - at its time was founded by me - is now in the Musicological Institute of the Cologne University, offers a good music historical source to the researcher but is unable to give a personality image of the composer, because none of the scientists occupied with the Max Bruch research knew my father personally. I will therefore make an effort to draw a personality image of my father and to be sure I will attempt to describe not the composer but the human being Max Bruch. I hope that I can fulfill this assignment which has been given me, although I am already 80 years old. Unfortunately, I must write most of my recollections down from memory. But the personality of my unforgettable father I see still alive today, and therefore I go fresh to work.

First, childhood in Friedenau near Berlin: a golden recollection - the great love and goodness of my father to his children, united in harmony with the loving care of our mother, has remained in my memory from the earliest days of childhood. My father spoiled me.

My first feeling for music is closely tied with my father, when he, sitting at the piano, played folksongs for us. Also our birthdays when children, have particularly clung in my memory. My father was the biggest child! When there was a birthday, he marched to some extent like a music band - to the birthday table, during which he blew in his empty hands, putting on a trumpet. Occasionally he sung * . . Later as I became older and wiser I was deeply impressed by the music making by my parents together. My mother sung in her beautiful, inspired alto voice Lieder by Schubert, Brahms, and other composers, and my father accompanied her on the piano.

Often my father told us about his mother, whom he loved very fir much and whom he thanked^his becoming a musician. She had herself been a successful soprano at music festival in Rhineland once. My relation to my three brothers and sisters wasn’t exactly intimate. They followed already in childhood their artistic inclinations, while I was more for reality. Only with my brother Hans who unfortunately died early I had a truly deep sincere brotherly relationship. He was three years older than I and was already as a very young man a highly gifted landscape painter. He had as the only one of us children inherited the ingenious trait of genius of our father. He died in 1913, 26 years old, suddenly on a study trip. My sister, Margarethe, the oldest one showed at an early age already a marked lyrical gift. Unfortunately it didn't bring her any material success. However, she was for a time an industrious helper of my father in his comprehensive correspondence. She also wrote a few texts that my father put to music, thus the very lovely "Christkindlieder." She died in 1963 in West Berlin, that she in spite of the bombing catastrophe during the last war never left ... My oldest brother Max Felex was, it is true, musically gifted. Thus he received for instance as a student at the Hochschule für Musik in Berlin the Mendelssohn stipend. Nevertheless he was unable to push himself as a composer of his own style. He stood always "in the shadow of his own father." Indeed he had more success as an excellent clarinetist. He played among other things as a soloist in several works of my father. But his life passed essentially unsuccessful. He died in 1943 after a tragic, sad and unfulfilled life. I must include these family conditions because my father often said to me, when I had grown up, how relieved he was that I, his youngest one, had not become an artist.

Thus I developed, as the youngest one, as the only one of the four children as "praktikus." Over this my father was, as already remarked, very glad. I raged around with my friends in the overgrown garden of the archaic villa, of which we had the first floor. The wilder I was the happier my father was. He was glad that I wasn't a fruitless dreamer - that he always told me again. There were wonderful hours in the workroom of my father, in the

-2- evening after supper. He loved when my mother and some of the children kept him company occasionally. I strived to be very "good" and my father rewarded me in a very original manner: He read $Loud to me novels by Jules Verne, accompanying his lecture with dramatic gestures. None of us suspected that after a hundred years from the rewriting of these novels by this great Frenchman a great part of his fantasies became reality . . . When we the three boys were beating on each other and our gentle mother in despair called the "pater familias" to help, he only said, smiling: "Just leave them, the kids are having a good time." He was almost always floating in "higher spheres," but his appearance alone made peace again. So much we children respected and loved our father. Occasionally I dared to look into the workroom of my father which rightfully was guarded by my mother in order to keep all disturbance away from the master. First I saw only a thick cloud full of smoke, then I heard a low buzzing and finally the figure of my father was recognizable at the desk surrounded by clouds of blue cigar smoke. Off and on he looked out of the window in the overgrown garden. Silently I snuck back.

Later as I was grown up I asked my father why he didn't compose his works at the piano. Many composers did that? Then he said to me, "My son, I receive mostly the ideas of my works in the nature. But unfortunately I am chained to the city for the biggest part of the year, because you, my beloved ones, must live, and for you papa must go to the university and earn the living. But my time comes in the spring. When the first green is there, then it is singing and sounding inside me. And when I in my joy wander through the Bergisch woods in my beloved home, then all of me is filled with melodies. It is not necessary for me to note down my thoughts. Instead I have them in my head and keep them until I am home again sitting at the desk and shape them for a work. First when this work is finished I go to the piano and play through the composition. Then first I improve my work until I am satisfied." Thus already in my young years I was allowed to get a glimpse of the creating by my father, and that makes me happy.

-3- I must mention something that my father said then with great seriousness; he told me of the tragic fate of many young musicians who full of ideals and partly not ungifted finally resigned and led a miserable life as music teachers, Their visions had melted away, it wasn’t enough to reach up to a concert soloist. Although I as a young forestry student did not think of becoming a musician, this warning of my father left a deep impression on me. Unfortunately the scepticism of my father was to come true on his oldest son.

How happy I was however when my father suggested to me learning to play the violin as a "music lover!" Since I had a quite good musical ear I became the docile pupil of an able chamber musician. As a reward for my industry my father gave me an expensive violin by the known Berlin violin maker, Mdckel. I had much happiness playing the violin. I was particularly proud when my father accompanied me, the crass beginner, on the piano, He wrote then even a particular manuscript for me, his "Swedish and Russian Folk Melodies" for violin and piano, with easier fingering for the violin. Unfortunately this valuable legacy of my father was lost in the disturbance of the Second World War. When I as a young forester went hunting an experienced overforester suggested to me to get myself a hunting horn. My father had hardly learned that I wanted to become "hunting horn blower" before he gave me a skilled hunting horn covered with leather. He was always a kind father. Also when he spoiled me very much, thus much more I worshipped him. My love for woodwinds resulted in that I would now like to have an instrument that I could play lieder on. Thus I requested and received from my father a "kornett" as a present !■ on which I - as self taught - practiced eagerly. Soon my father asked if we weren't once going to make music together? I was perplexed that he,;, the composer of so many, not always easily performed works, wanted to make music with me, a modest amateur trumpet player, I had some stage fright from it. But my father made it easy for me. He sat down at the piano and said to me, "Now, my son, now we play 'Die Post' by Schubert, the lied which

-4- your mother has so often sung beautifully.11 I pulled myself together and it went quite well. My father tapped me on the shoulder and encouraged me to pursue my "trumpet study" quite industriously further. The music making with my father - with both instruments - has stayed wrought melancholy in my memory, because the violin and trumpet were stolen from me during both World Wars . . .

A love of my father I particularly must mention in order to be able to recapture his personality quite impressively. His enthusiasm and interest for history! He had amazingly far reaching knowledge of history and he owned a large library on this subject. At times he read forme in the evenings in his work room particularly interesting episodes from history. Particularly he was a glowing admirer of Frederick the Great. My father knew exactly his life and the history of his time. One evening my father told me the history of the Seven Year War without once looking in the book. He also had a phenomenal memory in this matter. The newest German history (before 1914) interested him less. He often spoke his mind so I heard worried "sword rattling" speeches by Emperor Wilhelm the Second. This kind of politics alarmed him very much . . .

Many evenings my father interrupted his readings of history and told me about his forefathers. Almost all originated from the Saarland or the Rhinephalz. With particular respeftt he mentioned his grandfather whom he unfortunately didn’t know, because he died two years before my father’s birth (1838). However, the former was Consistorialrat and superintendent Dr, phil. h. c. and Doctor thel. h. c. Christian Gottlieb Bruch, a known personality in Cologne. He was a close friend of the known Kanonikus Wallraf who brought back a large part of the art treasure robbed by Napoleon I to his hometown Cologne. Both theologians wrote in Greek - which my father stressed particularly. When one of the both clergymen was indisposed, he switched to the other one and asked, "How Mr. brother was?" My father applied these original episodes

-5- in his memoirs. Unfortunately these handwritten drafts are lost to now unfindable. After 1918 a journalist by the name of Leopold Schmidt wanted to publish the memoirs by my father in the Berliner Presse for the present. But Dr. Schmidt died and the memoirs had disappeared . . .

First today I understand why my father suggested to me learning to play the violin, also just as a layman. He loved the violin above all! In my presence he once said, "One must treat the violin like a beloved one. One must do everything in order to make her content and happy." At the same time he had never as I know from his own mouth played the violin. Meanwhile one thing could make him thoroughly angry - the continually played all over the world "First Violin concerto in g-minor", opus 26. Thus he once shouted when a highly gifted young violinist wanted to play for him his famous concerto, "Already again the g-minor concerto I can’t hear it any more. Children, play through once my second concerto or the Scottish Fantasy."

I must insert here something which is a close connection with the memories of my father. After I described earlier the relationship between my father and us children, the following is the most beautiful that I have preserved in my memory: the ideal relationship between my father and mother. The marriage of my parents rested on mutual, deep affection. Herewith their mutual artistic temperament was also probably important. My father, the already successful composer felt himself drawn to my mother, after he heard her sing in a recital. He told in his later years that her beautiful inspired alto voice had made such a deep impression on him that he absolutely wanted to get to know her. So two people found themselves together in the sign of music and this marriage became an ideal example. My father called his young wife in the beginning of the time in England (Liverpool, 1880-83), "my dear lark in the house". Very moved my father told me this after the death of his beloved wife, besides me only to a particularly close friend from his youth in a letter. My father told me also

-6- after the passing of my mother how successful she had sung publicly in many concerts both in England and also later in Breslau. Besides the natural harmony between my parents and their children they weren't only in their love but were also close together artistically. My father talked over all professional plans with my "Mamachen" and she was always an understanding adviser to "Papachen". However it wasn't always easy to be around my father. Occasionally he, the temperamental Rhinelander who had a strong sense of justice, would become terribly angry when for instance a "press brat" - which was his mildest expression for malicious critics - who according to his opinion had judged him unfairly. He suffered very much from hateful rough-casts of that kind. I then heard from my room his loud voice. My poor gentle mother had to bear it all. Often she wept from worries - and that my father couldn't stand. Thus the loving wife and participant in his concerns succeeded more than once in calming down the excited master. She also protected him many times from rash letters to his "enemies".

I don't want to neglect reporting the concert travels of my father, a.a.t. also his conducting activity in England, inasmuch as he told me about it. He told me interesting things from his concert trips to England in the 1870's when he was still unmarried. He was friendly received in England and had had considerable success. Among other things he performed - and that I remember particularly well - with the Spanish violinist who was his friend, Paplo de Sarasate in the Cristal Palace in London his second Violin Concerto in d-minor, opus 44. It was a great success. With great interest I learned in connection with this concertizing the fact that my father - in his younger years a vigorous walker - had hiked through the Scottish Highland during his various stays in England. Here he received the inspiration for composing the "Scottish Fantasy" for violin and harp - like so often in nature - with free use of Scottish folk melodies, opus 46. This work has old Scottish folk melodies that my father, as he explained to me in detail, had heard sung in the Scottish Highland by inhabitants who had lived there for a long time and not somehow as some better

-7- knowing writers ’’guessed’1 it taken by him from a book of folk songs. To my particular joy this work which for a long time was particularly popular in England has been revived since some time in Germany.

When my father was later director of the "Philharmonic Society" in Liverpool (the end of the 1870's to spring 1883) - he had married in the meantime - his activity as a conductor satisfied him, as he said, thoroughly artistically. But unfortunately he was - and he told about it with ill humor - financially dependent by so called "Comité" which was composed by big industrialists. This "Comité" denied my father - and that he told me many years later still deeply upset - the engagement of internationally known artists. Therefore my father accepted an offer from Breslau where he was offered the conducting of the "Orchestervereins", a big symphony orchestra. To be sure the consent wasn't easy for him, because he as a Rhinelander didn't exactly want to be a conductor in a city so far east. However, before in the spring of 1883 my father went on a concert tour of USA, about which he told me the following: He performed in a large part of the USA many of his already famous works with much success. The material result of this trip was, as he noted with bitterness, to be sure rather lamentable. Most of the dollars his agent had heaped up . . .

My father also told that he had been made a very favorable offer to stay in the States before his return to Germany. In the meantime he had - after his bitter experience with the concert agents - become distrustful. Also the American way of living didn't agree with him. In short - he declined. But decisive was - and that he stressed in his account - the call of the German home, which was stronger than the vague prospect of clinking dollars. Highly amusing my father told me once an incident which had happened to him on a concert trip in Moskow. The audience was very moved by the music, my father was quite pleased. In addition to classic works he had also performed his own and reaped rich applause. On one of the concert evenings an aria by Mozart was

-8- also to be sung a,^ A famous, soprano (It might have been Pauline Lucca) was to perform. Then the Diva suddenly demanded in the rehearsal that my father should transpose the aria into a lower key because the original were too high for her voice. My father, a hot admirer of Mozart, tried to talk the caprious singer out of her demands - without success. She insisted on her wish. My father then canceled the concert.

From my father's trip to Italy which he had to go on only for health reasons (winter 1903 to spring 1904) very interesting "travel accounts" exist indeed, particularly about the honors bestowed upon him in Rome. Though the account about this episode of the biographer must be kept since the personal memories of my father have nothing to do with his Italy trip. He said only years later to me when he meditated upon his memories, "The most beautiful moment of my Italian trip was to see again the German forest in Baden-Baden." So much he loved him home! As heartily my father could enjoy the success of his works, as strong he was in suffering the strikes of fate. When my brother Hans died suddenly in 1913, the death of her young son destroyed my mother's life energy. She sunk into a psychological state of dusk, until she died in 1919, her body and soul broken. My father, on the other hand, who had loved his most gifted son equally deeply, carried this misfortune with admirable bravety. He retreated completely into his spiritual world . . .

In order to perfect the picture of the recollections with an important episode, I am going to tell about in the following the by me unforgettable weekly receptions by my parents. Clearly I can see the picture of my father in front of me. Then - in the 1890's until the breakout of the first World War (1914) - one still didn't know any "parties" in Berlin with much alcohol, much gossip and little spirit. On the contrary there was the very beloved "Jour fix" frequently in the social life. On a certain day of the week a circle of intellectually open people put in an informal appearance at the host's. Artists, scientists, aristocrats all came to us - and probably only few would have left disappointed.

-9- It was probably the last wave of a leftover culture before the fall after the end of the First World War (1918). In my parent's home in the old-fashioned villa in Friedenau outside of Berlin my parents received every Sunday from four to seven o'clock a circle of friends and acquaintances from all over the world. Tea was served, with it cookies, no alcohol. Smoking wasn't wished for. My charming mother presided at the end of a big table, while my father sat among the guests. It was often quite international, but my father moved with elegant naturalness among natives and foreigners. He spoke fluently English and French and made a brilliant "conversation". It often "swarmed" of foreigners - Englishmen, Americans, Frenchmen, Dutchmen, Belgians - all hurried here in order to get to know the popular composer or to see him again. One of the most faithful Sunday guests was Engelbert Humperdinck. He came, led by his daughter, since he unfortunately saw very badly and was almost deaf. My father spoke for an hour loud and lively to him - but the fairy tale composer was silent - and smiled. In two weeks he was there again - and the old play was repeated. Probably the blue flower of the romantic had led both composers together . . . Also other guests, who visited our "jour," I still remember well. Thus very often an old friend of my father, Radecke, came to us. He had been director of the Berlin Institute of Church Music and had also composed in his younger years. The song "Aus der Jugenzeit" is by him. All of his other compositions are forgotten. I still see the dignified old gentleman in front of me. Small, with snow-white hair and a long, groomed, white beard. One day the young FurtwSngler called on my father. A striking appearance, modest, but though already self-confident. Then I remember particularly the young violinist George Kulenkampff. He was then, during his music studies, already an eminent interpreter of the First Violin Concerto in G-minor by my father. He knew probably himself that he was a knower. He was very reserved, almost stiff - Hanseman all the way. His early death in best of manhood deeply shook me.

Professor Willy Hess, an excellent violinist, who taught at the Berlin Music Academy, came often to us. He was a very good friend of my father and was faithful to him until his death (cf. the end of thtse recollections) . Also music historians came to our -10- I Sunday afternoons occasionally. I remember well Professor Wilhelm iti Altmann, head of the music division of the Prussian State Library. à He was a friend of my father and caused him a few years before the First World War to give valuable manuscripts to the State Library. Also the known musicologist. Professor Max Friedlander, was often guest in my parent's house. A very sympathetic lady has also stayed in my memory - the Princess of Wied. She came very often to our receptions, always accompanied by her husband, an officer in the Guard Cavalry. The Princess Wied had cultural relations with the Queen of Romania, who was known under the pseudonym "Carmen Sylva". My father received, from the princess, valuable folk melodies (poetry) from Romania, which he used partly for compositions, Foreign guests were, as already said, quite frequent visitors on our afternoons. I remember a. a. two ladies, an American violinist and an English singer.

But particularly striking the famous French composer Camille Saint-Saëns lives in my memory. A big stately appearance full of dignity, quite old French of the best style. My father was all his life a friend of his. Once he introduced him to the other guests with the following words, "My famous colleague, Saint-Saëns". An excellent Belgian violinist visited my father also very often - Joseph Debroux, an eminent interpreter of Bruch’s violin works. He was a real Wallone with sparking black eyes and wild beard. Unfortunately his only son fell in the First World War, and my father heard never again from him. Two young music students I remember still well. An Australian, who promised to become a quite good pianist, Fritz Müller by name. What came of him later, I don't know. On the other hand, a young Pole who came together with Müller has become a famous pianist, who is known all over the world­ Arthur Rubenstein. He was a handsome youth with blond curly hair, very modest and very amiable. "Arteck", thus we brothers called him, was a very sympathetic Sunday guest. As I am aware of, the over 80 years old is still concertizing publicly today, mainly in USA, where he lives.

A particularly interesting visitor, who was tightly connected

-11- with the music life of the time, was the American music writer Arthur M. Abell. He was representative and correspondent of a big New York music magazine and lived in Berlin. Abell was highly musical, my father was very fond of him. Thus he once accompanied the passionate "amateur violinist" on the piano, as he played the Bruch Violin G-minor Concerto. After Abell's death his book, "Talks with Great Composers" (also in German translation). Here are very interesting conversations between Abell and my father.

Now about my father's student, who visited our afternoons. Naturally I don't remember everyone, and thus I draw the ones out, who were particularly gifted and were happy over the good will of my father. One of the most gifted ones was the master student Leo Schrattenholz. He had as son of a Rhinish musician traveled with his father and his younger brother to England, where the father wanted to make a living. On the way over the father drowned mysteriously in the Canal. An English lady took charge of both orphans. The younger brother stayed later as a violinist in England. The older, Leo, went to Berlin where he studied first at the Music Academy and later became the master student of my father. Schrattenholz was not only a gifted composer, he was also quite a good cellist, pupil of Robert Hausmann. Schrattenholz kept also then faithful to his master, as it always became more quiet around him and his star faded. Still in the year 1913 Schrattenholz performed, in the meantime a teacher of theory and cello at the Music Academy, a work of maturity of my father, the "duo concerto for clarinet, viola and orchestra" opus 88, in Bqrlin. I corresponded with him. At my wish he gave me his valuable collection of my father's letters for the "Max Bruch - Archive", which was still then in my ownership. Shortly afterwards, in 1955, he died in high age.

Another dear guest was the master pupil from Poland, Felix Nowowiejski. He honored my father almost with childlike love, his "maestro". He later made a name for himself in his Polish home as composer of the Oratorium "Quo Vadis". Finally I must mention still one master pupil, who later became a famous operetta composer Eduard Künneke. My father considered him fit to compose comic opera. Künneke's transition from serious music to operetta my father didn't like. Together with Künneke always his friend Hans Joseph Vieth came who studied at the Academy and partly was my father's pupil. Vieth was a pronounced romantic. Once my father said during a conversation to both friends, "And you, you are all Mozart's great-grandsons". So hearty was my father's relationship with his pupils. In 1952 I saw Künneke by chance in Cologne again at a conference. When I greeted him, he shouted, "The son of my unforgettable master Max Bruch". "From your father I learned my stuff." Shortly afterwards Künneke died. His friend Vieth was before 1914 court chapel masterin Detmold. After the Second World War I succeeded in getting in touch again with Vieth, who was quite a good friend of mine. He lived in West Berlin. I invited him to Lövenich outside of Cologne, where he with interest viewed my "Max Bruch Archive". Stimulated by me, he dictated to me "Memories of Max Bruch." Shortly afterwards he died. In my possession are his quite interesting memories. Now they are dead, the faithful pupils of my father. Also their memory will live in me . . .

After the Sunday afternoon receptions occasionally a particularly close friend of the house was invited to a simple supper with the family. Cold cuts were served. The guest received a bottle of beer while my father drunk a glass of Bordeaux. Leo Schrattenholz was often an appreciated guest of those evenings. I can still remember exactly, how Schrattenholz played with my father his "Koi Nidrei", Adagio for cello and orchestra, opus 47. My father at the piano played to some extent "orchestra", while as he was though no pianist at all. Schrattenholz played very movingly. I was then still a boy, but this evening has stayed unforgettable, when I heard "Koi Nidrei" for the first time. For the last time I saw Schrattenholz at the burial of my father (in October, 1920) . We shook hands and remained silent.

Thus this episode is finished. It has stayed alive in my memory, and never I will forget the "Sunday afternoons in the house

-13- of Max Bruch".

From two experiences, which give a characteristic picture of the deep spirit of my father, I will now tell. First the yearly celebration of his birthday, which was on Three Kings Day. He told me occasjpnally of how the whole population in Cologne - without difference of confession - celebrated this day. He told me what joy it had given him to watch the processions of these, the "Holy Three Kings" costume-clad Cologne lads, at which the Moor impressed him particularly. When my father told me these memories from his childhood he was already 81 years old, and thus I understand that he didn't know much more to tell of his youth composition, "Gesang der Heiligen Drei Könige". Unfortunately, the manuscript couldn't be found. In contrast to his excellent memory from early years my father couldn't unfortunately any more reconstruct this composition - he wasn't any longer as fresh in spirit as earlier. Though back to the birthdays. My mother always had a pretty structure of presents and flowers prepared on the grand piano on which the favorite flower of the birthday child Maiglöckchen (little May bell) was never missing. Moved, the celebrated one received the wishes of happiness from his family. We let him alone. Through the door opening I very often observed how he walked over to a small sofa which stood beside the Christmas tree. The Christmas tree always had to stay standing to January 6th. Before my father sat down, he lit his cigar with a certain formality on a little candle of the Christmas tree. Then he sat down and dreamed. Probably of the childhood in beloved Cologne . . .

The other experience which is tightly knit with the memory of my father was the Christmas Eve in the house of my parents in the idyllic home in Friedenau. The Christmas tree stood in the music room which was arranged in mysterious way by my mother into the "Christmas room". We four children and our good governess waited in excitement in the "Salon" next to it. Finally on the harmonium played by our father the beginning of "Stille Nacht" sounded. We

-14- joined the song and sang until after the end of the last verse ~ my mother rung a bell. The wing door to the Christmas room opened where our parents waited smiling for us. Later we all rounded up at the piano. My father played the song composed by him: "Jesus dQr Morgenstern". In the refrain, "Jesulein komm herein", we children and our goodmother sung loudly. An inspired mood took hold of us. Never I will forget this experience . . .

An event which deserves a special place in my recollections happened in Berlin in 1907. On January 21, 1907 Max Bruch's "Messenscltze - Kyrie, Sanctus und Agnus Dei" opus 35 for double choir, two sopranos, orchestra and organ were performed in the Berlin Philharmonic. I cannot allow myself to judge the musical meaning of this work. A worthier one has already published a musicological publication on it (Fellerer, N.T.). My father never told me anything about how this "Missa brevis" came about. Thus much more I was interested when the Berlin performance was in store. In the old Philharmonic in the Bernburger Strasse I together with my sister Margarethe and my both brothers attended the festive performance. We were together with our father in a box. My mother couldn't accompany us because of an indisposition. The performance was conducted by the known conductor Siegfried Ochs who was close to my father. The strengthened Philharmonic choir sung, accompanied by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. I have forgotten the names of both soloists and the organist. I was impressed by the work from the beginning through its solemnity. Though I can't remember any more exactly, the outer movements "Kyrie" and "Agnus Dei". On the other hand, I have remembered the "Sanctus" well. This particularly solemn movement made a deep impression on me the young seventeen-year-old. I felt as though I were in a church, so solemn I found this music. The last part of the work, "Agnus Dei" I heard as in the dark ... At the end of the performance roaring applause sounded. My father had to show himself many times at the parapet of the box which he did only reluctantly. He didn't love as he once said to me, "to publicly put himself on a show". I believe that exactly this Berlin performance was very important to him. I can say nothing about

-15- the reviews. But I seem to remember that they were throughout good.

The "MassensStze" were probably the last of the major works of my father which was performed in Berlin. Shortly afterwards he came into oblivion, his star faded. After the performance my father was quiet for several days and introverted. He anticipated probably that not so soon again there would be a performance of a work of his in "modern" Berlin ... I am happy and grateful to have experienced this last success of my father in Berlin.

In the years before the First World War I studied for several semesters forestry. Also here the great goodness and understanding of my father for his somewhat daredevilish youngest one. Smiling he received my joining a reliable corps. When I had beaten my first duels and my mother was horrified, he was very tolerant and said, "Leave him alone, they won't kill him right away". After I on October 1, 1913 as one year volunteer joined the Gardeschutzen-Bataillon my father was happy, when I for the first time came on vacation in the decorated hunter uniform. He said to me, "You must do well, my boy?" When I agreed, he laughed and called out, "Behave well and become a decent soldier, then I will be proud of you". When the war broke out in August, 1914 I was unable to say goodbye to my parents because they were traveling. First after the fatal Marne battle I received mail from my father and mother. My father was throughout no "nationalist" but a true patriot. He constantly cheered me up in his letters, and was proud that I became reserve officer. After I had been front officer during the whole war and had become wounded shortly before the cease-fire I returned home in December, 1918. I found a sad house of parents - my mother seriously ill, my father psychologically completely broken ... I must supplementary complete that all field mail from my father and mother to me was lost in the disorders of the breakdown 1945. An irreparable loss.

My father couldn't understand that our army had been beaten and the empire had fallen. Nevertheless he wanted to vote

-16- absolutely to the national committee. I had to orient him politically and take him to the voting box. The constantly advancing inflation my father didn't understand. He was angry over the daily money depreciation and became constantly more beaten down. He couldn't either finance my further education, and it all made him very sad. But to my great joy he opened himself up to me, his youngest son. As I was out of necessity much at home he had many highly interesting conversations with me, from which in these recollections some have been told. Off and on he walked into the music room and played fugues by Johann Sebastian Bach by heart - with unbroken strength. He was already yet 81 years old! He still worked much. About that he didn't speak to me - I was no musician . . .

Unfortunately, my father had bad old age sickness and could only drink a little. As a lover of good drink it was of course very difficult for him. Then he said one morning to me, "My son, we are going to drink this morning a glass of wine together. I will go out of the house, and you will come fifteen minutes later out to the right. We will then meet in the bar. But tell the women nothing". (An old relative and my sister were meant, who together took care of the house and my father.) I said, "Done." In the bar we drank an excellent Bordeaux. We lifted the glasses and drunk to each other. My father was silent for a while. Then he patted me on the shoulder and said, "Yes, yes, my son, we are two good comrades!" I was deeply shaken over the great trust of my father in me, and I feel still honored today when I think about it. At the end of March I succeeded through the mediation of an earlier, quite gifted pupil of my father, the leading overmusician of the Brase defence police to join the officer corps of the Berlin defence police. My father was happy and as relieved from a burden. Then finally at least one of his children had a certain position in life.

In April, 1920 my father got a visit from two American pianists, the sisters Rose and Ottilie Sutro from Baltimore, USA.

-17- How this visit had a downright tragic result, I want to describe in the following. Also when it isn't directly personal recollections of my father, then I was as his son equally perplexed by this occurrence as he himself. The Americans had played in the whole culture world the "Fantasy for Two Pianos" opus 11, a very successful youth work by my father. Now they pretended to want to visit my father in order to pay him their respect. How this respect developed, I want to describe exactly. I must mention that at this conference only my sister was present. My oldest brother - then a music teacher in Hamburg - wasn't in Berlin, and I was indispensable on my job. Thus my sister was then the witness to this conversation. My father has complained much over the money depreciation not understandable to him, the creeping inflation. And then the Americans let the mask fall, as though they had just waited for this opportunity. They proposed to my father that he give them the score to his world famous First Violin Concerto G-minor opus 26, which he had proudly shown them that he possessed, to take to the United States in order to sell it there for dollars. Whether an agent was behind this "surprise attack" I have never been able to ascertain. In short, my father accepted the offer, excited over the prospect of the promised dollars. No receipt was given, no down payment. Thus this "negotiation" ended that my father gave the Sutro sisters or an agent behind them the score of his G-minor concerto without any insurance. The complete inexperience of my father and my sister in this backgroundish affair, which both didn't see through, had my father lose the original manuscript of his most famous work. Thus the Sutro sisters traveled back to Baltimore - in their luggage they had the score of the G-minor concerto by Max Bruch, a valuable and irreplaceable manuscript, which they abducted from Germany. My father and my sister told me the whole thing with the feeling they had made "a fantastic deal". I then still understood nothing about such things but was though a little skeptical of the matter. But my father calmed me down and said, ". . .My boy, soon I will be free from all worries, when the dollars first come". The unsuspicious one, he smiled. In this good belief my father stayed until his death in October, 1920. He had neither

-18- received the promised dollars nor seen the score of his G-minor concerto again . . .

In December, 1920 my brother and sister and I received the "paid out" alleged proceeds for the score in worthless German pieces of paper. Where from we couldn't find out. Some bank paid us the worthless money. For years experts have tried to ascertain where in America the score is kept. Without success. The Sutro sisters refused all demands for information of that kind bluntly so that all attempts failed. I received from a friendly side about twelve years ago the address of a German-American music publisher, who allegedly should know the owner of the manuscript at that time. He answered me very politely. The manuscript had been sold recently through him, the owner now had though imposed upon him silence about who had the score. The Sutro sisters are not alive any more. They have taken the secret with them in the grave of this unheard of fraud of which my poor father was the victim. This is the fate of the score to the violin concerto G-minor by Max Bruch . . .

At the end of May, 1920 my father suffered a weakness attack from which he never recovered. Besides my sister a nurse took care of him. Mostly he was in a state of coma from which he from time to time woke up from. At the order from the doctor he couldn't have visits. I myself was only allowed off and on to see him for a few minutes. When he was awake, he only said, "Now, my boy, are you there?" Then he sunk again in his dreams ... To my sister he once said when he was awake for a moment, "Can't I fly in 2eppeiin still once more to my beloved home?" We were deeply moved. His love of the Rhinish home never left him ... In the first hours of the morning of October 2, 1920 my father fell asleep softly and without pain. My sister and I were with him at the time of his death. As asleep he lay on his deathbed. He had completed ... I had a youth friend, who was a genuine artist, do a drawing of my father on his deathbed. The very well made picture was published in the magazine, "Die Woche . Where the original is I don't know. There is though a good copy in the picture collection, of the Max Bruch Archive (M. I. d. U. K.).

The funeral of my father followed a few days later in the old evangelical St. MattHcli-FrieJhof in West Berlin. A large number of mourners had come. Also such, who hadn't been in touch with him during the last years of his life, paid him the last respect. In the Friedhofskapelle Willy Hess played before the clergyman spoke the "adagio" from the violin concerto in G-minor by my father. After the service was over the train of mourners went to the graveyard where he was buried. Later the city of Berlin took over the care of the grave as honor. Now there also rests beside my unforgettable father my mother and - since 1963 - my sister. The latter one had had engraved on the gravestone the words, "Music is the language of God".

-20- UNKNOWN MASTERPIECE BY

CONCERTO FOR TWO PIANOS AND ORCHESTRA,OPUS 88a

DISCOVERED AFTER 60 YEARS

"•.. piercingly poignant, tellingly orchestrated ... music that ought to be heard in our concert halls.” HIGH FIDELITY AND MUSICAL AMERICA, September 1974. martin justin BERKOFSKY BLASDALE

MARTIN BERKOFSKY and JUSTIN BLASDALE THE UNKNOWN MASTERPIECE BY MAX BRUCH In 1894, two sisters from Baltimore, Rose and Ottilie Sutro, made a “spectacular” debut in London as a two-piano team, and they were to be heard in European and American concert halls for another two decades after that. Baltimore always remained their home; Rose died there in 1957 at the age of 68, Ottilie in 1970 at the age of 97. The announcement that Ottilie’s effects would be sold at an auction intrigued a pianist named Nathan Twining. He attended the sale and came away with a carton of miscellaneous items for which he had paid $11. On going through the box, he found an old blue-bound score bearing the title “Con­ certo for Two Pianos.” On the last page was the signature of Max Bruch, already well known for his “Koi Nidrel” for cello, his G minor Violin Concerto and his “Scottish Fantasy.” With pianist Martin Berkofsky, he began investigating the con­ certo’s background. It was in the list of Bruch’s compositions as Op. 88 (it should be Op. 88a, according to Bruch’s son, Ewald; JUSTIN BLASDALE Op. 88 is a Concerto for Clarinet and Viola). It had been given its In 1971 Justin Biasdale was presented in his New York debut premiere in 1916 by the Sutro sisters with the Philadelphia Orches­ MARTIN BERKOFSKY as a winner of the Concert Artists Guild Annual Auditions. tra under Stokowski’s direction, and it had been repeated the He received his early training from Wanda Krasoff in Berkeley, A native of Baltimore, this remarkable young pianist received following year with the New York Philharmonic under Joseph California, and has also studied with Rosina Lhevinne, Dorothy his musical education at the famed Peabody Conservatory where Stransky. Still, no one had known of the existence of a score. Taubman, Adele Marcus and Jeanyeane Dowis. A winner in both he studied with Konrad Wolff and Walter Hautzig. Even before Further digging brought to light a strange story. In 1911 Bruch the Artists Advisory Council and International Bach Competitions, graduation, his outstanding talent was noted and he was the had heard the sisters play his “Fantasy for Two Pianos,” and, in recipient of several coveted musical awards. 1915, he was happy to have them visit him near Berlin. He was 78, he has also been the recipient of Joseph Lhevinne and Kosciuszko Berkofsky has given many live and television recitals in Wash­ retired and poor; they were rich Americans. Possibly something Foundation Scholarships and the William Kapell Award, which granted him an appearance at Carnegie Hall. ington, Baltimore and other cities in his home state, Maryland. would result from the meeting. They asked him to write a two- Mr. Blasdale, who as a Juilliard graduate, has performed ex­ In 1965 he gave his first Town Hall (New York) recital which was piano concerto for them and he did. Then there was trouble. The highly acclaimed. The New York Times wrote: “Mr. Berkofsky Sutros either couldn’t play or didn’t like the music. They asked tensively on the West Coast, including four appearances with Arthur Fiedler and the San Francisco and Seattle Symphony seems to have made a good start toward acquiring everything a Bruch for enormous changes. They made changes themselves, succesful concert artist needs.” Shortly afterwards, he won the cutting out great swatches of orchestral and solo material Orchestras; solo recitals, and performances in the Berkeley and National Music League’s Young Artist Auditions. (Berkofsky says there is apparent evidence that Ottilie was still San Francisco Bach Festivals. He was recently invited by CBS-TV In 1966, the young artist was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship fussing with alterations in 1961.) Bruch agreed to conduct a private to perform a special program of the works of Skriabine. “Intense young Berkeley pianist Justin Blasdale took his hands for study in Vienna with the brilliant teacher, Richard Hauser. In rehearsal of the work. 1967, he returned to Town Hall for another highly acclaimed re­ The Sutro sisters must indeed have been a little odd. When from the keyboard after his San Francisco recital and left a linger­ cital. Again the New York Times was on hand and commented, people inquired about the concerto in later years, they said they ing imprint of profound insight, Lisztian sorcery, and a glint of genius.” OAKLAND TRIBUNE, September 19, 1967 “He feels every moment to the hilt and he is not afraid to show it. knew nothing about it. A copyright version of the altered score His personal involvement is complete.” in the Library of Congress disappeared and turned up among “A strong poetic sensibility and an individual style set the playing of Justin Blasdale apart from that of other young pianists.” In these few short years, Berkofsky has been very involved with Ottilie’s effects after her death. the musical scene. He has concertized extensively, participated in The Opus began to attract much attention and in November, NEW YORK TIMES, February 24, 1973 the celebrated Marlboro Music Festival, and is a co-founder of the 1973 it was recorded with the London Symphony under Antal Long Island Chamber Ensemble, with which he has recorded Dorati with Berkofsky and Twining at the pianos. Subsequently extensively. Martin Berkofsky asked the rising young pianist Justin Biasdale to join him for future performances of this great work. MARTIN BERKOFSKY and JUSTIN BLASDALE DUO-PIANISTS, PERFORMING CONCERTO FOR TWO PIANOS AND ORCHESTRA, OPUS 88a The Unknown Masterpiece by Max Bruch After sixty years lying dormant among the musical paraphernalia of the Sutro Sisters, this outstanding masterpiece has been resurrected and restored to musical life. Rose and Ottilie Sutro, of Baltimore, were well-received classical duo­ pianists around the turn of the century and their bizarre relationship with Max Bruch is a Gothic tale unto itself. Nathan Twining attended an auction of Sutro effects following the death of the remaining sister, Ottilie, in 1971 and among the odd lot of items he purchased in a “grab-bag” deal was the long lost manuscript of the Bruch work. Once the much-tampered-with opus was authenticated Twining along with Martin Berkofsky went to work restoring the masterpiece and in November of 1973 their tireless efforts were rewarded when Angel engaged them to record the concerto with The London Symphony under the baton of Antal Dorati. For future performances of the work, Martin Berkofsky has teamed up with the brjlliant young pianist Justin Biasdale, and the two of them are now available to Symphony and Festival Orchestras in this long lost work that High Fidelity Magazine rates with the best of Max Bruch’s notable output.

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