Everyone is Amazed: Sigfrid and Katharina Karg-Elert's Letters from North America, January to March 1932

Citation preview

Sigfrid and Katharina Karg-Elert’s letters from

North America

January to March 1932

Translated and annotated by Harold Fabrikant

Translation and annotation © Dr. Harold Fabrikant, December 2001 First published in February 2002 by Dr. Harold Fabrikant, 37 Maxwell Grove, Caulfield, Victoria 3162, Australia.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, again, to Anthony Caldicott in London for raising the possibility of carrying out this task and then sending copies of the letters as published in Leipzig in 1932 (30 A4 sheets). Through no fault of his, fragments of text were illegible and some replacement sheets, although a great help, failed to correct all of these. Some laborious reconstruction has therefore been necessary, running the risk of corrupting the text, but rarely do complete unknowns remain. An occasional error in the German text has been corrected without comment and some uncertainties are marked “{sic}”. The American reaction to the visit was essential and two major journals were therefore sought, both for that and for extra facts. I am most grateful to Vija Pattison of Melbourne University’s Baillieu Library for arranging that microfilm copies of The Diapason and The American Organist from the early 1930s be sent on loan from the Queensland University Library in Brisbane. These provided a wealth of information beyond all expectation. I am of course grateful that this Brisbane library holds such material and has made it available. John Mallinson lent his copy of The American Classic Organ by Charles Callahan (1990), which contains some relevant material, and I thank him for that. As with the translation and compilation of the letters to Sceats, I had no German linguist for assistance; yet my need was even greater as Karg-Elert’s use of words on this occasion is more wide-ranging and elaborate than in his earlier letters. The 1980 Collins Großwörterbuch was put into continual use, and further help came from Cassell’s German Dictionary of 1909 (the 1931 reprint, long in our family) which reacquainted me with the Gothic script and perhaps reflected better the language of the period. Terry Truman has undertaken the final layout, printing and binding, as he had done for Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend. For this I am most grateful. H.F., December 2001

Contents Introduction......................................................................................................................... ii Photograph ........................................................................................................................... ix The Letters (German and English text on facing pages) Introduction by Leipzig Editors...............................................................................................1 On board the “Europa”, 29th December, 1931, 2:15 p.m. .........................................................1 9:30 p.m. ................................................................................................................................1 30th December, 1931, 7 a.m. ...................................................................................................2 Southampton ..........................................................................................................................2 New Year, 1932 .....................................................................................................................2 7:30 p.m. ................................................................................................................................3 2nd January, 1932....................................................................................................................3 8:30 p.m. ................................................................................................................................4 3rd January, 1932 ....................................................................................................................4 11:30 a.m. ..............................................................................................................................4 4th January, 1932, 10:15 a.m. ..................................................................................................4 New York, 5th January, 1932, 4:30 a.m. ..................................................................................4 New York, 5th January, 1932 {from Katharina} ......................................................................5 6th January, 1932 ....................................................................................................................6 7th January, 1932 ....................................................................................................................6 11 o’clock ..............................................................................................................................7 8th January, 1932, 11 a.m........................................................................................................7 8th January, 1932, 9:30 p.m.....................................................................................................8 Overnight Sat.-Sun. night, 9th—10th January, 1932 .................................................................8 12th January, 1932, in a Pullman-car between New York and Washington ...............................9 Providence {sic}, 12th January, at night...................................................................................9 14th January in the morning, again in the train {from Katharina}...........................................10 15th January in the evening, in Providence ............................................................................10 Boston, 17th January, 1932....................................................................................................10 Boston, 18th January, 1932....................................................................................................11 Boston, 18.1.32, 11:30 p.m., after the concert {from Katharina} ...........................................11 Montreal, 19th January, 1932 ................................................................................................11 Canadian Pacific Railways, en route .....................................................................................12 Canadian Pacific Hotels, 21st January {from Katharina}........................................................13 Royal York Hotel, Toronto ...................................................................................................13 After the Concert..................................................................................................................13 London (Ontario), 22nd January.............................................................................................13 Michigan University, Ann Arbor, Michigan ..........................................................................14 Pittsburgh, 31st January, 1932 {from Katharina} ...................................................................16 Cleveland, 2nd February, 1932 ..............................................................................................17 Chicago, 4th February, 1932..................................................................................................18 Chicago, 5th February, 1932..................................................................................................19 Some days later ....................................................................................................................19 Minneapolis, Minnesota, 10th February, 1932 .......................................................................21 13th February, 1932 ..............................................................................................................21 Later . . . on the train............................................................................................................21 After practice. Lincoln, Nebraska .........................................................................................21 En route {from Katharina} ...................................................................................................22 Dallas, 18.2.32 .....................................................................................................................22 On the way to Mexico through Texas, 21.2.32 ......................................................................23 South Texas-Mexico Railroad. Desert. 21st February, 1932...................................................23 22nd February, 1932..............................................................................................................23 Monday, 2 p.m. ....................................................................................................................24 5:15 p.m., Mexican time .......................................................................................................25 23rd February, at night ..........................................................................................................25 San Francisco, Hotel Normandie...........................................................................................26 San Francisco, 1 a.m., 26.2.32 ..............................................................................................27 The next day.........................................................................................................................28 Monday, 3 p.m. ....................................................................................................................29 Salt Lake City, Utah, 2nd March, 3 p.m. ................................................................................29 In the train, 6 p.m. ................................................................................................................30 The next morning .................................................................................................................30 Rochester, 13th March, 1932 .................................................................................................30 Midnight ..............................................................................................................................32 Appendices (articles, notices, etc. from American sources) A more detailed list appears on page ....................................................................36

i

Introduction This book is an unexpectedly large extension from Karg-Elert’s last letters to Godfrey Sceats, when the composer wrote of his excitement over a concert-tour he was about to undertake in North America. Those letters are dated 2nd June and 10th December 1931 (q.v., Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, compiled by the present author in 2000; in the appendix, translated extracts of the American letters written by Karg-Elert to his wife are reproduced, plus the reaction as published in Britain). Kaupenjohann quotes Katharina Schwaab (née Karg-Elert) in writing that Henry Willis III, having heard Karg-Elert play in London in May 1930, recommended him for a tour to his friend, the concert-agent Bernard LaBerge in New York. Karg-Elert was again in financial difficulty and such a tour was potentially too lucrative to turn down. Nevertheless, he did have some qualms and evidently suggested Günther Ramin go instead. Karg-Elert must have been aware he was no concert organist but Willis seemed incapable of making that judgement. Willis was so famous as an organ-builder that his word carried much weight; LaBerge accepted his advice freely (but also kept Ramin in mind for the future — he managed that tour in January-February 1933 and it was a great success as anticipated). Besides, LaBerge would have realised that Karg-Elert’s music was still very popular amongst American organists and that they would flock to hear the composer play his own works in a way which could be assumed to be authoritative — what a golden opportunity! Former American students in Leipzig who had returned home could have painted a more accurate picture but no doubt were not consulted. The American public received a nasty shock from the very first programme, Willis made some excuses in a private letter and LaBerge was left to continue as best he could. Karg-Elert took his 17-year-old daughter Katharina (Catherine) as translator, registration assistant and page-turner. In the letters he refers to her only by the affectionate, diminutive Käthchen or Kätherlein (Katy, Kitty, etc.). It seems they got along together perfectly and she carried out her tasks magnificently. Whether she actually devised some of the bizarre stop-combinations is uncertain, but the letters hint that she did. There are also statements that the adjustable pistons’ settings were immediately abolished after a concert so that no-one could obtain a copy of the secret recipes! This was apparently no accident. The Atlantic crossing was awful and the travellers were late in arriving in New York. The first concert was given only 48 hours later. Sigfrid is open in stating his horrified realisation on the day of arrival that he had no idea how to handle the large organ; and there was to be an audience of 2,000 invited guests! Möller, the builder, was likewise appalled: this was the inaugural recital of a new instrument (which had admittedly been shown off late in 1931) and the hall would be filled with eminent musicians. Two lengthy reviews were published a month later. The Diapason was complimentary and forgiving, but in hindsight too brief, glossing over a great deal. The much longer report in The American Organist was tactful but described some peculiarities and was more balanced. The comment was made that a great composer need not be a virtuoso and cited Vierne, amongst others, as an example. It was only in June 1932, when Sceats’ laundered, abbreviated translations of the letters published by Musical Opinion reached America, that their full fury broke loose. Three editorials seethe with indignation (Appendix 8, p. A-16). Buhrman is pleased with his critique earlier in the year which points out tactfully some eccentricities and faults in the initial programmes, but his sentences are so protracted they lose all impact. We are left to read between the lines too much. The articles published by the British press are still needed to fill in some details (q.v., Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, Appendix, pp. A-52 to A-56.) However, it transpires that during the first concert some critics discussed openly whether anyone would have the courage to write exactly what had taken place. That they did not is a commentary on their admiration for Karg-Elert the composer. All the same, word travelled rapidly and an unknown number of recitals was cancelled, e.g., Princeton University, which was scheduled only four days later. Several recitals received no comment in the journals and their monthly programme lists never included Karg-Elert’s material; this failure to report is surely a positive comment, given the composer’s fame. Moreover, these same journals had devoted much space to Karg-Elert in the announcements heralding his tour, referring to him as both eminent player and composer. After the editorial outbursts in July and August 1932, the major journals’ silence returned until Jan., 1933 when Katharina’s letter of defence to The American Organist was published (q.v., Your Ever Grateful . . Appendix, p. A-57).

ii

Introduction The letters describe the repeated frustration of inadequate access for practice and calamitous mechanical problems in at least two sites. The condition of the organ at Wanamaker’s Store in New York must indeed have been terrible; more public concerts took place there in April and May 1932 but thereafter the hall was closed for many months whilst the instrument underwent a major rebuild, good evidence that Karg-Elert was not exaggerating on this occasion. It was reinaugurated by Ramin in January 1933. Karg-Elert was in very poor health, suffering from advanced vascular disease. His letters, despite that, overflow with life and his humour is phenomenal, teetering on the verge of insanity. At the social gatherings where he spoke, delight was experienced from the amusing stories which flowed out. Inconsistencies crop up in the letters, which may be due to the stress he obviously felt but may also represent brain damage from the vascular disease. How much the letters can then be taken as authoritative accounts is in doubt, unless and until corroborative accounts are found. Perhaps most striking is the brief visit to Elmira in New York State. Finding the Wanamaker organ still grossly defective at his second visit (in March) and no doubt frustrated over his own inability to play satisfactorily the great Passacaglia and Fugue on B.A.C.H, Opus 150 in its original version (55 variations, 3/4 of an hour!), he fled and took refuge in a train travelling towards Rochester. The story is so fantastic it is probably the work of his imagination in coming to terms with the looming disaster of the last concert (over which the major journals were completely silent), and seems to be an allegory on the Wanamaker organ. Karg-Elert was best-acquainted with romantic German organs but in recent years had become enthusiastic over a small Silbermann organ in Rötha, about 30 km south of Leipzig. It inspired him to return to his earlier polyphonic style and to abandon tone poems; from this ideal came the great work on B.A.C.H, Op. 150, which he expected to form the crowning pinnacle of the American tour and for which it had been composed (admittedly containing a fugue taken from the harmonium sonata, Op. 46, ca. 1909). In North America, however, he was suddenly exposed to the orchestral development of the English romantic, influenced — if not frankly corrupted — by Robert Hope-Jones (1859—1914), who worked in the U.S.A. from 1903 until his death. Karg-Elert was aware of HopeJones, for in a letter he describes this man as the founding father of American organ-building. One wonders if Karg-Elert is expressing thereby his contempt at American practices then current; he wrote bitterly of the lack of upperwork and referred to extension and borrowing as swindles. (Hope-Jones used few 4' stops and nothing above, depending on octave couplers; he made huge scale 8' stops on high pressure, etc., hopeless for clear speech.) Karg-Elert would have found some colours in such organs but no adequate choruses. He admired Skinner’s work greatly, but even these lacked the choruses that Willis III provided and which Skinner sought by having E. Donald Harrison on his staff as a link with Willis; all of which was still a far cry from Silbermann. The Elmira story is perhaps then a bitter commentary on the Wanamaker organ. As described in the highly amusing letter, such an organ could not have been played at a concert. Hope-Jones did in fact make a large instrument for Park Church in Elmira (1906), so this may indeed be the link. If so, he would have used electro-pneumatic action and the letter refers to what seems to be a tubular pneumatic organ; but Karg-Elert was probably more familiar with the latter, so that poetic licence would make the description easier for him. In time and mood it fits perfectly his frustration over the Wanamaker practice sessions, and his realisation that the farewell recital could not possibly be the crowning achievement he wanted for Op. 150. However uncertain we must be about the factual content of this or the other letters, there is no doubting the amusement they would provide for European readers and that was surely done consciously. Although addressed to his wife, they rarely contain personal material and are instead open letters, a travelling diary, intended for everybody, including English readers via the translations of Sceats, as arranged late in 1931. In June 1932, the Americans did not see this funny side. They thought Karg-Elert had written his accounts after leaving them. Had they known that the letters had been produced under their noses, one might reasonably expect that their fury would have been greater by far. Moreover, they saw only the less offensive bits selected by Sceats. Perhaps worse still, as the translations were published by a reputable journal in Britain, they interpreted that as evidence of English ridicule of American music-making. Sceats was left stuck in the middle, attacked by irate Americans, by embarrassed staff at Musical Opinion (who apparently knew nothing of Karg-Elert’s

iii

Introduction invitation to Sceats in 1931 to distribute any material arising from his tour) and even by the Kargs themselves squirming in their distress. The Orgelbewegung came to North America late in the 1920s. It seems very likely that this radical change, together with the insult felt by Americans in June 1932, caused the profound decline in interest in Karg-Elert’s music soon after. Several decades have had to pass before any reversal was apparent. Karg-Elert was overwhelmed by North America’s natural beauty and the magnificence of its great buildings. He was pampered by his generous hosts and had the pleasure of renewing acquaintance with former pupils who had lived for a time in Leipzig. However, some of the train journeys were debilitating and his complaints about the rush his busy schedule imposed (presumably arranged by LaBerge) seem fully justified. A younger, healthier man may have managed, but not this one. Periods of boredom also occurred; the letters presumably provided some release in tension as the overwrought mind unwound. Reinhold Sietz wrote that Karg-Elert was offered the position of Professor of Organ at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh (q.v., Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 1958, vol. 7, p. 683), but that he was unable to accept because of illness: diabetes and neurasthenia, i.e., nervous exhaustion or collapse. His illness was unquestionable but the letters make plain that Karg-Elert had no interest anyhow in living in North America; nor is any mention made of such a post being proposed. Sietz also suggests the tour was to contain 40 concerts; this too is probably incorrect. LaBerge arranged relatively few to begin and slowly added to them over some months, advertising as late as Dec., 1931 that a third of the available time was still free (see Appendix 1, p. A-1). The number added or cancelled whilst the tour progressed is unknown. One of the letters states, for example, that the concert in Lincoln was arranged at the last minute. Three programmes were devised and sent to Sceats who reproduced them in Musical Opinion, August 1932. The major American journals do not contain all three, so Sceats is my only source. In the following, additional details are provided from the Gerlach catalogue: PROGRAMME I

1. Suite brétonique (F sharp minor): Fanfare — Paysage — Cortège, B39 (unpublished, lost?) transcribed from César Franck, 1822—90 2. Due piccoli pezzi per Organetto portativo: Andantino — Allegretto, B80 (Schmidt, 1935) transcribed from Michelangelo Rossi, 1620—60 3. Deux Ritournelles: Musette — Tambourin, B76 (Schmidt, 1936) transcribed from ‘Pièces de Clavecin’, 1724 & 1731, by Jean-Philippe Rameau, 1683—1764 4. Moto Perpetuo (from the 2nd Symphony, in A major); probably the Rondo alla Campanella, Op. 156, dedicated to Charlotte Klein when published by Schmidt, 1935; the rest of this Symphony is otherwise unknown. Karg-Elert 5. Partita Retrospettiva (in C minor), Op. 151, but entitled Partita III in the American programme: Phantasie — Dialogo (subtitled Homage to J. Chr. Bach in American programme) — Minuetto malinconico — Finale alla Solfeggio (Toccata-Finale in American programme); dedicated to Ernest M. Skinner when published by Schmidt, 1938 Karg-Elert

PROGRAMME II 1. In Memoriam (dedicated to Lynnwood Farnam, who died in Nov., 1930), from Sempre Semplice, Op. 142 [I], No. 9 Karg-Elert 2. Sonata in C minor: Praeambulo — Capriccio — Fugue, B11 (Schmidt, 1932) transcribed from Johann Christian Bach, 1735—82 3. Bénédiction de Dieu dans la Solitude, B63 (Schmidt, 1932, lost?) transcribed from Franz Liszt, 1811-86 4. Five Pastels for Cinema Organ, W85: No. 1 — Voices of the Night; No. 4 — Iberian; No. 2 — Romantic Retrospective View (entitled Three Impressions in the American programme; Nos. 1 & 2 published as Three New Impressions, Op. 142 [II] by Breitkopf, 1936 where they became Nos. 1 & 3; Schmidt may have issued No. 4 as Op. 152 but there is no extant copy Karg-Elert 5. Toccatina e Corale (from 24 Preludes, most lost), published in Eight Short Pieces, Op. 154, Nos. 7 & 8 (without break); Schmidt, 1934 Karg-Elert

PROGRAMME III 1. The Harmonious Blacksmith, Variations in E major on a theme of Baillard, B49, either the transcription of 1913 (Simon) or perhaps a new arrangement transcribed from The Eight Great Suites: No. 5, 4th and last movement: Air and 5 Variations George Frederic Handel, 1685—1759 2. Echo, B16 (Simon, 1911) transcribed from the Overture in the French Style, BWV 831 by Johann Sebastian Bach, 1685—1750 3. Adagio, from Sonata in D major, B40 (unpublished, lost?) transcribed from Baldassare Galuppi, 1706—85 4. Five Inventions, Op. 153 [II] (unpublished, lost?) Karg-Elert 5. Passacaglia and Fugue on B.A.C.H, Op. 150 (original version of 55 variations) Karg-Elert

iv

Introduction This was hardly what the audiences expected: a great deal of transcription, if by the visitor himself, and his latest works, still in manuscript. They wanted to hear his best known pieces, as played by their composer, plus some improvisations. Comments by Katharina show he did include improvisations during the course of a programme, but as the listeners did not know this new music, they could not distinguish between written and improvised passages. In Lincoln, when asked to improvise, he treated the request with contempt, as he himself describes the affair, and presumably lost some friends on the way. Karg-Elert’s organ music was still very popular then in North America, used by church organists regularly, taught widely and frequently heard in concerts. An examination of listed recitals in the major American journals confirms this but the range is narrow. By far the most often heard pieces were isolated Lake Constance Pastels, Op. 96; Chorale-Improvisations from Op. 65 (one or two at a time, only a small fraction of the 66 always being repeated); the Impressions, Op. 72 (Nos. 1 or 2; Karg-Elert wrote to Sceats in July 1926 that he had heard of Clair de Lune being played in picture-theatres!). Occasionally some of the Cathedral Windows, Op. 106; the Schmidt Impressions, Op. 108; early pieces, e.g., Bourrée et Musette, Op. 374B. The large works were almost unknown. Farnam championed this music until 1926 and played the mighty Chaconne and Fugue Trilogy at least twice (1921, 1924), but his range was also small. Ernest White gave an all-Karg-Elert concert in Philadelphia in November, 1931 (prompted by the composer’s impending visit?); again this contained no large work: Sarabande in G {Op. 373B} — Landscape in Mist {Op. 96/2} — Now is our Salvation {Op. 65/4} — Bourrée et Musette {Op. 374B} — Lord Jesus Christ, turn towards us {Op. 65/13}. In the late 1920s, transcriptions were becoming passé and interest in the Baroque was mounting. Even Farnam, in his great series at the Church of the Holy Communion in New York during 1927—28 abandoned Karg-Elert entirely and concentrated on J.S. Bach, with contributions from Brahms and Franck; in 1929 the whole series was dominated by composers before Bach. Organ-builders too were coming under pressure to forsake the orchestral style and attempt to reinstate the classical ideal. Programme choice in North America around the time of the visit varied considerably but tended towards lighter fare. One of the letters refers to ‘kitsch-music’ which Sceats translated as ‘music of the claptrap variety’; this of course caused the Americans deep offence but contemporary programmes contained such material, providing some basis for Karg-Elert’s tactless remark, which he must have intended for European readers alone. Debate on this subject was lively at the time. A long article by Van Denman Thompson, F.A.G.O., of DePauw University (q.v., The Diapason, Nov., 1931, p. 20) makes a plea for higher standards and comments on “a revival of interest in Max Reger and his thirty-second notes. Karg-Elert seems the outstanding organ composer of Germany, and generally his work is interesting and of real musical value. This is merely a personal opinion, of course, but it seems to me Karg-Elert in Germany and Vierne in France are writing the most significant organ music of today.” The following February, the editorial of that journal expanded the subject; most of that column is reproduced in Appendix 2, p. A-2. To show better the setting in which Karg-Elert gave his concerts, here are some American programmes of the period, with an attempt to include some of the organists mentioned in the letters: George Clark, Grace Episcopal Church, Oak Park, Illinois, 14/12/30 Gothic March — Salomé; Souvenir — Kinder; Echo — Yon; Scherzo (Sonata 5) — Guilmant; At the Convent — Borodin; Song to the Evening Star — Wagner; The Swan — Saint-Saëns; Variations de Concert — Bonnet. Edwin Kraft, F.A.G.O., Trinity Cathedral, Cleveland, 5/1/31 Water Music Suite — Handel; Es ist ein Ros’. . — Brahms; Noël — Mulet; In dulci jubilo — Bach; Melodia Serena — Maurone-Cottone; Toccata in C minor — Rogers; Variations sur un Noël — Dupré. Harold Graham, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Evanston, Illinois, 13/1/31 (Senior student’s Recital) 3rd Chorale — Franck; Prelude & Fugue in B minor — Bach; 4th Symphony — Widor. Fred Tighe, St. James’s Church, Carleton Place, Ontario, 18/1/31 Toccata in A — Blakely; Along the Way — Sanders; Londonderry Air — arr. Sanders;

v

Introduction Prelude in G minor — Rachmaninov; Narcissus, Will-o’-the-Wisp — Nevin; Pomp & Circumstance — Elgar. Palmer Christian, Hill Auditorium, Univ. of Michigan, 11/2/31 Ein feste Burg — Hanff; Prelude — Corelli; Trio — Krebs; Cathedral Prelude & Fugue in E minor — Bach; Allegro (6th Symph.) — Widor; Dreams (7th Sonata) — Guilmant; Scherzo — Gigout; Fantasia in A — Franck; Prelude & Liebestod (Tristan & Isolde) — Wagner. Alexander McCurdy, jnr., 2nd Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia, 7/3/31 Toccata ‘O Filii et Filiae’, in memoriam Lynnwood Farnam — Farnam; 3 chorale-preludes on In dulci jubilo — Bach; The Legend of the Mountain {Op. 96/3} — Karg-Elert; Canon in B minor — Schumann; Andante sostenuto (9th Symph.) — Widor; 3rd Suite — E.S. Barnes; Toccata in D minor — Reger. John Connell, début of South African at Wanamaker, New York, 2/11/31 Introduction & Passacaglia — Reger; Pastorale (Sonata 12) — Rheinberger; Prelude & Fugue in A minor — Bach; Holdsworthy Air — Wesley; Dithyramb — Harwood; Concert Overture in E flat — Faulkes; Romanza — Hollins; Meditation — Gretchaninoff; Rondo Capriccio — Lemare; Finale (Sonata in C minor) — Baldwin. Ernest White, St. James’ Church, Philadelphia, Nov., 1931 Suite in F — Corelli; Pastel — Delius; Echo — Yon; The Legend of the Mountain {Op. 96/3} — Karg-Elert; Allegro (5th Concerto) — Handel; 2 chorale-preludes (not specified), Prelude & Fugue in C — Bach; The Reed-grown Waters {Op. 96/4} — Karg-Elert; Carillon — Sowerby; Carillon {de Westminster?} — Vierne. Edward Eigenschenk, Wheaton College Auditorium, Illinois, 24/11/31 Grand Choeur Dialoguée — Dubois; Scherzo, Finale (4th Symph.) — Widor; Moderato (4th Concerto) — Handel; Canyon Walls — Clokey; Andante (Symph. in D) — Haydn; Reverie — Dickinson; Sketch in D flat — Schumann; Jig Fugue — Bach; Divertissement — Vierne; Song of the Basket Weaver — Russell; Scherzo, Carillon de Westminster — Vierne. Arthur Quimby, Museum of Art, Cleveland, Jan. 1932 Toccata, Adagio & Fugue in C; Chorale-prelude: The old year now has passed — Bach; Psalm 19 — Marcello; Cortège et Litanie — Dupré. Wilhelm Middelschulte, Edison Park Lutheran Church, Chicago, 5/2/32 1st Concerto — Handel; Adagio (5th piano concerto) — Beethoven; Chorus Mysticus (Faust) — Gounod; Chorale-prelude: I cry to thee . . , Toccata & Fugue in D minor, Pastorale — Bach; Dreams — Wagner; In Paradisum — Dubois; Adagio (Ad nos . . ) — Liszt; Perpetuum Mobile — Middelschulte; Allegro {sic} — Widor; Pastorale, Finale (1st Sonata) — Guilmant. Fernando Germani, Wanamaker, New York, 24/4/32 Allegro (Concerto in G minor) — Handel; Sarabande, Badinerie — Corelli; Prelude & Fugue in E minor {Wedge?} — Bach; 2nd Chorale — Franck; Colloquy with the Swallows, Gigue — Bossi; Etude (ded. to Germani) — Manari; The Nymph of the Lake {Op. 96/1}; Fugue, Canzona & Epilogue {Op. 85/3} — Karg-Elert; Variations de Concert — Bonnet.

The Diapason, May 1932, p. 3: “An enthusiastic audience of 700 persons acclaimed Mr. Germani and his performance was marked by gorgeous color in addition to a display of his generally recognized superlative technique.”

Günther Ramin, Wanamaker, New York, 19/1/33 Toccata & Fugue in D minor — Bach; Prelude — Pachelbel; Prelude & Fugue in F — Buxtehude; Nun freut euch, Herzlich tut mich verlangen, In dulci jubilo; Toccata, Adagio & Fugue in C — Bach; Fantasia & Fugue on B.A.C.H.— Reger; Improvisation on St. Ann.

This is merely a sample of the vast amount being played publicly, but it shows the environment into which Karg-Elert came. His precise concert venues are difficult to reproduce as the letters are sometimes vague and press notices to which I have had access are incomplete. The latter is taken as further evidence of the poor quality of his playing: the Americans were reluctant to write honestly of their disappointment and chose instead to be silent. The following is the closest I can approximate his itinerary: Mon., 4th January 1932: arrive New York late afternoon; practise that night until 10:30, still dazed by the trip and appalled by the complexities of the Möller organ before him. Tues., 5th Jan., Rubinstein Club reception at 12:15 p.m. (in the Waldorf-Astoria ballroom), in which he walked out, causing great embarrassment. Practise after that until 11 p.m.

vi

Introduction Wed., 6th Jan., evening: A. G. O. dinner (Karg-Elert absent?) then début concert, WaldorfAstoria ballroom. ‘In Memoriam’ from prog. II, prog. I, and some roll-recordings as a further demonstration of the new organ at its official inauguration; informal supper at the “Thüringer-Hof”. Sat., 9th Jan., evening: practise at Wanamaker’s but a mechanical breakdown caused this to be aborted. Sun., 10th Jan., Princeton recital cancelled. Mon., 11th Jan., private party at the house (?) of Mauro-Cottone. Tues., 12th Jan., practise at Wanamaker’s 11 a.m. until 12:30 p.m., the first available time because of the repairs needed. Prog. II at 2:30, then leave immediately for Washington, D.C. Wed., 13th Jan., practise until 2 p.m., then an afternoon concert in the auditorium of the Library of Congress; in the evening an official dinner by the A.G.O. at the Dodge Hotel. Hotel overnight? Thurs., 14th Jan., train to Providence, Rhode Island; recital there on Friday; overnight train to Boston. Sat., 16th Jan., arrive Boston and stay in the home of Ernest Skinner. No practice allowed on Sunday and very little possible on Monday because of University examinations. Mon., 18th Jan., evening, prog. II at the University. Tues., 19th Jan., by train from Boston to Montreal. Wed., 20th Jan., practise in the morning; reception at German Embassy, 1 p.m.; church concert 8 p.m.; banquet at 10 p.m., arranged by the Canadian Society of Organists. Train to Toronto, leaving at midnight. Thurs., 21st Jan., arrive Montreal 8:30 a.m.; practise; church recital in the evening: prog. II; stay overnight. Fri., 22nd Jan., train to London, Ontario, arriving at 8 p.m. Sat., 23rd Jan., practise from 7 a.m., then depart by train at noon for Michigan: south to Detroit then west to Ann Arbor; practise that afternoon in the University auditorium (splendid organ by Skinner) and banquet in the evening. Sun., 24th Jan., Michigan University recital at 4:15 p.m.; by car to Detroit for a meal then immediately by train back to London. Mon., 25th Jan.? evening? — recital in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London (Ontario) then — Void for several days. Sat., 30th Jan., arrive Pittsburgh at 7:30 a.m. by overnight train. Sun., 31st Jan., afternoon church concert; in the evening an informal time to relax with some German-speaking organists and their wives. Tues., 2nd Feb., arrive Cleveland by train at 3:15 p.m.; practise at the Museum of Art (organ by Skinner, 1922) from 5 to 8:30. Wed., 3rd Feb., Museum practice 8 a.m. to 1 p.m., 5 to 6:30 p.m.; official dinner-reception; recital 8:45 to 10 p.m. (attendance almost 500, the largest audience ever for a Museum organ-recital): prog. II; overnight train to Chicago. Thurs., 4th Feb., arrive Chicago ca. 7:30 a.m.; greeted by various officials (but would have preferred more sleep!); views organ at Kimball Hall — no comment that he tried it out. Fri., 5th Feb., practise “without a break” 2 — 8 p.m. No further remarks about the next 2 days. Mon., 8th Feb., official A.G.O./N.A.O. lunch, Auditorium Hotel; evening recital at Kimball Hall (almost all of it prog. II). Wed., 10th Feb., train to Minneapolis, arriving at midnight. Sat., 13th Feb., official A.G.O. lunch, Curtis Hotel. Sun., 14th Feb., afternoon concert at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church: prog. II; informal party, evening: German food and beer! Overnight train. Mon., 15th Feb., arrive Lincoln (Nebraska) ca. 7 a.m. Church concert (Kimball organ) but no place nor date specified. Accident on departing in which one of Karg-Elert’s hands was jammed in a car door; a doctor aspirates some blood from the lump and applies a tight bandage. Thurs., 18th Feb., in Dallas but exact date of arrival is uncertain.

vii

Introduction Fri., 19th Feb., recital at 8:15 p.m., McFarlane Auditorium, probably in the Music School of the Southern Methodist University; reception follows. Sat., 20th Feb., train to Los Angeles, arriving ca. 8 p.m. the following Monday, 22nd Feb., in a trip ranging from discomfort and boredom to luxury and stupendous delight with the terrain; then straight on to San Francisco, arriving Tues., 23rd Feb. — tries out some organs that day. Much sightseeing follows, and presumably some practice! Thurs., 25th Feb., 8:15 p.m. concert at St. Dominic’s Catholic Church: prog. II. Official A.G.O. supper at the Clift Hotel. More sight-seeing. Mon., 29th Feb., train to Salt Lake City, Utah, arriving Wed., staying there and visiting the Mormon Tabernacle, hearing and playing the organ (but not it seems in an ‘official’ recital). Departing perhaps on Thursday, continuing the long journey east and stopping at Indianapolis briefly (?), probably not giving a concert, and travelling on to reach Rochester, New York State, by Friday, 4th March. Void for a week — lost material? Sat., 12th March, evening reception in Rochester by some German societies with choral singing. Sun., 13th March, afternoon recital, Salem Evangelical Church; dinner that evening in the home of Harold Gleason. Mon., 14th March? — filmed for cinematic use (4 minute piece); shown that night in Rochester newsreel theatres! Dates now become very sparse; he probably departed for New York City on Tues., 15th March, attempts to practise at Wanamaker’s for the farewell-concert but is enraged to find the organ has insuperable mechanical faults. He storms out and takes a rail trip back west towards Rochester, stopping off at Elmira. The events as he portrays them seem fictional and a recital there appears most unlikely to have taken place. He makes disparaging remarks about an archaïc organ (by Hope-Jones?), perhaps to be interpreted as his disgust over the Wanamaker organ. Soon after, he travels east to give a concert at Vassar College, then northeast to Smith College (Northampton, Massachusetts), both of which he feels were successful. He then returns to New York City for the farewell concert at Wanamaker’s on 21st March. Neither he nor the organ can manage the great Op. 150 and he feels crushed. Tues., 22nd March, departs for Germany in the “Berlin”; arrives home Mon., 4th April, his health shattered both physically and psychologically. He enters hospital late April or early May and seems close to death. Remarkably, he recovers to some degree and is able to resume writing. He deteriorates some months later, suffering recurrent strokes in February-March 1933 and dies on Sunday, 9th April. Only with hindsight is it then realised how ill he was during the tour. His advanced arterial disease would undoubtedly have killed him prematurely but the tour must surely have hastened the process.

viii

ix

29. Dez. 1931 Sächsische Sängerbundes Zeitung, Leipzig 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 3, 14. Februar 1932

Sigfrid Karg-Elert, Leipzig

auf Konzertreisen in Nordamerika. Zur Einführung: Komponist Sigfrid Karg-Elert wurde eingeladen, als Orgelvirtuos eine Konzertreise durch die größten Städte Nordamerikas zu unternehmen. — Wir sind in der glücklichen Lage, über diese Reise und die damit verbundenen ganz beispiellosen Erfolge einiges unsere Leser sicher Interessierendes zu entnehmen. In der nächsten Nummern der SSZ. werden wir unseren berühmten Landsmann, der auch als Männerchor- und Liederkomponist unseren Bundesvereinen kein Fremder ist, im Bild und Würdigungsaufsatz vorführen. Folgen wir ihm also auf seiner Reise, auf der ihn sein Frl. Tochter (Käthchen) als Assistentin bei der Registrierung begleitet (übrigens eine eminent schwierige Aufgabe, da ja bekanntlich jede Orgel eine andere Disposition und selbst bei gleicher Benennung andersfarbige Register aufweist), und freuen wir uns der ganz wunderbaren, aber wohlverdienten Erfolge. Die Schriftleitung. An Bord der „Europa“ 29. Dezember 1931, 2.15 nachm. Unser Riese zittert, er brummt wie hundert Eisbären, er vibriert wie im Fieber, aber „the smoking room“ (Rauchsalon), wo ich rauchend und schreibend sitze, liegt gerade über den Maschinen. Es dröhnt wie 32-füßige Pedalposaunen. . . Jeder Buchstabe muß langsam gedrechselt werden, sonst schlägt die Feder aus wie die Schreibnadel eines Seismographen bei wilden Erdbeben! . . . Wir fuhren an den niederländischen Inseln vorbei, da wird auch so eine Riese unruhig. Vom Hochdeck haben wir märchenhafte Schönheiten genossen. Kein Land weit und breit; tausende von Möven begleiten unser Schiff. Die Sonne lagert auf den Wellen und spiegelt sich silbern und golden auf den kleinen Wellenkronen. Es ist ein Traum, ein Gedicht, ein Märchen. Man verlernt das Jauchzen und wird ganz still vor Andacht. — — — Jetzt ist das Meer gelb, und wir kriegen lange Wellen. Es wird recht ungemütlich, und es wird Sturm im Kanal geben. Noch sieht es ja interessant aus, aber Neptun scheint Zoll fordern zu wollen. Und die Ausfahrt begann so traumhaft! — . . . Das Meer ist eine unerhörte Farbenpalette: froschgrün, wo die tiefstehende Sonne lange Streifen zieht, tiefmoosgrün, wo unser unheimlicher Riese Schatten wirst, schwarz und gelb in der Fahrtrichtung und weiße Schaumkronen wie schimmernde Möven. Der Himmel droht mit giftgrünen, gelben Streifen und dreckschwarzen Ballen. Der eiskalte Wind bläst wütend alles von Deck. Soeben ersucht die Mannschaft die Passagiere, in die Hallen und Kabinen zu gehen, da leichter Sturm gemeldet ist. Die Decks werden durch Sturmplanen geschlossen. Na, jetzt geht’s tatsächlich schon los . . . Schlingern . . . Offen gestanden: Mein Bedarf an Fahrtvergnügen ist auf Jahre hinaus gedeckt . . . Wenn ich so volle sechs Tage mitmachen soll! . . . Vater unser! . . . Mir graut, wenn ich an das Abendessen denke! . . . Käthchen ist mopsfidel und lacht ihren Vater aus! . .. 9.30 Uhr abends. Es war zum Sterben! . . . Wie wenn ein Kater Junge kriegt . . . Ich wollte mich bezwingen, ging zum Diner und bereits eine grüne Nasenspitze. Trank einen Boonekamp. Suppe 2—3 Löffel. Dann ging der „Fahrstuhl“ auf und ab. Die Stuhle und Tische sind angeschraubt . . . Los ging das Theater. Gott sei dank im stillen Winkel oben! Dann schlief ich wie ein Toter! . . . Dann lief ich in den „dinner-room“ (Speise-Saal) und aß mit Wolfsappetit. Trank ein Glas „Schwarze Katz“. Kätherlein ist ausgelassen wie ein kleiner Teufel. Nun ging’s wieder auf Promenaden- und Oberdeck. Das Meer hatte seitlich das Deck überspült, und Neptun hatte fleißig Tribut gefordert . . . Draußen tiefste Nacht — Regen — Schnee. Nur die Kiellinie leuchtet als gespenstiges weißes Sichtband vom Heck abwärts. Wir haben jetzt den „0. Meridian“ passiert, sind also in der Luftlinie mit London-Greenwich. Nun geht es in die Kanalenge wo es bekanntermaßen stets recht ungemütlich zugeht. Um 8 Uhr morgens biegen wir nach Nordern ab (Südspitze von England: Southampton), nach 31/2 Stunden nach Süden (Nordspitze von Frankreich: Cherbourg), dann öffnet sich der Atlantische Ozean . . .

1g

On board the “Europa” Journal of the Saxon Choral Society, Leipzig Volume 3, No. 3, 14th February 1932

Sigfrid Karg-Elert

on a concert-tour of North America. Introduction: composer Sigfrid Karg-Elert was invited to undertake a concert-tour of the largest cities in North America as organ-virtuoso. We are in the happy position to learn about this trip and its quite unparalleled success, surely of interest to many of our readers. In the next numbers of the S.S.Z. we shall present our famous countryman in pictures and essays of appreciation, for he is no stranger to this Association as a composer for male choir and solo voice. Thus shall we follow him on his journey, on which he is accompanied by his daughter Katy as registration assistant (incidentally an eminently difficult task as it is well known that each organ has a different specification and contains stops of different sound yet bearing the same designation), and we rejoice in the whole wondrous but well-deserved success. The Editorial Staff. {“League of Singers” is a more literal translation of the journal’s title but rather stiff; a freer representation, if not strictly correct, is “Choral Union” or, perhaps better, “Choral Society”.} On board the “Europa” {Tuesday} 29th December, 1931, 2:15 p.m. Our giant trembles, it growls like a hundred polar bears; it vibrates as if in a fever; but the smoking-room, where I sit smoking and writing, is directly above the engines. They roar like 32 foot Pedal Trombones . . . Every written character must be formed slowly, otherwise the pen lashes out like a seismograph stylus in a wild earthquake! . . . We travelled past the Netherlands’ archipelago, which also appears to be a restless giant. From the high-deck we enjoyed its fabulous beauty. No land far and wide; thousands of gulls accompany our ship. The sun settles upon the waves and is reflected in silver and gold from their little crowns. It is a dream, a poem, a fairytale. One forgets to shout for joy and becomes tranquil in prayer. — — — Now the sea is yellow and we are catching long waves. It’s becoming quite unpleasant, and the Channel will be stormy. It still looks interesting, but it seems Neptune wants to claim his toll. And the departure began so like a dream! — . . . The sea is an enormous colour-palette: frog-green where the sun penetrates far, deep mossgreen where our sinister giant’s shadow falls, black and gold in the direction of travel with white crowns of foam like shimmering gulls. The sky threatens with bilious green, yellow streaks and filthy black balls. The icy wind furiously blows everything off the decks. Just now the crew are requesting passengers to go into the halls and cabins until the storm is reported to be easier. The decks are closed during storms. Well, now it’s really breaking loose . . . lurching . . . standing on end: my need for pleasure from travelling is being covered for years to come . . . If I should have to go through six days! {the duration of the entire ocean voyage} . . . Our Father! . . . I dread just to think of the evening meal! . . . Katy is chirpy and has a good laugh at her father! . . . 9:30 p.m. It seemed as if I were dying! . . . like a hangover {lit.: as if a tomcat were to have a kitten} . . . I wanted to overcome it, went to dinner and already had a green tip to my nose. Drank a Boonekamp {a proprietary brand of that period?}. Took 2—3 spoons of soup. Then the “lift” went up and down. The chairs and tables are screwed down . . . The drama was under way. Thank God to be in a quiet corner on top! Afterwards I slept like the dead! . . . Then I ran into the diningroom and ate with the appetite of a wolf. Drank a glass of “Black Cat”. Katy is as frisky as a little devil. Now it’s off again on the promenade- and upper-decks. The sea has flooded over the decks and Neptune has claimed his dues assiduously . . . deepest night outside — rain — snow. Only the line of the keel shines as a ghostly white ribbon visible from the stern. We have just passed the “zero meridian” and are therefore in the line of London-Greenwich. We are proceeding along the Channel straits where it is always known to be quite uncomfortable. At 8 a.m. we turn off to the north (southern tip of England: Southampton); after 31/2 hours we swing south (northern tip of France: Cherbourg), then out into the Atlantic Ocean . . .

1e

30. Dez. 1931 — 1. Jan. 1932 30. Dezember 1931, früh 7 Uhr. Puh! Das war eine oberfaule Nacht! Berg- und Tal-bahn! Mein Magen streikte dauernd . . . Wir fahren im Halbkreis um die Hafenanlagen und legen erst 9.30 Uhr am Pier in Southampton endgültig an. Haben Verspätung. Die Nacht war z.T. überwältigend auf Deck. Gegen 5 Uhr kamen der Mond und die Sterne. Silber zittert auf dem Wogengebirge. Überall Signalbojen und ferne Blinkfeuer zur Markierung der relativ engen Fahrtrinne. Southampton Draußen strahlt die blendende güldne Sonne und zieht eine unermeßlich lange glitzernde Spur über das Meer, von Deutschland her nach Westen. Alles in gleißendem Gold, und über uns steht der silberne Halbmond und spiegelt sich schaukelnd auf Wellenköpfen. Im Süden markiert ein dünner, aber langer brauner Strich die Horizontgrenze: es ist die französischer Grenze. Vor uns, greifbar nahe, steigt die Steilküste von England auf. Überall Schlösser, Schloßtürme, über Wälder lugend. Landzungen und riffige Inselchen. Man ahnt ein Land des Reichtums und der wohligen Behaglichkeit. Wir liegen still. Die Anker sind geräuschtobend gefallen und haben ruckhaft Boden gefaßt. Da löst sich ein „Steamer“ (Dampfer) aus dem Hafen, in zehn Minuten umkreist er unsern stolzen Riesen. Ich lese „Rumford-Liverpool“ und sehe, wie sich die Mannschaft um die Trossen und Seiltrommeln bemüht. Die Laufbrücke wird hinausgeschoben, und dieser „Rumford“ legt bei. Er sieht aus wie ein Floh neben einem Walfisch. Unsere „Europa“ ist nicht taxierbar, die großen Steamer werden neben ihr zu Kinderspielchen! Die Küstenschiffe gehen in je einen Schornstein. Wir kommen weder an die englische noch an die französische Küste . . . sondern wir bleiben bei Flut auf Hochsee, Küstendampfer legen bei. Draußen ist Himmelreichwetter und eine Luft ohnegleichen, daß man lebenslang Decksteward werden möchte! In Cherbourg lagen wir mittschiffs der „Olympic“ (53 000 t!) der „White Star Lines“ (weiße Stern-Linie) gegenüber. Dieser Riese ist bei Gott eine schwimmende Stadt. So also sieht unsre „Europa“ (die noch schneller als die „Olympic“ ist) in Nachtbeleuchtung aus! Wie ein Phantom aus „1000 und eine Nacht“. — Wir haben nunmehr der alten Welt „valet“ gesagt und haben eine volle Stunde zurückdatiert. Diese Nacht wird um 12 Uhr wiederum eine Stunde repetiert — 11 Uhr, — so daß dieser Mittwoch 2mal Mittag und 2mal Mitternacht hat. Wir rasen also mit der Sonne im Wettlauf. Eigenartig! — Das Meer ist ein unübersehbarer grün-silberner Spiegel, darinnen die Sternbilder zitternd reflektieren. — Zauberhaftes Wetter. Die Luft ist ein Jungbrunnen ohnegleichen. Und Hunger kriegt man . . . aber Schlaraffia . . . ein Wink, und alles ist da, was das Herz begehrt! — — — Das Schiff fängt nun an öliger zu laufen, da wir allmählich Tiefe kriegen. Im Ärmel-Kanal ist das Wasser bei Ebbe (die wir gestern 6 Stunden lang hatten) für Riesenturbinenschiffe gefährlich flach, und die Schrauben arbeiten wie toll ein Viertel außerhalb des Wassers. Daher dieses nervenmordende Stampfen! Ich war soeben oben auf Deck B. Sterne, Sterne, Sterne, eine Silberhalbkugel . . . nicht zum Wiedererzählen. Aber jetzt eisig kalt. Frankreichs Küstenfeuer sind längst unter den Horizont getaucht, und wir haben 41/2 Tag (117 Std.) Endlosigkeit vor uns. Es ist unfaßbar erhaben! In Cherbourg haben wir sehr starken Zuwachs bekommen. Es ist voller Betrieb hier. Es sind vielleicht acht Deutsche auf C- and D-Deck, alles andere sind Engländer und Amerikaner und Juden! Soeben musizierte die Europa-Kapelle ein paar recht flotte deutsche Märsche auf dem Promenadendeck. Draußen gehen die Wellen herrlich und überschlagen sich zu silberweißem Gischt. Neujahr 1932. Mittags 12.15 Uhr (d. i. 15 Uhr mitteleuropäischer Zeit). Früh 5.30 bis 6.30 Uhr lief das Schiff nur dreiviertel Geschwindigkeit, da starker Gegenwind. Ich hörte, wie der Turbinenton immer tiefer und tiefer wurde. Das Wasser in der Karaffe stand fortdauernd quer. Folglich lagen auch wir quer. Wir wurde übel vom Ahnen. Beim Aufstehen merkte ich, wie scheußlich schief wir lagen. Überall wurde Licht gemacht. Die Stewards balancierten auf den Gängen. Ich mußte schleunigst hoch, aber die Treppen liefen vor einem davon und kamen quer von oben auf einen zu . . . . . Der „bath-boy“ (Badediener) führte mich zu Nr. 777 zurück, und dort habe ich dreiviertel Stunde gelegen. Ich klingelte 6.30 Uhr dem Steward (er ist aus Penig gebürtig). Er war nett und sagte: „Ja, wir haben Windstärke 7, das ist für Landratten schon ungemütlich, man ko . . . auch schon überall fleißig!“ Ich legte mich wieder hin, der kalte Schweiß troff nur so an mir herunter . . . .

2g

At Sea {Wednesday} 30th December, 1931, 7 a.m. Phew! That was a very odd night! Up hill and down dale! My stomach protested the whole time . . . We travelled in a semicircle around the docks and did not berth at Southampton Pier until 9:30, a late arrival. At times, the night was stunning on deck. Towards 5 o’clock the moon and the stars came out. Silver trembled on the mountainous waves. Signal-buoys everywhere and distant flashing lights to mark the relatively narrow channel. Southampton Outside, the dazzling, golden sun shines, throwing an immensely long, glittering trail over the sea from Germany westwards. Everything is glistening gold, and over us stands the silvery halfmoon, mirrored in swaying fashion in the wave crests. To the south, a narrower but longer brown line marks the horizon: it’s the French border. Before us, within reach, the steep coast of England rises. Everywhere castles and castle towers peeping over woodlands. Promontories and reefbearing little islands. One suspects this is a land of wealth and pleasant, homely comfort. We lie tranquilly. The anchors were dropped noisily and have taken hold with a jerk on the sea-floor. Then a steamer leaves the harbour, circling our proud giant in ten minutes. I am reading “RumfordLiverpool” and see the trouble that the crew takes with hawsers and rope-drums. The gangways are taken down and this “Rumford” put aside. It {the Europa?} looks like a flea next to a whale. Our “Europa” is not so estimable, the great steamers make her seem like a child’s toy! The coastal ship goes off with just one funnel issuing. We are approaching neither the English nor the French coast . . . instead we remain at high tide on the high sea, coastal steamers laying by. Outside, the weather is heavenly and the air without equal, so that one wants to be a deck-steward for life! In Cherbourg, we lay midships beside the “Olympic” (53,000 tonnes!), of the “White Star Line”. This giant is, by God, a floating city. But then our “Europa” also looks like that when it’s lit up at night (and it’s even faster than the “Olympic”)! Like a phantom out of “The Thousand and One Nights” {The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments}. — We have at this point said “farewell” to the Old World and have backdated a full hour. This night is repeated for an hour around 12 o’clock, restarting at 11 o’clock, so that this Wednesday has midday and midnight twice. We are thus racing with the sun. Peculiar! — The sea is a vast, silvery-green mirror in which the constellation is reflected trembling. — Enchanting weather. The air is a fountain of youth without equal. And one gets hungry . . . but Cockaigne {the mythical land of luxury and idleness} . . . a nod, and all is there that the heart desires! — — — The ship is now starting to run freely as we gradually get deeper. The water is at low tide in the English Channel (where we were for six hours yesterday), dangerously shallow for giant turbine-ships, and the propellers worked like mad a quarter outside the water. Hence this murderous pounding! Just this moment I have been above, on B-deck. Stars, stars, stars, a silvery hemisphere . . . not to be put in words. But now ice cold. French coastal fires have long dipped under the horizon, and we have 41/2 days (117 hours) of endlessness in front of us. It is sublimely incomprehensible! In Cherbourg we received a very large increase. Here there is plenty of business. There are perhaps eight Germans on C- and D-decks, all others are English and Americans and Jews! Just now the orchestra on the “Europa” has played a few lively German marches on the Promenade-deck. Outside the waves surge and somersault in silvery-white spray. {Friday} New Year, 1932 Midday at 12:15 (i.e., 3 o’clock middle-European time). From 5:30 to 6:30 a.m. the ship ran only at 3/4 speed because of a powerful headwind. I heard how the turbines’ sound became progressively deeper. Water in decanters stood sideways. Consequently we also lay transversely. We became nasty about our ancestors. On standing up, I realised how dreadfully lopsided we lay. Overall, we made some progress. The stewards balanced themselves on the gangways. I had to go up straight away but my steps ran away from each other and got entangled . . . . . the “bath-boy” led me back to No. 777 and there I have laid for 3/4 of an hour. I rang for the steward at 6:30 (he was born in Penig {ca. 50 km south and a little east of Leipzig}). He was nice and said, “Yes, we are having a force 7 gale, which is indeed uncomfortable for landlubbers, one supposes . . . also vigorous elsewhere!” I laid down again, dripping with cold sweat . . . .

2e

1. — 2. Jan. 1932 8 Uhr: 1. Frühstück vorübergehen lassen!! Hungern . . . sonst . . . . Warm angezogen, auf BDeck. Ach, du lieber Gott, da waren lauter Stahltrossen gezogen zum Anhalten. Die paar Passagiere torkelten wie schwer betrunken. Die starke Salzluft tat mir wohl. Ich blieb bis 11.45 Uhr oben. Dann ging ich mal nach Kätherlein schauen . . . . Nun war auch sie ein Opfer. Ich nahm sie mit auf Deck. Sie wollte ja „Sturzwellen“ sehen. Aber als sie sah, wie wir hochstiegen und in entsetzlichen Mulden herabschlitterten, wurde sie geisterblaß und . . . . . . Nun liegt sie wie halbtot in ihrer Kabine. Ich habe mich an diese tolle Auf- and Abfahrt schon etwas gewöhnt. Es ist ein nicht zu beschreibendes Naturschauspiel. Trichter, wie unser Schmuckplatz so groß, verschlucken Bug und Heck unseres Riesen. Diese Längsschaukelei geht einem allerdings verdammt auf die Magennerven . . . . Jetzt werden wir alle vom Deck verwiesen . . . . Abends 7.30 Uhr. O! Das war ein Tag! Der Speisesaal ist noch nicht mal halbvoll. Die Seepest wütet!! Das Personal ist auch nicht völlig intakt. — Das arme Kind möchte am liebsten sterben. Sie kann keinen Schritt gehen . . . sofort geht’s los. Ich habe von allem etwas gegessen, aber ich werde wohl nicht weiter durchhalten können. Der kalte Schweiß bricht aus . . . . 2. Januar 1932. Kalte Hände, steife Finger . . . und wir schlingern, schlingern und rollen. Das war eine Nacht! Großartig und fürchterlich zugleich. Ich war als einziger Passagier nachts zwischen 1 und 2 Uhr auf Deck. Gut eingehüllt. Wir liefen die ganze Zeit durch eine phosphor-grüne Quallenbank. Das sind Molusken (Quallen), die unter See gespenstisch leuchten. Heute kreuzten wir die Untergangsstelle der „Titanic“. Welch eine unfaßbare Katastrophe! Man muß einmal die Unendlichkeit des Ozeans gesehen haben, um nur einen Schimmer zu ahnen, was ein Unglück auf See bedeutet! . . Diese Nacht gegen 3.30 Uhr bekamen wir ein paar grauenhafte Nordwindstöße. Das Wasser entwich so stark, daß ich aus dem Bullauge, das ca. 3 Meter über dem Wasserspiegel steht, wie von einer hohen Brücke in den schwarzen Trichter sah. Als wir wieder zurückpendelten, lagen wir mit dem Bullauge dick im Wasser. Trotzdem alle Rundfenster fest verriegelt waren, drang doch jedesmal Wasser in die Kabine. Da wurde wir doch bange. Die Nachtwache schloß dann die Innenklappe mit Gummiringen. Wenn ich nur beschreiben könnte, wie es aussteht, wenn meine Taschenuhr, die an der Kette vor meinem Bett hängt, ganz schief hängen bleibt, ohne zu wackeln. Dann muß man sich doch sagen: Ein stehendes Pendel hängt stets nach unten . . . . Daß ich nicht richtig schreiben kann, ist eine Folge von Seitenzitterbewegungen (von Nord nach Süd), dazu kommen noch die Turbinenschläge von oben nach unten. Aber schrecklich sind die langen Längswellen, die ca. 8 Meter zwischen Bug und Heck ausmachen, die sogar die Bedienungsmannschaften lahmlegen und allerseits gefürchtet sind: Dann stehen die Turbinen außerhalb des Wasser . . . . Im Bad überkommt einen eine schreckliche Angst, wenn man sieht, daß das Wasser total schief in der ruhigen Wanne steht. Man starrt darauf, wie auf ein Gespenst . . .. Die Hälfte der Passagiere liegt wieder . . . . . es wird immer schlechter. Wir werden wohl mit starker Verspätung ankommen; denn wir reduzieren schon wieder die Fahrtgeschwindigkeit . . . . Ich war wieder draußen, es sieht imposant und göttlich aus. Ich möchte diesen furchtbaren Anblick nicht missen. So, jetzt schreibe ich mit beiden Händen: ich presse meine linke Hand an den rechten Schreibfinger. O, diese Seeleichen! . . . Der „salon-steward“ sagt, daß wir starke Unterseedünung von West nach Ost haben, gegen die es kein rechtes Mittel gibt. Kürzere Schiffe würden noch ganz anders rollen, aber bei ihnen wurden Schrauben weniger dagegen kämpfen. Kleine Schiffe müßten dann den Kurs etwas ändern. (Holla, jetzt sind alle Fleischbrühtassen nach links abgerutscht! Großes Theater!) Mein Gott, wir hängen ganz nach links . . . Nordwinddruck. Links kann man das Wasser greifen, rechts (Nordseite) stehen wir hoch in der Luft . . . grandios! grandios!! . . . Ah . . . puh . . . einer nach dem anderen verschwindet. Ich habe jetzt aber auch genug! (Fortsetzung folgt.)

3g

At Sea 8 o’clock: let the first breakfast go past!! Became hungry . . . otherwise . . . . Warmly dressed, on B-deck. Ah, dear God, those stretched steel cables were perhaps intended as a sign. A few passengers reeled as if heavily drunk. The strong salt-air did me good. I remained above until 11:45. Then I went to see Katy . . . . She was now also a victim. I took her with me up on deck. She did want to see the “rushing waves”. But when she saw how we were standing upright and sliding into appalling troughs, she became pale as a ghost and . . . . . . Now she lies in her cabin as if half dead. I have become somewhat used to this crazy ascent and descent. It’s a spectacle of nature beyond words. Funnels as large as our neat place, swallowed bow and stern of our giant. This lengthwise rocking, mind you, goes damnably on the stomach . . . . Now we have all been banished from the deck . . . . 7:30 p.m. Oh! What a day that was! The dining-room is not even half full. The sea-pest rages!! The staff is also not fully intact. — The poor child dearly wishes to die. She cannot take a step . . . is immediately unsteady if she tries. I have above all eaten something, but I probably shall not be able to withstand any more of this. The cold sweat breaks out . . . . {Saturday} 2nd January, 1932 Cold hands, stiff fingers . . . and we lurch, lurch and roll. What a night that was! Wonderful and awful simultaneously. I was the sole passenger on deck between 1 and 2 a.m., well wrapped up. We ran the whole time through a phosphorus-green bank of jellyfish. They are molluscs which provide eery illumination under the sea. Today we crossed the place where the “Titanic” sank. What an incomprehensible catastrophe! Firstly, one must have seen the boundlessness of the ocean, in order to grasp just a glimmer of the misfortune at sea this meant! . . This night at around 3:30 we received a few atrocious north-wind blasts. The water ran with such strength that I had a view through the porthole, which is about 3 metres above the sea surface, as I would from a high bridge into a black funnel. As we swung back again, we lay with the porthole deep in the water. Despite all circular windows being securely bolted, water got through into the cabin each time. We became really scared. The nightwatch closed the inside flaps then with rubber rings. If only I could describe how it was endured; when my pocket-watch, which hung on a chain by my bed, remained quite oblique without wobbling. Then one must say to oneself: a stationary pendulum always hangs down . . . . That I can’t write properly is a result of the trembling movements of the page (from north to south), added to the blows of the turbines from above down. Dreadful however are the long wave crests, which come to about 8 metres between bow and stern, which paralyse even the crew and terrify everyone: then the turbines stand out of the water . . . . In the bath one is overcome with frightful dread, if one sees that the water stands totally lopsided in the peaceful bathtub. One stares at that, as at a ghost . . . . Half the passengers are again prostrate . . . . . it becomes ever worse. We shall probably be more delayed still in our arrival, for we have yet again reduced our speed . . . . I was again outside; it looks imposing and divine. I don’t want to miss this awful sight. So, now I am writing with both hands: I press my left hand onto the right writing-finger. Oh, this mass of water! . . . The saloonsteward says that we have a strong underwater current from west to east, against which we are powerless. Shorter ships may not roll as much, but their propellers have less capacity to fight back. Small ships must then alter their course somewhat. (Hello, all the cups of meat-soup have just dropped off on the left! Great theatre!) My God, we’re hanging over to the left . . . north-wind forces. On the left, one can grasp the water; on the right (north side) we are standing up in the air . . . Terrific! Terrific!! . . . Ah . . . ugh . . . one after the other is vanishing. Now I too have had enough! . . . (to be continued.)

3e

2. — 5. Jan. 1932 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 4, 28. Februar 1932 (1. Fortsetzung.)

Abends 8.30 Uhr. Morgen kommen wir in die Nähe von Neufundland. Man ahnt dann schon „die neue Welt“. Allmählich kommen sich die Passagiere näher und näher, die bösen Tage ließen keine Stimmung aufkommen; es war ein ewiges Speien und Stöhnen. Nur eine Mittagsmahlzeit, dann sind wir drüben. Welch ein Wort! . . . 3. Januar 1932. Gute Nachtfahrt gehabt! Wir haben nunmehr Rückenwind . . . . Das Meer . . . das Meer. . . das Meer. O, es ist nicht möglich, ein Bild zu entwerfen . . . der Himmel ist mausgrau, der Ozean schiefergrün bis schwarz . . . an tausend Stellen stoßen runde Beulen auf, wachsen, werden spitz und schlagen oben um. Herrgott, wir liegen aber nach hinten . . . es ist in Worten gar nicht ausdrückbar, wie die ganze Masse der Meere sich ballt! Ost sieht man überhaupt keinen Himmel; denn das Wasser steigt allmählich wie eine schwarze Wand senkrecht von der Reeling auf, und man kippt glatt nach hinten zurück . . . . Liegestühle gleiten von der Promenadenwand ab und rutschen wie ein Blitz an die Bordkante. Dann hebt sich sofort der Magen! Aber in der Kabine ist es noch viel schlimmer! Jetzt ist es plötzlich still; das lieben aber die Schiffsleute nicht; sie meinen, das seien schlechte Anzeichen von Luftlöchern, die häufig Sturmvorboten sind! . . . Wir pendeln von hinten nach vorn wie ein wahnsinniges Riesenschaukelpferd und torkeln nach den Seiten, also die rollende Schlingerbewegung! Das zerreißt einem die Nerven . . . Schluß. 11.30 Uhr. Es wird immer erbärmlicher. Alles ist wieder krank. Man zieht auf Deck schon wieder die Halteseile, weil sonst alles über Bord geht. Der Wind hat gar keine Richtung . . . 4. Januar 1932, früh 10.15 Uhr. Wir passierten früh 5 Uhr Amerika-Feuerschiff und sind nun bereits im amerikanischen Gewässer . . . Herrgott, war das gestern abend eine schlimme Sache! Das ganze Abschiedseisen (fürstlich!) ging zum Teufel. Es war haarsträubend! Teller, Schüsseln, Flaschen, alles schlug um. Es war wie in der Hölle. Der Wein kam aus der festgehaltenen Flasche schräg heraus. Es ist gespenstisch. Alles floh panikartig in die Kabinen, das Bett schmiß einen sofort heraus, wenn man sich nicht angebunden hatte. Dann ging alles in die Gesellschaftssäle nach oben. Es wurde ein Faschingsabend mit Mützen, Ballons und Klamauk. Überall strahlende Helle, kein Mensch ging schlafen. In tollsten Trubel kann so ein Schiff in die Hölle fahren! Natürlich haben wir mächtige Verspätung. In zwei Stunden nehmen wir die Alkohol-Kontrolle und die Ärzte auf (QuarantaneStation). Zollrevision an der Pier. In fünf bis sechs Stunden setzen wir den Fuß wieder auf Land! . . . Musik spielt auf! Land . . . Land!!! O, es ist nicht zu beschreiben. Am Horizont eine gezähnte Linie! Land . . . Land!! Alles ist an Bord . . . ist das ein Augenblick!! Genau sechs Tage auf Wasser . . . man beugt die Knie vor der ungeheuren Majestät! Daß ist das erleben durfte!! Die See geht hoch! New York, 5. Januar 1932, früh 4.30 Uhr. 5 Stunden Schiffsverzögerung! Sind gar nicht nach New York, sondern nach den Docks in Brooklyn gekommen. Fürchterliche Kontrolle daselbst. Stundenlanges Schlangestehen wie auf dem Bezirkskommando zur Kriegszeit. Abend 5.30 Uhr fuhren wir mit einem Auto durch Brooklyn über die turmhohe weltberühmte Bogenbrücke nach New York-city (die Fahrt kostete ein kleines Vermögen). Auf der Höhe der Riesenhängebrücke tauchten die feenhaft erleuchteten Wolkenkratzer auf. Man kann, bei Gott, einen Herzkrampf kriegen . . . so unvorstellbar wie ein Fiebertraum aus 1001 Nacht wirkt der Anblick! Marmor und Gold bis in den Himmel hinein. Wir beide konnten einfach nicht mehr! Schaudervolle Nachwirkung dieser nervenmordenden Seesturmreise. Und Hunger . . . Hunger . . . Hunger! — Nun ging’s ins Shelton-Hotel, gegenüber dem Weltrekordhotel „Waldorf-Astoria“. Wir hausen im 12. Stockwerk und bewohnen zwei großartige Räume mit fürstlichem Bad. Wir wurde angst und bange . . . Laberge (der Agent) sagt, es ginge unmöglich anders; denn wir müßten morgen große Tiere empfangen! — 300 Damen geben mir zu Ehren ein Fest-dinner im „SheltonHotel“. Dann spricht die Presse vor. — Wir baten, uns auf eine Stunde zurückziehen zu dürfen, um zu ruhen. Aber von Schlaf konnte keine Rede sein. Alles drehte sich im Kreise, und der Fußboden ging hoch und tief. O, es ist eine Folter! Sieht man zum Fenster hinaus, so ist es, als ob man von einem hohen Turm herabschaut,

4g

At Sea Vol.3, No. 4, 28th February 1932 (1st continuation)

8:30 p.m. Tomorrow we are to come close to Newfoundland. One has a presentiment then of “The New World”. Gradually the passengers get closer to each other; we recover from the mood of those bad days in which there was an eternal spitting and moaning. Only one midday-meal, then we are over there. What chatter! . . . {Sunday} 3rd January, 1932 Had a good night-trip! From this point we have a tail-wind . . . The sea . . . the sea . . . the sea. Oh, it is not possible to depict such a picture . . . the sky is mouse-grey, the ocean slate-green to black . . . at a thousand places generous bumps arise, intensify and strike above. Lord God, we are so far behind . . . it’s not at all expressible in words how the whole measure of the seas gathers! Anyway, no sky can be seen to the east; for the water rises gradually like a vertical, black wall on the deck-railing, and one topples backwards . . . . deck-chairs slip off the promenade-deck and slide like lightning into the kerb. Then immediately my stomach turns! But it’s much worse in the cabin! Now it has suddenly become tranquil; but the crew don’t like that for it means there are airpockets, which are often harbingers of storms! . . . We oscillate backwards and forwards like an insane, giant rocking-horse, and reel to the side in a rolling motion! That tears one’s nerves apart . . . Enough. 11:30 {a.m.} It becomes ever more wretched. Everyone is ill again. Anchor-ropes have again been brought out, otherwise everything goes overboard. The wind has hardly any direction . . . {Monday} 4th January, 1932, 10:15 a.m. We passed an American lightship at 5 o’clock and are now already in American waters . . . Lord God, that was a terrible business yesterday evening! The whole feeling of resolve on departure (princely!) has gone to the devil. It was hair-raising! Plates, bowls, bottles — everything thrown about. It was like hell. Wine came out of the slanting, firmly stoppered bottles. It was eery. Everything flew about in the cabins as if in a panic, the bed was slung about once when it had not been tied down. Then everyone went into the banquet rooms above. It was carnival night with caps, balloons and tomfoolery. Sparkling light everywhere, no-one slept. In the wildest hurly-burly can such a ship travel to hell! We have of course been mightily delayed. In two hours we shall pick up the excise inspectors and the doctors (Quarantine Station). Customs check on the pier. In five to six hours we set foot on land again! . . . Music is being played! Land . . . land!!! Oh, this is too much for words. On the horizon is a serrated line! Land . . . land!! Everybody is on board . . . what a great moment!! Exactly six days on the water . . . one genuflects before the tremendous majesty! What an experience to live through!! The sea rates high! New York, {Tuesday} 5th January, 1932, 4:30 a.m. 5 hours’ holdup for the ship! Have not come into New York but instead to the Brooklyn docks. Awful inspections there. Queuing for hours like the regional command in wartime. At 5:30 p.m. we travelled by car through Brooklyn over the towering, world-famous arched bridge to New York City (the journey cost a small fortune). On the summit of the giant suspensionbridge the fairyland illuminations of the skyscrapers became visible. One can get heart spasms, by God . . . the view is so inconceivable, like a febrile dream out of The Arabian Nights! Marble and gold reach up to heaven. Both of us simply couldn’t take any more! Ghastly consequences from this nerve-wracking, stormy sea-crossing. And hunger . . . hunger . . . hunger! — Now we’re off to the Shelton Hotel, opposite the world-record hotel “Waldorf-Astoria”. We occupy two splendid rooms on the 12th storey, with a princely bath. We became anxious and scared . . . Laberge (the agent) said it wouldn’t be acceptable otherwise; for tomorrow we have to meet the big shots! — 300 ladies are giving a banquet in my honour in the Shelton Hotel. Afterwards interviews by the press. — We asked to be permitted to return for an hour to rest. But there could be no talk of rest. Everything turned round and round, and the floor went up and down. {Idiom perhaps for: I argued pointlessly with him.} Oh, what torment it is! As one looks out of the window, it’s as if one were viewing from a high tower,

4e

5. Jan. 1932 und noch höhere Türme steigen einem über den Kopf in die Wolken. Laberge und der chairman (Vorsitzende) Goldsworthy nahmen uns kleine Leutchen in Empfang. Vestibül, Korridor, Säle, es ist einfach nicht auszudenken!! Ist es möglich, daß ein solcher Luxus überhaupt existiert?? Weiter wurden wir in einen Riesensaal geführt. Unerhört! Da stand plötzlich ein fahrbarer Spieltisch vor mir: Die Riesenorgel mit einer Riesenklaviatur und zwei entsetzlich großen Registertafeln. Hier also soll ich morgen spielen!! Wir wurden beide bleich, und über mich kam eine Schwäche, wie wenn ein Delinquent sein Schafott sieht. Dann kam der Erbauer, Mr. Möller. Goldsworthy spielte mit allen Schikanen. Und mir schlug das Herz; und ich würgte die Worte hervor: „Excuse, I must be alone, please!“ (Verzeihung, ich muß allein sein, bitte!) Und da verschwand alles. Meine Gedanken: Was soll das werden? Ganz New York wartet! Der Riesensaal ist doppelt überzeichnet! Karten längst ausverkauft. Eine Unmenge kommen von weit her!!! Und nun? Wir fingen planmäßig an und arbeiteten bis zum Tollwerden. Zunächst ohne Noten. Nachts 10.30 Uhr konnten wir einfach nicht mehr! Im „Scandinavischen Palastraum“ saßen wir noch mit Goldsworthy und Möller bis 12 Uhr zusammen. Dann ins Hotel und hinauf in unsere 12. Etage . . . . Die city erwacht, es ist 6.45 Uhr. Die Hochbahn fährt, die Wolkenkratzer glühen bis in das 60. Stockwerk. Ich fasse mich an den Kopf. Ich bin in New York und muß morgen vor einer gigantischen Menge spielen! New York, 5. Januar 1932. (Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen): Unser Hotel ist so hochvornehm, wie ich kaum glaube, daß es ein ähnliches Hotel in Leipzig gibt. Alles Marmor! Es hat 24 Stockwerke, wir wohnen im 12. and haben ein kleines Appartement für uns: zwei Schlafzimmer, Privatbad und Toilette. Unser Bad ist mit lauter kleinen quadratischen Marmormosaiks ausgelegt, Boden und Wände. Überall Lampen. Die Zimmer sind hell mit dunklen Möbeln. Eingebaute Waschtische und Schränke, Zimmertelephon. Teppiche zum Versinken. Es ist so warm hier daß wir dauernd das Fenster aufhaben müssen und immer Eiswasser trinken, sonst kommt man um. — Das Waldorf-Astoria-Hotel ist ein Palast aus 1001 Nacht. Worte sind wirklich zu arm, um auch nur eine leise Ahnung von dieser Pracht zu geben. Es war aber alles zuviel auf einmal, und dazu kam noch, daß man immer noch die Schiffsbewegung verspürte das ist ganz ekelhaft. Man hat keinen Gleichgewichtssinn, zittert in den Gelenken und fühlt sich wie zerhackt. Geschlafen habe ich wie tot. Im Shelton-Hotel haben wir tüchtig geübt, obgleich wir vor Krach kaum was gehört haben. Der große Ballsaal, wo das Konzert stattfindet, wurde für das Bankett des „Rubinstein-Club“ hergerichtet. 1/41 Uhr ging es los. Vater zusammen mit einer Unmenge großer Tiere auf einer Tribüne, ich unten mitten im Volk und habe dort mit sieben sehr reichen Damen zusammen gesessen; die waren furchtbar nett und haben mir das ganze „frad“ (Futter) erklärt, und ich habe furchtbares Zeug essen müssen, habe aber bald erklärt, daß ich sowas von Essen nicht kenne und nur mit Vorsicht an die Sachen gehe. Es steigen lauter Reden, natürlich in englisch, und ich passe mächtig auf. Dann werden die Leute auf der Tribüne vorgestellt, und mir wird es ein bissel mau! Vater fehlt! Goldsworthy kommt zu mir und sagt, daß Vater ins Shelton-Hotel gegangen ist . . . und . . . schläft!! Er ist Ehrengast, für den der ganze Empfang gemacht wird, und zieht Leine!! Oh, ich hätte heulen mögen! Na, Möller (der Erbauer der Orgel) hat dann eine „knorke“ Rede geschwungen, hat ihn entschuldigt. und die 300 Damen waren beruhigt und bedauerten Vater, weil er die letzte Nacht so schlecht geschlafen hat!! — Und dann kamen Darbietungen erster Künstler. Grünstein war aus Chikago gekommen, und da er Reporter von der größten Chikagoer Zeitung ist, habe ich Vater geholt, und die beiden haben zusammen deutsch gesprochen.

5g

New York and still higher towers climb one above the other into the clouds. Laberge and the chairman, Goldsworthy received us little people. The lobbies, corridors and halls are simply unimaginable!! Is it possible that such luxury can exist?? {Bernard R. LaBerge, 420 Lexington Avenue, (1727 Graybar Building), New York — tour organiser. William A. Goldsworthy, organist and choirmaster at St. Mark’s-in-the-Bouwerie, 234 East 11th Street; also a composer of church music, and according to Karg-Elert, “resident organist” at the hotel.} Subsequently we were taken to a gigantic hall. Incredible! Suddenly there stood before me a mobile console: the giant organ with a giant set of manuals and two appallingly large stop-jambs. Here then was I to play tomorrow!! We both turned pale and I felt weak, as when an offender sees his scaffold. Then in came the builder, Mr. Möller. Goldsworthy played, and included all the trimmings. And my heart pounded; and I choked on saying, “Excuse me please, I must be left alone!” And so everyone vanished. My thoughts: whatever will happen? All New York is waiting. The gigantic hall is doubly booked! Tickets have been sold out long ago. A vast number is coming from far away!!! And now? {Karg-Elert does not state that this organ was in fact in the WaldorfAstoria. The organ was needed to accompany silent films and so it had plenty of “trimmings”: percussions, etc. See Introduction and Appendix 4, p. A-7 for greater detail.} We started as scheduled and worked until we became crazy. For the time being, without the sheet music. By 10:30 p.m. we simply couldn’t continue any longer! We sat in the “Scandinavian Palace-room” with Goldsworthy and Möller until 12 o’clock. Then into the hotel and up to our 12th floor . . . . The city awakens, it is 6:45 a.m. The elevated railway is running, the skyscrapers are aglow up to the 60th storey. I take hold of my head. I am in New York and must play before a gigantic gathering tomorrow! {What a commencement! An awful ocean voyage, and within hours of arriving an evening inspection of a strange organ on which he is to give his début concert in under 48 hours’ time!} New York, {Tuesday} 5th January, 1932

(From a letter by Katy, the daughter): Our hotel is so stylish that I can hardly believe there is a similar hotel in Leipzig. Everything in marble! It has 24 storeys; we live on the 12th and have a little apartment to ourselves: two bedrooms, private bath and toilet. Our bathroom is laid out entirely in little square marble mosaics on the floor and walls. Lamps everywhere. The rooms are bright, with dark furniture. Built-in wash-stands and cupboards, room telephone. Carpets to sink into. It’s so warm here that we must perpetually have the window open and always drink iced water, otherwise one might die. — The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel is a palace out of The Arabian Nights. Words are really too feeble to give more than a slight idea of its splendour. It has however been excessive and all too sudden, with still more added, that one still perceives the ship’s motion, which is completely vile. One has no sense of balance, trembles in the joints and feels as if chopped up. I have slept as though dead. We have practised hard in the Shelton Hotel, although we could scarcely hear for all the noise. {Katy is confused; the organ is in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria.} The great ballroom, where the concert is to take place, was being prepared for the “Rubinstein Club” banquet. It got under way at 12:15. Father together with a vast number of big shots on a platform, I amongst the crowd where I sat with seven very rich ladies; they were frightfully nice and explained the whole “feed” to me, and I had to eat the awful rubbish but soon explained that I am not acquainted with such food and can take it only with caution. The conversation became louder, in English of course, and I paid great attention to it. Then the people on the platform were introduced and I felt a bit poorly! Father was missing! Goldsworthy came to me and said that father had gone to the Shelton Hotel . . . and . . . is sleeping!! He’s the guest of honour, for whom the whole reception has been made, and he’s cleared off!! Oh, I’d have liked to howl! Well, Möller (the builder of the organ) gave a “smashing” speech then, excusing father on the grounds that he had slept so badly the previous night, and the 300 ladies were pacified although they still regretted his absence!! — And then there were performances by some foremost artists. Grünstein had come from Chicago, and as he is a reporter for the largest Chicago newspaper, I fetched father and the two spoke together in German.

5e

5. — 7. Jan. 1932 Als alles fertig war, konnten wir wieder üben und zwar bis 11 Uhr nachts! — Karg-Elert ist hier ein „Sesam öffne dich!“ Sogar in der Drogerie verwandelt sich alles in Superlative bei dem Namen! — 6. Januar 1932. Von Boston, Chikago und sogar Montreal sind Leute gekommen, um zuzuhören! Schon jetzt sind die Amerikaner entzückt, wie ihre Orgeln klingen; sie kennen sie ja nur durch Schlager und solche Kitschmusik! Der deutsche Botschafter war natürlich auch da, wie gesagt: ganz, ganz große Klasse! — Die meisten amerikanischen Frauen qualmen andauernd, sind bemalt wie ein Farbtopf und tragen Kleider mit Ausschnitt im schlimmsten Direktoire-Stil. Aber liebenswürdig sind sie alle ungeheuer, das muß man ihnen lassen! Der große Tag ist da! Zwei Stunden (!!) gestern nacht von 9 bis 11 Uhr geübt! Das ist alles, alles! Der Festsaal ist nie frei, dauernd Gesellschaft. Klub, Festivals, Konzerte. Oder Reinigung, Lüftung (Exhaustorenlärm), Klavier- und Orgelstimmer . . . Tempo . . . Tempo!! Wie im Irrenhaus! Aber die zwei Stunden Übung und ein gutes Schlafmittel haben mich völlig umgewandelt. Es ist unglaublich, welches Fieber hier um mich herrscht. Unzählige Telegramme und Telephonanrufe laufen stündlich hier im Bureau ein. Das Konzert ist die Sensation der Saison. Alles, was hier Geltung hat, hat die Logen belegt, auch die Korridore sind alles bereits belegt. Viele Anmeldungen von entferntesten Städten. Käthchen ist kolossal belagert, sogar die Fachzeitungen berichten über sie!! Heute werden wir an der Orgel photographiert. Das Personal hat gestern nacht unser Üben belauscht und sagt, ist sei ein Teufel in Menschengestalt! Goldsworthy (der ständige Organist) schlägt immer die Hände übern Kopf . . . und ruft den lieben Gott an . . . Er begreift nicht, was ich aus seiner „big organ“ (großen Orgel) mache! . . . César Franck klingt unvorstellbar . . . ein riesiges Orchester, und Rameau wird durch Tamburin, Castagnetten, elektrische Klingeln (abgestimmt!), Pauken, Triangeln zur traumhaften exotischen Orgie. 1001 Nacht wird zur Wirklichkeit! Drei Orgeln (left, middle, right) (links, Mitte, rechts) mit einem Spieltisch! Alles steht um die Konsole (Orgeltische) herum, und an jedem Fuß und Finger kleben Augen, Augen, Augen! Mister Möller, der Erbauer der „big organ“, hielt gestern ein pompöse Rede im „Rubinstein-Club“ auf mich und sagte, schon nach zwei Minuten habe er gehört die Orgel, wie noch nie zuvor! Es stände also für die Orgelwelt ein Ereignis bevor. Ich war fortgelaufen, so etwas bin ich nicht gewöhnt! Zudem bin ich noch immer landkrank (ich taumle wie betrunken und leide unter Zuckungen und Zittern). Heute nach dem Konzert gibt die „Society of Organists“ (Gesellschaft der Organisten) unter deren Ehrenprotektion das Festkonzert steht, mir zu Ehren ein Festbankett im Prunksaal. Es steht alles auf dem Spiel. Die Presse ist zum Bericht geladen, es wird eine gesellschaftliche Sensation. Morgen ziehen wir um in die Nähe des Wanamaker-Auditorium (Konzertsaales); denn hier zwischen den Millionenbauten (Chrysler und Waldorf mit 84 und 62 Stockwerken) kann kein Mensch, der nicht Milliardär ist, wohnen. Und doch mußte es des Nimbus wegen sein!! 7. Januar 1932. Nun ist auch das vorbei! Ich müßte Bücher schreiben, um ein Bild von den Ereignissen zu geben. Diese Tage möchte ich, bei Gott, nicht noch ein zweites Mal erleben. Alles war ein Chaos, ein Qualm, ein Hexenschaukel, Tolleres ist nicht denkbar. Zwanzigmal haben wir Übungsversuche gemacht. Nach 1—3 Minuten mußten wir aufhören: Proben, Teppichreinigung, Stimmen, Dekorateure, Monteure, hunderte von Neugierigen, ein Schwirren und Toben . . . vollkommenster Hexensabbath! Von Ausprobieren konnte keine Rede sein. Ich habe tatsächlich Alpdrücken gehabt und bin immer noch landkrank, torkelnd wie ein Betrunkener. Die Zeit zerrann wie Schnee in der Sonne. Stets und immer wurde mir Übungszeit zugesagt, aber stets wurde ich darum betrogen. Um 8.15 Uhr begann ich mich im Shelton-Hotel zum Konzert für 8.30 Uhr in Waldorf umzuziehen. Draußen gießt es . . . wir stampfen hinüber zu Waldorf. Autoschlangen . . . Autoschlangen . . . ein übervoller Saal wie ein Bienenschwarm. Im Dämmerzustand hinaus an die Console. Ich werde mit Applaus empfangen und spreche 2—3 Minuten.

6g

New York {More confusion; Siegfried E. Gruenstein was editor, and publisher from 1909 to 1957, of The Diapason, a most important monthly journal on matters in the organ world, but scarcely Chicago’s largest newspaper.} When everything was finished we could again practise and actually did so until 11 p.m.! — Karg-Elert’s name represents “open sesame” here. Even in the drugstore his name is transformed by everyone into superlatives! — {Wednesday} 6th January, 1932 People have come from Boston, Chicago and even Montreal to listen! The Americans have already shown delight in hearing how their organs sound; indeed they know them only through hitsongs and similarly worthless music {lit.: kitsch-music; Sceats translates this “music of the claptrap variety”}. The German Ambassador was also there, of course, as expected: how completely marvellous! — Most American women smoke continuously, are made up like a paintpot, and wear clothes cut in the worst Directoire style {the period of the French Directory: 1795— 1799}. But they are all tremendously kind, one must say that of them! The great day has arrived! Practised last night for two hours (!!) from 9 to 11! That’s all, all. The ballroom is never free, one has perpetual company: clubs, festivals, concerts. Or cleaning, vacuuming, piano- and organ-tuners . . . time . . . time!! Like a madhouse! But the two hours’ practice and a good sleeping draught completely transformed me. It is unbelievable what a fever rages around me. Innumerable telegrams and telephone calls arrive hourly here at the office. The concert is the sensation of the season. Everybody here with any influence has reserved a box, and the corridors are already booked too. Many requests from the most distant cities. Katy is utterly besieged, even the professional journals have reports about her!! We have been photographed today at the organ. The staff eavesdropped on our practice last night and said it was the devil in human form! Goldsworthy (the resident organist) keeps hitting himself on the head . . . and calls out to dear God . . . He does not comprehend what I am making out of his big organ! . . . César Franck sounds inconceivable . . . a gigantic orchestra, and Rameau with tambourine, castanets, electric bells (out of tune!), drums and triangles becomes a dreamlike, exotic orgy. The Arabian Nights brought to reality! Three organs (left, middle, right) with but one console! Everyone stands around the console, and on every foot and finger are glued eyes, eyes, eyes! Mr. Möller, the builder of the big organ, gave a grandiose speech about me at the Rubinstein Club yesterday, and said that within two minutes he realised he had never before heard the organ so played! The concert would thus be an event in the organ-world. I ran away as I am not accustomed to this sort of thing! Added to this I am still land-sick (I stagger as if drunk and suffer from twitches and shakes). Today, after the concert, the Society {Guild} of Organists, under whose auspices the festive concert stands, is to give a banquet in my honour in a sumptuous hall. {The A. G. O. gave the banquet just before the concert; Karg-Elert was apparently not present. See also Emerson Richards’ letter to Musical Opinion, dated July 18, 1932, reproduced in Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, from p. A-52: Möller arranged the concert and paid for it entirely, including some undisclosed but supposedly high fee for Karg-Elert.} Everything depends on this performance. The press has been invited to make a report; it will be a social sensation. Tomorrow we shall move into the vicinity of the Wanamaker Auditorium (Concert Hall); for here, between the structures costing millions (Chrysler and Waldorf of 84 and 62 storeys respectively), no-one can live who is not a multi-millionaire. And yet it must be so on account of the aura!! {Thursday} 7th January, 1932 Now that’s over! I would have to write books to give a picture of the events. By God, I should not like to go through these days a second time. Everything was in chaos, in smoke, a bewitched see-saw; nothing madder is conceivable. Twenty times we made an attempt to practise. After 1—3 minutes we had to stop: tests, carpet cleaning, tuning, decorations, settings, hundreds of inquisitive people, a buzzing and blustering . . . a complete witches’ sabbath! A proper rehearsal was out of the question. Actually I’ve had nightmares and am still land-sick, staggering like a drunk. Time disappeared like snow in the sun. Ever and always I was promised time to practise, but I was always cheated. Around 8:15 I began to get changed in the Shelton Hotel for the concert at 8:30 in the Waldorf. Outside it’s pouring down . . . we trudge over to the Waldorf. Queues . . . queues . . . an overfilled hall like a swarm of bees. Out to the console in a drowsy state. I am received with applause and speak for 2—3 minutes.

6e

7. — 8. Jan. 1932 Das Publikum saß wie angewurzelt und rief mich immer wieder und wartete auf eine ExtraImprovisation. Aber ich blieb im Zimmer. Jetzt aber stürmte man das Zimmer, und eine Flut von Enthusiasten umringte mich. Nach dreiviertel Stunden streikte ich mit der scheußlichen Autogrammschreiberei. Alle sagten, der Erfolg sei sensationell gewesen, man habe so noch niemals Orgelspiel gehört. Der deutsche Konsul war stolz und hat uns mit Begeisterung eingeladen. Dann ging ein deutsch-österreichischer Kreis nach dem „Thüringer Hof“ zum Bier, deutsche Beefsteak und Sauerkraut. Endlich, endlich konnte ich essen! 11 Uhr. Soeben waren wir, vom breakfast kommend, auf dem Dachgarten unseres Shelton-Hotels, 19. Etage. Man sieht tief unten die „city“ mit ihren Autostraßen, railways (Eisenbahnen) und highways (über die Dächer der Häuser fahrend). Unser Shelton ragt noch 14 Etagen höher hinauf (33 Stockwerke), gegenüber türmen sich die Riesenzimmer des Waldorf-Palastes auf, etwa 60—65 Stockwerke. Die Turmabschlüsse glitzern in praller Sonne stahl-silbern; eine Vision ohnegleichen! Der Eindruck dieser unerhörten Riesenbauten ist schreckhaft, atemberaubend, grauenerregend und doch unsagbar schön, hinreißend, betörend-harmonisch. Babel und Atlantic. Reines Frühlingswetter, pralle Sonne. Linker Hand glitzert „the river“ (Fluß durch New York) mit der „river bridge“ (große Brücke mit drei turmhohen Pfeilern), river-Bauten mit Goldkuppeln, entsetzliche Klumpen in weiß. Es ist wie ein gespenstischer Traum von Drachen und Urwäldern . . . Und Du stehst zwischen Springbrunnen, Riesenvasen, Gärten, Laubengängen. 19 Stockwerke hoch und bist gegen 80 Stockwerke doch unten . . . eine Beschreibung ist nicht möglich. „The Chrysler-building“ (Gebäude) ist eine Nadel . . . 83 Etagen hoch . . . die Spitze sticht wirklich in den Himmel hinein. Man rast wie irrsinnig im „non-stop-lift (elevator)“ vom 32. Stock zur Erde (entrée) hinab oder umgekehrt hinauf, wie in einem tollgewordenen Flugzeug! Tempo . . . Tempo . . . Tempo . . . ist hier das Motto. Aber die Menschen sind fabelhaft freundlich. —Kätherlein wird allgemein ihrer tadellosen Sprache wegen bewundert. Ihr Französisch und Englisch geht wie geölt, und sie kommt viel zum Sprechen und Übersetzen. Alle Fenster sind auf; es ist Italienklima. Man steigt täglich drei- oder viermal ins Bad. Es ist ein Leben wie im Traum. (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 5, 14. März 1932. (2. Fortsetzung.) 8. Januar 1932, vorm. 11 Uhr. Ich habe dreiviertel Stunde lang „shake hands“ (Händeschütteln) ertragen müssen und unendlich viel Autogramme gegeben. Photographiert sind wir auch worden, und nach 12 Minuten ging das große Tafelbild bereits von Hand zu Hand. Ferner sind vier Aufnahmen von mir am Spieltisch der großen Orgel gemacht worden. Meine Rede und das Konzert ist über das HausMikrophon in alle Räume des Riesenhotels gegangen and auf den Rundfunk der USA!!!, so daß alle Leute, die keinen Platz mehr im Hauptsaal fanden, mich hören konnten. G. wird mich heute nachmittag an der „Wanamaker-Orgel“ unterweisen. Das soll ein wahnsinnig kompliziertes Werk sein, an dem man leicht Schiffbruch erleiden kann! . . . Schöne Aussicht! — Vom Konzert aus müssen wir per Taxi zur Bahn, den Expreß(„Pullman-car“)-Schlafwagen benutzen, um bei der Ankunft in Washington direkt zur Orgel zu fahren. Denn sofort weiter! Der Präsident der „Akademie für Kunst und Wissenschaft“ (Newark) Prof. Dr. Schleußing, hat mir soeben mitgeteilt, daß mir die Ehrenmedaille verliehen wird! Mein Ruhm ist geradezu grenzenlos geworden! Täglich laufen Konzertengagements und Ehreneinladungen aus allen Ecken und Enden des Riesenlandes ein. Alles staunt! Aber das Tempo!!! Orgel — Schlafwagen —Orgel — Schlafwagen!!! ad infinitum! In Los Angeles werden wir im Frühling ein paar Tage ausspannen und den Alpdruck abschütteln. Kalifornische Riviera, das Paradies auf Erden.

7g

New York The audience sat as if they’d taken root and called me back time and again, waiting for an extra improvisation. But I stayed in the artists’ room. However, the room was then stormed and a flood of enthusiasts surrounded me. After three quarters of an hour I refused to give any more of those dreadful autographs {lit.: I went on strike in that dreadful autograph-signing}. Everyone said that the outcome had been sensational; organ-playing like that had never before been heard. The German Consul was proud and gave us an enthusiastic invitation. Then off we went as a GermanAustrian group to the “Thüringer Hof” for beer, German beefsteak and sauerkraut. At last, at last I could eat! 11 o’clock We have just come from breakfast on the roof garden of our Shelton Hotel, on the 19 th floor. Far below one sees the “city” with its main roads, railways and highways (going over the house roofs). Our Shelton rises another 14 floors higher (33 storeys) {Katy writes above: 24 storeys}, whilst opposite the colossal rooms of the Waldorf palace tower overhead: about 60—65 storeys. The tops of the towers glitter steel-silvery in the blazing sun; a sight without equal! The impression of this enormous, gigantic building is startling, breathtaking, gruesome and yet unspeakably beautiful, thrilling, harmoniously beguiling. Babel and Atlantic. {Perhaps to be translated: confusion on the one hand, security on the other.} Perfect spring weather, blazing sun. On the left the river glistens, with the great bridge bearing three lofty pylons; river-buildings with gold domes, hideous clods in white. It’s like a ghostly dream of dragons and primæval forests . . . and you stand between fountains, enormous vases, gardens and pergolas. Nineteen storeys high and yet still below compared with 80 storeys . . . a description is not possible. “The Chrysler Building” is a needle . . . 83 floors high . . . the point really pricks heaven. One races down like mad in the nonstop lift from the 32nd storey to the ground (entrance), or turns back, as in an aeroplane that’s gone crazy! Time . . . time . . . time . . . is the motto here. But the people are fantastically friendly. — Katy is universally admired on account of her flawless speech. Her French and English are fluent {lit.: go as if oiled}, and she is much called upon to speak and translate. All windows are open; the climate is Italian. One needs to bathe three or four times daily. It’s a life out of a dream. (to be continued.) Volume 3, No. 5, 14th March 1932 (2nd continuation) {Friday} 8th January, 1932, 11 a.m. I had to tolerate hand-shakes for three quarters of an hour and give no end of autographs. We have also been photographed, and within 12 minutes the big plate was being passed around. Moreover, four photos of me have been taken at the console of the great organ. {One of these, from the New York Times, is reproduced on page 1 of The Diapason, Feb. 1932, and copied here on p. ix.} My talk and the concert were transmitted via the house-microphone to all rooms in the giant hotel and on U.S. radio!!!, so that all those who were unable to get a seat in the main hall could hear me. This afternoon, G. {Goldsworthy?} will instruct me on the Wanamaker organ. That must be surely an awfully complicated piece of work on which one may easily be shipwrecked! . . . a lovely prospect! — After the concert we have to go by taxi to the station to make use of an express train (Pullman-car), so that on arriving in Washington we may travel directly to the organ. Then proceed immediately! The president of the “Academy of Art and Science” (Newark), Prof. Schleussing, has just informed me that I have been awarded their honorary medallion! My fame has become almost boundless! Concert engagements and invitations in my honour arrive daily from all corners and ends of this huge land. Everyone is amazed! But the pace!!! Organ — sleeping car — organ — sleeping car!!! ad infinitum! In spring we shall take a break for a few days in Los Angeles, and shake off the nightmare. Californian Riviera, Paradise on Earth.

7e

8. — 10. Jan. 1932 8. Januar, abends 1/210 Uhr. . . . Es ist die wahrhaftige Hölle, dieses New York. Willst Du sechs Minuten gehen, so mußt Du ein Taxi nehmen, hältst mindestens 12 mal je 3—5 Minuten an und zahlt für den Spaß 5 RM (1 Dollar 25 Cents). Eine kleine Flasche Pale (Limonade) 25—30 Cents (1 RM bis 1.20 RM). Eine Tasse Suppe (das primitivste) 20 bis 25 Cents . . . 1 RM. Ein frugales Lunch: 1 Dollar . . . 4 RM. Ein breakfast (ganz einfach) 60—80 Cents . . . 2.40—3.20 RM. Ein dinner etwa ein und einen halben Dollar — 6 RM. Im Shelton-Hotel kostete ein Doppelzimmer pro nacht 6 Dollar . . . 24 RM. (In Waldorf dagegen mindestens 25 Dollar . . . 100 RM!). Wenn man Tag für Tag täglich 40—60 RM braucht, so ist es klar, daß man kaltes Fieber kriegt, der Magen streikt, und man wird das Zittern nicht los. Alles lacht über meine grausige Angst . . . Kein Mensch kann hier anders leben. In New York gibt es keine Privatwohnungen zu mieten. Man lebt eben nur im Hotel! Man kennt kein häusliches Kochen. Eine kochende Frau wäre für New York ein Treppenwitz! . . . Ob Du in ein Kino, oder in einen Laden, oder in eine Apotheke gehst, Du kriegst überall Eiswasser und Sandwiches; zwei rindenlose Weißbrotscheiben mit einem trockenen Fleischstück drauf kosten 1 RM (25 Cents). Ach, und dieses Essen! Immer und immer „vegetables“ (Vegetarisches), das sind in Bänder und Fäden geschnittener Weißkohl, Wirsing, Salat, Grünkohl, Rüben mit einer Scheibe Zitrone . . . Wir waren heute bei Wanamaker, das größte Warenhaus der Erde, um mir die Orgel anzusehen. Das Haus ist eine ganze Stadt. Es geht unter der Erde (quer unter der Straße) weiter und hat einen eigenen Stadtbahnhof. Station Wanamaker! Etwa 60—80 Lifte, die wie Straßenbahnen fortgesetzt fahren. Du kannst sie nicht heranläuten. Man wartet und wartet. Endlich kommt so ein „non stop-Zug“. Du springst hinein and fällst plötzlich aus 30 Stockwerken bis unter die Straße. Oder Du wirst im Nu wie ein Federball bis in die Wolken geschleudert. Es ist, bei Gott, wie in der Hölle! Erfrischungsraum: Durch Stahlbarrieren geführt, kommst Du am Tafeln mit Löffeln, Gabeln und Messern und Tabletts vorbei. Du greifst rasch zu und hast, was Du brauchst: Salate, Suppen, Sandwiches, Fische, trockene Fleischscheiben usw. Dann speit Dich so ein Führungsgang an einen kleinen Tisch. Überall fließt Eiswasser . . . Im „Auditorium“ (Konzertsaal) ist die Hölle los. Man hört die Orgel nur wie aus weiter, weiter Ferne. Probieren ist vollkommen ausgeschlossen. Der Ausblick aus unserem Fenster ist unvorstellbar. Vor uns ragen zwei Riesengebäude mit zirka 55—60 Stockwerken auf. Halb links schwimmt ein Palast mit gespenstigem Licht golden und silbern. Links reckt sich das höchste Bauwerk der Erde mit sage und schreibe 120 Riesenstockwerken! Unsere 16. Etage ist diesem furchtbaren Giganten gegenüber ein wahres Parterre! In der Nacht ist unsere Wohnung tag hell erleuchtet. Aber ich kann unmöglich zum Fenster hinaussehen . . . ich werde sofort seekrank! Wir haben uns heute selbstständig gemacht und gehen in New York spazieren. Dann sind wir auf das E.S.B.* raufgefahren. Es ist der neueste Wolkenkratzer, höher als der Eiffel Turm! Es ist ein unbeschreiblicher Anblick, rechts der Ozean, vor uns Manhattan . . . strahlende Sonne und Schnee überall! Man kann es weder beschreiben, noch sich vorstellen. Worte versagen völlig! 416 Meter über der Erde . . . das Meer uns zu Füßen . . . man sinkt in die Knie vor diese Erhabenheit. Man ist nur ein Staubkorn! * Empire State Building (Prunkvolles Gebäude im Empirestil).

Sonnabend-Sonntag-Nacht, 9.10. Januar 1932. Um 4 Uhr war Händels „Messias“ zu Ende, aber wir mußten bis 1/27 Uhr in einem Höllenlärm warten, bis der Saal frei war. Dann gab es endlose Verhandlungen mit den Sicherheitsbeamten, die uns Ausweise für die Nachtkontrolle und den Wachtmeister ausstellen mußten, denn sonst fliegst Du kurzerhand ins Polizeigewahrsam, wenn Du von der Kontrolle geklappt wirst. Ich konnte endlich, endlich an dieses Monstrum von Orgel mit 200 Registern und unübersehbaren Knopfreihen, die z.T. unsichtbar unter dem Spieltisch liegen. Ach, und diese Tritte, Knöpfe, Hebel. 6 Manualwerke: I. Choir (Chor), II. Great (Gr. Werk), III. Swell (Sweller), IV. Solo, V. Echo, VI. Strings (Saiteninstrumente) . . . Ich ließ mir noch die verwickelten Schaltungen für die Windmotore (3 Schaltzangen und Sicherungen) zeigen. Die Erklärungen wurden aber so gekaut daß keiner von uns klug draus geworden ist. Ich blieb zum Üben allein. Im finsteren Gespenterhaus, das eigentlich eine Stadt für sich ist! Die Riesenmotoren dröhnten wie die Turbinen auf der Europa, das ganze Podium vibrierte. Ich war selig, üben zu können . . .

8g

New York {Friday} 8th January, 9:30 p.m. . . . It’s truly hell, this New York. If you want to go somewhere for 6 minutes, you have to take a taxi, which stops at least 12 times for 3—5 minutes on each occasion, and pay 5 RM ($1.25) for this lark. A little bottle of Pale (lemonade), 25—30¢ (1 to 1.20 RM). A cup of soup (the most primitive), 20—25¢ . . . 1 RM. A frugal lunch: $1 . . . 4 RM. Breakfast (quite simple), 60—80¢ . . . 2.40—3.20 RM. Dinner, about one and a half dollars — 6 RM. In the Shelton Hotel, a double room costs $6 per night — 24 RM. (In the Waldorf, compared with that, at least $25 — 100 RM!) If one needs 40—60 RM each day, it is clear that one breaks out in a cold sweat, the stomach protests, and one shakes uncontrollably. Everyone laughs at my dreadful anxiety . . . nobody here can live otherwise. There are no private dwellings to be rented in New York. People live only in hotels! No-one is acquainted with domestic cooking. A woman in New York capable of cooking is an ironic joke! . . . Whether you go to the cinema, a store or a dispensing chemist, you get iced water and sandwiches everywhere; two slices of crustless white bread with a dry piece of meat costs 1 RM (25¢). Ah, and this food! Time and again “vegetables” that are cut into ribbons and threads: white cabbage, savoy cabbage, lettuce, green cabbage, turnips, with a slice of lemon . . . Today we were at Wanamaker’s, the largest department store on earth, to look over the organ. The store is a complete city. It extends below ground level (crossing under the street) and has its own railway station: “Wanamaker Station”! About 60—80 lifts, which run continually, like trams. You can’t ring for one. One waits and waits. At last a “non-stop” one comes. You jump in and suddenly emerge 30 storeys below, under the street. Or you are hurled up into the clouds in a trice, like a shuttlecock. By God, it’s like being in hell! Refreshment room: going through steel barriers, you come to tables set with spoons, forks and knives, and trays. You help yourself quickly, taking what you need: salads, soups, sandwiches, fish, dry slices of meat, etc. Then you are directed to a little table. Everywhere iced water flows . . . In the Auditorium (Concert Hall) it is sheer hell. One hears the organ as if it were far, far off in the distance. Practice is completely impossible. The view from our window is inconceivable. In front of us two giant buildings tower, each of about 55—60 storeys. Half to the left a palace of ghostly golden and silvery light floats. On the left itself, the tallest building on earth stretches up, according to legend, 120 giant storeys! By comparison with this terrifying colossus, our 16th {12th} floor is really on the ground! At night, our dwelling is lit up as bright as day. But I can’t look out of the window . . . I immediately become seasick! We are independent today and are going for a walk in New York. We have been up the E. S. B.* It’s the most recent skyscraper, taller than the Eiffel Tower! It presents an indescribable sight, the ocean to the right, and before us Manhattan — everywhere brilliant sun and snow! One can neither describe nor imagine it. Words completely fail! 416 metres above the earth . . . the sea at our feet . . . one drops to one’s knees before this sublime scene. We are but specks of dust! * Empire State Building (magnificent building in Empire Style).

Overnight Saturday-Sunday, 9th—10th January, 1932 At 4 o’clock Handel’s “Messiah” had ended, but we had to wait until 6:30 amidst hellish noise before the hall was free. Then there were endless negotiations with the security officers who had to issue proof of identity for the night-security staff and the patrolman, otherwise you are thrown without further ado into police custody, should there be security trouble. At last, at last I could get at this monster organ, which has 200 registers and immense rows of stop-knobs, some of them invisible under the console. Ah, and all these pedals, knobs, levers. Six manuals: I— Choir, II— Great, III— Swell, IV— Solo, V— Echo, VI— Orchestral. . . I wanted to be shown the involved switching for the blowers (3 switches and fuses). However, the explanation was so cursory that neither of us could make head nor tail of it. I remained alone to practise in the dark ghost-house, which is really a city in itself! The giant motors roared like the turbines on the Europa, the whole podium vibrated. I was pleased to be able to practise . . .

8e

10. — 12. Jan. 1932 Da höre ich über mir ein geisterndes Klopfen (etwa vier Schläge pro Sekunde). Überall dicke Nacht! Da stelle ich denn fest, daß eine Etage über mir eine vox humana-tremolo wie irrsinnig arbeitet. Ich stelle sie ab. Aber in der Decke knackt und röchelt es aus dem Fernwerk. Mir wird unheimlich zu Mute. Ich tappe zur Schaltkammer hinunter. Da klackern zwei Kontrollbirnen auf und wieder. Der 2. und 3. Dynamo sang gespenstig in chromatischen Gängen. Ich wieder an die Orgel hinauf. Die vox humana und das Fernwerk waren windkrank und gaben entsetzliche Laute von sich. Ich lief aus dem finsteren Saal und geriet in Gefahr, mich endgültig zu verlaufen. Ich rief um Hallo . . . Hallo . . . nichts rührte sich! Die Kontrollschaft war irgendwo. Aber das Zittern der tollgewordenen Motore war überall zu spüren. Und ich mutterseelenallein in diesem Riesenbau . . . Dann höre ich nach einer kleinen Ewigkeit einen Elevator kommen. Käthchen kam mit dem Wachtmeister. Sie rief sogleich: „Was ist denn mit dem Gebläse los? Um Gotteswillen, das ist ja unheimlich! Die Bürsten sind durchgebrannt, oder das Magazin ist leck, oder die Quecksilberkontakte sind abgeschmolzen!“ Der Nachtwächter schaltet den Strom aus. Die Orgel ist kaputt. Und morgen ist Sonntag, und der Orgelbauer wohnt in Philadelphia!! Soll ich ohne Studium konzertieren, was total unmöglich wäre! Wir fuhren klugs heim. Die City schreit vor Licht, aber sie ist um 9 Uhr totenstill. Kätherlein hat wieder den Weinachtsbaum angezündet . . . Wir saßen bei offenem Fenster und erstarrten über die phantastischen Lichtspiele der 60, 80 und 100 Etagen hohen Giganten. Nun schläft sie seit 11 Uhr, und ich will nunmehr auch in mein wundervolles Bett, von dem aus ich die ganze Hochwelt von Manhattan übersehe. (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 6, 28. März 1932. (3. Fortsetzung.)

12. Januar 1932. Im Pullman-Car zwischen New York und Washington. Sonntag konnten wir nicht eine Sekunde üben. Montag vormittag kamen Techniker aus Philadelphia, aber die Orgel streikte immer wieder. Diese Aufregungen hält kein Mensch aus! Nicht 10 Minuten lang konnte ich spielen! Immer Katastrophen über Katastrophen! Abends waren wir eingeladen bei dem berühmten Mauro Cottone. Intimer Freund von Busoni, Bossi, Dupré, Casella. Kein Mensch, der auch nur ein Wort Deutsch verstand. Große Künstlerkreis. Es wurde nur englisch, französisch und russisch gesprochen. O, ich war todunglücklich! Und hatte nur einen Gedanken: Morgen ist meine großes Wanamaker-Konzert, und ich kann nicht üben!! Endlich um 11 Uhr fingen wir an zu üben. 1/21 Uhr mußten wir aufhören; 1/23 Uhr war das Konzert. Kätherlein gab den Orgeltechnikern aus Philadelphia die ausgearbeiteten Registrierungen. In unserer Abwesenheit haben sie diese dann eingestellt. Hotel umziehen (Essen konnten wir nicht) und ins Konzert. Saal voll . . . ich aufs Podium . . . wird die Registrierung auch Stimmen? Aber das Konzert ging zauberhaft! Bach, Liszt und meine Improvisationen. Nicht ein Tüpfelschen fehlte. Rasender Erfolg! Unzählbare Hervorrufe. Es war eine Sensation. 20 Minuten drauf waren wir auf dem Bahnhof, und nun fahren wir bereits im Expreß nach Washington und dann sofort zurück und sofort nach Providence, dann ohne Nachtquartier nach Boston (11 Stunden Fahrt). Rochester, Philadelphia, überall nur ein paar Stunden, dann weiter die Nächte durch. Es geht nicht anders. Kein Europäer kann sich einen Begriff von diesem Tempo machen. Providence {sic}, 12. Januar nachts. Reisen kann man stets nur Pullman-Car 1. Klasse; denn es gibt eben für die Konzerttour keine andere Möglichkeit. Oder Du fährst quer durch USA. in 21—23 Tagen. Die Entfernungen sind unvorstellbar. Alles, alles ist unfaßlich ins Gigantische gesteigert. Täglich laufen NeuEngagements aus Texas, Kanada, Kalifornien, Minneapolis, Michigan, Ontario und Wildwest ein. Aber alles „Pullman-West-Expreß-Luxuswagen“ non stop (12—16 Stundenfahrt). Dann sofort Konzert und sofort weiter. Anders geht es nicht! Die Orgel hier steht in der Aula der Music-Hall. Wahnsinnig umständlich . . . Die Kombinationen liegen in der Orgel, eine Etage über der Console. Und nichts, nichts war in Ordnung! Prof. Colidge {sic} und sein junger Organist aus Kalifornien, zwei Orgelbauer und ein begeisterter Rezensent, der mit zwei Riesenphotos von mir angerückt kam und um Autogramm bat, standen herum.

9g

New York Then above me I heard a ghostly knocking (about four blows per second). Overall, the night was rather thick! Then I became sure a Vox Humana tremulant was working like mad one level above me. I put it off. But in the roof came a cracking and groaning from the Echo division. That seemed to me sinister. I groped for the switch-room below. There I fiddled about with two control-bulbs, up and down. The 2nd and 3rd dynamo sang eerily in chromatic scales. I went back up to the organ. The Vox Humana and the Echo were deficient in wind and produced hideous sounds. I ran out into the dark hall and got into danger if I should lose my way. I called out hello . . . hello . . . nothing stirred! The security staff was somewhere. Moreover, the trembling of the motors which had gone mad could be felt everywhere. And I am all alone in this gigantic building . . . After an eternity I heard an elevator on its way. Katy came with the patrolman. She immediately cried out, “What’s wrong then with the blower? For God’s sake, that’s frightening. The brushes are burnt out, or the reservoir has a leak, or the mercury contacts have evaporated {lit.: have melted}.” The nightwatchman shuts off the power. The organ is kaput. And tomorrow is Sunday, and the organbuilder lives in Philadelphia!! It is totally out of the question that I give the recital without preparation! Shrewdly, we go home. The city is a blaze of light, but at 9 o’clock it is as silent as death. Katy has again lit the Christmas tree . . . We sat by the open window and were paralysed by the play of light from the giants of 60, 80 and 100 floors. She has now been asleep since 11 o’clock, and I too shall now get into my wonderful bed, from which I can look out over the whole tall world of Manhattan. (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 6, 28th March 1932 (3rd continuation) {Tuesday} 12th January 1932, in a Pullman-car between New York and Washington We could not practise for even a second on Sunday. Technicians from Philadelphia came on Monday morning, but the organ remained on the blink time after time. Nobody can endure this level of stress! I could not play for even 10 minutes! Catastrophe upon catastrophe! In the evening we had an invitation from the famous Mauro-Cottone. {Dr. Melchiorre Mauro-Cottone, organrecitalist and composer of apparently light material, e.g., Berceuse, Sicilian Rhapsody; teacher in New York.} Intimate friend of Busoni, Bossi, Dupré, Casella. Nobody was there who could understand any German. A great circle of artists. Only English, French and Russian were spoken. Oh, I was dead unlucky! And had only one thought: tomorrow is my big Wanamaker-concert, and I’m not able to practise!! At last, at 11 o’clock {on the following morning} we started to practise. At 12:30 we had to finish; 2:30 was the concert. Katy gave the registrations that had been worked out to the organ-technicians from Philadelphia. She had prepared them during our {enforced} absence. Hotel to get changed (we could not eat) and into the concert. Hall full . . . I mount the podium . . . how will the registrations sound? However, the concert went like magic! Bach, Liszt and my improvisations. Not a dot was missing. Terrific success! Countless curtain-calls. It was a sensation. Twenty minutes after that we were at the station, and are now already travelling express to Washington, and then immediately we turn back to go straight away onto Providence; then without overnight accommodation to Boston (11 hour journey). Rochester, Philadelphia, everywhere in only a few hours, longer trips overnight. There’s no other way. No European can grasp the idea of this pace. Providence, {Tuesday} 12th January, at night {Logic however indicates this is Washington.} One can really travel only by 1st class Pullman-car, for there is no other possibility on a concert-tour. Otherwise you may travel right across the U.S.A. in 21—23 days. The distances are inconceivable. Everything, everything is incomprehensibly increased to gigantic. Each day new engagements come in from Texas, Canada, California, Minneapolis, Michigan, Ontario and the Wild West. But all in non-stop “Pullman-West-Express-Luxury-cars” (12—16 hour journey). Then immediately a concert and onwards straight away. There is no alternative! The organ here is in the atrium of the Music Hall. Insanely awkward . . . the combination switches are in the organ, one floor above the console. And nothing, nothing worked properly! Prof. Coolidge and his young assistant from California, two organ-builders and an enthusiastic reviewer, who turned up with two gigantic photos of me and asked for an autograph, were standing around the console.

9e

12. — 17. Jan. 1932 Ich kam nicht zum Üben . . . Käthchen lief wie ein Wiesel treppauf, treppab. Sie legt alle möglichen Kombinationen auf die Schaltbretter und kontrollierte die zahlreichen Pistons und Fußknöpfe und Hebel. Jeder staunt über sie, wie sie sich mit den Farbenmischungen und den Aufpfropfungen auf die Pistons auskennt, wie sie die Orgelbauer anstellt . . . ein großartiger Kerl! In die Stadt hinunter (die University ist eine komplette Stadt oben auf einem malerischen Berg) geluncht (die Dollars fliegen nur so). Taxi wieder zur University hinauf. Registrierung geprüft bis 4.15 Uhr. Dann kamen Konzertbesucher . . . Taxi . . . ins Hotel zurück. Aber Frack und Kleid waren nicht da! Kätherlein ans Telephon . . . Die Sachen hingen gesäubert und geplättet im Wandschrank . . . Konzert . . . Das ganze Orgelpodium über und über besetzt. Sofort los! . . . Das Konzert ging fabelhaft. Die Fachleute sagten: Nie hatten sie so jemals Orgel spielen gehört. Im tollen Finale der Partita streikt die Orgel . . . ein fürchterliches subcontra G in der 32-fuß Posaune klingt durch . . . ich zucke mit den Schultern und will absteigen. Da hebt der Orgelbauer die tollgewordene Riesenzunge aus, und ich fange nochmals das Finale an. Am Schluß hellste Begeisterung . . . P.S. Ein Kellner hier ist der Neffe von Max Reger!! Verkrachte Existenz! Tolles Amerika! 1 Dollar ist nicht 4,20 RM, sondern relativ 1 RM! Ein Bett in einer deutschen Stadt im Christl. Hospiz kostet 4—5 RM, ein Bett in Amerika kostet (je nach Stadt und Qualität) ebenfalls 4—5 Dollar! Aber die Hotels hier sind exotische Schlösser! Traumhaft! Zauberisch! Fürstlich! Jedes Zimmer mit dicken Teppichen, Spiegeln, rasenden Lichtorgien, mit beleuchteter Garderobekammer und Marmorbad, Telephon am Bett, Eiswasserleitung usw. Ein solcher Raum würde in Deutschland nicht unter 35—40 RM zu haben sein! Unsere Gesamtreise ist zu einem Riesenfahrscheinheft zusammengestellt. Sie kostet ein deutsches Familienvermögen! Zahllose Schlafwagentouren. Oft nur stundenlange Unterbrechungen, um sogleich zu konzertieren. Dann unverzüglich weiter! 14. Januar vorm. wieder im Zuge. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} So, jetzt will ich versuchen, weiter zu schreiben. Ich glaube, es wird gut sein, wenn ich beim Wanamaker-Konzert anfange. Diese Art von Konzerten kennen wir gar nicht. Stell Dir erstens vor: Ein Warenhaus, wie Ury, Althoff und Brühl, alle drei zusammen und das mal zwei! So ungefähr ist Wanamaker. Es ist ein Kaufhaus, wo man vom Auto bis zum Klavier, vom Hemdenknopf bis zur Wohnungseinrichtung alles kriegt. Eine Riesenklavier-Abteilung, mit ungefähr 300 Instrumenten. Und ein Saal, wo die Orgel vorgeführt wird damit sich Interessenten orientieren können; denn selbstverständlich verkauft W. auch Orgeln und noch dazu eigenes Fabrikat. Die Leute, die nun gerade im Warenhaus sind und einkaufen richten sich so ein, daß sie gegen 1/23 Uhr in den Saal gehen können; denn es sind dort regelmäßig um diese Zeit Konzerte. Das Konzert verlief himmlisch! Vater hatte blendende Laune, machte allerhand Variationen, so daß ich oft gar nicht wußte, wann ich umwenden sollte. Hinterher sofort zur Bahn und nach Washington. Hier im Auto eine endlose Fahrt, um die Stadt kennenzulernen. Wir haben das Kapitol und das Weiße Haus gesehen. Es ist märchenhaft. Alles weißer Marmor. W. ist eine sehr schöne Stadt, keine Wolkenkratzer, nicht soviel Hotels, sondern fast nur kleine meist hölzerne Einfamilienhäuser mit Vorbau und Säulen {das} sieht südländisch aus. Andere wieder sind einstöckige weiße Steinhäuser mit einer Balustrade auf dem Dach. Fast jedes Haus hat einen Vorgarten, also eine richtige Villenstadt. Die Orgel war winzig klein, so wie etwa in Connewitz. Bis 2 Uhr haben wir geübt. Im Konzert klappte alles herrlich. 15. Januar abends in Providence. In Washington gestern gab es nach dem Konzert noch ein Organisten-dinner. Eine Unmenge Menschen füllte die Halle eines Hotels 1. Ranges, alles Organisten, die noch ganz begeistert vom Konzert waren. Boston, 17. Januar 1932. Seit gestern abend sind wir hier in Boston, und zwar wohnen wir bei Skinner, dem berühmten Orgelbauer, außerhalb der Stadt in seiner fürstlichen Villa. Es ist fabelhaft! Mr. Skinner hat einen großen Reisewagen (Auto), und seine Frau hat nur einen „kleinen“ Viersitzer von ganz annehmbarer Größe. Das Haus hat eine Auffahrt; von da oben hat man den herrlichsten Blick auf zwei wunderschöne Seen, zwischen denen eine Autostraße durchführt; abends sieht es herrlich aus, wenn die Lichter von den Autos um die Seen kreisen.

10g

Washington I was unable to practise . . . Katy ran upstairs and downstairs like a weasel. She set all possible combinations on the switchboard and operated the numerous pistons, toe-studs and levers. Everyone was astounded at how she found her way about in mixing tone-colours and in combining the pistons as set up by the organ-builders . . . a superb lass! Lunched in the city below, except that the dollars flew away (the University is a complete town above, on a picturesque hill). Taxi back up to the University. Registration trials until 4:15. Then the concert-goers arrived . . . taxi . . . back to the hotel. But my coat and tails weren’t there! Katy on the telephone . . . the things were hanging, cleaned and pressed, in the cupboard . . . concert . . . The whole organ-platform was filled over and over. Off we go! The concert went magnificently. The experts said they had never heard such organ-playing previously. In the wild Finale to the Partita, the organ packed up . . . a frightful bottom G on the 32’ Posaune ciphered . . . I shrugged and wanted to climb down. Then the organbuilder dug out the giant reed which had gone mad and I recommenced the Finale. At the conclusion, the greatest enthusiasm . . . P.S.: A waiter here is Max Reger’s nephew!! A failure! Crazy America! One dollar is not equal to 4.20 RM, but rather 1 RM! A bed in a German town in a private hotel {managed by the church} costs 4—5 RM, a bed in America costs $4—5 (depending on the city and the quality). However, the hotels here are exotic mansions! Dreamlike! Magical! Princely! Each room has thick carpets, mirrors, a terrific orgy of light with illuminated wardrobe-chamber, and a marble-bath, telephone by the bed, piped iced water, etc. A similar room in Germany would not be available for under 35—40 RM! Our total trip has been combined onto a giant ticket. It costs a German family’s fortune! Countless sleeping-car trips. Often only with interruptions lasting some hours, with concerts to be given immediately on arrival. Then onwards without delay! 14th January, in the morning, again in the train {Another letter, or letter extract, from Katharina:} So, I’ll try now to write some more. I think it will be as well if I start with the Wanamaker concert. We are not acquainted with this sort of concert at all. In the first place, imagine a department store twice the size of Ury’s, Althoff’s and Brühl’s all combined! That roughly is Wanamaker’s. It’s an emporium where one can get everything from a car to a piano, from a shirtbutton to household furnishings. A huge piano section with roughly 300 instruments. And a hall where the organ is presented so as to inform prospective buyers of its capacity; for Wanamaker’s, of course, also sells organs and has their own product. People who are shopping right now in the store and are inclined to go into the hall, may do so towards 2:30; for there are regular concerts here at this time. The recital came off beautifully! Father was in a brilliant mood and produced all sorts of variations, so that often I had no idea when I should turn the page. Immediately afterwards off to the station and to Washington. An endless journey by car here in getting acquainted with the city. We have seen the Capitol and the White House. They are fabulous. Everything in white marble. W. {Washington} is a very beautiful city; no skyscrapers, not so many hotels, instead almost solely small, single-family houses, for the most part in timber, with porch and columns, that give a Southern appearance. Others again are double storey, white stone-houses with a balustrade on the roof. Almost every house has a front garden; this is therefore really a city of villas. The organ was tiny, like the one in Connewitz. We practised until 2 o’clock. Everything in the concert went splendidly. {Friday} 15th January in the evening, in Providence An organists’ dinner took place in Washington yesterday after the concert. A vast number of people filled the hall of a first class hotel, all of them organists, who were most enthusiastic about the concert. Boston, {Sunday} 17th January, 1932 We have been here in Boston since last evening, and in fact we are staying with Skinner, the famous organ-builder, outside the town in his princely villa. It is magnificent! Mr. Skinner has a large touring-car and his wife has a “little” four-seater of quite a fair size. The house is elevated; from up there one gets the most splendid view of two beautiful stretches of water {lit.: seas, or lakes}, between which a main road runs; it looks splendid in the evening, when the car-lights circle the waters.

10e

17. — 19. Jan. 1932 Gestern sind wir im Frühling hergekommen, heute früh sind wir im Winter aufgewacht. Alles weiß von Schnee! Vorhin war ein Vertreter von Schmidt-Verlag da, sie wollen was kaufen. Skinner hat ein herrliches Grammophon (natürlich deutsche Marke: „Stimme seines Herrn“!) and hat uns fabelhaft schöne Musik von Richard Strauß vorgespielt; deutsche Musik, die wir in Amerika zum ersten Male hörten. Außerdem hat er eine Unmenge Wagner-Platten. Boston, den 18. Januar 1932 Ich sitze hier im Künstlerzimmer des Konservatoriums (ein Idealbau, 4000 Stud.). Eine knappe Stunde vor dem Konzert. Der große Skinner (Der amerikanische Willis) war selbst an der Bahn. Wartete vom verpaßten Zug bis zum „Knickerbocker“. — Autofahrt . . . ein grandioses Hotel, wo wir uns stärkten. Dann in seiner Villa seine Gäste. Probe . . . wie immer . . . nicht möglich, Sonntag und Montag ebenfalls nicht, weil Konservatoriumsprüfungen. Nun haben wir dreimal in den Pausen nur mit Ach und Krach registrieren können. Orgel an allen Enden und Ecken versagend . . . Es wird fast alles mit Handregistern gemacht werden müssen. Das arme Kätherlein muß fast menschenunmögliches leisten . . . Es ist unvorstellbar, wie wahnsinnig schwer solche Konzerte sind! Ich spiel mit neun Zehntel bewußtlos! Und diese Fülle prominenter Fachmänner! Man überbietet sich in staunenswerter Verehrung. Man gab gestern in Boston ein „Karg-ElertOrgelkonzert“. O, und Chikago wird noch schlimmer! Und die Ann Arbor-University in Michigan (Palmer Christian!!!). Und in Los Angeles muß ich nach 4tägiger Tag- und Nachtfahrt sofort an die gigantische Orgel (ohne Probe). Es ist, um den Verstand zu verlieren! Aber was hilft’s? Man erwartet das Höchste von mir und fragt nicht nach Minderwertigkeitskomplexen und Empfindeleien. Es ist ja ganz entsetzlich, wie die maßgebenden Kreise mich einschätzen! Reinster Kulturfrevel! Sie kennen jede Note von mir auswendig und überschätzen mich maßlos. Und der Gedanke, daß ich sie enttäusche, ist abgründig! Bis jetzt war ja alles über Erwarten wunderbar, aber jedesmal sterbe ich 1000 Tode vorher. Austin hat heute einen Kontrakt mit mir abgeschlossen: Alle Orgelwerke werden ausnahmslos bei ihm verlegt. Boston, 18.1.32, 1/212 Uhr nachts, nach dem Konzert. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} Wir sitzen hier in einem netten Lokal und freuen uns über den herrlichen Erfolg, den Vater heute hatte. Es war bis jetzt den größte Erfolg; das Publikum empfing Vater gleich mit rasendem Applaus, es war von Anfang an Stimmung da. Nach jedem Stück wuchs der Applaus, und zum Schluß dröhnender Beifall, so daß Vater die Toccata und den Choral wiederholen mußte. Dann kamen . . . wie immer . . . die Leute mit Autogrammbitten. Wir haben nicht mehr zählen können. Montreal, 19. Jan. 32. Volle Tagesreise im Expreß (60-Kilometer-Tempo) von Boston nach Montreal (Kanada). Nie habe ich eine solche Reise erlebt. Zuerst vollendeter Frühling . . . zaubrischer Traum! Blaue Seen . . . hellblauer Himmel . . . Acht Stunden durch Gebirgsschluchten. Herbstlaub in unfaßlich reicher Farbenpracht, von ziegelrot über karmin bis schwarzgrün. Allmählich versuchten Schneedecken und Bereisungen sich durchzusetzen. Dann ein Fernblick vom offenen Sommerwagen aus: Zum Aufschreien überwältigend: Die weißen Berge von Quebeck! Wie der Futschijama! Ach . . . mit leiblichen Augen so etwas zu erleben! Wir fahren wieder im Pullman-Expreß „Parlor-car“ (Luxuswagen). Jeder hat seinen Klubsessel, den er drehen kann, wie er will. Salon allererster Güte. Lese-, Schreib-, Unterhaltungs-, Rauch-, Speiseraum. Das Ende ist offen, auf der Platform bequeme Armsessel . . . Eis wird gereicht wie im Juli. Wir toben durch die Staaten, durchkreuzen Mare, Yorkshire, Slampshire, {sic} kreuzen zweimal den Staat Quebeck und fahren um 4 Uhr über die kanadische Grenze und enden 1/28 Uhr am weltberühmten Lorenzstrom.

11g

Boston snow!

Yesterday we arrived in spring, this morning we awoke in winter. Everything is white from

Just now a representative of Schmidt, the publisher, has been here; they want to buy something. Skinner has a splendid gramophone (German brand of course: “His Master’s Voice”!) and has played us some fantastically beautiful music by Richard Strauss; German music that we have heard for the first time in America. He has, as well, a vast number of Wagner records. Boston, {Monday} 18th January, 1932 I am sitting here in the artists’ room of the Conservatorium (an ideal building — 4,000 students). Almost an hour before the concert. The great Skinner (the American Willis) was himself at the railway {station}. Waited up to the “knickerbockers” because of a missed train. — Car trip . . . a grandiose hotel where we fortified ourselves. Then to his villa as his guests. Practice . . . as ever . . . not possible on Sunday, likewise Monday because of Conservatorium examinations. We have now been able to work out the registrations by the skin of our teeth, during three intermissions. The organ is breaking down all over the place . . . It’s becoming essential to make nearly all stop-changes by hand. Poor Katy must achieve what is almost humanly impossible . . . It is inconceivable how insanely difficult such concerts are! I am playing nine tenths unconscious! And as for this abundance of prominent experts! They vie with each other in their astonishing admiration. Yesterday, someone in Boston gave a “Karg-Elert organ recital”. Oh, and Chicago will be even worse! And the Ann Arbor University in Michigan (Palmer Christian!!!). And in Los Angeles I have to play immediately on a gigantic organ (without preparation), after 4 days and nights of travelling. It’s enough to make one lose one’s reason! But what’s the use? People expect the highest of me and don’t ask about inferiority complexes and one’s sensitivity. It is so completely dreadful how the influential circles overestimate me. The purest cultural crime! They know my every note by heart and overestimate me to the extreme. And the idea that I am betraying them is ironic! Until now everything was indeed wonderful, beyond expectation, but each time I died a thousand deaths. Austin has signed a contract with me today: all organ works without exception will be published by him. {Austin, famous organ-builder, seems a most improbable publisher; surely Arthur Schmidt of Boston.} Boston, {Monday} 18.1.32, 11:30 p.m., after the concert {Another letter, or letter extract, from Katharina:} We are seated in a nice bar, delighted with the splendid success father had today. It is his greatest success so far; the audience received father straight away with rapturous applause, providing atmosphere from the start. After each piece the applause increased, and at the end resounding approval, so that father had to repeat the Toccata and the Chorale. Then . . . as always . . . the people came up with requests for autographs. We lost count of them. Montreal, {Tuesday} 19th January, 1932 A complete day’s journey in an express (60km/hour) from Boston to Montreal (Canada). I have never experienced such a trip. To begin with, perfect spring weather . . . enchanted dream! Blue lakes . . . bright blue sky . . . eight hours through mountainous ravines. Autumn leaves in incomprehensibly rich, colourful splendour, from brick red through crimson to dark green. Gradually we attempt to work our way through, around the cover of snow. Then a distant view from the open summer-car: an overwhelming desire to cry out: the white mountains of Quebec! Like Fujiyama! Ah . . . to experience that with one’s own eyes! We are travelling again in a Pullman-express “Parlor-car” (luxury-car). Everyone has his own armchair which may be swivelled as desired. Saloon of the very best quality. Reading, writing, conversation, smoking and dining rooms. The end {of the carriage} is open with comfortable armchairs on the platform . . . ice is supplied as in July. We charge about through the States, crossing Massachusetts, New York State, New Hampshire {my translation of: “Mare, Yorkshire, Slampshire”}, cross the State of Quebec twice and at 4 o’clock reach the Canadian border, ending up at 7:30 at the world-famous St. Lawrence River.

11e

19. — 20. Jan. 1932 Auf einer Insel in diesem Monstre-Strom liegt die zauberhafte Großstadt Montreal. Wurden abgeholt von Kanadas größtem Orgeltier George Brewer und einer gefeierten Violin-Virtuosin (Schülerin Auers und Soviks). Sie brachten uns im Auto in ein patrizierhaftes Boarding-house (Gasthaus). Unbeschreiblich liebe und bildschöne Menschen! Dann machte ein Dr. Alloc, Vorstand der Kanadischen Organisten-Gesellschaft, Besuchsvisite; weiter kam ein feiner alter Herr mit Gattin und begrüßte mich im Auftrage des deutschen Generalkonsuls und lud uns für morgen zum Empfang auf der Gesandschaft zu einem Champagner-Lunch ein. Diese fürstliche Begrüßung! Unfaßlich! Die Zeitungen berichten, daß wir kanadischen Boden betreten haben. Ein Souverän kann nicht mehr geehrt werden! Ich muß morgen früh 1/211 Uhr im Frack und Käthchen im Konzertkleid mit gepacktem Koffer zur ersten Probe. 1 Uhr Festempfang auf der Gesandschaft, 1/23 Uhr zweite Probe, 8 Uhr Konzert, 10 Uhr Festbankett der Kanadischen Organisten-Gesellschaft, 12 Uhr nachts Abfahrt (Schlafwagen nach Toronto). Dort Probe — Konzert — und sogleich weiter nach London (im Staate Ontario, italienische Kolonie). Es ist alles ein Taumel. Soeben kabelt Laberge, das Konzert in Lincoln bei Minneapolis sei perfekt geworden. Überall will man mich haben. Kritiken blendend. Was habe ich z.B. heute alles an maßloser Überschätzung erleben müssen: Bostons Riesenerfolg . . . da capo. Wünsche — Sturm aufs Künstlerzimmer . . . Drei Festreden galten mir und bilden wohl das Erhebendste, was jemals wilde Träume mir vorgaukelten. „Du großer Sohn unseren geliebten Heimat, du Repräsentant deutschen Geistes, deutschen Idealismus und deutscher Kunst. Deine Musik ist seit acht bis zehn Jahren unsere Nahrung. Und nun weilst du, Herrlicher, in unserer neuen Heimat!“ U.a. Und Käthchen bekam auch eine Bewunderungsrede! Im Konzert in der Kirche gab es nach jeder Nummer Applaus und Hervorrufe. Das war in Montreal noch nie zuvor passiert. (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 7, 14. April 1932. (4. Fortsetzung.) Aber diese Strapazen sind nicht zu beschreiben! Man bekommt hier keinen Cent geschenkt. Alles verlangt Rekordleistung! Aber ich liebe glühend diesen prachtvollen, gesunden, offenen, klugen Menschenschlag, zunftbegeistert, enthusiastisch, herzlich, unverdorben, freilich auch sehr kritisch. Ach, daß mein Lebensabend einen solchen Ausstieg nimmt! Ein Gotteswunder! Canadian Pacific Railway, en route. Wir verlassen USA. und sind auf der Reise nach Canada. Sitze in einem Luxuswagen mit allem, was das Herz begehrt. Draußen grüßt die wonnige Morgenfrühlingssonne zu den Aussichtsfenstern herein, alles ist in lichtes Gold von traumhafter Schönheit getaucht. Tiefblauer See liegt linker Hand, der Himmel ist glashell, lichtblau mit lammhait weißem Gewölk. So weit das Auge reicht: Buchen, Birken und Koniferen . . . entzückende Villen mit Freitreppen und weißen Portalsäulen tanzen wie sonntäglich geputzte Mädchen an unsern berauberten Blicken vorbei. In unsern Augen blitzt und jubelt schreiendes Glück! Ist das alles Wirklichkeit? Boston bereitete mir einen grandiosen Erfolg. Konnex war sofort da. Dröhnender Empfang schon auf der Treppe zum Spieltisch. Immer wieder Hervorrufe. Am Schluß des Riesenprogramms tobte der große Saal und erzwang sich die Wiederholung der Schlußnummer. Der Konzertorganist und Professor am Konservatorium in Boston, Mr. Kinley, sagte: kein Organist hätte je diese Orgel so zum Klingen gebracht, wie ich! Alle Organisten seien wie vor den Kopf geschlagen gewesen, keiner hätte zuvor eine Ahnung gehabt, was für Farben und Technik aus dem Werk herauszuholen sei. Bonnet, Courboin, Germani operierten alle mit dem Generalschweller, keiner riskierte ein solches Handregisterspiel. Kein Mensch könnte mir mein Programm auch nur annähernd nachspielen!

12g

Montreal The enchanted, great city of Montreal lies on an island in this enormous river. Were picked up by Canada’s greatest organist {lit.: organ-brute} George Brewer and a celebrated violin-virtuoso (female pupil of Auer and Sevcik). They brought us by car to a patrician boarding-house. Indescribably dear, beautiful people! {Leopold Auer, 1845—1930, Hungarian, celebrated violinist and teacher. His longest appointment was to the St. Petersburg Conservatorium, 1868—1917; from 1918 he worked in New York. He taught some great players, e.g., Heifetz. Otokar Sevcik, 1852—1934, wrote many teaching books on violin-playing; most appeared around 1900 to 1905.} Then Dr. Alloc, President of the Canadian Society {College} of Organists, paid us a visit; in addition, a fine old gentleman came with his wife to greet me, under the instruction of the German Consul-general, and invited us to a reception tomorrow at the Embassy, with a champagne lunch. This princely welcome! Incomprehensible! The newspapers report that we have set foot on Canadian soil. A sovereign could not be more honoured! Tomorrow morning at 10:30 I have to be in tails and Katy in her concert-dress, with suitcase packed, for the first rehearsal. One o’clock the ceremonial reception at the Embassy, 2:30 the second rehearsal, 8 o’clock concert, 10 o’clock ceremonial banquet by the Canadian Society of Organists, midnight departure (sleeping-car to Toronto). Practise there — concert — and immediately off to London (in the State of Ontario, an Italian colony). It’s all a frenzy. Laberge has just cabled that the recital in Lincoln, near Minneapolis, is now arranged. Everywhere people want me. Dazzling critiques. What tremendous overestimations I have experienced everywhere, today’s for example; and Boston’s enormous success . . . da capo. Compliments — assaults on the artists’ room . . . Three speeches were meant for me and truly attained the highest levels that wild dreams had ever led me to believe. “You, great son of our beloved homeland, you represent the German Spirit, German Ideology and German Art. Your music has nourished us these past eight to ten years. And now you tarry, glorious one, in our new homeland!” Amongst other thoughts. And Katy also received a speech of admiration! At the recital, which took place in a church, there was applause after each number and curtain-calls {Sceats translates this: encores}. That had never happened before in Montreal. (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 7, 14th April 1932 (4th continuation) But these strains are beyond description. One doesn’t get a cent for them here. Everybody wants record achievements! But I ardently love this magnificent, healthy, frank, intelligent breed of person, one of a brotherhood, enthusiastic, hearty, unspoilt, if admittedly very critical. Ah, that the twilight of my life may take such an exit! A wonder of God! Canadian Pacific Railways, en route We leave the U.S.A. and are on our way to Canada. Seated in a deluxe carriage with all that the heart desires. Outside through the observation windows we are greeted by the blissful spring morning sun, changing everything into bright gold of dreamlike beauty. Deep blue water lies to the left; the sky is light blue, glass-bright, with fleecy white clouds. As far as the eye can see: beeches, birches and conifers . . . charming villas with flights of steps and white columns at the entrance dance past in our brief glance like girls dressed up in their Sunday best. In our eyes, flagrant good fortune flashes and rejoices! Is this all reality? Boston provided me with a magnificent success. There was immediate contact. A thunderous reception already at the steps by the console. Called back time after time. At the close of the gigantic programme, the great hall went wild and forced a repetition of the last number. Mr. Kinley, Concert Organist and Professor at the Conservatorium in Boston, said no organist had brought out such sounds from this organ as I had done! All organists seem to have been hit on the head; not one beforehand had any idea about what could be obtained using tonal colours and technique. Bonnet, Courboin and Germani perform everything with the general crescendo pedal, none of them risking such hand-registrations. Nobody could approximate me in the playing of my programme!

12e

20. — 22. Jan. 1932 Boston ist ein heißer, heißer Boden: University, berühmtes Orgelkonservatorium, hervorragende Orgelmeister! Und diese staunende Bewunderung in und nach dem Konzert! Wunderbare Presse! Sogar Käthchens schwierige Registrierleistung wird besonders gelobt. Alles staunt über ihre Fähigkeit . . . sie registriert jetzt während meines Spiels oft durch meine Hände hindurch. Canadian Pacific Hotels, 21. Januar. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} Boston — Montreal — Toronto: wie ein Traum! In Montreal waren wir beim deutschen Generalkonsul zu Gast, ganz reizende, natürliche Menschen, ohne Etikette. Seine Frau stammt aus „Eßlinge“ (Eßlingen) und schwatzt sei arg gern schwäbisch! Im Konzert haben die Leute von A bis Z geklatscht, obgleich es in einer Kirche stattfand, wo das gar nicht erlaubt ist! Nach dem Konzert war großartiger Empfang im „Deutschen Club“. Es war so schön, endlich wieder deutsch zu hören und zu sprechen! Entschieden eine Nervenentspannung! Vater wurde geehrt wie ein König: Deutschlands großer Sohn . . . der Apostel der deutschen musica sacra . . . der Größte der Großen . . . Mutti . . . Mutti . . . hättest Du doch das miterleben dürfen! Royal York Hotel, Toronto. 1 /2 {?} Stunde vor dem Konzert. Ich glaube, daß es gut gehen wird. Der Schlafwagen, sehr komfortabel, fuhr 8.20 Uhr früh direkt ins Hotel! Der „Elevator“ brachte uns unmittelbar an unsere fürstlichen Zimmer. Es ist das hervorragendste Hotel von ganz Canada! Nach dem Konzert. Das war mein „stubenreinstes“ Konzert! Ohne Register- und Schwellerkatastrophen! Eine herrliche, reiche Casavant-Orgel. Käthchen hatte die Handregister, Pistons, Gruppenkombinationen und Registerschweller tadellos vorbereitet. Der Organist, Mr. Laughlin, ein Schüler Widors und Freund Duprés, Courboins und Viernes — eine Kanone! — war ganz außer dem Häuschen . . . wie alle anderen zuvor! Und wieder gab es Begrüßungs- und Applaus-„Salven“ in der Kirche!! Und wieder mußte ich Kätherleins „Toccatina“ wiederholen! Nach dem Konzert (2000 Personen!) war Begrüßungsakt (zirka 5—600 Personen). Und es ging die Autogrammjagd los!! Ich kam nicht dazu, etwas zu genießen oder zu rauchen! Schwaben und Leipziger finden sich ein und wollten uns mit Beschlag belegen . . . ein Maler wollte mich bestimmen, ihm morgen zu sitzen . . . und immer neue Scharen mit meinen Noten und Programmen . . . und morgen ist Festlunch . . . Käthchen wird Dir berichten, wie sie mich „verhimmelten“, ich kann es selbst nicht wiedergeben. Morgen müssen wir einen Abstecher nach London machen, studieren und die Register einstellen, weil wir später von Detroit kommend, direkt zur Orgel müssen, ohne Zeit zum Proben zu haben. Am 7. 2. ist Cleveland, dann die nacht durchfahrend, geht es nach Chikago sofort ins Konzert. Von Minneapolis (Nordern) in zwei Tagen pausenlos nach Texas, Dallas (Süden). Es ist grauenvoll. Aber das Schlimmste ist Los Angeles. Es ist so weit wie Rom — Stockholm! Ohne Probe, und eine Giganten-Orgel! London (Ontario), 22. Januar. Mit grimmigem Hunger nach 8 Uhr hier angekommen. Dining room um 8 Uhr geschlossen! Hier, wie überall! — Bier!! „Bier? das gibt’s nicht in London. Da müssen Sie sich einen Erlaubnisschein ausstellen lassen, und Sie dürfen es nur in Ihrer Privatwohnung trinken!“ . . . Wir verließen das Hotel und gerieten nach einigem Hin und Her in eine kleine Budike. Der Wirt sah phantastisch aus: Eine Nase wie ein Adler, rollende Brigantenaugen, dramatische Gesten. Nichts gab es, was ich wollte. Ich schimpste. Da sagte der Wirt freudig: „O ick taitsch spreck . . . alles verständ . . . mei Frau Taitsches iß!“ . . . Die Freude war groß! Sie kauderwelschten dann alle beide, daß einem der Bissen im Munde stecken blieb. Er ist Türke, und sie ist ein Berliner Vorstadtkind! Während wir noch reden, taucht ein dürres Männecken auf (68 Jahre alt, wie er sagt), kommt zu uns und fragt: „Habe ich die Ehre, Karg-Elert? Ich kenne Ihr Bild aus der Zeitung . . . mein Name ist . . . Blüthner von der Weststraße in Leipzig!!

13g

Toronto Boston is a more heated, fiercer place: university, famous organ-conservatorium, outstanding organists! And this astonishing admiration during and after the concert! Wonderful press notices! Even Katy’s difficult registration achievements are especially praised. Everyone is amazed at her skill . . . she now often registers during my performances through my hand movements. Canadian Pacific Hotels, {Thursday} 21st January {From a letter by Katharina:} Boston — Montreal — Toronto: like a dream! In Montreal we were guests of the German Consul-general, quite charming and unassuming, without airs. His wife comes from Esslingen {in southwest Germany} and likes to chatter in terrible Swabian dialect! At the recital everyone from A to Z clapped, even though it took place in a church where that is not allowed at all! After the concert there was a superb reception at the “German Club”. It was marvellous at last to hear and speak German again! Unquestionably a relaxation of nervous tension! Father was honoured like a king: Germany’s great son . . . the Apostle of German Sacred Music . . . the Greatest of the Great . . . Mummy . . . Mummy . . . if only you could have experienced this! Royal York Hotel, Toronto Half an hour {the exact figure is illegible} before the recital. I think that it will go well. The sleeping-car, very luxurious, took us at 8:20 a.m. direct to the hotel! The “elevator” brought us immediately to our princely room. It’s the most outstanding hotel in all Canada! After the concert That was my “tidiest” concert! Without registration nor swell-pedal catastrophe! A splendid, rich organ by Casavant. Katy had prepared the hand-registrations, pistons, general combinations and crescendo-pedal settings faultlessly. The organist, Mr. Laughlin, a pupil of Widor and friend of Dupré, Courboin and Vierne — a canon! — was completely out of his mind . . . like all the others previously! And again there were “salvos” of welcome and applause in the church!! And again I had to repeat Katy’s “Toccatina”! After the recital (2,000 people!), there was the welcoming ceremony (ca. 500—600 people). And the autograph-hunt was off!! There was nothing else I could do; I couldn’t enjoy myself or smoke! Swabians and Leipzig people presented themselves and wanted to monopolise us . . . a painter wanted to fix a time for me tomorrow to sit for him . . . and always fresh throngs with my sheet music and programmes . . . and tomorrow is the festive lunch . . . Katy will inform you how they “dote” on me; I myself cannot give you an account of it. Tomorrow we have to go on an excursion to London to arrange registrations, as later we must go direct to the organ from Detroit without time for practice. Cleveland on 7th February, then travel overnight to Chicago and immediately give the recital. From Minneapolis (north) to Dallas, Texas (south) in two days without a break. It is atrocious. But the worst is Los Angeles. It’s as far away as Rome—Stockholm! Without rehearsal, and a gigantic organ! {But there was no recital in Los Angeles; another cancellation?} London (Ontario), {Friday} 22nd January Arrived here after 8 o’clock with a ferocious hunger. Dining-room shut at 8 o’clock! Here, as everywhere else! — beer!! “Beer? There’s none of that in London {unless} you can show that you’ve obtained a permit, and you’re only allowed to drink it in a private dwelling!” . . . We left the hotel and came across a little saloon after going back and forth. The landlord looked fantastic: a nose like an eagle’s, the rolling eyes of a bandit, dramatic gestures. There was nothing that I wished. I got angry. Then the landlord said joyously, “Oh I speak German . . . can understand everything . . . my wife is German!” {Karg-Elert depicts the man’s crude accent graphically.} . . . Our joy was great! Both of them talked gibberish then, as if some mouthfuls had become stuck. He’s a Turk and she grew up in a suburb of Berlin! Whilst we were still talking, a scrawny little man turned up (68 years old, he said), came over and asked, “Have I the honour, Karg-Elert? I know your picture from the newspaper . . . my name is . . . Blüthner from Leipzig’s West Street!!

13e

22. — 24. Jan. 1932 Ich bin seinerzeit nach Amerika ausgewandert, wo ich nun hier in London-Ontario gelandet bin. Kann ich mit Ihnen über Leipzig reden?“ . . . Dann brachte die Presse ein französisches Telegramm: Deutschland bereitet einen neuen Krieg vor!! Mit Riesenlettern!! Wir waren käseweiß geworden und drei Minuten völlig gelähmt! Ganz Canada ist zur Hälfte französisch und amerikafeindlich! Die deutsche Revolution wird hier täglich erwartet. Alles dreht sich um dieses Thema! Blüthner las gierig die Marginalien zum Telegramm und sagte: „Der Stuß kommt aus Paris . . . diese Kerle . . . die reinste Weltpest . . . weiter nichts wie große Angst haben sie. Kein Wort ist aus Paris zu glauben! . . . Essen Sie ruhig weiter . . . Deutschland hat ja gar kein Geld zum Krieg . . . bleiche Angst Frankreichs vor Deutschland!“ Morgen um 7 Uhr früh raus . . . üben und die Register einstellen . . . dann mittags im Pullman-car nach dem Michigan-See (Detroit: Ann Arbor-University) . . . dann wieder zurück nach London zum Konzert . . . Michigan University, Ann Arbor. Mich. Bin selig . . . habe Ruhe, Ruhe! Wir sind Gäste hier und haben alles, was das Herz begehrt. Vor allem aber die Orgel . . . die Orgel . . . dieses Wunderwerk einer Orgel! Ach, könntest Du Deinen Sigfrid und seine Werke hören! Mich hebt es oft fast in die Höhe, so bodenlos erhaben klingt das hier alles! Vielleicht ist das die gefährlichste Stelle für einen Orgelkonzertisten; denn hier wirkt Palmer Christian, die größte Koryphäe englisch-sprechender Zunge! Ein wunderbarer Mensch und wahrhaft erhabener Künstler. Er kam oft während meines Studiums an die Konsole und staunte, was da vor sich ging. „Aber was findest du auf meiner Orgel für ganz wunderbare Wirkungen, sie sind ganz neu!“ Er und die Universitäts-Bibliothek haben meine sämtlichen Werke!! Wie der mich vergöttert!! Und seit 1909 propagiert er in einer einzigartigen Weise. Ganz Ann Arbor ist bis ins Kleinste über mich orientiert! Ein führendes französisches Blatt bringt einen Panegyrikus (Lobrede) über mich. Überschrift in großen Lettern: „Der große Karg-Elert predigt in Farben!“ Es ist ein Siegeszug ohnegleichen, alles staunt. Die Fachleute sind voll Enthusiasmus. Heute abend veranstaltet die University ein Festbankett mir zu Ehren. Es soll eine ganz große Sache werden. Morgen nachmittag 4.15 Uhr steigt das Konzert, zu dem eine Fülle Fachkollegen — z.T. von weit her — pilgern (5000 Personen). Die 25. bis 35. Reihe liegen höher als ein Kirchturm! Der Fußboden dort oben ist unvorstellbar geneigt; man vergißt zu atmen, wenn man das von der Orgel aus sieht! Dort in den Himmel hinauf schicke ich mein Spiel und mein Werk. Ann Arbor war die Klimax (Steigerung) bis jetzt. Eine Orgel (Skinner), die zu beschreiben, einfach unmöglich ist . . . Ich habe ja einen Totenschreck gekriegt, als ich dieses Monstrum einer Konsole mit schwindelerregenden Tritten, Hebeln, Schwellern sah . . . Und der große Palmer Christian dauernd an meiner Seite . . . Aber ich gewann nach Boston, Toronto doch sehr bald fundierte Sicherheit . . . Ach . . . das Konzert war unfaßbar herrlich . . . es war ein orgiastischer Taumel, ein toller Rausch von Farben und Lichtern und Klangwundern. Denke: 4 Hecklephone Quintenkoppeln 3:1, eine Bombard gigantic 64 Fuß, Célesta 8' und 4', enorme Pauken (chromatisch) und 100 000 phantastische Klangwunder! Alles war radikal sprachlos!! Und Palmer Christian strahlte vor Stolz über seinen neuen Duzfreund! Man sagte allerorten: so etwas hätte Amerika noch nie erlebt! Binhammer ging nicht von meiner Seite . . . Nach einer phantastisch schönen Autofahrt in der Frühlingsnacht ging es in einer Stunde nach Detroit zum Nachtmahl: Spätzle mit Sauerkraut.

14g

London (Ontario) I’ve been wandering about in America at this time and have now landed here, in London-Ontario. Can I talk to you about Leipzig?” . . . Just then the press had published a telegram from France: Germany is preparing for another war!! {lit.: a new war}. In gigantic letters!! We became as white as cheese and were completely paralysed for three minutes! A half of Canada is French and anti-American! The German Revolution is expected here any day. Everything revolves about this topic! Blüthner greedily devoured the marginal material to the telegram and said, “The nonsense comes from Paris . . . these chaps . . . the greatest plague on earth . . . they have nothing more than great anxiety. No word that comes from Paris is believable! . . . Continue to eat in tranquillity . . . Germany simply doesn’t have the money for a war . . . France’s utter fear of Germany!” Out tomorrow at 7 a.m. . . . to practise and arrange the registrations . . . then at midday to Lake Michigan (Detroit: Ann Arbor University) by Pullman-car . . . then back again to London for the concert . . . Michigan University, Ann Arbor, Michigan Am overjoyed . . . have calm, tranquillity! We are guests here and have everything that the heart desires. Above all however, the organ . . . the organ . . . this marvel of an organ! Ah, if only you could hear your Sigfrid and his works! It often lifts me almost to the highest, so incredibly sublime does everything sound here! Perhaps it’s the most dangerous place for a concert organist; because Palmer Christian works here, the greatest English-speaking genius! A marvellous person and a truly sublime artist. He often came to the console during my studies and was amazed by what was happening. “But you are finding quite wonderful effects on my organ, they are completely new!” He and the University library have my complete works!! How I am idolised!! And since 1909 he has disseminated {these} in a unique fashion. All Ann Arbor, to the smallest, is orientated towards me! {Palmer Christian, renowned teacher and player, University Organist, University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.} A leading French paper has put out a panegyric (eulogy) on me. Headed in large letters, “The great Karg-Elert preaches in colours!” It’s a triumphal procession without parallel; everyone is amazed. The experts are full of enthusiasm. This evening the University is holding a ceremonial banquet in my honour. It should be quite a big thing. Tomorrow afternoon at 4:15 is the concert, to which a great many professional colleagues — some far from here — are making a pilgrimage (5,000 people). The 25th to 35th rows are higher than a church steeple! The floor above there is unimaginably inclined; one forgets to breathe whenever one looks at it from the organ! There I am going to send my playing and my work up to heaven. Ann Arbor was the climax to date. An organ (Skinner) which is simply impossible to describe . . . I had a deadly fright when I saw this monster of a console with its pedals, levers and swell-pedals, which made me dizzy . . . And the great Palmer Christian stayed by my side . . . But after Boston and Toronto I very soon felt quite confident . . . Ah . . . the recital was incomprehensibly splendid . . . it was an orgiastic frenzy, a mad ecstasy of colour and light and wondrous sound. Just think: 4 Heckelphone Quint couplers 3:1, a gigantic 64’ Bombarde, 8’ and 4’ Célestes, enormous timpani (chromatic) and 100,000 fantastically wondrous sounds! Everyone was totally speechless!! And Palmer Christian beamed with pride over his new (familiar) friend! People everywhere say that America has never experienced anything like this! Binhammer won’t go from my side . . . After a fantastically beautiful car-trip in the spring evening we got into Detroit in an hour for our supper: little sparrows with sauerkraut.

14e

24. — 25. Jan. 1932 Dr. Güntzburg war 60 Meilen weit zum Konzert gekommen und tobte vor Begeisterung. So, die Zeit ist um. Jetzt steigt man hiesiges Konzert. Käthchen hat die Register und Kombinationen bereits vorbereitet. Ich kann blindlings an die Konsole. Ach, ich spiele so gern, wenn ich sicher bin, daß Orgel, Elektrizität und Wind nicht streiken! . . . Das Londoner Konzert in „St. Pauls Cathedral“ war sehr sauber und schlug wie eine Bombe ein. Am Schluß standen etwa 20—25 Männer in Reih und Glied stocksteif wie Ölgötzen an der Wand, jeder mit einem Buch in der Hand . . . Was sollte das bedeuten? . . . Ich gehe hinaus und rauche aus Verlegenheit eine viertel Zigarette. Komme zurück . . . dasselbe Bild . . . gehe wieder hinaus, rauche das zweite Viertel . . . komme abermals herein. Sie stehen noch immer in Apellpose. Im Hotel erfuhren wir heute früh, daß das die geschlossene Phalanx der „Organistengilde von London-Ontario“ war, die durchwegs mit meinen „Sixty-five“ (die 66, op. 65) angetreten waren und auf ein Autogramm hofften. Sie wagten aber nicht, „shake hands“ (Händeschütteln) zu machen. Sie starrten mich an und waren selig, mich Zigaretten rauchen zu sehen. Käthchens Fama läuft uns durch die Presse voraus. In London wurde sie im Hotel telephonisch um ein Interview gebeten. Eine elegante Dame kam ins Foyer: „Oh, man spricht in Canada von der interessanten young German lady (jungen deutschen Dame) Miß Karg-Elert. Sagen Sie für unser „Newspaper“ (Zeitung), wie ist die deutsche Frauenbewegung in Deutschland? Kätherlein: „In Deutschland ist Not, große Not, furchtbare Not, Elend und Hunger, Angst und Sorge. Die deutschen Frauen haben z. Zt. kein anderes Interesse, als wie bringe ich meinen brotund arbeitslosen Mann und meine elend darbenden Kinder durch diese furchtbaren Tage. Eine andere „Frauenfrage“ gibt es zur Zeit nicht. Die deutschen Frauen gießen keines Kanonen und lernen nicht in unterirdischen Gewölbe exerzieren, um als Amazonen gen Paris zu marschieren!“ . . . Oh, sehr interessant, sehr interessant . . . So, nun etwas über leibliche Dinge. Ich sehne den Augenblick heißverlangend herbei, wo ich wieder deutschen Boden betreten und deutsche Kost genießen kann! Früh geht das „breakfast“ los, genau wie in England, mit Fisch, Eier, Speck, Tomatensaft, Grape fruits (herrliche kürbis-große Pampelmus), halbrohes Beef, wahnsinnig scharfe Paprikafrüchte, grün! Alles trieft von Oel, Speck und Zucker. Kaffee gibt es auch, stark zum Gotterbarmen! Wage es aber ja nicht, vor 1/210 Uhr morgens Kaffee zu verlangen. Man sieht Dich an, wie wenn Du bei Euch nachts 3 Uhr im Museum kandierte Krokodil-Leber zu bestellen wagtest! Überall und zu allem gibt es Eis-Wasser. Kristalleis wird bei jedem Schluck nachgefüllt. Butter ist — gerade wie Seife — stets unbeschränkt gratis. Sie ist eishart und wird aus Eisbottichen herausgefischt. Man legt diese festgefrorenen Buttertäfelchen auf den Fisch, auf die Eier, auf der Speck, auf den süßen Haferschleim, aufs Beef, oder man wirft sie in den Kaffee. Und alles starrt von Zucker und Tomatenmark! Und jeder speck- und öltriefende Bissen wird mit Eiswasser hinuntergespült! Von 12—1/22 Uhr ist „lunch“ (2. Frühstück). Mein Gott, was wird da alles vertilgt! Immer und immer „chicken-soup“ (Hühner-Suppe) oder „tomato-soup“ (Tomaten-Suppe) mit Eiswasser! Dazu prompt stets Kaffee mit fettem Süßcreme und Eiswasser, unbändig dicke, gummiartig zähe beafs {sic} mit Eiswasser . . . und die unvermeidlichen „vegetables“: rohes Ziegenfutter, Selleriestangen, Wurzelwerk, weiße Triebe von unreifen Knollengewächsen . . . es ist ein wahrer Alpdruck . . . Dann Tomaten mit süßer Sahne und Eiswasser, oder Tomaten mit Nüssen. Dann Eiscreme oder garniertes Eis mit gebrannten Mandeln (sherbet). Grüne Paprikaschoten, Chikor mit Honigtunke . . . Abends 6—3/48 Uhr dinner. Es ist nicht wiederzugeben, was da vertilgt wird!! Meistens sind wir zu den Essenszeiten an der Orgel, und später — nach 8 Uhr abends — gibt es überhaupt nichts mehr! Auch nicht vor 9 Uhr früh! Die Eisenbahnen sind durchweg rasend teuer aber fabelhaft bequem. Ein breiter Längsgang von riesenhafter Ausdehnung teilt den Wagen in zwei gleiche Teile. Zu beiden Seiten sind weiche Sammet- und Lederpolster paarweise geordnet. Die Rückenlehnen sind umklappbar, so daß man in der Fahrtrichtung oder nach der Gegenseite sitzen kann. Automaten reichen für 1 Cent einen Trinkbecher.

15g

Ann Arbor Dr. Güntzburg travelled from 60 miles away to attend the recital and was wild with enthusiasm. So then, the time has come for my concert here. Katy has already prepared the registrations and pistons. I can play blindly at the console. Ah, I am so happy to play when I’m sure that the organ, the electricity and the wind-supply won’t pack up! . . . The London concert in “St. Paul’s Cathedral” was very accurate and struck like a bombshell. At the conclusion, about 20—25 men stood in a row against the wall, as stiff as a poker, like stuffed dummies, each one holding a book . . . what did that mean? . . . I go out and smoke a quarter of a cigarette out of embarrassment. Come back . . . the same picture . . . go out again, smoke the second quarter . . . come back in once more. They are still standing there in a pose of appeal. Early today in the hotel we found out that they were a closed group from the Guild of Organists of London (Ontario), who had all come with my “Sixty-five“ (the 66, Op. 65) and hoped to get my autograph. But they couldn’t find the courage to shake my hand. They stared at me and were content to see me smoking cigarettes. Katy’s fame surges on through the press. In London she was telephoned in the hotel, and an interview sought. An elegant lady came into the foyer: “Oh, people in Canada are talking about the interesting young German lady, Miss Karg-Elert. Could you tell our newspaper about the women’s movement in Germany?” Katy: “In Germany there is need, great need, frightful need, misery and hunger, fear and trouble. German women at present have no other interest except, ‘How can I get my breadless and out-of-work husband and my miserable, starving children through these dreadful days?’ There is no other ‘Women’s Question’ at present. German women are not casting cannon nor learning to drill in subterranean vaults in order to march as Amazons on Paris!” . . . Oh, very interesting, very interesting . . . Well then, something now on personal matters. I yearn passionately for the moment when I can again tread German ground and savour German food! Breakfast gets away early, exactly as in England, with fish, eggs, bacon, tomato-juice, grapefruit (splendid, as big as pumpkins), half-raw beef, insanely sharp paprika-fruits, green! Everything dripping in oil, bacon-fat and sugar. There’s also coffee, strong as God’s compassion! But do not dare to ask for coffee before 9:30 a.m. People look at you as if you were ordering candied crocodile-liver at 3 o’clock in the night! Everywhere and for everything there is iced water. Ice cubes top up every drink. Butter — just like soap — is always available free and without restriction. It’s as hard as ice and is fished out of an ice-tub. One puts this almost frozen little piece of butter onto fish, eggs, bacon, sweet cooked porridge, beef; or one throws it into the coffee. And everything bristles with sugar and tomato-purée! And every mouthful, dripping in oil and baconfat, is flushed down with iced water! Lunch (2nd breakfast) is served from 12 to 1:30. My God, the amount that’s polished off there! For ever and always chicken-soup or tomato-soup with iced water! Always added to this promptly, coffee with fat, sweet cream and iced water; enormously thick, rubbery, tough beef with iced water . . . and the inevitable “vegetables”: raw goats’ fodder, celery sticks, roots, white shoots of unripe tubers . . . it’s a real nightmare . . . Then tomatoes with sweet cream and iced water, or tomatoes with nuts. Then ice-cream or garnished ice with burnt almonds (sherbet). Green peppers, chicory with honey-sauce . . . Dinner at 6—7:45 p.m. It’s not possible to give an account of what’s demolished then!! Mostly we are at the organ at {evening} meal-times and later — after 8 p.m. — there’s generally no more! And nothing before 9 a.m! The railways are without exception terrifically dear but fantastically comfortable. A broad passage of gigantic extent divides the carriage into two equal parts. On both sides are soft velvetand leather-cushioned seats in pairs. The backrests can be folded, so that one can sit in the direction of travel or the reverse. Vending machines provide a drinking-vessel for 1¢.

15e

25. — 31. Jan. 1932 Eiswasser gibt es an jeder Wagenecke — ebenfalls durch Automat — gratis. Die Fenster sind nicht zu öffnen. Die Luft ist bei „non-stop-Fahrten“ asiatisch! Die Herren ziehen sich die Stiefeln und die Oberröcke aus. Alles legt die Beine auf die Gegenpolstersitze, oder zieht letztere zu einer Art Sofa zusammen und schnarcht nach Herzenslust. Die Luxuszüge sind natürlich noch teurer und noch komfortabler — wir mußten sie einige Male benutzen, um rechtzeitig an Ort und Stelle zu sein. Jeder Sitz ist ein transportabler, einsinkbarer, schwarzer Klubsessel. Man kann liegen oder sitzen, man kann ihn drehen, wie man will. Die Wagen sind verschwenderisch geräumig; sie haben Waschräume mit Douchen. Schreibtische, Spielsäle und Kinotheater. Von 9 Uhr abends an werden die Betten aus der Wänden gelassen. Sie sind bequem, weich, geräumig, haben wunderschöne Nachtbeleuchtung, um lesen oder schreiben zu können. Ein Tamtam weckt früh zur Toilette. Das gibt ein lustiges Treiben. Die Männer in Unterhosen oder Bademänteln oder Schlafröcken. 1. Frühstück kostet 2 Dollar, 2. Frühstück 21/2 Dollar, Dinner 3 Dollar. Alles ohne Getränke. Eine Limonade nach deutschem Gelde 3.20 RM!!! Da vergeht einem der Durst! Also wieder und immer wieder das „Eiswasser“!! Du willst nicht speisen? Ja, was bleibt einem denn bei 24 Stunden und noch längerer Fahrt anderes übrig? Für die ersten Stunden reichen einige harte Toast, dann aber?? Wenn man sein Essen bezahlt hat, kann man die Karte runter und wieder rauf essen.— Auch wenn ein Dollar hier soviel wie eine Mark ist, ist das Essen rasend teuer. Darüber klagt jeder Amerikaner! Laberge hat ein halbes Jahr an dem Zustandekommen meiner Riesentour gearbeitet. Zuerst war nur New York — San Franzisko festgelegt. Dann versuchte er Zwischenstationen einzufügen. Aber selbstredend klappen nur 25 Prozent der Engagements der Zeiten wegen! Laberge hat mit der „Canadian-Pacific Railway“ (kanadisch-pazifische Eisenbahngesellschaft) einen Generalvertrag über unsere Tour abgeschlossen. Darin ist jeder Tag, jede Stunde, jeder Zug, jedes Hotel bis ins kleinste vorgesehen. An jeder Knotenstation ist ein Vertreter der Eisenbahngesellschaft, notiert unser Passieren, weist uns ein Taxi an, das uns nach dem stets vornehmsten Hotel bringt, wo Zimmer und Bad und Kleiderreinigungs- und Bügelanwalt bereits warten. Zug- und Paßpersonal sind orientiert . . . wir sind überall avistiert. Das ist eine echt amerikanische Groß-Organisation. Und so reift es sich natürlich sehr angenehm! Wir sehen nur leider sehr wenig von den Städten; denn wir toben ja wie Irrsinnige durch dieses unvorstellbar riesige Land. Soeben bietet mir Dr. Bach (ein Abkömmling von J. S. Bachs Bruder in Arnstadt) medizinischen Whisky an. Mich ekelt der ganze Prohibitions-Schwindel an. Sie trinken 100%igen Alkohol wie Wasser und alterieren sich, daß die Deutschen so sündhaft viel Bier trinken! Pittsburgh, 31. Jan. 32. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} Gestern früh 1/28 Uhr kamen wir nach achtstündiger Schlafwagenfahrt hier an. Zwei Herren holten uns ab. Im Auto nach dem grandiosen Hotel „Pittsburgher“ mit 25 Stockwerken in zwei Riesentürmen. Dort sind wir, die wir grade aus dem Bett im Pullman kamen, todmüde in die Falle gesunken und haben geschlafen — geschlafen bis mittag. Dann mit Mordshunger in die Stadt. Zuerst wollten wir aber diese herrliche Landschaft sehen. An dem einen Ufer ragen sehr hohe Felsen steil in die Höhe mit lauter kleinen Häuschen, die wie Schwalbennester kotankleben. Am anderen Ufer sieht man nur Wolkenkratzer. Über den Fluß führen unzählige wunderbare Elfenbogenbrücken — nirgends habe ich die Schönheit der eisernen Brücken besser begriffen, wie hier. Wir landeten schließlich in einem „lunch-room“, sitzen dort gemütlich an einem Tisch, als uns ein Herr immerfort umkreist, schließlich herankommt und fragt, ob Vater der Herr Prof. KargElert sei. Wir bejahen das, er stellt sich als Dr. Boß vor. Hatte Vaters Bild aushängen sehen, in der Zeitung alles über uns gelesen, und da wir deutsch sprachen, sofort gemerkt: Das sind die beiden! Er ist geborener Amerikaner, stammt aber von deutschen Eltern, sein Großvater ist Julius Heinrich Boß. Er selbst ist Prediger an der hiesigen deutschen Kirche. — Er spricht deutsch, ebenso seine Frau, die uns durch ihn einladen ließ, zum dinner zu ihnen zu kommen. Wir sagten gern zu und verabschiedeten uns wie alte Freunde!

16g

Ann Arbor Iced water is available free at each corner of the carriage, and also from the machine. The windows cannot be opened. On “non-stop journeys” the air is Asiatic! The gentlemen take off their boots and overcoats. Everyone puts his feet up on the seat opposite, or they at last get onto a kind of sofa together and snore to their hearts’ delight. Naturally, the luxury trains are even more expensive and more comfortable — we’ve had to make use of them a few times to get to our destination in good time. Each seat can be moved; a black easy-chair into which one sinks. One can lie down or sit on it, or turn it at will. The carriages are extravagantly roomy; they have washrooms with showers. Writing-tables, gaming-halls and picture-theatre. From 9 p.m. the beds are brought down from the walls. They are comfortable, homely {lit.: soft}, roomy, and are magnificently illuminated at night for reading or writing. A tamtam arouses us early for toilet. That produces a jolly hustle and bustle. The men in underpants or bathrobes or dressing-gowns. Breakfast costs $2, a light lunch $2 1/2, dinner $3. All these without something to drink. Lemonade 3.20 RM in German money!!! So one loses one’s thirst! But time and again the “iced water”!! You don’t want to eat? Well then, what else is there to do in a journey lasting 24 hours or more? During the first hours one has some toast, but then?? If one has paid for his meal, one might as well put the voucher down and again eat up. — Especially when the dollar is virtually equal to the Mark, food is terribly expensive. All the Americans complain about that! Laberge worked for about half a year to establish my gigantic tour. At first only New York — San Francisco were stipulated. Then he tried to fit in some stopping points in between. But of course only 25% come to anything because of the time! Laberge has concluded a general agreement with Canadian-Pacific Railways for our tour. In it each day, hour, train and hotel down to the smallest detail is specified. At each railway junction is a representative of the railway company, who makes a note of our passage and gets a taxi to take us to the hotel, which is always posh and where room and bath, plus the cleaning and ironing of our clothes, are prepared, awaiting us. Train- and ticket-personnel are informed . . . everywhere we have been {well} advised. This great organisation is typically American. And so, naturally, it’s very pleasant! Unfortunately we see only very little of the cities; for we rush like mad things through this inconceivably gigantic country. I have just been offered some medicinal whisky by Dr. Bach (a descendant of J. S. Bach’s brother in Arnstadt). I am disgusted by the entire Prohibition fraud. They drink 100% alcohol like water and get excited because the Germans drink such sinful quantities of beer! Pittsburgh, {Sunday} 31st January, 1932 {From a letter by Katharina:} We arrived here yesterday at 7:30 a.m. after an eight-hour sleeping-car journey. Two gentlemen fetched us by car to the grandiose “Pittsburgher” Hotel of 25 storeys, in two gigantic towers. There we are; we came straight out of bed in the Pullman, dead tired, dropped into bed and have slept — slept until midday. Then into the city, ravenously hungry. To start off, we wanted to see this splendid landscape. Very high cliffs tower steeply on one bank, with nothing but little cottages, reminiscent of swallows’ nests stuck on like mud. On the other bank one sees only skyscrapers. Over the river are countless wonderful elfish arched bridges — nowhere else have I comprehended the beauty of iron bridges, as here. We eventually landed up in a “lunch-room” and were seated comfortably at a table, when a gentleman circled around, drawing closer, and ultimately came over to ask father if he might be Prof. Karg-Elert. We replied in the affirmative and he introduced himself as Dr. Boss. Had seen father’s picture on display and read all about us in the newspaper, and as we spoke German, immediately took note: that’s both of them! He is American-born, but of German parents, and his grandfather is Julius Heinrich Boss. He is a preacher at the local German church.— He speaks German, likewise his wife, who has invited us through him to come to dinner with them. We were delighted to accept and parted like old friends!

16e

31. Jan. — 2. Feb. 1932 Im Hotel erwartete uns Direktor Oetting vom Konservatorium. Er hält dort einen Kurs ab, in welchem er Vaters Choralimprovisationen mit Studenten, Organisten und sonstigen daran interessierten Leuten in einem Vierteljahr durcharbeitet. In Pittsburgh waren wir bei dem Millionär Emil Winter (deutscher Abstammung) zu Gast. Er führte uns durch sein märchenhaftes Schloß, das unglaublich kostbare Kunstwerke birgt. Leider konnten wir seine oft wiederholte Einladung, einige Wochen bei ihm zu wohnen, wegen Zeitmangel nicht annehmen. Er war so glücklich, endlich wieder einmal mit Deutschen zu sprechen, daß er seine beinah sprichwörtliche Zurückhaltung ganz verlor . . . Nach dem Konzert fuhr uns Dr. Oetting zur University. Ein Wolkenkratzer von überwältigender Schönheit an eine gotische Kathedrale gemahnend—. Dann gingen wir in die 2. Carnegie Hall . . . fabelhaft, der Boden bunte Marmor, die Decke reines Gold . . . Herrenchiemsee in amerikanischer Ausführung! . . . Dann im Eiltempo zurück . . . an den Felsen entlang, tief unter uns rechts der Fluß und die Stadt mit ihren abertausend Lichtern, unbeschreiblich! . . . Wir fuhren auf einer breiten hellen Straße immer an den Felsen entlang, hoch, hoch über dem Land . . . Bei Dr. Boß war es reizend! Es gab endlich mal wieder Salm, dann richtiggehenden Kartoffelsalat mit Eiern und Schinken, Butterbrot . . . Später kamen lauter deutsch sprechende Organisten mit ihren Frauen, und es wurde ein netter Abend. Einer der Herren hat sogar mit Vater bei Jadassohn und Reisenauer studiert! Cleveland, 2. Februar 1932. Wir sind im „Museum of Art“ . . . es ist unbeschreiblich . . . wie ein Märchen aus Tausendundeiner Nacht . . . Wir sitzen auf einer schmalen Empore mit einer Steinbrüstung, darauf unzählige Palmen stehen . . . und sehen in die Wandelhalle . . . es ist traumhaft . . . lauter Blumen . . . grüne Pflanzen . . . Wasserbecken, Plastiken . . . ungewisses Dämmerlicht . . . im Hintergrund eine Art griechisches Atrium; eine runde Säulenhalle, von vier Marmorschalen ganz matt erleuchtet . . . eine Fontäne plätschert ganz leise . . . und hier oben sitzen wir an der Orgel, arbeiten und drehen uns immer und immer wieder um, um dieses Märchen zu genießen und zu lernen, daran zu glauben, daß es kein Traum ist. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} Ein ebensolches unglaubliches Märchen ist unsere hiesige Wohnung: Ein Salon . . . ein Speisezimmer . . . Küche (!!), Schrankzimmer, Bad, Vaters Schlafzimmer. Wir haben eine vierfenstrige Front! In dem Salon sind zwei Betten, die man tagsüber hochstellt und rumdreht, so daß man nach außen nur eine glatte Wand sieht . . . Man zieht einen Vorhang vor . . . Kein Mensch ahnt was von Betten! Einrichtung hochvornehm . . . 3/44 Uhr heute angekommen, um 5 Uhr waren wir schon im Museum, übten bis 1/29 Uhr abends, morgen früh geht’s um 8 Uhr weiter bis mittags 1 Uhr, dann endlich etwas Ruhe bis 5 Uhr . . . üben bis 1/27 Uhr . . . dann Organistendinner . . . 1/49 Uhr Konzert . . . hinterher Auto . . . Bahnhof . . . Nachtfahrt nach Chikago. Das ist ungefähr der Tagesplan, der sich in jeder Stadt wiederholt. Wir sehen auf diese Weise nichts von der Städten, das ist sehr schade . . . Wen die Amerikaner ins Herz geschlossen haben, den achten und verwöhnen sie maßlos . . . und uns haben sie ins Herz geschlossen. . . . Die Erfolge übersteigen jedes Maß von Erwartungen und Träumen, sie sind — unübertrieben — beispiellos, und überall höre und lese ich, daß sie ein Markstein in der Geschichte des Orgelspiels und der Orgelkomposition bedeuten. Und man ist wirklich an Eminentes und Gigantisches hier gewöhnt! Denn kein Italiener, Franzose, Engländer von Rang, der hier nicht gefeierter Gast ist!! Es ist mein Sieg eine repräsentable deutsche Angelegenheit! — — — Seit dem Krieg studiert alles hier aus den Staaten und aus Canada in Paris. Frankreich propagiert in der geschicktesten Form. Es sendet ganze Elite-Heere von Künstlern (Musiker, Maler, Bildhauer, Literaten . . . ) aus, z. T. auf Regierungskosten. Sie durchsetzen den ganzen Kontinent und wirken als Agens und Ferment.

17g

Pittsburgh Conservatorium Director Oetting was waiting for us in the hotel. He holds a course there, in which he works through father’s Chorale-improvisations over a quarter of a year for students, organists and others who are interested. {William H. Oetting was born in Pittsburgh in 1875; apart from a few years around 1900 when he continued his studies in organ, piano and composition in Berlin, his life was spent in the U.S.A. A cofounder and director of the Pittsburgh Musical Institute in 1915, he was its president from 1920 and head of the organ department. An article on his life in The Diapason (April 1932, p. 28) confirms Katharina’s comment. See Appendix, p. A-16} In Pittsburg we were guests of the millionaire Emil Winter (German origin). He took us through his fabulous mansion which holds some unbelievably valuable works of art. Unfortunately we could not accept his often repeated invitation to stay with him for some weeks, because of our lack of time. He was so happy, at last to speak once more with Germans, that he almost completely lost his proverbial reserve . . . After the recital, Dr. Oetting drove us to the University. A skyscraper of overwhelming beauty, reminiscent of a Gothic Cathedral —. Then we went to the second Carnegie Hall . . . magnificent, the floor coloured marble, the ceiling pure gold . . . an American version of Herrenchiemsee! {a Bavarian castle, made in 1845—86 in the style of Louis XIV} . . . Then back to the rush . . . along the cliffs, below us and to the right the river and the city with thousands of lights, indescribable! . . . We travelled on a broad, bright street, always along the cliffs, high, high above the rest of the land . . . It was charming of Dr. Boss! Finally, there was once again salmon, then real potato salad with eggs and ham, bread and butter . . . later an exclusively German-speaking group of organists came with their wives, and it was a nice evening. One of the gentlemen had even studied with father under Jadassohn and Reisenauer! {i.e., ca. 1900.} Cleveland, {Tuesday} 2nd February, 1932 We are in the “Museum of Art” . . . it’s indescribable . . . like a fairytale from the Arabian Nights . . . We are seated in a narrow gallery with a stone balustrade on which innumerable palms stand . . . and look down into the foyer . . . it’s like a dream . . . lots of flowers . . . green plants . . . water basins, sculptures . . . a vague twilight . . . in the background a sort of Grecian atrium; a round, columned hall rather faintly illuminated from four marble bowls . . . a fountain splashes quite gently . . . and here, above, we sit at the organ, work away and turn around time after time to savour this fairytale and confirm that it’s not a dream. {From a letter by Katharina:} Our dwelling place here represents a similarly unbelievable fairytale: a lounge room . . . a dining room . . . kitchen (!!), walk-in cupboards, bath, father’s bedroom. We have a four-windowed frontage! In the lounge room are two beds which are turned and placed upright during the day, so one sees only a smooth wall . . . a curtain is drawn . . . Nobody suspects beds are there! Arrangements planned . . . arrived at 3:45 p.m. today, at 5 we were already in the museum, practised until 8:30; tomorrow at 8 a.m. we do more until 1 p.m., then at last some peace until 5 o’clock . . . practise until 6:30 . . . then the Organists’ Dinner . . . 8:15 concert . . . afterwards by car . . . railway station . . . night-trip to Chicago. That’s roughly the day’s plan, which repeats itself in every city. In this way we see nothing of the cities, which is a great pity . . . Those, of whom the Americans are fond, are respected and spoilt immoderately by them . . . and they are fond of us. . . . The success exceeds every measure of expectation and {all} dreams. It is — without exaggeration — unprecedented, and everywhere I hear and read that it signifies a milestone in the history of organ-playing and organ-composition. And one really gets accustomed to being eminent here, a colossus! For there is no Italian, Frenchman or Englishman of rank here who is not a celebrated guest!! It’s my victory as a representative German concern! — — — Since the war, everyone from the States and Canada has studied in Paris. France propagandises in the most skilful way. She sends out complete elite-armies of artists (musicians, painters, sculptors, writers . . .), partly at government expense. They push through the entire continent and work as agents and agitators.

17e

2. — 4. Feb. 1932 Deutschland ließ von jeher seine Besten darben! — Miß Klein sagte: „Oh . . . Du mußt erst hundert Jahre getötet sein, dann erst wissen Deine Landsmenscher, daß unser größte Vorbild nach Bach war ein deutsches Mann.“. . . Wenn Du diesen Siegestaumel miterleben könntest, und diese rührende ergreifende Liebe und staunende Verehrung sehen könntest . . . Und ich kann mich doch niemals anders fühlen, als ein deutscher Musiker romantischer Prägung! Die „Deutsche Zeitung“ von Cleveland schreibt: „Der berühmte deutsche Orgelkomponist und Lehrer am Konservatorium zu Leipzig, Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, dessen Werke zu den besten Schöpfungen auf diesem Gebiete gezählt werden, gewährte gestern abend im ClevelandKunstmuseum durch sein wundervolles Rezital einen hohen Genuß. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert ist ein Komponist und Künstler großen Formats, der durch die eminenten Feinheiten seines Spiels und durch seine technische Unfehlbarkeit das zahlreich erschienene Publikum zum Entzücken brachte. Die erste Nummer war dem Freund des Komponisten, dem verstorbenen Lynnwood Farnam, gewidmet. Die beiden nächsten waren von J. C. Bach und Liszt, und durch sie offenbarte sich die große Virtuosität des Künstlers. Die beiden letzten Nummern gaben eine Idee von der schöpferischen Kraft, der Individualität und dem Ideenreichtum des Komponisten Karg-Elert. — Herzlicher Applaus belohnte den deutschen Meister am Schlusse seiner Darbietungen.“ Chicago, 4. Februar 1932. Gestern nacht 10 Uhr Konzertschluß in Cleveland . . . ohne nochmals ins Hotel gehen zu können, in wilder Autofahrt zum Bahnhof . . . Schlafwagen . . . Extrazug . . . heute früh schon hier in Chicago, der zweitgrößten Stadt dieses Riesenkontinents. Das sind Entfernungen, die man drüben nicht abschätzen kann. Und New York — Chikago ist der zehnte Teil bis zu unserem Endziel!! Und dann die grauenhaft lange Strecke zurück! Man verliert vollkommen den Boden unter den Füßen. Cleveland ist überreich an baulichen Schönheiten ersten Ranges und zauberhaften Parkanlagen. Aber diese Amerikaner haben keinen eigenen Stil. Hier ist Rom . . . Neapel . . . Pompeji, dort Athen . . . Sevilla . . . Marokko . . . Indien . . . Alles, was sich für „money“ (Geld) nachmachen läßt. Oft stehen maurischer und gotischer Stil rührend naiv zusammen! (Einer „kostet“ ja genau so viel Dollar wie der andere!) Im „Museum of Art“ spielte ich „unsichtbar“ die „unsichtbare“ Orgel (eine Skinner) auf der 1 Meter breiten Galerie eines tropisch-indischen Gewächshauses mit Marmorskulpturen, einer großen Buddhastatue und einem Wasserspiel von hinreißender Schönheit. An dieses Wandelhalle schließen sich die Gemäldesäle an: Picasso, Monet, Manet, Delacroy, Goya, Cezanne usw. Dann Säle mit Skulpturen, Mosaiks, Porzellan, persische Kunstflechtereien. Diese Museumskonzerte gelten als erstrangig. Mein Konzert ging glatt und rein. Der Museumsorganist kam zur Orgel und sagte, so etwas von Registrierung hätte noch kein Organist gebracht. Er wollte sich die Kombinationen abschreiben, aber Käthchen hatte rasch alles annulliert . . . Unten warteten die Organisten und viele Begeisterte; wir mußten aber schnellstens zum Bahnhof. Im Pullman bedient uns ein reizender Negerbursche . . . er „parliert“ eine ganze Weile mit Käthchen . . . schließlich führt er uns in einen Raum, bringt uns Sandwichs, Weißbrot, Butter, Lammfleisch und . . . Bier!!! Alles für 1,10 Dollar! — Wir wurden gleich ganz andere Menschen! Nach solcher Stärkung! — Ich schlafe tief und traumlos, erwache, sehe nach der Uhr . . . 1/28 Uhr!! Und wir sollten doch 7.20 Uhr in Chicago ankommen! Da bringt mir der Negerboy auch schon meine gesäuberten Sachen und erklärt: „Sie haben noch New-Yorker Zeit (Mittelamerika); inzwischen sind die Uhren diese Nacht um eine Stunde zurückgestellt worden, das geschieht bis San Franzisko noch viermal!!“ Zu verrückt!

18g

Cleveland Germany always leaves the best ones to starve! — Miss Klein says, “Oh . . . you’ll have to be dead for a hundred years before your countrymen know that our greatest example after Bach was a German.” {Charlotte Klein, F.A.G.O., Dean of the District of Columbia Chapter of the A.G.O., organist of St. Margaret’s Church, Washington. She had an advertising block stating: ‘First Woman Recitalist General Convention A.G.O.’} . . . If only you could experience this triumphant euphoria, and see this touching, gripping affection and astonishing veneration . . . And I can never feel otherwise as a German musician in the romantic mould! The “German Newspaper” of Cleveland writes, “The famous German organ-composer and teacher at the Leipzig Conservatorium, Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, whose works are counted amongst the best creations in this field, gave great pleasure at his wonderful recital last evening in the Cleveland Museum of Art. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert is a composer and artist of great stature, who has brought delight through the utmost excellence of his playing and the technical infallibility of his numerous published works. The first number was dedicated to the composer’s deceased friend, Lynnwood Farnam. The next two were by J. C. Bach and Liszt, and through them revealed the artist’s virtuosity. The last two numbers gave some idea of the creative strength, the individuality and the wealth of ideas of the composer Karg-Elert. — Hearty applause was given to the German Master at the end of his performance.” Chicago, {Thursday} 4th February, 1932 End of the concert last night at 10 o’clock . . . again without being able to go to the hotel, {instead} a wild car-trip to the station . . . sleeping-car . . . extra train . . . already here this morning in Chicago, the second largest city in this gigantic continent. That sort of distance you people over there cannot grasp. And New York — Chicago is a tenth part of our ultimate destination!! And then the terribly long stretch back! One completely loses one’s footing. Cleveland has a superabundance of architectural beauty of the first rank and fantastic parks. But America has no style of her own. Here is Rome . . . Naples . . . Pompeii, there Athens . . . Seville . . . Morocco . . . India . . . Everything that “money” can buy. Moorish and Gothic styles often stand naïvely side by side! (One, indeed, “costs” just as many dollars as the other!) At the “Museum of Art” I played “out of sight” on the “invisible” organ (a Skinner), which stands on a metre-broad gallery in a tropical Indian greenhouse with marble sculptures, a large Buddha and waterworks of enrapturing beauty. {The German pun on ‘unsichtbar’ translates poorly.} This foyer connects to picture galleries holding works of: Picasso, Monet, Manet, Delacroix, Goya, Cézanne, etc. Then there are halls containing sculptures, mosaics, china, Persian rugs. This Museum-concert was regarded as first class. My recital went smoothly and neatly. The Museum-organist {Arthur W. Quimby} came to the organ and said that no other organist had used such registrations. He wished to obtain a copy of the combinations but Katy had hastily cancelled them all . . . Downstairs the organists and many other enthusiasts waited; but we had to get away to the railway station as quickly as possible. {Quimby, young and enthusiastic, had been Museum organist since 1922 when Skinner installed a 3-manual instrument of 70 stops. As curator from 1925 he was responsible for all music in the Museum. Organ recitals on Sunday afternoons were generally repeated the following Wednesday evening. Karg-Elert’s concert on 3/2/1932 had an audience of 497, the largest to that date; even Germani had only 289!} We were attended to in the Pullman by a charming negro lad . . . he “talked away” for quite a while with Katy . . . finally he took us into a room and brought us sandwiches, white bread, butter, lamb and . . . beer!!! Everything for $1.10! — We were immediately transformed! After such refreshment! — I sleep deeply and without dreams, awake to find the time . . . 7:30!! And we are supposed to arrive in Chicago at 7:20! But then the negro boy brought me my clean clothes and said, “You’re still in New York time (Middle America); meanwhile, the clocks have been set back an hour overnight, that takes place four times across to San Francisco!!” Too crazy!

18e

4. — ca. 8. Feb. 1932 Im Auto in das Riesenhotel „The Stevens“. Zwölf {sic} Riesentürme, oben auf dem Dach ein netter Aufbau — bloß so groß wie das Leipziger Museum!! — Es ist das gewaltigste Hotel der Erde (nach Waldorf-Astoria in New York). Ein wilder Traum von Luxus und höchster Schönheit! — Vor unseren Fenstern im 12. Stock breitet sich der unübersehbare, traumhaft herrliche Michigan-See aus. Und es wimmelt von prachtvollen Wolkenkratzern. Gern hätte ich noch geschlafen, aber . . . das Telephon läutete ununterbrochen: Die Reklamemanagerin des Hauses bat um ein Interview, dann kam die Redaktion der Zeitung „The Diapason“, Mister Gruenstein, Dr. Dusen von der Organistengilde usw. usw. Später zur „Kimball-Organ“. . . ein unverschämt großer hoher Spieltisch mit unbekannten Neuerungen . . . wir finden uns schwer zurecht . . . und dabei stehen sie alle herum und reden auf uns ein; Gruenstein, Dr. Dusen, Kimball jun., Eigenschenk. Er bringt Grüße vom Altmeister Middelschulte und ladet uns für Sonntag zu Tisch. Chicago, 5. Februar 1932. Nach dem Frühstück ging es an die „big organ“ in der „Kimball-Hall“. Großer Gott! 4 Riesenmanuale (das Notenpult hängt fast an der Decke), 110 Register, aber 75 Prozent sind polizeiwidrige Schwindeleien. Eigenschenk kommt dauernd, wenn ich übe. Dann kam der Redakteur von „The American Organist“. . . dann Kimball . . . dann der Konzertist der KimballCompany, der aus lauter Begeisterung mir durch sein Gestikulieren die gesamten mühsam ausprobierten Kombinationen zerstörte!! Dann wurden wir fürs Chicagoer Sinfoniekonzert eingeladen; ich lehnte ab, da ich üben . . . üben . . . will! . . . zwischendurch kam noch eine Einladung der „Diapason“ (große Zeitung) zum Lunch in den University-Club. Es gab „ferschtlich“ zu essen. Von 2 Uhr nachmittags bis 8 Uhr abends haben wir dann geübt . . . ohne jede Pause . . . ich suchte . . . suchte . . . und siehe da, es fing an, zu klingen, zum Teil ganz überraschend durch technische Veränderung und satanische Kreuz- und Querkoppelungen (kleine einzige Mixtur!!!). Nun will ich noch die sogenannten „drugs“ beschreiben: an jeder Straßenecke ist eine solche Apotheke . . . sehr elegant und stets behaglich und geräumig. Daselbst bekommt man neben Arzneien auch Rauchmaterial Spielsachen, Wäsche, gut zu essen und zu trinken (Kaffee, Tee, Sodawasser und . . . Bier!!). Im Hotel selbst gibt es auch so einen „drugs“. Dort, zahlt man für eine Flasche Bier einige Cents, während diese im königlichen, goldüberladenen dining-room einen halben Dollar kostet!! Amerika ist wirklich ein meschugges Traumland! Einige Tage später. Der große Tag, die schwerste Station auf meiner entsetzlich verantwortungsvollen Fahrt liegt nunmehr hinter uns. „Uns“: denn Kätherleins Mitarbeit ist kein Pappenstiel und wird auch allenthalben verständnisvoll bewertet. Sie kam nur kletternd zu den oberen Registern, Knöpfen und dem grotesk hohen Notenpult . . . Der Saal überfüllt . . . lauter Organisten . . . lauter Fachleute . . . zum Teil aus weitentferntesten Staaten! Im Saal der Altmeister aller Organisten und Komponisten: Prof. Dr. Middelschulte, den Busoni „den größten Bachisten“ nannte! Ein wunderbarer Kopf! Ein leuchtendes Auge . . . weißes Haar wie ein Heiligenschein! Sein Bild sieht man in Amerika allerorten. Als ich herauskam, applaudierte er ostentativ. Ich kam zunächst überhaupt nicht zum Anfangen vor lauter Beifall und mußte immer und immer wieder von der Orgelbank herunter und mich verbeugen. . . . Nach dem Konzert großes Festbankett im Prachthotel „The Auditorium“. Ich neben Middelschulte (eine unvergeßliche Stunde!!). Reden, Reden, Reden . . . und immer wieder die gleichen Überüberschätzungen!! (Fortsetzung folgt.)

19g

Chicago By car to the giant hotel “The Stevens”. Twelve {sic} gigantic towers, and up on the roof a cute structure — just as big as the Leipzig Museum!! — It’s the most enormous hotel on earth (after the Waldorf-Astoria in New York). A wild dream of luxury and the greatest beauty! — In front of our windows on the 12th floor the inestimable, dream-like, splendid Lake Michigan stretches out. And the city swarms with magnificent skyscrapers. I very much wanted to sleep some more, but . . . the telephone rang uninterruptedly: the advertising manageress of the house requested an interview, then along came the editor of the journal “The Diapason”, Mr. Gruenstein, and Dr. Dusen of the Guild of Organists, etc., etc. {Frank Van Dusen, A.A.G.O., was Dean of the Illinois Chapter of the A.G.O., organist and music-director at the First Baptist Church, Elgin, Illinois and professor at the American Conservatory of Music, Kimball Hall, Chicago.} Later to the “Kimball-organ”. . . an outrageously large, high console with unfamiliar innovations . . . we find it difficult to find our way about . . . and as well as that, everyone stands around and talks to us: Gruenstein, Dr. Dusen, Kimball jnr., Eigenschenk. He brings greetings from Middelschulte, the doyen, and invites us for a meal on Sunday. {Edward Eigenschenk, a pupil of Van Dusen, was then rising rapidly as an organ recitalist under Van Dusen’s management. He had also written a book: “Organ Jazz; a course of twenty lessons in jazz idioms for the organ . . . edited by Frank Van Dusen for use in the School of Motion Picture Organ Playing of the American Conservatory of Music, Chicago . . . 1927.” This alone is an interesting commentary on what such a conservatorium taught in those days!} Chicago, {Friday} 5th February, 1932 After breakfast we went to the “big organ” in the “Kimball Hall”. Great God! Four huge manuals (the console almost hangs from the ceiling), 110 registers, but 75% are illegal swindles {referring to the extensions and borrowing no doubt}. Eigenschenk perpetually comes when I practise. Then the editor of “The American Organist” came . . . then Kimball . . . then the Kimball Company’s recitalist who, out of honest enthusiasm for me, destroyed through his gesticulations the complete, laboriously worked out stop-combinations!! We were then invited to a Chicago symphony-concert; I declined as I want to practise . . . practise! . . . in between times an invitation came from the “Diapason” (great journal) for lunch at the University Club. Firstly one must eat {‘ferschtlich’ is presumably Karg-Elert’s amusing ‘Germanisation’ of ‘firstly’}. We then practised from 2 p.m. until 8 o’clock . . . without any break . . . I was searching . . . searching . . . and now see that it begins to sound well, in part quite unexpectedly through some technical changes and diabolical couplings all over the place (not a single mixture!!!). Now I shall write about the so-called “drugs”. On every street-corner there is such a pharmacy . . . very elegant and always comfortable and roomy. There one can obtain, besides medicines, smokers’ requisites, toys, laundry, nice things to eat and drink (coffee, tea, soda-water and . . . beer!!). Such “drugs” are also obtainable in the hotel. There one pays some cents for a bottle of beer, whereas the same thing costs half a dollar in the regal dining-room, which is overladen with gold!! America is truly a crazy land of fantasy! Some days later. The great day, the most difficult stop on my appallingly responsibility-laden trip is now behind us. “Us”, because Katy’s collaboration is not chicken-feed and has been judged everywhere as fully complementary. She needed to climb to reach the upper stops and drawknobs on the grotesquely high console . . . The hall was overflowing . . . none but organists . . . none but experts . . . some of them from the most distant states! In the hall was the doyen of all organists and composers, Prof. Middelschulte, whom Busoni called “the greatest Bach exponent”! A wonderful head! Gleaming eyes . . . white hair like a halo! His portrait is to be seen all over America. As I came out, he applauded pointedly. I could not even start because of the noisy applause and had to come down from the organ-bench time after time to bow. . . . After the concert a great banquet in the splendid hotel “The Auditorium”. I sat next to Middelschulte (an unforgettable hour!!). Speeches, speeches, speeches . . . again and again the same over, overestimations!! (to be continued.)

19e

ca. 8. Feb. 1932 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 8, 28. April 1932. (5. Fortsetzung.) Middelschulte sagte: „Seit 1905 verfolge ich die wachsende Bedeutung der Karg-Elertschen Orgelmusik in unserem großem Reiche. Nicht Deutschland, sondern Amerika neben England, Frankreich und Italien haben diesen großen Poeten und Koloristen recht zu würdigen verstanden, vor dem ich die allergrößte Hochachtung hege. Kein Organist, der auf „Nouveau“ seines Programms Wert legt, kann ohne das „neue Testament“ — Karg-Elerts 66 Choralimprovisationen — auskommen. Bach und Karg-Elert sind die Eckpfeiler jedes Organisten!“ Und zu mir gewandt in gebrochenem Deutsch: „Sie dürfen nicht glauben, eine alte Mann macht elegante Elogen für Ihnen, wie für schöne Frau!“ Es war bei Gott bodenlos . . . ich habe vor Verlegenheit drei Glas Eiswasser getrunken! „The Diapason“ schreibt in einem spaltenlangen Artikel: „Seit Guilmants beispiellosem Siegeszug 1891 bis 92 hat Amerika keine größere Sensation erlebt, als Karg-Elert seine eigenen Werke an der Orgel zelebrierend. Die Hörer werden die Erlebnisse ihren Kindern vererben.“ Im Zauberheim von Dr. mus. Barnes, des Herausgebers der Fachzeitschrift „The American Organist“ und Verfassers des tonangebenden großen Werkes „Contemporary Organ-building“ (der zeitgemäße Orgelbau) und führender Orgelarchitekt, erlebte ich eines der größten Wunder: Aus den Wänden, aus dem Boden (mit Teppichen verkleidet), und aus der Decke tönte mir — bei gedämpftem Licht — eine visionäre, ekstatische, betörende Musik in tausend sich überschneidenden Farben von sinnverwirrender Schönheit entgegen. Wir wurde eiskalt und schwindelig . . . ja, so etwas schreiben können, wer hat das geschrieben, und wer hat das gespielt . . . kann ich die Noten nachlesen, ich möchte schwarz auf weiß sehen, wie das notiert ist . . . Dr. Barnes witzelt zu einem Mitgast etwas in englisch, ich verstehe es halb und frage: Wieso ist meine Frage nach dem Komponisten ein geistreicher Streich? Da gibt mir Dr. Barnes meine „Seven Pastels from the Lake of Constance, Op. 96“, die ich am Bodensee 1920 bis 21 für eine imaginäre englische oder amerikanische Orgel komponiert und niemals gehört habe! Und auch nicht die geringste Erinnerung mehr besitze!! — Der große Lynnwood Farnam hat mit diesen sieben Pastellen vor zwei Jahren die Orgel des Herrn Dr. Barnes eingespielt . . . es ist wie ein Traum. Später hörte ich noch zwei weitere Werke von mir, die ich auch noch nie gehört hatte!!

20g

Chicago Vol. 3, No. 8, 28th April 1932 (5th continuation) Middelschulte said, “Since 1905 I have followed the growing significance of Karg-Elert’s music in our great empire. Not Germany, but instead America, besides England, France and Italy have fully appreciated this great poet and colourist, for whom I harbour the deepest respect. No organist who places value on the “moderns” in his repertoire can manage without the “New Testament” — Karg-Elert’s 66 Chorale-improvisations. Bach and Karg-Elert are the cornerstones for every organist!” And turning to me, in broken German, “You shouldn’t think an old man makes elegant eulogies for you as for a beautiful woman!” By God it was incredible . . . out of embarrassment I drank three glasses of iced water! {Wilhelm Middelschulte, 1863—1943, was not only Germanborn and bred but developed to an advanced level there. Associate professor at Berlin, he was organist at the Lukaskirche in that city from 1888 to 1891. His marriage to an American caused him to settle in Chicago in 1891 where he became organist to the Cathedral of the Holy Name. He held several major teaching posts as well and on that basis, Notre Dame University in Indiana awarded him an honorary LL.D. In the 1920s he returned to Germany yearly for summer concert tours. He also composed. How he came to be in Germany during the second world war is uncertain, but it was there that he died in old age. Karg-Elert’s remark about him speaking “in broken German” is highly bizarre if not a grotesque joke.} “The Diapason” wrote in a column-length article, “Since Guilmant’s unprecedented, triumphal tour of 1891—92, America has not experienced a greater sensation than Karg-Elert playing his own celebrated works on the organ. Listeners will pass on the experience to their children.” {This represents considerable poetic licence. I can find nothing like it in The Diapason but toward the end of a long editorial in The American Organist of Jan., 1932 (see Appendix, p. A5) the ingredients at least are there.} I experienced one of the greatest marvels in the enchanting home of Dr. Barnes, editor of the journal “The American Organist”, author of the tone-setting, great work “Contemporary Organbuilding” and a leading organ-architect. Out of the walls, through the floor (covered in carpets) and from the ceiling sounds reached me — through subdued light — a visionary, ecstatic, bewitching music in thousands of overlapping colours of bewildering beauty to the senses. We froze and became dizzy . . . can something like that really be written down? If so, who wrote it and who is playing it? . . . May I check the printed music? I should like to see in black and white what has been written out . . . Dr. Barnes joked to a fellow-guest something in English; I half understand and ask, “How come my question about the composer is written off as a prank?” Then Dr. Barnes gives me my “Seven Pastels from the Lake of Constance, Op. 96”, which I composed at the Lake of Constance in 1920—21 for an imaginary English or American organ and have never heard! And also not to have the least recollection of it any more!! — The great Lynnwood Farnam recorded these seven Pastels two years ago on Dr. Barnes’ organ . . . it’s like a dream. I later heard another two of my works which I had also never previously heard!! {Presumably the house-organ had a roll-playing mechanism. If this was Farnam’s recording, it was very late in his life, when he was concentrating on Bach and the baroque era, largely ignoring such ultra-romantic music. The comment about never having heard Op. 96 is sad, giving some idea of Karg-Elert’s intellectual decline; in May 1930, several of the Pastels were played at the London Festival in his presence and a letter to Sceats in July 1926 states, “I have studied and repeatedly played these seven pieces in Radolfszell . . .” William H. Barnes, Mus. Doc., was born in 1892. He was organist and musicdirector at the First Baptist Church, Evanston, Illinois in the early 1930s. His ‘organ architecture’ was the suggestion of specifications and the supervision of the execution of a contract. He was not editor of The American Organist (that was T. Scott Buhrman, F.A.G.O.) but one of eight associate editors, and his task was to handle a section called The Organ. His book was entitled The Contemporary American Organ, its evolution, design and construction; Fischer, New York, 1930. By 1964 it was in its 8th edition.}

20e

10. — ca. 15. Feb. 1932 Minneapolis, Minnesota, 10. Februar 1932 Nein . . . was sind wir für Weltenbummler geworden!! Heute früh noch in Chikago . . . um Mitternacht bereits in Minneapolis. Die Fahrt ging acht Stunden lang durch dicksten Nebel, und wir mußten dauernd Licht brennen. Das Konzert (in Minneapolis) war wundervoll! Die Orgel hat nur zweimal gründlich versagt, greuliche Töne minutenlang ausgehalten. Ich war aber glücklich, so glimpflich davonzukommen. Das hat man nicht in jeder City! Die Kirche war beispiellos überfüllt. Alle Gänge, Treppen, Korridore gestopft voll! Große Sensation! Die Stadt is voller hervorragender Künstler: Auer, Sevzik, Rosenthal, Busoni, Rachmaninov, Cortot haben jahrelang hier gewirkt und höchste Kulturarbeit geleistet. Vorige Woche war in Minneapolis-St. Paul: Piatigorsky, Ad. Busch, das Amarquartett mit Hindemith. Onegin . . . an Organisten: Dupré, Courboin, Germani. — Und dennoch habe ich einen tiefgehenden Eindruck hinterlassen. Man staunt auch hier wieder über den bisher völlig ungehörten Klang und die Neuartigkeit der Harmonie. Man sagt: „Sie lehren uns Amerikanten zum ersten Male, wie eine typisch-amerikanische Orgel behandelt werden muß. Niemals haben wir so etwas vor Ihnen gehört!“ . . . Nach dem Konzert waren wir in eine sehr vornehme Familie geladen; es gab deutsches Abendbrot, aber was für eins!! Ein ganzes Delikateß-Geschäft wurde aufgefahren . . . aber da die Dame des Hauses aus Canada Münchner Bier hatte schmuggeln lassen, aß ich fast nichts weiter als Nürnberger Rostbratwürste mit Salat und trank Bier!!! O, dieser Genuß! 13. Februar 1932. So wären denn auch hier unsere Stunden gezählt . . . Minneapolis ist eine gewaltige hochmoderne City von der Größe Leipzigs . . . es hat die Jahrestemperatur von Petersburg. Dallas dagegen, wo wir in drei Tagen hinkommen werden, entspricht Tunis (Nordafrika). Dieser teuflische Zonenwechsel bekommt uns ganz und gar nicht. Es ist eine schlimme Sache . . . In Minneapolis hatte ich zwei Orgeln an einer Altarkonsole, eine Chancel- und eine GalleryOrgel. Ich habe rasend interessante Wirkungen durch gleichzeitige Konträrschwellungen erreicht. — Man musizierte dort in den vornehmen Häusern, daß einem die Augen übergingen. CorelliTrios, Bach-Sonaten aus dem Kopf!! César Franck: A-Dur-Sonate, Ravel-Quartett . . . DeliusKammermusik und viel moderne Franzosen. Ach, du lieber Gott, was haben wir in Leipzig für eine Ahnung von fernen Städten in Amerika! Die Universitäten leisten Fabelhaftes auf dem Gebiete der Künste! Und die Museen überall!! Man staunt . . . staunt . . . staunt und kommt sich recht oft als „greenhorn“ (Grünschnabel aus Hinterpommern) vor. — Später . . . im Zug. Ich habe mich in den äußerst behaglichen Schreibwagen begeben . . . kolossal feine Sache! — Polisanderschreibtische, bequeme Ledersitze, alles in erstklassiger Ausführung . . . die Decken und Wände mit kalifornischen Rotholz getäfelt . . . Weichsel- und Juchtenledergeruch . . . überall Rauchutensilien . . . so werde ich es heute abend wohl gut aushalten! Soeben in Lincoln angekommen. 1/24 Uhr früh setzte unser Pullman über den halbvereisten Missouri, er trennt die Staaten Omaha und Nebraska. Die Landschaft ist völlig verschneit und vereist. Tabakfelder, Petroleumbohrtürme, beginnende Farmen mit Schwarzschweinzucht und Pferdekoppeln. Die großen Städte werden rarer, taucht eine auf, so prunken fürstliche Hotels und Wolkenkratzer und grandiose Universitäten. Reporter und Photograph für die morgen früh erscheinende Zeitung erwarteten mich bereits. Um 7 Uhr waren wir zum Ehrendinner geladen. Von 9—11 Uhr wurde „feste“ geübt!! So gleicht ein Tag dem anderen. Es ist zum Kaputtgehen — aber doch herrlich! Nach der Probe. Lincoln, Nebr. In der Kirche Interviews und Photoaufnahmen . . . von Üben keine Spur. Ewige Vorstellungen; Drängen um Vorspiel, Improvisationen, usw. Der Pfarrer bat mich, ich solle morgen recht laut spielen!! Der Vorstand der Organisten-Guilde bestellte Choralimprovisationen und Pastells, ein andere wollte freie Improvisationen über ein Zuruf-Thema haben . . . ich wurde verd . . . ironisch: „Ah . . . die Amerikaner wollen wohl von einem Maler der eine Ausstellung veranstaltet, . . . Schnellmaler-Kunststückchen . . . oder von einem Dichter Stegreifdichtungen haben!“. . .

21g

Minneapolis Minneapolis, Minnesota, {Wednesday} 10th February, 1932 Well now . . . what wanderers around the world we have become!! This morning still in Chicago . . . at midnight already in Minneapolis. The trip went for eight hours through thickest fog and we had to keep the lamps on. The concert (in Minneapolis) was wonderful! The organ thoroughly broke down only twice, putting out abominable sounds for some minutes. I was however lucky to get off so lightly. That’s not the case in every city! The church was, without precedent, overflowing. All aisles, steps, corridors were fully jam-packed! Great sensation! The city is filled with outstanding artists: Auer, Sevcik, Rosenthal, Busoni, Rachmaninov, Cortot have worked here for years, pursuing the highest cultural activities. Last week in Minneapolis-St. Paul there were: Piatigorsky, Adolf Busch, the Amar Quartet with Hindemith. Onegin . . . for organists: Dupré, Courboin, Germani.— And yet I have made a deep impression. People here also are astonished by the sounds, completely unheard of until now, and by the novelty of the harmonies. One hears them say, “You teach us Americans, for the first time, how a typically American organ must be handled. Never, before you, have we heard such a thing!”. . . We were invited to a German supper by a very distinguished family after the concert, and what a supper it was!! An entire delicatessen was dished up . . . but as the lady of the house had Munich beer, smuggled in from Canada, I ate almost nothing other than Nuremberg fried sausages with salad and drank beer!!! Oh, what pleasure! {Saturday} 13th February, 1932 If only then we could count our time here . . . Minneapolis is an immense, ultra-modern city of the size of Leipzig . . . it has a yearly temperature like St. Petersburg. On the other hand, Dallas, where we shall be in three days’ time, corresponds to Tunis (North Africa). This diabolical change in zone does not suit us at all. It’s a nasty business . . . In Minneapolis I had two organs to play from an altar-console, one in the chancel and one in the gallery. I achieved some terrifically interesting effects by simultaneously opening the swell shutters in one whilst closing them in the other.— One hears music played in upper-class houses which brings tears to your eyes. Corelli Trios, Bach Sonatas from memory!! César Franck A major Sonata, Ravel Quartet . . . Chamber music by Delius and many modern French writers. Ah, dear God, we in Leipzig have no idea of the distant cities in America! The universities are achieving magnificent results in the field of the arts! And museums everywhere!! One is astonished . . . astonished . . . astonished and often seems to be a “greenhorn”.— Later . . . on the train. I have made my way to an exceptionally snug writing-car . . . a tremendously refined affair! — polished writing tables, comfortable leather seats, everything first class in finish . . . the ceiling and walls panelled in Californian redwoods . . . the smell of soft leather and Russian leather . . . smoking requisites everywhere . . . so I can readily put up with it all this evening! We are just coming into Lincoln. At 3:30 a.m. our Pullman crossed the half-frozen Missouri which separates the states of Omaha and Nebraska. {Not so: Omaha is a city in eastern Nebraska on the Missouri, where it separates Nebraska from Iowa. Lincoln is about 60 miles southwest from Omaha.} The countryside is completely covered in snow and frozen. Tobacco fields, petroleum derricks, commencing farms with black-pig breeding and horse paddocks. Big cities appear less frequently, similarly splendid hotels, skyscrapers and magnificent universities. Reporters and photographers for tomorrow morning’s newspaper are already waiting for me. At 7 o’clock we were invited to a dinner in my honour. From 9 to 11 practised “solidly”!! Thus is one day like another. They come to nothing — but are nevertheless splendid! After practice. Lincoln, Nebraska In the church, interviews were given and photographs taken . . . of practice, not a scrap {i.e., after 11 a.m.}. Never-ending introductions; requests to perform, improvise, etc. The minister asked me to play loudly tomorrow!! The Chairman of the Guild of Organists asked for Choraleimprovisations and Pastels, another wanted free improvisations on a submitted theme . . . I became suspicious . . . ironical: “Ah . . . Americans perhaps want of a painter who is arranging an exhibition, . . . lightning sketches . . . or of a poet extemporaneous pieces!” . . .

21e

ca. 15. — 18. Feb. 1932 Sie sagten: „Dupré improvisiert aber stets!“ Ich: „Ich bin Karg-Elert! Wollen Sie reife durchgearbeitete Komposition oder Schaumschlägerei als Varieté-Nummer haben?“ Sie antworteten: „Nun, so improvisieren Sie über eine beliebte Nummer von sich selbst: „Clair de Lune“ — „Legend of the Mountain“ or „Marche triomphale“. Bitte, wir wollen auch „Iberian“ hören!“ — Ich entsetzt: „Das ist doch ein spanischer Tanz!! In der Kirche?!“ — — Sie:„Warum denn nicht? Wir haben gehört, „Iberian“ soll „very interesting“ (sehr interessant) sein, das müssen wir hören. Castagnetten, Tambourin und Triangel hat die Kirche erst vor einem Jahr einbauen lassen, das paßt gut!“ — — — — Die große Orgel kostet 28 000 Dollar, sie hat 100 Register, Choir, Great, Swell, Echo 1, Echo 2 und Bombard-Solo . . . 3 Schweller usw. Erbauer Kimball Co. Morgen vormittag wird mich der Präsident der University zum Ehrenlunch in der Aula abholen. Darnach will der Pfarrer der lutherischen Kirche mir die Reliquien der Kirche zeigen: Ein Stück Holz vom Kreuze Christi, durch das die Nägel gingen („garantiert echt! Wert 500 000 Dollar!!“) und ein Stück Wand der Zelle Luthers mit dem „weltberühmten Tintenflecks“ („garantiert echt! Wert 65 000 Dollar!“) „Selbstredend“ bin ich bei den Hiesigen viel, viel größer als Bach!! Denn der hat keine so „lovely, lovely harmony“ (schöne Klänge) geschrieben wie der „german doctor“. Wie bin ich hingeraten? Eine schreckenerregende Gegend auf dem Planeten! Jede Sekte hier in den Staaten hat einen „Lederschurz“ oder ein „hähernes Gewand“ vom Täufer Johannes, einen „Knochen“ von Petrus, ein Stück vom Kreuze Christi, einen Mauerrest vom Tempel Jerusalem, einen Tintenflecks mit dranhängender Mauer aus Luthers Zelle!! . . . Es ist beispiellos, welcher Grad von mittelalterlichem Aberglauben hier im Innern von Amerika herrscht! . . . An manchen Orgeln müssen die Pfeifen schwarz sein . . . an anderen wieder darf überhaupt keine Pfeife sichtbar sein, es wäre weltlich und deshalb todsündig!! Aber nach der Predigt spielen sie Potpourri aus „Orpheus in der Underwelt“ . . . Phantasie aus „Traviata“ . . . nein, es ist oft ein widerlich verlogenes Land in vielen Teilen . . . nie könnte ich hier heimisch werden! Genialität steht oft direkt neben Stümpertum . . . hellste Klugheit neben mittelalterlicher Verbohrtheit —Schönheit und imposante Größe neben erschreckendem Kitsch.— Auf der Reise. {Aus einem Briefe von Frl. Tochter Käthchen:} O weh, das war aber eine böse letzte Stunde, die wir in Lincoln verbrachten! Auf dem Wege zur Bahn wollten wir noch deutsche Zeitungen kaufen. Nachdem wir betreffendes Geschäft erreicht hatten und wieder ins Auto steigen . . . ich vorn hinein, Vater hinten (es sind zwei Türen da); ich will meine Tür zumachen, drehe mich nicht erst um, kann also nicht sehen, daß Vaters Hand dazwischen ist! Die Tür schlägt an Vaters rechten Handrücken, und sofort ist eine pflaumengroße blaue Geschwulst da. Mir war natürlich gräßlich zumute . . . 20 Minuten waren noch Zeit bis zur Abfahrt unseres Zuges . . . also schnell zum Arzt, der sagt: Augenblicklich das Blut entziehen, sonst wird die Hand steif! Er sticht einmal . . . zweimal und läßt dann durch einen Sauger das Blut, das aus der geplatzten Ader kam, absaugen, verbindet . . . und wir fahren wieder los. Inzwischen hatte unser hiesiger Freund, der mit uns fuhr, die Station angerufen und ließ den Expreß stoppen, bis — wir kamen! Sie wußten, daß wie kommen mußten, und daß betr. deutscher Professor einen Unfall gehabt hatte! — Nun sind wir auf der Fahrt nach Dallas, wir fahren zwei Tage, da kann die Hand gut ausruhen, und es wird hoffentlich alles in guter Verfassung sein, wenn wir dort ankommen. Dallas, 18.2.32. Hier in Dallas sieht es gut aus: Kakteen auf der Straße, blühende Pflanzen um die Häuser, kein Schnee, wie jetzt zuletzt immer, und auch kein Matsch. Cassidys sind natürlich liebe Menschen. Sie haben ein feines Haus — mit Orgel natürlich; einige Deutsche waren mit an der Bahn, und weil das „Adolphus“ (unser Hotel) zu teuer und zu weit ist, hat uns eine liebe Königsbergerin in ihr Haus gebeten. —

22g

Lincoln They responded, “But Dupré always improvises.” I: “I am Karg-Elert! Do you want mature, worked-out compositions or hot air for a variety-act? {Sceats puts it: a whipping-up of foam as a variety turn.} They answered, “Well, improvise on a favourite number of your own: ‘Clair de Lune’ {Op. 72/2} — ‘The Legend of the Mountain’ {Op. 96/3} or ‘Marche triomphale’ {Op. 65/59}. Please, we also want to hear ‘Iberian’ {W 85}!” I, appalled: “That’s a Spanish dance!! In church?!” — — They: “Then why not? We’ve heard ‘Iberian’ is ‘very interesting’, so we must hear it. Castanets, tambourines and triangles were first put in a year ago and are quite proper!” — — — — The great organ cost $28,000 and has 100 stops on the Choir, Great, Swell, Echo 1, Echo 2 and Bombarde-Solo . . . 3 Swell divisions, etc. Builder Kimball Co. Tomorrow morning the President of the University is calling for me, for a lunch in my honour in the (Assembly) Hall. After that, the minister of the Lutheran Church wants to show me the church relics: a piece of wood from the Cross of Christ, through which the nails went (“guaranteed genuine! Worth $500,000!!”) and a piece of the wall of Luther’s cell with the “world-famous inkblots” (“guaranteed genuine! Worth $65,000!”). I am “of course” regarded by the locals as much, much greater than Bach!! For he did not write such “lovely, lovely harmonies” as the “German doctor”. Where have I got to? A terrifying region on the planet! Every sect here in the States has a “leather apron” or a “sacred garment” of John the Baptist, a “bone” of Peter, a piece of the Cross of Christ, a remnant of the wall of the Temple in Jerusalem, an ink-blot with attached wall (fragment) from Luther’s cell!! . . . The degree of mediæval superstition which prevails here in the American interior is outrageous! . . . The pipes of many organs have to be black . . . others are not visible at all, as that would be worldly and therefore a mortal sin!! But after the sermon they play a potpourri from “Orpheus in the Underworld”. . . fantasia from “Traviata”. . . no, this is often a repulsively hypocritical land in many parts . . . I could never be at home here! Ingenuity often stands directly beside amateurism . . . brightest intelligence beside mediæval inflexibility — beauty and imposing grandeur beside dreadful kitsch.— En route. {From a letter by Katharina:} Oh my goodness, that last hour we spent in Lincoln was really bad! On the way to the railway station we wanted to buy some German newspapers. After we had made our purchases and got back into the car, I in the front, father behind (there were two doors), I wanted to close my door but did not first turn around and therefore could not see that father’s hand was in between! The door struck the back of father’s hand and immediately a plum-size blue growth appeared there. I felt terrible of course . . . there was still 20 minutes before the departure of our train . . . so quickly to a doctor, who said the blood must be extracted immediately, otherwise the hand will go stiff! He pricked it once . . . twice, and then sucked out the blood which had come from the burst blood vessels, bandaged it . . . and we went on our way. Meanwhile our local friend, who travelled with us, had rung the station to have the Express stopped until — we came! They knew that we would come and that the German professor in question had had an accident! — Now we’re on our journey to Dallas; that takes two days so the hand can be well rested, and everything will hopefully be in good shape when we arrive there. Dallas, {Thursday} 18.2.32 Here in Dallas it looks good: cacti in the street, plants in bloom around the houses, no snow as always up until now, and also no slush. The Cassidys are unpretentious, lovely people. They have a fine house — with an organ, of course; some Germans were with them at the railwaystation, and because the “Adolphus” (our hotel) is too expensive and too far away, they have asked us to stay in the house of a dear lady from Königsberg.— {Mrs. James H. Cassidy, A.A.G.O., Organist and Music-director, First Baptist Church, Dallas; Staff-member, Southern Methodist University. She had taken some lessons from Karg-Elert in Leipzig, via an interpreter (see the letter to Sceats of 15/7/27: Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, p. 13), and was described in The Diapason as a ‘personal friend’.}

22e

21. — 22. Feb. 1932 Auf der Fahrt durch Texas nach Mexiko. 21.2.32. Eben halten wir an so einem Präriedorf, und ich will nun mal versuchen, endlich einmal etwas Genaues über die Jagd durch die Staaten zu schreiben. In Lincoln sagten alle Leute, die Fahrt nach Texas wäre mit die schönste Fahrt durch die Staaten. Was war es? Eine Fahrt durch Dreck und Sumpf! Öd . . . öd! Unser Zug, der Texas-Expreß, ist ein erbärmlicher Bummelzug, der uns aus der rechten Ecke in die linke schmeißt und an jeder Siedlung von fünf Blockhäusern an aufwärts eine halbe Stunde Rast macht. Texas ist noch vollkommen im Urweltschlaf versunken . . . überall Kakteen und blühendes Kraut, aber eben noch vollkommen unkultiviert; es ist so groß wie Deutschland.— In Dallas haben uns liebe Menschen mit einem Handkoffer voll Nahrungsmittel (Obst, Brot, Butter, Wurst, Käse, Kuchen usw.) versorgt; denn der Zug hat keinen Speisewagen! Wir fahren von Sonnabend bis Dienstag und können auch an den Stationen nichts zu essen bekommen. Die Leute lutschen an Kaugummi herum! South Texas-Mexiko Railroad. Wüste. 21. Febr. 1932. Jetzt wird’s aber ernst. Seit gestern, Sonnabend, fahren wir Tag und Nacht ohne jede Unterbrechung durch die Wüste und müssen noch zwei Tage und noch zwei Nächte ohne Pause durchhalten! 61 Stunden unterbrechungslose Fahrt! — Während ich schreibe, steigen die berühmten „schwarzen Berge“ an der mexikanischen Grenze zu beiden Seiten der Eisenbahn empor. Wir atmen auf, wenigstens mal ein bissel Abwechslung in dieser gehirnerweichenden Wüste, wo man 30 geschlagene Stunden nur gelben Sand und vertrocknete Stechpalmen (ca. 30—50 cm hoch) sieht! Das Traurigste aber sind in diesen Staaten die Eisenbahnen. Dieses Tempo!! Das nuggelt und nuggelt so von Blechbaracke zu Blechbaracke, hält aller 6—7 Minuten an. Die Wagen stoßen, kippen und kreischen, als ob der gute Herrgott mit Planeten Kegel schiebt. Die Wagen haben Riesenlänge und sehen bequem aus . . . aber deise Luft!! Kein Fenster, das zu öffnen geht. Auf der ganzen Fahrt gibt es nichts zu essen und nichts Warmes zu trinken. Man hält dreimal am Tage an irgend einer Wellblechbaracke, dort stehen die Portionen, die telegraphisch bestellt werden, bereit. Aber ein Höllenfraß! Für uns vollkommen ungenießbar. In 21/2 Stunden gehen wir bei Sierrabianca über die USA.-Grenze nach Mexiko und treten um 5.10 Uhr in El Paso wieder in Arizonaland ein. Die Uhren werden wiederum um eine Stunde zurückgestellt. Dort werden wir Maisbrot und Feigen für den nächsten Tag bis Los Angeles einkaufen. Man verhungert glattweg hier. Von Los Angeles geht es in abermals 2 Stunden nach dem westlichen Endziel San Franzisko. Dort haben wir 12 Stunden Zeitdifferenz zur Mitteleuropäischen Zeit, d. h. wir bleiben um Tageslänge gegenüber Eurer Zeit zurück. Mein Konzert ist hier abends 8.15 Uhr, während Ihr bereits Donnerstag früh 8.15 Uhr schreibt. Amerikanische Kinder sind wohl die hübschesten, gesündesten, aber beispiellos unerzogensten der Welt. Man erwartet erst gar nicht, daß sie hören und folgen; sie wachsen auf wie Tiger, Wölfe und Mandrills . . . sie schmeißen, brüllen, balgen sich, toben und beherrschen alles. (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 9, 14. Mai 1932. (6. Fortsetzung.)

22. Februar 1932. Nun hat sich alles gewendet. Meine Wut über das gottverlassene Mittelamerika war begründet, tausendmal begründet. Aber gestern nachmittag trat blitzartig beispiellose Wandlung ein: Das Paradies tat sich auf!! Wortwörtlich: Das irdische Paradies! Vor El Paso („der Paß“ zwischen Mexiko und Texas) türmten sich phantastische Zackenberge (zunächst kohlschwarz) auf; Pinien (schwarzgrün), Zedern und Palmen; dann begannen Kakteen aus der gelben Sandwüste zu schießen, so hoch, wie die typischen einstöckigen Hütten mit Flachdächern. Mit einem Schlag wirbelten wilde Farben in der sonnendurchzitterten Luft . . . knallrot . . . himmelschreiendes Blau . . . berstendes Grün wie helle Oboenquinten. Jede Zwischenfarbe war ausgelöscht. Der Zug fuhr gemächlich durch enge Straßen von El Paso, an Läden vorbei, zum Greifen nahe. Die Menschen in brüllend bunter Kleidung . . . völlig sommerlich (einige Tage zuvor — in Lincoln — lag alles im Schnee). Eine Viertelstunde ging es durchs bunte Dorf im Schrittempo . . . es war zum Lachen. Dann Grenze und Umsteigestation. Links Mexiko — rechts Arizona. Man muß einmal einen Augenblick verweilen und sich klar werden, wo man auf unserem Planeten weilt . . . es ist ein toller Rausch! . . .

23g

Desert On the way to Mexico through Texas, 21.2.32 We have just stopped at a town on the prairie, and I shall now try at last to write something precise about the race through the States. In Lincoln all the people said the journey through Texas would be the most beautiful trip through the States. What was it? A trip through muck and mire! Barren . . . desolate! Our train, the Texas Express, is a wretched slow-train which flings us from right to left, and at each settlement of five log-cabins takes a rest for upwards of half an hour. Texas is still completely submerged in the sleeping, primæval world . . . cacti and flowering plants everywhere, but just completely uncultivated; it’s as large as Germany. — In Dallas the kind people provided us with a small suitcase full of foodstuff (fruit, bread, butter, sausage, cheese, cakes, etc.); for the train has no dining-car! We are to travel from Saturday to Tuesday and also cannot get anything at the stations. The people suck on chewing-gum! South Texas-Mexico Railroad. Desert. {Sunday} 21st February, 1932 Now, however, it’s getting serious. Since yesterday, Saturday, we have been travelling day and night through the desert without interruption, and we’ve still two more days and nights to withstand without a break! A 61-hour, uninterrupted trip! — Whilst I write, the famous “Black Mountains” on the Mexican border climb up on both sides of the railway. We heave a sigh of relief, at least it’s a bit of a change from this brain-softening desert, where one sees only yellow sand and withered holly (ca. 30—50 cm high) for 30 dogged hours! But the saddest thing in these (southern) states are the railways. What a speed!! They just roll on from one tin shack to another, stopping every 6—7 minutes. The carriages bump, tip and screech, as if the good Lord were playing skittles with the planets. The carriages are exceedingly long and look comfortable . . . but the air!! No window that opens. Nothing to eat and no hot drinks on the entire journey. We stop three times a day at some sort of corrugated iron shack, where there are collections of telegraphic messages ready to be delivered. What a diabolical feed! Completely unbearable for us. In 21/2 hours we cross the USA-Mexican border near the Sierra Biancas and at 5:10 get into El Paso, again in Arizona. {No, in Texas, far to the west, near the borders with New Mexico and Mexico; Arizona is still further west.} The clocks are again put back an hour. There we shall buy corn bread and figs for the next day until Los Angeles. One simply starves here. From Los Angeles it takes another 2 hours to reach our ultimate westerly destination, San Francisco. There we have 12 hours’ difference from middle-European time, that is to say we are in the previous day compared with your time. My concert here is at 8:15 p.m., whilst you are already in Thursday at 8:15 a.m. American children are surely the loveliest and the most healthy, but the most ill-bred without parallel in the world. One can never expect them to pay attention and do what they are told; they grow up like tigers, wolves and mandrills . . . they fling {things about}, bellow, fight, go wild and dominate everything. (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 9, 14th May 1932 (6th continuation) {Monday} 22nd February, 1932 Now everything has changed. My fury over godforsaken central America was justified, justified a thousandfold. But yesterday afternoon a transformation without parallel occurred quick as lightning: Paradise was revealed!! Quite literally: Paradise on earth! Towering up before El Paso (“The Pass” between Mexico and Texas) were fantastic jagged peaks (almost jet-black); pines (dark green), cedars and palms; then cacti began to shoot out of the yellow sandy desert, as high as the typical double-storey shacks with flat roofs. In one stroke, wild colours swirled in the quivering, sun-drenched air . . . scarlet . . . blue crying out to heaven . . . green bursting forth like bright oboes in fifths. Each intermediate colour was extinguished. The train travelled at a leisurely speed along the narrow streets of El Paso, past shops, within reach of them. The people in brilliantly coloured clothing . . . completely appropriate for summer (a few days previously — in Lincoln — everything lay under snow). We went at a walking pace for a quarter of an hour through this colourful backwater . . . it was laughable. Then the border and the interchange-station. On the left Mexico — on the right Arizona. Firstly one has to pause for a moment and become clear where one is on our planet . . . it’s a crazy ecstasy! . . .

23e

22. Feb. 1932 Wir mieteten uns für zwei Stunden ein Auto und ließen uns durch El Paso spazieren fahren. Ich hatte keine Ahnung, was unserer harrte. Könnte man Worte finden, den hundertsten Teil unserer Eindrücke zu schildern!! Aber jedes Wort muß leerer Schall bleiben! Wir fuhren zunächst durch Anlagen und Stadtpark. Nur Palmen, Pinien und Kakteen . . . Orangen haben ihre Blüten angesetzt . . . Traum . . . Traum . . . Traum! Alle Gebäude und Kirchen schneeweiß mit roten und grünen Flachdächern . . . Rechteck und Quadrat sind völlig verschwundern, alles Oval und Rundbogen. Wir fuhren zu den „Hügeln der Vornehmen“, die alle Spanier und Portugiesen sind. So etwas hat meine kühnste Phantasie niemals auch nur leise geahnt, obgleich man doch genug spanische, portugiesische und maurische Bilder gesehen hat. Hunderte von Villen standen hier in unbeschreiblicher Schönheit! Jede anders und doch einheitlich im Stil. Grün und rot in tausendfacher Abwandlung . . . Arkaden und Flachdächer in unübersehbaren Variationen. Immer aber eingebettet in Riesenhecken von phantastischen Palmen, Oliven und grotesken Kakteen. Es ist eine orgiastische Verschlingung von tropischen üppigen Gewächsen, daß einem die Augen flimmern. Vor den Villen überall Hängematten. Die Sonne brütet . . . die Erde ist schwefelgelb . . . die furchtbar zerklüfteten Berge taubengrau (wie Mondkrater) bis weinrot. Die Profilierung ist zeichnerisch unreproduzierbar. 6 bis 8 Falten kulissenartig neben-, hinter- und übereinander. Schründe von schauerlicher Tiefe. Steilwände von unwahrscheinlicher Auftürmung. Aber durch und über die atembenehmende Vulkanwelt führt eine ideale Autostraße in tausend engen Serpentinen, steigend und fallend, oft zum Schreien gefährlich! Diese namenlos erhabene Fahrt über das Gebirge (Franklin-Mountains) bis 2000 Meter haben wir schreiend vor Entzücken gemacht. Uns zu Füßen das streng systematisch angelegte El Paso mit dem Rio Grande, der Texas von Mexiko trennt . . . wir selbst auf dem in den Himmel ragenden Gipfel . . . Die Nacht bricht unglaublich rasch herein. Wie der Blitz sausen wir 2000 Meter abwärts an den Funktürmen, Lufthäfen, Festungswerken vorüber nach der Station. Wir schweben in einer goldenen Corona, gleißendes Licht kreist uns ein, hellflüssiges Gold . . . Gold . . . Gold . . . blendet unsere verzauberten Augen. Der Himmel vor uns ist ein Ozean von Farbstreifen: nixengrün . . . orange . . . schneeweiß . . . türkisblau . . . von lila bis tintenviolett und wieder meergrün und gold und noch einmal dasselbe in neuen weiteren Schichten . . . Hinter uns aber . . . man faltete die Hände in fassungsloser Andacht . . . glühten die Krater, Zacken, Kuppen in schreckhaften Blutrot. Rätselhaft und pechschwarz ragten die Pinien, Zypressen, Kakteen, Sagound Stechpalmen in den Nachthimmel, an dem noch immer tausend sterbende Farben zitternd abklangen . . . Wir waren tief, tief erschüttert . . . zu groß, zu erhaben waren diese Eindrücke diese letzten Stunden, als daß etwas anderes Raum in uns fand, als gottesfürchtiges Schweigen. — — Monntag nachmittags 2 Uhr. Ich mußte meine Meditationen heute vormittag beenden; denn es gab noch Herrlicheres zu sehen, als ich zuvor beschrieb! Der Traum, die Fata Morgana, ist zur Alltäglichkeit geworden . . . Von Yuma an bis Niland fuhren wir 11/2 Stundenstrecke an einem tiefblauen See entlang. Jenseits des entfernten Ufers (links non der Fahrtrichtung Ost nach Nordwest) türmten sich tiefschwarze Gebirgsstöcke auf. Zerrissen und zerklüftet wie Mondkrater. Und Zug hinter Zug. Hinter jeder Klamm und Spalte neue Gipfel. Von Viertelstunde zu Viertelstunde wuchsen die Spitzen, der Schneebereich wurde immer breiter, der See immer tiefgrüner. Dann spiegelten sich die weißen Köpfe der Bergmassive. Rechts stiegen roie Felsketten empor und nahmen Gestalt von Riesenorgeln an. Obelisk an Obelisk (scheinbar porphyrartiges Gestein). Sonst stundenlange Wüste oder Prärie. Diese ist gewissermaßen die Oase in jener. Wütend schießen unvermutet tausende von Sagopalmen, Ananas- und Bananenbäumen empor . . . bis zu Haushöhe. Fettfleischige Kakteen mit plattgedrückten Brotleibern zwängen sich durch jede Lücke. Farren treiben von unten her; es ist ein rasendes Toben und Drängen, Hängen und Schieben um Raum. Jeder Zweig, jeder Wedel, jeder fette Besen schreit förmlich: Ich bin! Es ist, als ob ein Rekord an Kraft und Trächtigkeit ausgespielt werden sollte. Diese Oasen sind sogleich Prärien. Ein primitives Häuschen, rot und grün, gibt dem Farmer Obdach. 5 bis 6 Pferde und ein paar Stiere mit lächerlichem Hornungetüm bilden das ganze lebende Inventar. Furchtbar hart muß die Arbeit sein; denn fünf Monate lang wütet hier der Orkan: Sandsturm und Regen. Schnee ist hier unbekannt.

24g

El Paso We hired a car for two hours and went for a drive through El Paso {but no comment concerning who drove!}. I had no idea what awaited us. If only one could find the words to describe the hundredth part of our impressions!! But every word must remain a hollow sound! First we went through recreational grounds and the municipal park. Only palm-trees, pines and cacti . . . orange-trees are in blossom . . . dream . . . dream . . . dream! All buildings and churches are snow-white with red and green flat-roofs . . . rectangles and squares are completely missing, everywhere oval and round arches. We went to the “Mounds of the Distinguished” {Pioneers’ Cemetery}, where all are Spaniards and Portuguese. I had never even slightly suspected anything like that in my wildest fantasy, despite having seen plenty of Spanish, Portuguese and Moorish pictures. Hundreds of villas stand here in indescribable beauty! Each different and yet uniform in style. Green and red in thousands of adaptations . . . archways and flat roofs in incalculable variations. But always embedded in huge hedges of fantastic palms, olives and grotesque cacti. It’s an orgiastic tangle of tropical, luxuriant vegetation shimmering before your eyes. Hammocks everywhere in front of the villas. The sun is stifling . . . the earth is sulphurous yellow . . . the dreadful, rugged mountains blue-grey (like lunar craters) to wine-red. This image is not graphically reproducible. Six to eight scenic folds next to, behind and above one another. Crevasses of spinechilling depth. Sheer rock-faces towering to an incredible degree. Yet through and over this breathtaking volcanic world winds a perfect roadway in a thousand narrow serpentine twists, climbing and falling, often perilously! We have made this unspeakably sublime trip to 2,000 metres over the Franklin Mountains with tremendous delight. At our feet the strictly laid out El Paso with the Rio Grande separating Texas from Mexico . . . we ourselves at the summit, towering up into the sky . . . Nightfall comes unbelievably quickly here. Like lightning we charge downwards 2,000 metres, past the radio towers, airports, fortifications to the station. We are suspended in a golden corona, glittering light surrounds us, brightly flowing gold . . . gold . . . gold . . . dazzles our bewitched eyes. The sky in front of us is an ocean of coloured stripes: mermaid-green . . . orange . . . snow-white . . . turquoise . . . from purple to deep violet and again sea-green and gold and once again the same, if in additional, new strata . . . Behind us however . . . one folds one’s hands in stunned reverence . . . startled by the craters, peaks, hilltops glowing blood-red. Mysterious and pitch-black, the pines, cypresses, cacti, sago-palms and holly loom in the night-sky, in which a thousand colours have faded away tremulously . . . We were deeply, deeply shaken . . . these impressions over the last few hours were too great, too exalted that some other space needed to be found in us for godfearing silence. — — Monday {22nd February}, 2 p.m. I had to conclude my meditations this morning; for there were more splendid things to see than I had previously described! The dream, the Fata Morgana, has become commonplace . . . From Yuma to Niland {70—80 miles, in south-eastern California} we travelled along a deep blue expanse of water for 11/2 hours. {Karg-Elert is describing the Salton Sea; west of that is the large Anza-Borrego Desert State Park and northwest of this is Mount Palomar.} On the other side of the distant shore (to the left of our direction of travel, which is a little east of northwest) deep black massifs towered. Torn and fissured like lunar craters. And range behind range. Fresh peaks behind every gorge and crevice. Every quarter hour the peaks grew taller, their richness of snow ever broader, the sea still more deeply green. Then the white tops of the mountains were mirrored. On the right, regal chains of rocks towered, adopting the shape of a gigantic organ. Obelisk on obelisk (seemingly rock like porphyry). Otherwise desert or prairies for hours at a time. This is, as it were, the former oasis. Unexpectedly, thousands of sago-palms, pineapple- and banana-trees shoot up madly . . . to the height of a house. Thick, fleshy cacti with bodies pressed flat squeeze through every gap. Bullocks are driven up here; there’s terrific raging and pushing, climbing and shoving for room. Each twig, each frond, each thick stick is really yelling: I am! It’s as if a record for strength and meaningfulness were being played out. These oases are immediately prairies. A primitive cottage, red and green, is occupied by Farmer Obdach. Five or six horses and a pair of steers with ridiculous horns constitute the entire inventory. The labour must be frightfully hard, because hurricanes rage here for five months: sandstorms and rain. Snow is unknown here.

24e

22. — 23. Feb. 1932 Linker Hand haben sich die Berge zu gigantischer Höhe (zirka 3000 Meter) aufgetürmt. Ein Drittel ist weißblauer Gletscher. Aber niemals gibt es runde Kuppen, wie Harz, Riesengebirge, bayerisches Hochland . . . immer nur drohende Zacken, Obelisken, Steiltürmen . . . So geht es bereits vier Stunden lang, und ein Ende ist noch nicht abzusehen. Es ist, als ob ein Seismograph Gottes Zornausbrüche aufgezeichnet hat! Das ist endlich einmal eine ideale Eisenbahn (Southern-Pacific-Sunset: Sonnenuntergang). Ein fahrendes Hotel allererster Klasse mit herrlichen Schlaf-, Spiel-, Rauch-, Schreib- und Baderäumen. Allerdings teuer . . . teuer! Aber man kann wenigstens menschenwürdig leben. Es ist Punkt 3 Uhr. In fünf Stunden laufen wir in Los Angeles ein. Wir fahren ohne Aufenthalt weiter nach San Franzisko (noch einen Tag weiter!). Dann werden wir am Pazifischen Ozean stehen . . . am anderen Ende der Welt . . . Euch gegenüber! Das ist ein Gefühl! Unvorstellbar! . . . 5.15 Uhr nachmittags mexikanische Zeit. Ich kann nicht ruhen und schweigen . . . zuviel sehen meine schönheitsgeblendeten Augen! Seit 10 Stunden staune und staune ich . . . ach, es muß ja fürs ganze Leben vorhalten! Ich möchte immerzu schreien, toben, brüllen und lachen! Ich sitze im „writing-room“ (Schreibraum) und habe eine Flasche „canadian ginger ale“, ein sektartig schmeckendes, alkoholfreies mousierendes Fruchtgetränk auf Eis bei mir, bin sehmüde und muß dennoch immer sehen! Einmal ist der Himmel voll weißer Wolken, und die Berge blauen wie ein Sommertraum . . . dann ist der Himmel blau, wie die Augen der himmlischen Jungfrau, und die Berge geistern in unwahrscheinlichem Weiß. Es ist nicht zu beschreiben, welches Paradies sich aufgetan hat. Vorhin fuhren wir weit über 30 Minuten im 90-Kilometer-Tempo durch ein Wirrwarr von grün und orange. Meilenweit erstreckten sich die Querfelder bis zu den Bergsohlen. Das Gewirr war kaum zu enträtseln. Es waren Millionen von überpraller Orangenbäume, strotzend vor Fruchtfülle . . . Baum an Baum . . . eine Fläche, so lang wie der Bodensee . . . (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 10, 28. Mai 1932. (7. Fortsetzung.)

23. Februar nachts. San Franzisko!! Für Euch, arme Sterbliche, ein Wort, wie jedes andere — für uns: Der Himmel auf Erden! Das ist keine Übertreibung, im Gegenteil . . . es ist ein viel zu schwacher Ausdruck! Berge und Wasser . . . Sonne . . . Blumen und Sommerluft . . . das ungefähr ist San Franzisko! — Die Stadt ist vollkommen hügelig . . . die Straßen steigen unf fallen unvermutet in schwindelerrengenden Senkrechten . . . dann eine Fahrt mit dem Auto am Bergesrand entlang mit wechselndem Blick auf das „Goldene Tor“ und die Stadt. Ich habe einen Sonnenuntergang am Pacific erlebt . . . heulen hätte ich können, daß Du das alles nicht miterleben und mitgenießen kannst! Wir haben einige Orgeln angesehen und waren auch in der Synagoge . . . unglaublich schön and hier auch am Platze! Dann gingen wir durch herrlich geschmiedete Gittertüren in einen Hof (was für ein Wort!) mit Palmen, einem Brunnen und exotischen Wandelhallen. Dann ins Museum. Wie Cleveland, aber wohl noch schöner! Rings von Rosen umgeben, wo das Volk lustwandelt, oder sich in die Sonne legt, je nach Belieben. Kein Schild: Bitte, den Rasen nicht betreten! Oder gar: Verboten! Kein Gitter, aber auch kein Weg, Du mußt über die Wiesen gehen. Nur eine Marmorballustrade trennt Dich vom Meer, wo sich die Sonne in breiten goldenen Bahnen spiegelt. Langsam kommt die Nacht . . . die Berge werden violett . . . blau . . . grau . . . versinken . . . Lichter von den Bojen und Leuchttürmen blitzen auf . . . das Nebelhorn tutet die Warnsignale . . . draußen zeigen Lichterketten die vorüberziehenden Schiffe . . . Japan . . . Australien . . . dazwischen Hawai . . . das sind jetzt unsere Nachbarn in der Luftlinie!!

25g

California Mountains tower up to gigantic heights (about 3,000 metres) to our left. A third is white-blue glacier. But never are there round hilltops like the Harz Mountains, the Sudeten Mountains or the Bavarian Alps . . . always menacing peaks, obelisks, precipices . . . Thus it has been for the last four hours, and the end is not in sight. It’s as if a seismograph has recorded God’s outbursts of anger! That for once is at last a perfect railway (Southern Pacific Sunset). A travelling hotel of the very best class with splendid sleeping, recreation, smoking, writing and bathrooms. Everything expensive . . . expensive! But one can at least live in conditions fit for human beings. It’s spot on 3 o’clock. In five hours we shall be in Los Angeles. We are to travel on to San Francisco without stopping (yet another day!). Then we shall be on the Pacific Ocean . . . at the other end of the world . . . opposite you! What a feeling! Inconceivable! . . . {Monday, 22nd February} 5:15 p.m., Mexican time I cannot rest and remain silent . . . my eyes are dazzled by seeing too much beauty! I have been more and more astounded over the last 10 hours . . . ah, it has to last for my entire life! All the time I’d like to cry out, go wild, shout and laugh! I am seated in the “writing-room” and have a bottle of “Canadian ginger ale” on ice with me, an alcohol-free, effervescent fruit-drink which tastes rather like champagne. I’m tired of sightseeing and must, nonetheless, always see more! The sky starts out full of white clouds and the mountains blue like a summer’s dream . . . then the sky turns blue, like the eyes of the heavenly virgin, and the mountains become ghostlike in improbable white. Such Paradise, thus opened, is not to be put in words. Just now we have travelled for well over 30 minutes at 90 km/hour through a confusion of green and orange. Mile after mile the fields stretched across to the base of the mountains. The jumble was hardly decipherable. There were millions of overfilled orange trees, bursting with an abundance of fruit . . . tree after tree . . . an expanse as long as the Lake of Constance. (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 10, 28th May 1932 (7th continuation) {Tuesday} 23rd February, at night San Francisco!! For you, poor mortals, a saying, which like any other is also for us: heaven on earth! That is no exaggeration, on the contrary . . . it’s far too weak an expression! Mountains and water . . . sun . . . flowers and summer air . . . that’s roughly San Francisco! — The city is completely hilly . . . the streets rise and fall unexpectedly in perpendiculars, creating dizziness . . . then a car drive along the margins of the mountains with intermittent views of the “Golden Gate” and the city. I experienced sunset on the Pacific . . . I could have howled that you were unable to share all this experience and delight! We have seen some organs and were also in the Synagogue . . . unbelievably beautiful and here also on the Square! Then we went through some splendid wrought iron gates into a court (what a word!) with palms, a fountain and exotic passage-ways. Then to the Museum. Like Cleveland, but probably even more beautiful! Surrounded by rings of roses, where people stroll or lie in the sun, just as they like. No sign: Please don’t walk on the grass! Or indeed: Forbidden! No bars, but also no path; you must walk across the lawn. Only one marble balustrade separates you from the sea, upon which the sun is mirrored in broad, golden strips. Nightfall comes slowly . . . the mountains sink out of sight, turning violet . . . blue . . . grey . . . Lights on buoys and in lighthouses flash . . . the foghorn sounds its warning signal . . . outside, chains of lights show passing ships the way to . . . Japan . . . Australia . . . in between Hawaii . . . those are now our neighbours as the crow flies!!

25e

ca. 24. Feb. 1932 San Franzisko, Hotel Normandie. Von rechtswegen müßte ich diesen Brief ungeschrieben fassen; denn was ich zu sagen habe, ist doch unsagbar! Wie oft habe ich die Worte „himmlisch, beispiellos, unerhört, paradiesisch, namenlos, einzigartig“ gebraucht; ich glaubte, sie brauchen zu müssen, ohne zu ahnen, daß sie alle, alle verblassen vor der Wucht, Majestät, Schönheit, Pracht und Gottesherrlichkeit dieses Dorado! Undenkbar, völlig undenkbar, daß es einen einzigen Quadratmeter auf diesem Planeten gibt, der es an Wucht, Majestät, Pracht und Gottesherrlichkeit mit diesem Zaubergarten auch nur entfernt aufnehmen kann! Die Sonne brütet . . . die Wiesen platzen vor grüner Fülle . . . Milliarden praller Orangen verdecken die Blätter strotzender Kugelsträuche, sie drängen sich wie Vogelbeeren zu Knäulen zusammen . . . sie bilden Trauben . . . Dolden . . . Wirrsale. — Wiesen, Felder, Hausgärten, Anlagen sind übersät mit kostbaren Artischoken. Schmetterlinge und Vögel in den unwahrscheinlichsten Farben wirbeln wie Schneeflocken durch die heißflimmernde Luft. Der Himmel ist tiefblau, er scheint keine Wölbung zu haben, er neigt sich nicht zum Horizont . . . er lastet, oder besser: er schwebt wie eine blaue Scheibe in unfaßlicher Höhe über uns . . . vor uns ein Etwas, was das Auge nur auf Sekundendauer erträgt: ein unfaßbares Gleißen von silbrigem Grün, goldigem Blau, ein vollkommen endloser, endloser, horizontloser Spiegel, den zu schauen das Auge scheut . . . der pazifische Ozean! Du suchst durch die Ritzen der geschlossenen Finger eine feste Linie. Wo ist die Grenze zwischen Himmel und Wasser? Hoch im Himmel ein kleiner schwarzer Strich: Es ist ein nach Australien gehender „steamer“, der vor sieben Stunden den Hafen verlassen hat. Es ist ein Ozeanriese, der Hawai anlaufen wird . . . noch immer sichtbar . . . hoch im Himmel, wie ein Flieger . . . aber so hoch steht das Meer. Es hat in der Ferne keine Farbe und keine Kontur mehr . . . Wir haben erst neu sehen lernen müssen: Alle Schiffe hängen in der Luft, die tieferen sind nahe, die höheren sind ferne. Nach rechts steigt gespenstisch das wahnsinnig armierte Festungsbollwerk mit Türmen, Masten, Antennen aus der tosenden Brandung hervor. Weiter nach rechts, dem Lande zu: blaßblaue, himmelaufragende Gebirgszüge: „The Oakland Mountains“, bis zur halben Höhe mit Palmen und Affenbrotbäumen urwaldartig überwuchert. In der Bay wühlen Schaum- und Springwellen den blaugrünen Grundspiegel auf. Am Strand tummelt sich in sommerlicher Ungezwungenheit die Menge. Tausende von Autos stehen verlassen bunt durcheinander da. Alles promeniert im Schatten von Legionen Zitter-, Fächer-, Kokos-, Wedel-, Stechpalmen von teilweise traumhaften Formen. Kein Maler könnte riskieren, solch buntwirbelnde Farben zu reproduzieren. Aber alles ist ein leeres Nichts vor dem gotterhabenen Ozean!! Am 4. Januar hatten wir den Atlantischen Ozean mit der aufgehenden Sonne hinter uns, und jetzt — am 22. Februar — stehen wir am anderen Ende dieser neuen Welt und sehen der sinkenden Sonne zu, wie sie in den Stillen Ozean, dem größten Meer unseres Planeten, sinkt und sich nach Honolulu, Japan und China wendet. Es ist nicht zu fassen! Wir steigen ergriffen ins luxuriöse Auto unserer kalifornischen Freunde, die uns abgöttisch verhätscheln. Die Fahrt geht in grausigen Kurven steil aufs Gebirge. Es ist eine veritable Luftschiff-Fahrt! Nur die lianenverketteten Urwaldpalmen, die brennenden Rhododendren und fleischfressenden Kakteen, die betäubend duftenden Wildorchideen lassen uns wissen, daß wir Erdboden unser uns haben. Wir schrauben uns auf schwindelnde Pässe und Grate hinauf. Stop! Hier unten: „The big ocean“ (der große Ozean), die westliche Ferne blutet der verglommenen Sonne nach . . . Venus und Jupiter funkeln wie Riesendiamanten . . . Dort geistern herrliche Wolkenkratzer in feenhafter Beleuchtung in den Nachthimmel hinein. Die Riesenstadt, radial angelegt, gleißt und funkelt in unfaßlichem Reichtum . . . In kostbarer herrlicher Gleitfahrt eilen wir durch Blütenmeere und tiefschwarze Palmen-Boulevards in die taghell illuminierte City . . . zu unserm Hotel, wo wir eine ganze Zimmerflucht mit Empfangssalon und allen Schikanen bewohnen. Große Aufregung im Hotel schon vorher: „The great Karg-Elert is coming to California“. . . Wir haben die USA. durchquert von Ost nach West, von Canada bis Texas und Mexico! Selbst die Amerikaner staunen über eine solche Tour!

26g

San Francisco San Francisco, Hotel Normandie In fear of legal action, I should leave this letter unwritten; for what I have to say is indeed unutterable! How often have I used the words “heavenly, unparalleled, unheard of, like paradise, unspeakable, unique”? I believed they needed to be used, without foreseeing that they all, all pale before the force, majesty, beauty, magnificence and godly splendour of this El Dorado! Unthinkable, completely unthinkable, that there is a single square metre of this planet which can match remotely the force, majesty, magnificence and godly splendour of this magical garden! The sun broods . . . the meadows are bursting in green abundance . . . milliards of bulging oranges conceal the leaves of the abundant, spherical shrubs; they crowd together in confused tangles like berries on the mountain ash . . . they form clusters . . . umbels . . . perplexity. — Meadows, fields, house gardens, parks are strewn with sumptuous artichokes. Butterflies and birds of the most incredible colours swirl like snowflakes in the hot, shimmering air. The sky is deep blue and appears to have no curvature; it has no tendency to reach towards the horizon . . . it weighs heavily, or better: it hovers over us like a blue disc at an incomprehensible height . . . in front of us something that the eye can tolerate for only seconds: an incomprehensible glistening of silvery green, golden blue, a completely endless, endless mirror without horizon, which the eye shuns . . . the Pacific Ocean! You search for a steady line through the gaps in the clenched fist. Where is the boundary between sky and water? High in the sky is a little black line: it’s a “steamer” on its way to Australia, which left the harbour seven hours ago. It’s an ocean-giant, starting out for Hawaii . . . still visible . . . high in the sky, like a flier . . . but so vast is the sea. In the distance it has no colour nor contour any more . . . First we have to learn anew how to see: all ships seem to hang in the air, those more deeply are near, those higher are more distant. To the right the insanely reinforced bulwarks of fortresses with towers, masts, aerials rise eerily out of the thunderous surf. Further to the right, on land, pale blue mountain ranges tower into the sky: “The Oakland Mountains”, overgrown like the primæval forest up to a half their height with palms and monkey-bread trees. In the bay, foaming and pounding waves churn the blue-green ground-mirror. On the beach, the crowd romps about in summer-like informality. Thousands of cars are left standing there in a confused muddle. Everybody promenades in the shade of legions of quivering fan palms, coconut trees and hollies, partly of fantastic shape. No painter could dare to reproduce such swirling colours. But everything is absolutely nothing before the divinely exalted ocean!! On the 4th January we had the Atlantic Ocean with the rising sun behind us, and now — on the 22nd February — we stand at the other end of this new world and watch the setting sun descending in the Pacific Ocean, the largest sea on our planet, turning towards Honolulu, Japan and China. It’s incredible! Deeply moved, we got into the luxurious car of our Californian friend, who pampers us adoringly. The drive takes some dreadful curves steeply up the mountain. It’s a veritable airship journey! Only the interlinked lianas, those primæval palms, the flaming rhododendrons and flesheating cacti, the stunningly sombre wild orchids, let us know that we have the ground under us. We push on over dizzy passes and ridges until a sudden stop! Below here, the great ocean with the dying sun bleeding in the distance to the west . . . Venus and Jupiter twinkle like enormous diamonds . . . There, splendid skyscrapers wander like ghosts in fairylike illumination in the night sky. The gigantic city, laid out radially, glistens and twinkles in incomprehensible richness . . . In a sumptuously splendid, glider-like trip we hurry through seas of flowers and jet-black palm-tree lined boulevards in the city, lit up as bright as day . . . to our hotel, where we occupy an entire suite with reception room and all the trimmings. Great excitement already in the hotel: “The great KargElert is coming to California”. . . We have crossed the U.S.A. from east to west, from Canada to Texas and Mexico! Even the Americans are astounded at such a tour!

26e

25. Feb. 1932 San Francisco, nachts 1 Uhr, 25.2.32. Das heutige Konzert in der katholischen Kathedrale war wohl mein bestes. Nie habe ich so blitzsauber, technisch fein und koloristisch abgestuft gespielt, wie heute. Der Liszt hat traumhaft geklungen, und die Hörer waren wirklich entrückt. Die „Partita“ war ein rasender Sieg, und ich habe Urteile von den Fachleuten darüber gehört, die ich nicht wiedergeben kann, ohne mich zu schämen gegenüber solcher Überschätzung!! Die gesamte Zuhörerschaft stand auf und kam zur Konsole, um die letzte Nummer, „Toccatina und Choral“, stehend an der Orgel anzuhören. Erhebend war die Einleitung des Konzertes: Ehe ich anfing, hielt der Hauptpriester eine Rede, in der er von der Bedeutung dieser Abendstunde sprach, von dem musikalischen Ereignis, „den“ deutschen Meister in Californien zu haben, zu dem alle führenden Orgelmeister Amerikas einmütig emporschauten, und dem die Kirche so viele Werke von Dauerwert zu danken habe. Und nun zog der gesamte Chor im langen Zug singend an mir vorüber und huldigte dem deutschen Musiker, der in seiner Vaterstadt in dem soeben erschienenen „Führer durch die Orgelliteratur“ von Bruno Weigel (Verlag C. F. Leuckart!!) als „ein unbegabter Gernegroß mit typischen Allüren eines Nichtmusikers“ gekennzeichnet wird!! — Nach dem Konzert war ich sofort umringt und mußte „erschröcklich“ viel Gequake über mich ergehen lassen. Junge Studenten, mit meinen „Impressions“ und „Pastels“ bewaffnet, baten um Autogramme; auch Kätherlein mußte — wie überall — solche geben. Und nun ging es zum Ehrendinner. Alles, alles war anwesend, was in der californischen Orgelwelt Geltung hat. Man war viele Stunden weit mit der Eisenbahn, mit dem Auto und mit dem Schiff hergekommen. (Sie wollten offenbar den „unbegabten Notenschreiber“ hören, den schlechte Musikanten für einen „Komponisten“ (!) halten, der sogar noch — verminderte Septimenakkorde — schreibt, was bekanntlich kein Moderner tut! Armes, blödes Wildwestpack!) Es folgten Festreden vom Prior, Dekan und Party der Guilde . . . Und alle klangen aus in den Rufen: Wiederkommen! Wiederkommen! Oder gleich hierbleiben und der Unsere werden! Alle Tage, die wir hier verleben werden, sind bereits durch Einladungen belegt. Autofahrten durch Oakland ins Hochgebirge, in die Nationalparks, Ozeanküstenfahrt . . . man geht hier in Hemdärmeln unter Palmen. Dieses San Francisco ist eine tolle Stadt, daß man dauernd wie betrunken ist. An der gegenüberliegenden Ecke unseres Hotels beginnt das „Yapsquartier“. 20 Minuten bis zur Kathedrale siehst Du nur Japaner. Die Kinder sehen rasend hübsch aus; unter den jungen Damen sind Schönheiten allerersten Ranges. Sie verstehen es meisterhaft, sich zu bemalen und zu kleiden. Es sind in der Tat Kreuzungen von Paradiesvögeln und Schmetterlingen. Die älteren Frauen sind durchweg widerwärtig und sehr dick. Ihre Häuser sind stockwerklos und nicht gerade besonders einladend. Aber die Palmen und Kakteen wirken märchenhaft. „Chinatown“ ist inferior; es zu besuchen, wurde uns abgeraten. Aber „New Sicilia“ haben wir erlebt. Es ist unbeschreiblich! Tiefste Armut und höchster Reichtum, starrender Dreck und sinnbetörende, pittoreske Schönheit. Aus nur primitiven Hütten, vor denen sich wahre Brigantenfamilien auf den Stufen räkeln, steigen beispiellos enge Gaßchen in schwindelerregender Steilheit in phantastisch engen Kurven geradewegs zum Himmel auf. Kein Pferd, kein Mensch kann diese Steilheit überwinden. Das Auto allein vermag es zu schaffen und das in Tobsuchtstempo. Man liegt glatt auf dem Rücken. Je höher, um so kostbare werden die Villen, die oft wie Fürstenschlösser ausschauen. Überall kostbare Skulpturen! Und diese feenhafte Flora! Auf der Höhe eine Tropenlandschaft! Palmen . . . Palmen und blütenstrotzende exotische Sträuche: Bassins mit Marmorstatuen . . . Wasserspiele . . . Arkaden und Laubengänge. Unten in dreifacher Häuserreihe „The golden gate“ (das goldene Tor), eine Engbucht zwischen Bergen und Felsen . . . der glitzernde Spiegel des unendlichen pazifischen Ozeans . . . mein Gott, mein Gott . . . Diese Überfülle von Erhabenheit ist fast nicht zu ertragen. Diese „Kaminfahrt“ nennen sie hier einen Schreck und Witz für die Fremden! Man saust im Handumdrehen 240 Meter abwärts. Kain braver Deutscher ahnt, was die jungen Amerikaner im Chauffieren riskieren. Wir fuhren dann den Strand entlang und auf die Steilberge hinauf . . . auf . . . ab . . . auf . . . ab . . . Wenn wir Zeit hätten, wir könnten gut 11/2 Monat lang Einladungen annehmen und Autoreisen machen. Kätherlein hielt in Francisco eine lange sprudelnde Rede und wurde wild beklatscht! Immer und überall sagt man, daß sie ein ausgezeichnetes Englisch spricht. Ihr Französisch ist in Canada unschätzbar gewesen und auch hier wieder sehr wertvoll.

27g

San Francisco San Francisco, 1 a.m., {Friday} 26.2.32 Today’s concert in the Catholic Cathedral was probably my best. Never have I played as accurately {lit.: as spick and span}, as refined technically and as shaded in colour, as today. The Liszt sounded fabulous, and the listeners were really enraptured. The “Partita” was a terrific triumph, and I have heard the opinions of the experts on that but cannot repeat these for I feel ashamed of such an overestimation!! The entire audience stood up and came over to the console for the last number, “Toccatina and Chorale”, standing at the organ to listen. The introduction to the concert was uplifting: before I began, the principal priest gave an address, in which he spoke of the significance of this evening hour, of the musical event it was to have “the” German Master in California, to whom all the leading organists in America unanimously look up, and to whom the Church is thankful for so many works of lasting value. And now the whole choir entered, singing, in a long procession and came over to me to pay homage to the German musician, who in his homeland is characterised in the “Guide to Organ Literature” by Bruno Weigel, just released, (published by C. F. Leuckart!! {a former Karg-Elert publisher}), as “an ungifted would-be-great with the typical airs and affectations of a non-musician”!! — After the concert I was immediately surrounded and had “shockingly” to indulge in much chatter about myself. Young students armed with my “Impressions” and “Pastels” requested autographs; Katy also — as everywhere — had to give hers. And then off to a dinner in my honour. Everyone, everyone of worth in the Californian organ-world was present. They had come by rail, car or ship although many hours’ distant. (They apparently wanted to hear the “ungifted note-writer”, the bad musician who regards himself as “composer”(!), who still even writes diminished sevenths, something that it is known no modernist does! Poor, stupid, wild-west rabble!) Afterwards there were banquet speeches by Prior, Dekan and Party {Parry?} of the Guild . . . And all called out: Come back! Come back! Or just stay here and become one of us! All the days that we are to spend here are already booked out with invitations. Car trips through Oakland into the high mountains, to the National Parks, a seacoast drive . . . here one walks under the palms in one’s shirt-sleeves. This San Francisco is a crazy city in which one feels constantly drunk. The “Japanese Quarter” starts on the corner opposite our hotel. For the 20 minutes to the Cathedral you see only Japanese people. The children look extremely pretty; amongst the young ladies is beauty of the very first order. They are brilliant at making themselves up and in their clothing. They’re actually hybrids of birds of paradise and butterflies. The older women are without exception disgusting and very fat. Their houses have no additional storeys and are not particularly inviting. But the palms and cacti give a fantastic effect. “Chinatown” is inferior; we were advised not to make a visit. But we have experienced “New Sicily”. It’s incredible! Deepest poverty and the greatest riches, obvious filth and sensuously intoxicating, picturesque beauty. From only primitive shacks, in front of which families of genuine bandits loll about on the steps, the most extraordinarily narrow alleys climb right up to the sky in fantastically tight curves, so steep as to cause dizziness. No horse, no human can surmount such a slope. Only the car is capable of managing that and at a frenzy. One lies flat on one’s back. The higher the villas, the more valuable they become, often giving the appearance of princely mansions. Precious sculptures everywhere! And this fairylike flora! On the summit a tropical landscape! Palms . . . palms and exotic shrubs bursting with flowers. Ponds with marble statues . . . waterworks . . . archways and arbours. Below in threefold house-rows “The Golden Gate”, a confined bay between mountains and cliffs . . . the glittering mirror of the boundless Pacific Ocean . . . my God, my God . . . This superabundance of loftiness is almost unbearable. This “chimney trip” is called here a scare and joke for strangers! One charges downwards 240 metres in the twinkling of an eye. No worthy German suspects what young Americans chance in driving. We travelled then along the beach and up the steep mountains . . . up . . . down . . . up . . . down . . . If we had time, we could well accept invitations and make car-trips for 11/2 months. — In San Francisco, Katy maintained a long, bubbling speech and was wildly applauded! Always and everywhere people say that she speaks excellent English. Her French has been inestimable in Canada and here also very valuable again.

27e

25. — 27. Feb. 1932 San Francisco hat 3/4 Millionen Einwohner. Es gibt keine dörfischen Vororte. Die äußeren Stadtteile liegen durchweg auf Hügeln oder Berglehnen. Die City ist — wie Rom — auf sieben Hügeln erbaut. Hügel, die innerhalb einer amphitheaterischen Mulde liegen. Im Rücken die offene See mit ihren Nehrungen, Bais, Haffs und Piers, im Angesicht die aufspringenden roten und gelben Berge. Zwischen See und Bergen im 3/4 Kreis die zauberische Riesenstadt, die sich auf diesen sieben Hügelkuppen ausbreitet. Große Stadtviertel sind rein italienisch, rein orientalisch (türkisch-islamitisch-jiddisch-indisch-buddistisch), chinestisch und exklusiv isoliert: japanisch. Weiterhin holländisch, portugiesisch, maurische Kolonien. Eine veritable Völkerschau. Keine Stadt der Erde hat ähnliches aufzuweisen. Und herrliche stilvolle Wolkenkratzer! — Gestern haben wir eine beispiellos herrliche Autotour auf dem Gebirgskamm unternommen, links California mit Oakland, rechts der Ozean . . . über uns singende Vögel im tiefblauen Äther. Abends fuhren wir mit dem Dampfer nach Oakland. Es war ein Traum! Die City ließ Millionen von gelben, roten, grünen Lichtern gleißen. Die erleuchteten Fenster der Villen und Fischerhütten wirkten anheimelnd herüber und schufen . . . Heimweh! Die ganze Herrlichkeit kostete nur 21 Cents!! Die Schiffskarte berechtigt weiter zur Gratisfahrt auf jeder elektrischen Bahn, die zum Pier fährt oder von ihm aus nach jedem Stadtteil wegführt. Heute früh fuhr ein herrlicher Viersitzer vor unserem Hotel vor. Der „Pater Pope“ und der junge musikenthusiastische Kaplan der Dominikaner Klosterkirche (wo ich mein Konzert gab) holten uns zu einer Tagestour durch die City und die weitere Umgebung ab. Wunderbar lebendige, moderne, freie Menschen! Erst fuhren wir durch „Chinatown“, hier sind alle Reklameschilder in Form von Fahnen von oben nach unten zu lesen, dann durch „Italia-quartier“. . . eine völlig eigene Welt, durch Palmenalleen und Mimosenparks in vollstem Blütenschmuck an den Strand. Kinder badeten nackt im Ozean und ritten auf den Wellenwalzen. Menschen in Sommerkleidung lagerten auf dem hochgeschlossenen fetten Rasen unter bunten Sonnenschirmen. Weiter raste das Auto zum „Goldenen Tor“, wo wir vor zwei Tagen bereits waren. „Goldenes Tor“ heißt dieser Gottesgarten. Durch griechische Säulenalleen, Torbogen, Wandelarkaden, zwischen feenhaften Palmenparks schimmert der sonnenvergoldete Ozean mit unwahrscheinlich blauem Himmel hindurch. Er ist Athen, Konstantinopel, Ragusa und Stockholm zugleich. Eine süße betörende feuchtwarme Luft schwängert Dich traumhaft ein . . . man wird trunken und faul . . . Dann tobten wir über 1000 Meter hohe Berge auf Engpässen, nicht breiter als 3—4 Meter in den schauerlichsten Kurzkurven zu den Seehund-Klippen. Die Flut kam zurück, und die Wellen überschlugen sich in rasender Wildheit, Berge, Türme und Säulen aus Wasser trieben empor und zerschellten mit tosendem Gezische zu regenbogenfarbenem Staub. Die Seehunde tummelten . . . Dann summte ein Doppeldecker über unsere Köpfe hinweg, beschrieb über dem Ozean ein paar Spiralen: Er begrüßte einen heimkehrenden Kreuzer, der vom fernen Westen kam. Dann ging es in sausender Fahrt hinab und hinein nach New-Yokohama. (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 11, 14. Juni 1932. (8. Fortsetzung.) Vor einer lächelnden, rätselhaft lebendig erscheinenden Koloßalstatue Buddhas erstarrten wir . . . In den durchsichtigen Glashäusern (denke an Mahlers „Lied von der Erde“!) reichen winzige Geishas Tee. Eine Brücke, wie auf der Bühne in „Butterfly“ führt über einen kleinen Bach nach dem „flower garden“ (Blumen-Garten). Dort blieben wir wie angewurzelt stehen: Tiere, wie große Hornissen, aber blau-rot gescheckt mit einem ebenso langen Stachel wie sie selbst lang sind: sie piepen wie Mäuse: Paradiesvögel!!! Kolibris! . . . Morgen erneute Autofahrt und übermorgen Beginn der fünftägigen Reise von hier nach Indianapolis und Rochester. Wir beginnen die Tage zur Heimfahrt zu zählen. Am nächsten Tag. Gestern abermals herrliche Autofahrt, abends mit früherem Schüler, Walter Müller, zusammen. — Nun gehen die Strapazen wieder los. 72 Stunden Bahnfahrt: San FranciscoIndianapolis. Schiffahrt bis Oakland, dann bitteren Abschied vom Ozean und von der paradiesischen Stadt San Francisco.

28g

San Francisco San Francisco has 3/4 million inhabitants. There are no rustic suburbs. The outer parts of the city lie without exception on hills or mountain slopes. The city is — like Rome — built on seven hills. Hills, within which an amphitheatre hollow lies. The open sea behind with its landspits, bays, lagoons and jetties, in sight of the abruptly rising red and yellow mountains. Between seas and mountains in a 3/4 circle the magical, giant city which spreads out over these seven hills. Fully a quarter of the city is purely Italian, purely oriental (Turkish, Islamic, Yiddish, Indian, Buddhist), Chinese and exclusively isolated: Japanese. On top of that Dutch, Portuguese, Moorish colonies. A veritable display of the nations. No city on earth shows anything similar. And splendid, stylish skyscrapers! — Yesterday we undertook a superlative, splendid car-trip to the mountain-crest, to the left California with Oakland, to the right the ocean {i.e., travelling south} . . . above us birds singing in the deep blue ether. In the evening we went by steamer to Oakland. It was a dream! Millions of yellow, red, green lights twinkling in the city. The illuminated windows of villas and fishermen’s shacks were a reminder of home and produced . . . homesickness! The entire splendour cost only 21¢!! The boat-ticket further entitled a free trip on any electric railway going to the pier, or going away from there to any part of the city. This morning a marvellous four-seater drove up to our hotel. The “Father Pope” {Abbot?} and the young, musically enthusiastic curate of the Dominican Monastery (where I gave my concert) fetched us for a day tour through the city and environs. Wonderfully lively, modern, free people! We went at first through “Chinatown”, here all advertising signs are in the form of banners which are read from above downwards, then through the “Italian Quarter” . . . a completely separate world, via avenues lined with palm-trees and mimosa parks in fullest bloom to the beach. Children bathed naked in the ocean and rode on the rolling waves. People in summer clothing lay down on the tall, luxuriant grass under coloured sun-umbrellas. Further on the car raced to the “Golden Gate”, where we had already been two days ago. “Golden Gate” is the name of this Garden of God. Through Grecian colonnades, archways, malls, between fairylike palm-tree parks, the ocean made golden by the sun shimmering through an incredibly blue sky. It’s Athens, Constantinople, Ragusa and Stockholm at the same time. Sweet, beguiling, humid, warm air impregnates you like a dream . . . one becomes inebriated and lazy . . . Then we charged over mountains of 1,000 metres’ height on narrow passes, no wider than 3—4 metres, in the most spine-chilling tight curves to the sealrocks. The tide was turning and the waves broke with furious wildness, mountains, towers and columns of water driven up and dashed with thunderous hissing into rainbow-coloured dust. The seals romped about . . . Then a biplane buzzed over our heads and made a few spirals over the ocean: it greeted a cruiser returning home, which had come from far away in the west. Then it charged off towards New Yokohama {is this place a Karg-Elert invention, the Japanese equivalent to Chinatown?}. (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 11, 14th June 1932 (8th continuation) We stood frozen in front of a smiling, mysterious, lively-appearing, colossal statue of Buddha . . . In transparent glasshouses (think of Mahler’s “Song of the Earth”!) tiny geishas hand out tea. A bridge, as on the stage in “Butterfly” leads over a little brook to the flower garden. There we remained as if rooted to the spot: creatures like great hornets, but spotted blue-red, with a sting as long as they themselves; they squeak like mice: birds of paradise!!! hummingbirds! . . . Tomorrow a car-trip once more and the day after the start of the five-day journey from here to Indianapolis and Rochester. We are starting to count the days to our journey home. The next day {Saturday, 27th February} Once again a marvellous car-trip yesterday, and in the evening some time together with a former student, Walter Müller {see: The Diapason, April 1932, p. 46. Appendix, p. A-12}. — Now the stresses again go away. Seventy-two hour railway journey: San Francisco-Indianapolis. Boattrip to Oakland, then a bitter parting from the ocean and the paradisaical city of San Francisco.

28e

29. Feb. — 2. März 1932 Montag, nachm. 3 Uhr. Ich habe meinen üblichen Platz eingenommen am engen, ewig ruckelnden Schreibtisch im Aussichtswagen des „North-West-Pacific-Rail-Road“ (Pullman-Expreß-Luxus). Wir haben bittere, bittere Stunden ertragen müssen: Ade, du gottgesegnetes, unnennbar schönes, wahrhaft paradiesisches San Francisco! Wir fuhren erst noch 3/4 Stunde auf dem Ozean an der Küste entlang an dem uns so vertraut gewordenen Eiland vorüber nach den „ferries“ von Oakland. Dort stand das Ungeheuer, der Nord-West-Expreß, der uns in 72 Stunden nach Indianapolis bringen soll. Ja, diese Wagen sind der Gipfel der relativen Behaglichkeit. Sie müssen uns ja auch als Behausung vom Montag bis Freitag dienen. Jeder Person kommen zweimal zwei Sitze zu. Ein Tisch wird auf Wunsch zwischen die Reihen eingehängt; die Sitzpaare werden durch einen Griff zu Sofas mit Kopfkissen umgeformt. Durch Zusammendrücken aller vier Polster und Herablassen einer sehr behaglichen Matratze entsteht ein großes behagliches Bett. Zwei Kissen, doppeltes Deckbett aus Kamelhaar und Linnen. Am Kopf- und Fußende je einen hübschen Beleuchtungskörper. — An unsere „Wohnung“ schließt sich der Rauch- und Lese-Raum an, der zugleich Aussichtswagen ist, und freie, doch windgeschützte Terrasse besitzt. Wir hielten vorhin in Sacramento, es soll ein Zaubergarten ersten Ranges sein. Von hier aus nahm die Urbarmachung des Westens um 1520 durch portugiesische und spanische Mönche ihren Ausgang. Bilder von Klosterruinen mitten im Urwald und von neueren Kapellen, Klöstern und spanischen Kirchen, Palmenparke . . . lassen Überwältigendes erwarten. Aber ich mag nichts mehr sehen . . . ich habe Heimweh nach El Paso, nach San Francisco und . . . nach Deutschland . . . nach Dir . . . nach meinen Freunden . . . Ach, alle Deutschen oder alle in Deutschland aufgewachsenen, die hier leben, haben qualvollstes Heimweh! Sie kreisen um einen herum, wenn sie ein deutsches Wort hören. „Ach, entschuldigen Sie! Sie kommen aus Deutschland? Kennen Sie Gera? Wissen Sie, ob der alte Schuldiener H. K. noch lebt? . . . Und die Frau Gr., lebt sie noch? Ach, wissen Sie, den Waldweg über den Brummberg nach Tiefenbach kann ich nicht vergehen, obgleich ich schon 32 Jahre lang aus Deutschland weg bin!“ So und ähnlich hört man die Leute sprechen: „Ach, Deutschland, was war das schön! Glauben Sie mir, die Menschen dort haben noch Sinn für innere Werte. Hier regiert nur der Dollar!“. . . Salt Lake City, Utah, 2. März, nachm. 3 Uhr. Es ist zum Lachen: Der Porter (Portier) fährt mit unserem Gepäck hoch, und ich sitze — den Hut noch auf — bereits am Schreibtisch. Es geht nunmehr bereits — peu à peu — heim. 7/8 Amerikabreite liegt zwar beläufig noch vor uns. 11.10 Uhr vorm. stiegen wir aufs Schiff, und nun haben wir von der 72-Stunden-Fahrt bereits 26 Stunden abgetragen. Auf der Karte scheint es ein Katzensprung, aber . . . aber . . . es vergeht einem oft Hören und Sehen! In strotzender Blütenpracht und bei sommerlicher Temperatur verließen wir die Küste. Und von 6—1/48 Uhr desselben Tages saßen wir auf der Kammhöhe der gewaltigen „RockyMountains“ im krassen Schnee fest! Bis uns eine zweite Maschine erlöste. — In der Nacht „EastCalifornia“, am Vormittag „Nevada“ durcheilt, nun seit 12 Uhr mittags (die Uhren springen von 11.59 Uhr gleich auf 1 Uhr) sind wir in den Mormonenstaat „Utah“ eingerückt. Hier herrscht kirchlich-sanktionierte Vielweiberei! Wir haben gestern schnöde gedarbt; denn das Essen in dem Pullman-Expreß ist himmelschreiend teuer. — Früh 5 Uhr hatten wir die Hochebene von „Sierra Nevada“ erreicht und fuhren sechs volle Stunden schnurgerade auf dem Plateau. Nur Schnee- und Eiswüste. Grandios, aber zum Sterben einförmig. Das amerikanische Sibirien. — Nach 9 Uhr frühstückten wir und sahen, wie fern über dem endlos erscheinenden Plateau eine veritable Fata Morgana am Horizont aufstieg: blaue und rosenrote Bergkuppen von wahrhaft abenteuerlicher Form: „The Highlands of Utah“ (Das Hochland von Utah). Am 11 Uhr breitete sich das Weltwunder: der „Great Salt Lake“ aus . . . (der große Salz-See).

29g

Salt Lake City Monday {29th February}, 3 p.m. I have taken up my customary place at the narrow, eternally jolting writing table in the observation car of the Northwest Pacific Railroad (Luxury Pullman Express). We have had to endure bitter, bitter hours: adieu, thou divinely blessed, unutterably beautiful, truly paradisaical San Francisco! We travelled for the first 3/4 of an hour along the coast, in which the isle had become so familiar to us on the ferries from Oakland. There stood the enormous Northwestern Express which would take us to Indianapolis in 72 hours. Yes, these cars are the summit of comfort. They must also provide housing for us from Monday to Friday. Every person is given two seats twice. A table can be hung between the rows as desired; by means of a handle the seat-pairs are transformed into sofas with head-cushions. By pushing all four pieces of upholstery together and downwards, a very comfortable mattress results and thus a large, comfortable bed. Two pillows, double quilt of camel-hair and linen. At the head and foot-end an attractive lamp. — In our “dwelling” are adjoining smoking and reading rooms, forming at the same time an observation car which is provided with an open terrace, yet one protected from wind. Just now we’ve stopped in Sacramento, which seems to be an enchanted garden of the first order. The clearing of the West for cultivation spread from here around 1520 by the exodus of Portuguese and Spanish monks. Images of monastery ruins in the depths of the primæval forest and of newer chapels, abbeys and Spanish churches, palm-tree parks . . . are far beyond expectation. But I don’t want to see any more . . . I am homesick for El Paso, for San Francisco and . . . for Germany . . . for you . . . for my friends. Ah, all Germans or all who have grown up in Germany and live here have excruciating homesickness! They are united in circling around whenever they hear a German word. “Ah, excuse me! Do you come from Germany? Do you know Gera? Do you know whether the old school-caretaker H. K. is still alive? . . . And Mrs. Gr., is she still alive? Ah, do you know the woodland path over the Brummberg to Tiefenbach {lit.: Grumbling Mountain to Deep Brook, probably more inventions}; can I not overlook it, even though I’ve been out of Germany now for 32 years!” Well then, similarly one hears people saying, “Ah, Germany, how beautiful that was! Believe me, the people there still have a feeling for deeper values. Here, only the dollar reigns!” Salt Lake City, Utah, {Wednesday} 2nd March, 3 p.m. It makes you laugh: the porter is bringing up our luggage, and I’m already seated — still with hat on — at the writing table. From now on we’re already— little by little — going home. Of course, 7/8 of the breadth of America still lies ahead of us. At 11:10 a.m. we boarded the ship and now we’ve already used up 26 hours of the 72-hour journey. It seems just a stone’s throw on the map, but . . . but . . . one often doesn’t know if one is coming or going! We left the coast in the splendour of abundant bloom and at a summerlike temperature. And from 6:00 to 7:15 that same day we were stuck tight in thick snow on the crest of the immense Rocky Mountains! A second locomotive rescued us. — We hurried through East California overnight and Nevada in the morning, now from 12 noon (the clocks are put forward by exactly one hour from 11:59) we have returned to the Mormon State of Utah. {By ‘returned’, he means in the sense of recrossing the continent, as the westerly voyage was further southeast.} Polygamy prevails here, sanctioned by the Church! Yesterday we starved despicably; for food on the Pullman-Express is outrageously expensive — At 5 a.m. we reached the elevated plains of the “Sierra Nevadas” and travelled on the plateau for six full hours straight. Nothing but a wasteland of snow and ice. Magnificent but deadly monotonous. The American Siberia. — We had breakfast after 9 o’clock and saw how distantly in the seemingly infinite plateau a veritable mirage climbed out of the horizon: blue and rose-red hilltops of truly bizarre shape: “The Highlands of Utah”. At 11 o’clock a wonder of the world: the “Great Salt Lake” spread out.

29e

2. — 13. März 1932 Im Zug, abends 6 Uhr. Also ich versuchte, im Text fortzufahren, ich denke in diesem Luxuswagen leidlich schreiben zu können. Also: der „Große Salz-See von Utah“ oder das amerikanische „Tote Meer“. 331/3 Prozent reinstes Speisesalz hat dieses in der Nähe grasgrüne, in der Ferne indigoblaue Meer; 10 Minuten vom Ufer entfernt, verschwindet jede Spur von Ufer, und man fährt von 11 Uhr bis 4 Uhr über einen Gleisdamm quer durch dieses Wunder eines Binnenmeeres. — In Ogden wäre beinahe eine Katastrophe passiert. Da Käthchen nicht essen wollte, steige ich allein aus, um etwas für mich zu kaufen. Plötzlich setzt sich mein Zug in Bewegung, und ich stehe allein auf dem Bahnsteig, bis außer mir . . . da gibt mir ein Nigger zu verstehen, daß der Zug nur rangiert! Gott sei Dank! Er führt mich dann auch wieder zu meinem Wagen, wo mein Töchterlein seelenruhig sitzt und schreibt, als wenn nichts geschehen wäre! Im Hotel in Salt Lake City konnten wir von unseren Zimmern aus auf die erhabene Eisbergkette sehen und den grandiosen Sonnenuntergang anbetend bewundern. Nach diesem unaussprechlich ergreifenden Naturschauspiel bekam ich böses, böses Heimweh! Am anderen Morgen. Nach dem Frühstück wurden wir zweimal photographiert, und in drei Stunden fanden wir mit Bild bereits in der Zeitung!! Alle Nigger kannten uns durch diese Bilder, und wir waren „the famous Germans“ (die berühmten Deutschen). Für einen Augenblick ist eine solche Komödie mal interessant, aber hier ist ja alles Bluff! Später fuhren wir zum Capitol hinauf, ein Wunderbau ohnegleichen, dann zu einer Idealstadt hoch auf dem Berge, eingehüllt in scheinbar endlose Ketten von Schnee- und Eisriesen: Die „University of Utah“. Es ist einfach nicht zu fassen, welche Überfülle von Universitäten USA. birgt. Der Bildungsdrang der Amerikaner ist wahrhaft unermeßlich. Wir fuhren dann zum weltberühmten Tempel der Mormonen, ein Weltwunder aus Marmor und Onyx (12 000 Personen fassend), dahinter das („der“ sagt man hier) Tabernakel, ein Ovalbau aus Holz. Hier steht (angeblich!!) die größte Orgel der Erde! Na, Na!! — Als unser Auto herannaht, schälen sich zunächst drei elegante Herren aus der Menge: Die drei Konzertorganisten des „Mormonen-Tabernakels“. Sie haben alle drei in Deutschland bei Homeyer, Irrgang und Fischer studiert. — Es gab eine Orgelvorführung: das Publikum saß auf der Galerie, der Direktor des Konservatorium, Käthchen und ich saßen allein im Allerheiligsten, mitten im Brennpunkt des Ovals. — Dann mußte ich an die Konsole. Und ich experimentierte und spielte 1 1/2 Stunde. (Bleistifte wurden gezückt, um meine Registrierungen zu kopieren, aber Kätherlein löschte boshafter Weise die Kombinationen stets zu früh aus!) Dann kamen Noten von mir in Fülle, und die Autogrammjagd begann, wie üblich. Es ist dunkel geworden . . . wir hielten soeben in Columbia. In 11/2 Stunde sind wir in Omaha (Nebraska), wo wir vor 14 Tagen waren (Lincoln), treten dann sogleich in den Staat Iowa ein: Des Moines, wo wir ebenfalls vor Lincoln schon waren. Dann 12 Stunden Schlafwagen . . . 10 Uhr früh in Chicago, dann noch 4 Stunden bis Indianapolis . . . Rochester, den 13. März 1932. Das Gefühl der Wohlgeborgenheit, des Geliebtwerdens, des nicht ganz unnütz Gewirkthabens hat hier in Rochester seinen Gipfelpunkt erreicht! Sonnabend abend gab der Präsident des German-Clubs in dessen großartigem Heim (vor 15 Jahren noch eine große Methodistenkirche!) einen einzigartigen Ehrenempfang. Es war die erhebenste Feier, die ich hier in USA. erlebte! Vier Gesangvereine (zwei bisher verfeindete Lager — echt deutsch!) marschierten auf: Madrigalchor und Rochester Liedertafel, ferner Frauenchor und Städt. Chor aus Buffalo: 65 Leute aus dem 60 Meilen entfernten Buffalo! Es gab fürstliches deutsches Essen und bayerisches Bier! Der Präsident brachte am Sonntagmorgen (gerade als Sandor Vas bei mir zu Besuch war) mir persönlich ein 5-Liter-Syphon Hackerlbräu als heimatliche Morgengabe!

30g

Salt Lake City In the train, 6 p.m. Well, I’m trying to continue with this letter for I think I shall be able to write reasonably in this luxury carriage. So then, the “Great Salt Lake of Utah” or the American “Dead Sea”; 331/3% purest edible salt, grass-green close by and indigo-blue in the distance. Ten minutes away from the shore all traces of the bank disappear and one travels from 11 to 4 o’clock over a causeway in crossing this wonder of an inland sea. — In Ogden {ca. 30 miles north of Salt Lake City} a catastrophe could almost have taken place. As Katy didn’t want to eat, I alone got out in order to buy something for myself. Suddenly my train starts moving, and I’m standing alone on the platform, beside myself . . . then a nigger gave me to understand that the train was only shunting! Thank God! He also led me back to my carriage then, where my little daughter was sitting calmly and writing, as if nothing had happened! In the hotel in Salt Lake City we could look out of our rooms onto the elevated chain of icebergs and admire the magnificent sunset. After this inexpressibly gripping spectacle of nature, I became sorely, sorely homesick! The next morning We were photographed twice after breakfast and in three hours could already see our pictures in the newspaper!! Every nigger recognised us through these pictures, and we were “the famous Germans”. For a moment, such a farce is interesting, but here everything is only bluff! Later we went up to the Capitol, a magnificent building without equal, then to a model city high in the mountains, swathed in apparently endless chains of snow-mounds and ice: the University of Utah. The super-abundance of universities in the U.S.A. is simply unbelievable. The American’s desire for education is truly immeasurable. Then we went to the world-famous Mormon Temple, a wonder of the world made of marble and onyx (seating 12,000 people); behind it the Tabernacle, an oval building made of wood. Here there is (allegedly!!) the largest organ on earth! Well, well!! — As our car approached, three elegant gentlemen separated for the time being from the crowd: the three concert organists of the “Mormon Tabernacle”. All three studied in Germany from Homeyer, Irrgang and Fischer. — There was an organ performance: the audience sat in the gallery; the Director of the Conservatorium, Katy and I sat alone in the most sacred place by far, at the focal point of the oval. — Then I had to go to the console. And I experimented and played for 11/2 hours. (Pencils were taken out, so that my registrations could be copied, but Katy spitefully obliterated the combinations, always too early!) Then came my sheet music in its fullness and the hunt for autographs began, as usual. It’s become dark . . . we have just stopped in Columbus {ca. 80 miles due west of Omaha}. In 11/2 hours we shall be in Omaha (Nebraska), where we were 14 days ago (Lincoln), then immediately enter the State of Iowa: Des Moines {ca. 150 miles further east}, where we were in any case, on the way to Lincoln. Then 12 hours in a sleeping-car . . . Chicago by 10 a.m., then another 4 hours to Indianapolis . . . Rochester {New York, Sunday} 13th March, 1932 The feeling of well-founded security, of becoming beloved, of not having worked completely without point, has attained its zenith here in Rochester! On Saturday evening, the President of the German Club gave a unique reception in my honour in his magnificent home (15 years ago still a large Methodist Church!). It was the most uplifting celebration that I have experienced here in the U.S.A.! Four choral societies (two previously on bad terms — typical German!) turned up: Madrigal Choir and Rochester Choral Society, in addition to the Women’s Choir and the Municipal Choir from Buffalo: 65 people from Buffalo, 60 miles away! There was lavish {lit.: princely} German food and Bavarian beer! On Sunday morning, the president personally brought me a 5-litre siphon of Hackerlbräu {beer} as a nostalgic morning-gift (just then Sandor Vas was paying me a visit)!

30e

13. März 1932 Der erste Gesang, der uns galt, war: „Grüß Gott mit hellem Klang, Heil deutschem Wort und Sang!“, derselbe Sang, den mir mein ans Herz gewachsener Johanniskirchenchor in Leipzig bei der Abfahrt mit auf den Weg gab! Das nächste Lied war kein anderes als: „Wie’s daheim war!“ Und ich schrieb dem Komponisten, unserm langjährigen Hausgenossen in Leipzig zugleich mit Grüßen und im Auftrage von allen Sängern: „Lieber Herr Professor Wohlgemuth! Wie’s daheim war! Ja, Sie haben den richtigen Ton getroffen!“ Es folgten dann noch „Jetzt gang i ans Brünnele“. . . „Teure Heimat“ usw. usw. . . . lauter alte liebe deutsche Weisen! Und immer und immer wieder mußte ich Reden halten und von der geliebten, armen, schönen . . . O, so schönen Heimat erzählen. Es war still im großen Saal wie in einer Kryptha, und wir sahen, wie die Frauen bitterlich weinten, und die Männer mit feuchten Augen verzerrte Mienen bekamen. Überall: grinsendes Heimweh! Der 63jährige Präsident, der mir im Auto den Syphon brachte, hatte feuerrote Augen bekommen, und die Tränen liefen ihm über die faltigen Wangen: „Mei liaber Bruder aus Oubrndorf! Rottweiler Bier hab i halt freili net auftreibi kenne, aber . . . Hackerlbräu . . . des geht bei uns net aussi! I bin als Schrambacher so arg oft in Oubrndorf gewese. Waißt, wieviel Schwäbe hier im Land sind? Iwwer die Hälft!! Wie daheim in Wieschteberg!! Aber hoimkrank seins halt alle! Unser Ländl gibts halt nit a zwoites Mal auf der Welt. Du gescht hoim . . . bei uns aber gibts koi richtiges Hoimgehn!“. . . Boston war herrlich, Montreal gesteigerter, Minneapolis noch viel herzlicher, Dallas über alles schön, lieb, innig . . . aber Rochester ist der Gipfel. Sandor Vas nebst Frau sind die entzückendsten Künstler, die mir je begegneten . . . (Fortsetzung folgt.) 3. Jahrgang, Nr. 12, 28. Juni 1932 (9. Fortsetzung und Schluß.) Die Orgel war allerdings der Gipfelpunkt der Scheußlichkeit!! Nicht zu sagen . . . Das Konzert aber trotz alledem eine Sensation ersten Ranges. Die guten Menschen sind trotz katastrophaler Schneeverwehung im Auto und mit der Eisenbahn von weit her gekommen. — Abends war in der Villa des steinreichen Konservatoriumsdirektors, Mr. Gleason, ein Festbankett, an dem alle Größen der Stadt teilnahmen. Deutsches Festessen, obgleich kein einziger Deutscher (außer uns) da war. Man pries Deutschland als das Dorado der Wissenschaft und aller Künste. Es war ein enthusiasticher Triumphgesang auf dieses wunderbare Land. Kaum einer kannte mehr als Oberammergau und Bayreuth, aber alle liebten „das Deutsche“. Enorm populär ist A. Einstein. Er repräsentiert in konzentrierter Form den gegenwärtigen deutschen Typ. Hindenburg gilt als „lovely“. . . „good grandfather of the Germans“. . . man liebt ihn hier getodem! Immer und immer wieder sage ich in amerikanischen Kreisen, wenn über die immer krasser werdende Not in USA. geklagt wird: „Liebe Freunde! Ich bin hier ein Fremder, ein Gast in deisem Lande und darf nicht das alles sagen, was ich als Amerikaner sagte dürfte, aber ich riskiere dennoch als Deutscher ein unbequemes Wort: Ihr bezeichnet Frankreich als die Wurzel alles Übels . . . Wer aber hat Euch um alles in der Welt gezwungen, gegen uns zu kämpfen? Der Krieg war eine Angelegenheit zwischen Frankreich und Deutschland. Er war automatisch spruchreif geworden und unausweichbar. Wer zuerst losschlug, tat klug daran; denn kommen mußte er ja doch. Die Konsequenzen lagen klar zutage: Die Bündnisse wurden aktiv. Was aber zwang Amerika zu seiner schmachvollen Parteinahme? Eure Geldangst stellte die Waage um; nicht die naturdiktierte Gerechtigkeit sollte das Wort haben, sondern Eure mächtigen Dollarmagnaten mußten ihren Schuldnern beispringen, sollte ihr „big business“ (großes Geschäft) nicht in die Binsen gehen. Die allgemeine Stimmung ist für Geld leicht zu korrigieren: Sparer, Aktieninhaber (und das ist jeder Amerikaner), Euer Geld steht in Gefahr . . . Deutschland muß zum Teufel gehen, dann muß es alles zahlen mit Zins und Zinseszins . . . nieder mit diesem Lande, das schon lange unserem Markte so unbequem ist . . .

31g

Rochester The first song that counted for us was: “Greet God with bright sounds, Hail in German words and song!”, the same song of which I’m fond that the St. John’s Church-choir of Leipzig sang on our departure! The next song was no other than: “How it was back home!” And I wrote immediately to the composer, our long-standing fellow-tenant in Leipzig, sending greetings on behalf of all the singers, “Dear Professor Wohlgemuth, How it was back home! Well, you’ve hit the right note!” Then came “I’m off now to the little spring” {the basis of the piano miniature: Reminiscence, Op. 38, No. 8} . . . “Dear Homeland” etc. etc. . . . nothing but old, nice, German tunes! And time after time I had to hold back my conversation and give an account of the beloved, poor, beautiful . . . oh, so beautiful homeland. The great hall was as silent as the crypt; and we saw how the women wept bitterly, and the men, their eyes moist, took on contorted facial expressions. Everywhere simpering homesickness! The 63-year-old president, who had brought me the siphon in his car, had fiery red eyes and the tears flowed over his wrinkled cheeks: “My dear brother from Oberndorf, Rottweiler beer which I’ve come to know is admittedly alright, but . . . Hackerlbräu . . . we think goes down nicely too! As one from Schrambach, I’ve been so terribly often in Oberndorf. Do you know how many Swabians there are here in this country? Over a half of them!! Just like back home in Wieschteberg!! But all of them remain homesick! Our little place isn’t giving up its folk to the world a second time . You’re going home . . . that’s a proper thing to do, according to us!”. . . {All of this quotation imitates dialect, or is partly in dialect (if so presumably that of Swabia), making the letter all the more colourful but also making this translation very insecure. Oberndorf, Schramberg and Rottweil are small Swabian towns, close to one another; Schrambach and Wieschteberg seem to be Karg-Elert inventions.} Boston was splendid, Montreal more so, Minneapolis still more warm-hearted, Dallas above all else beautiful, pleasant, intimate . . . but Rochester is the summit. Sandor Vas and his wife are the most charming artists I have ever met . . . (to be continued.) Vol. 3, No. 12, 28th June 1932 (9th continuation and conclusion) Mind you, the organ was the zenith of dreadfulness!! It doesn’t bear thinking about . . . in spite of everything however the concert was a sensation of the first order. The good folk had come by car, and from afar by rail, despite a catastrophic snow-drift. — A banquet took place in the evening at the villa of the enormously rich Conservatorium-director, Mr. Gleason, at which all the leading lights in the city attended. A German Banquet, although not a single German (apart from us) was there. They extolled Germany as the El Dorado of science and all the arts. It was an enthusiastic, triumphal hymn on this wonderful country. Hardly anyone knew of more than Oberammergau and Bayreuth, but everyone loved “the German character”. A. Einstein is enormously popular. He represents in concentrated form the present-day German model. Hindenburg is regarded as “lovely . . . generous grandfather of the Germans” . . . people here love him to death! Time after time, whenever there are complaints about the ever more blatant poverty emerging in the U.S.A., I say to American groups: “Dear friends, I’m a stranger here, a guest in this country who is not permitted to say everything that I as an American would be allowed, but nonetheless as a German I’ll take the chance of making some awkward remarks. You describe France as the root of all evil . . . but who compelled you out of everyone in the world to fight against us? The war was a concern between France and Germany. That it would automatically, definitely come was inevitable. Whoever attacked first acted wisely; for it must indeed come to that. The consequences were clear: the alliance became active. But what forced America into this humiliating partisanship? Your concern over money re-arranged the balance; the word should not receive its naturally dictated justice, instead your mighty dollar-magnates must help out their debtors and not allow their ‘big business’ to go west. The general opinion is that finances be corrected gently: savers, shareholders (and that is every American), your money is in danger . . . Germany can go to the devil, so then everything must be paid with interest and compound interest . . . low in this country, which has been so awkward for a long time in our trade . . .

31e

13. — ca. 15. März 1932 So . . . nun ja . . . jetzt habt Ihr ja, was Ihr wolltet: Deutschland ist in der Tat erledigt. Die Hungerpest wütet. Durch satanische Wilsonlügen habt Ihr uns willfähig gemacht. Uns geht es eben, wie es einem Besiegten ergeht. Ihr aber habt ja den Ausschlag für die Kriegsentscheidung gegeben. Siegerstaat! Nun erntet Eure Saat! Holt Euch Euren Mammon von denen, denen Ihr helfend beigesprungen seid. Für uns und Frankreich, für Österreich und Rußland waren die Motive im historischen Sinne . . . heilige Notwendigkeiten. Für Euch dagegen ein frivoles „Money va banque-Spiel!“ Klagt nicht, wenn das Geschäft eine große Pleite war!“ Ich habe überall nachdrückliche Zustimmung gefunden. Was nützt aber Gefühl, Stimmung und persönliche Meinung? Ein neues Lügengewebe und . . . die Drahtzieher „schmeißen die Kiste“, wie es die Konjunktur will! Heute früh sind wir für das Kino gefilmt worden, jeder Film 135 Fuß lang, zirka vier Minuten . . . 16 Bilder in der Sekunde. Heute abend wird hier in Rochester der Film bereits laufen. Das wird ein Mordsgaudium. Die Filmkopien werden uns nachgeschickt, und wir werden in Leipzig alle unser Vergnügen daran haben. — — Über die elementaren Eindrücke des NiagaraFalles kann ich wegen Zeitmangel jetzt nichts schreiben . . . morgen früh geht es nach New York. Rochester ist die „Eastman“-Metropole. Er gehört mit Rockefeller, Ford, Edison, Vanderbilt und Carnegie zu den reichsten Leuten Amerikas. Erfinder der Kodaks. — Neun Zehntel der Stadt und die weitere Umgebung gehören der „Eastman-Company“ an. Er hat unfaßliche Summen den Universitäten, Hochschulen, Waisenhäusern, Forschungsinstituten, Observatorien gestiftet und hat das Rochester-Konservatorium (das bedeutendste von USA.) gegründet. Er besitzt eine märchenhafte Skinner-Orgel in seinem Palast, die jeden Morgen von 9—10 Uhr von unserer hiesigen Freundin Elisabeth gespielt wird. Eastman ist mutterseelenallein und ein Sonderling. Er bat mich um meinen Besuch . . . kurz bevor dieser sein sollte . . . hat er sich erschossen! Seine letzten Worte, die auf einem Zettel auf seinem Schreibtisch standen, waren: „Ich habe meine Arbeit getan, wozu soll ich noch warten!“ Nachts 12 Uhr. Wir haben unsere Bilder im Kino gesehen! Großartig! Ihr werdet viel Spaß daran haben! Von Rochester nach New York! — Der nächste Weg (!) — nur um auf der ewig defekten Wanamaker-Orgel 5 Stunden üben zu können und die Registrierungen für mein Fare-well Konzert einzustellen, das ich am 21. März geben muß. Aber dieses Monstrum von Orgel war noch immer so defekt wie bei meinem Antrittskonzert. Ich habe getobt, geflucht, geheult — es half nichts: Das mittlere 11 versagte in allen 5 Manualen und in sämtlichen 120 Registern. Der elektrische Kontakt war gestört . . . Er war es seit 21/2 Monaten . . . Ich fuhr unverrichteter Sache wieder ab, hatte mir 36 Stunden Expreßfahrt, dringend nötigen Schlaf und 60 Dollars glatt um die Ohren geschlagen und war nicht eine Minute zur Vorbereitung meines Abschiedsprogramms, B-A-C-H, gekommen. Zurück nach Elmira bei Rochester. Dort sollte ich meine „Schuhe ausziehen“, da Elmira „heiliges Orgelland“ ist. Hier ist das Mekka und Medina der ureigenen amerikanischen Orgelbaukunst, hier steht das erste Werk von Hope-Jones, von dem der amerikanische Orgelbau seinen Anfang nimmt. Als der Herr Minister Cornwell mich wie eine Braut am Arm zum Altar (an die Orgel-Konsole) führte, machte er mich gebührend darauf aufmerksam, daß ich ein solches Non-plus-ultra-Werk sicher niemals kennengelernt, — es sei die berühmteste Orgel auf diesem Planeten!

32g

Rochester Well then . . . now you have what you’ve wanted: Germany is in fact ruined. The pestilence of hunger rages. You’ve made us submissive out of Wilson’s satanic lies. It affects us like anyone who is defeated. But it was you who struck the decisive blow determining the war’s end. Victorious state! Now harvest your crop! Fetch your Mammon, to whom you have lent a helping hand. The motives in the historical sense were for us and France, for Austria and Russia . . . holy necessities. For you, on the other hand, a frivolous, ‘dangerous moneygame!’ Don’t complain if business goes completely bankrupt!” Everywhere I have found emphatic agreement. But what’s the use of one’s feeling, mood and personal opinion? A new tissue of lies and . . . the string-pullers “run the affair” in accord with the economic situation! We were filmed this morning for the cinema, each roll 135 ft. long, about four minutes . . . 16 pictures per second. Already by this evening the film will be showing here in Rochester. What a whale of a time. Film copies will be forwarded to us, and we shall relive our pleasure when in Leipzig. — — I am unable to write now on the basic impressions of Niagara Falls owing to a lack of time . . . tomorrow morning we’re off to New York. Rochester is the “Eastman” capital. He belongs to that group: Rockefeller, Ford, Edison, Vanderbilt and Carnegie, who are the wealthiest people in America. Inventor of Kodak. — Nine tenths of the city and the more distant surroundings belong to the “Eastman Company”. He has donated incomprehensible sums to universities, colleges, orphanages, research institutes, observatories, and has founded the Rochester Conservatorium (the most important one in the U.S.A.). He possesses a fabulous organ by Skinner in his mansion, which is played by our local friend Elizabeth every morning from 9 to 10 o’clock. Eastman is all alone and an eccentric. He invited me for a visit . . . shortly before this was to take place . . . he shot himself! His last words, left on a scrap of paper on his writing table were: “I have done my work, what is there to wait for!” {George Eastman, 1854—1932, died on 14th March; Karg-Elert gave his recital the previous day so he was at least in the vicinity, but the story of the planned meeting may be another invention. A detailed article, reproduced in the Appendix, states he was not interested in modern music, so that a meeting with Karg-Elert seems unlikely to have been important to him. Eastman was educated in Rochester, presumably one reason for working there and so richly endowing its institutions. By 1925, of the $58,000,000 he had given away, $25,000,000 was to the University of Rochester, an impressive sum nowadays and an unbelievable fortune then. Of this, $6,500,000 went to the founding of the Eastman School of Music in that university. See also The Diapason, April 1932, p. 16 for far greater detail on Eastman’s passion for music; Appendix, p. A-14} Midnight We have seen our pictures in the cinema! Splendid! You will have much fun from them! From Rochester to New York! — the next stretch (!) — only able to practise for about 5 hours on the eternally faulty Wanamaker organ in preparing the registrations for my Farewell Concert, which I am to give on {Monday} 21st March. However, this monstrosity of an organ was still just as defective as at my opening concert. I raged, cursed, howled — it was of no use: the middle 11 {notes?} on all 5 manuals failed to operate, and on the whole 120 stops. The electrical contacts were disrupted . . . It had been like that for 21/2 months . . . I again departed without achieving anything and had some much-needed sleep in a 36-hour express-(train) journey, for which I was hit over the head for a good $60, and was thus unable to spend a minute in the preparation of my farewell-programme, B.A.C.H. Back to Elmira, near Rochester {it’s actually about 80 miles southeast}. There I should be able to “take off my shoes”, for Elmira is “sacred organ-country”. This is the Mecca and Medina of America’s very own organ-building art; here stands the first work of Hope-Jones, from whom American organ-building takes its origin. As the minister, Mr. Cornwell, took me by the arm like a bride to the altar (to the organ-console), he duly drew my attention to the fact that I could certainly never come to know the equal of such an unsurpassable instrument, — it must be the most famous organ on this planet!

32e

ca. 15. — 21. März 1932 — Und als ich einen einzigen Ton riskierte — — betete ich: „Vater, ist’s möglich, so lege diesen Getreideschuppen noch in dieser Nacht in Schutt und Asche, ich will mein B-A-C-H morgen lieber auf einer Okarina spielen.“ 20 Grundstimmen aber 120 Register (von denen akkurat 100 blinde Schwindler sind!!). Ich habe zunächst geröchelt wie ein Seekranker, als ich diese Museumsrarität erkannte, die Pedaltasten lagen so tief, daß man im Stehen spielen mußte und bei lebhaften Passagen wie im Schützengraben um sein Leben lief. Ich habe vor Wut gebellt, wie eine Horde toller Schakale, während Kätherlein vor Vergnügen den Kontrapunkt weiherte: „Jakob, wo bist du?“ Nach einer Stunde Probe erklärte ich, abreisen zu müssen, da es trotz besten Willens nicht möglich sei, auch nur einen Takt ohne Katastrophe zu spielen. Der Herr Minister wollte durchaus nicht einsehen, daß seine historische Rarität längst hinter Glas und Rahmen gehörte und als Konzertinstrument heute zum Treppenwitz geworden war. Zwei Orgelbauer wurden aus Buffalo herbeigerufen, sie, der ständige Organist und ich arbeiteten von 6 Uhr abends bis früh 9 Uhr ununterbrochen in und an der völlig zerlegten Orgel, ohne den geringsten greifbaren Erfolg: doch begegneten wir immerhin etwa gegen 600 Holzwürmern, die sich in dem Transmissionslabyrinth seit 1900 verlaufen hatten. Wir murmelten unser Requiem æternam über die Erbbegräbnisse der Würmerei, aber deshalb ging die Orgel auch noch nicht los. Da die Pfeifenstöcke und Windladen völlig vertrocknet waren und tausend Wurmgänge Wind ließen, schlug ich vor, Dampf durch die Orgel zu jagen. Es wurden mobil gemacht: 1 Kinderbadewanne, 1 Rumpfsitzbad, 6 Waschschüsseln und eine nicht kontrollierbare Menge von Pfannen — alle mit siedenden Wasser gefällt und mehrfach neu ergänzt. Während der Dampf sich in das Gehölz verzog, waren wir — 4 Mann hoch — bemacht, die tückischen Wurmlöcher mit Kleie, Seife und Weichkäse zu verkleben!!! Man klebte noch, während ich meine ersten Programm-Nummern riskierte. Als in der Mitte des Programms plötzlich wiederum alle Koppeln versagten, raunte mir Käthchen zu: „Väterchen, ich glaube der Gipsverband aus Seife und Quark ist an der Transmissionslade aufgeweicht . . . es wird Zeit, daß wir Schluß machen, sonst fällt uns die amerikanische Orgelwiege über den Kopf zusammen.“ Ich ließ mich von der Orgelbank hinunter und rannte wie ein verzweifelter Sämann zwischen den abgründigen Pedalfurchen hin und her und ließ die braven Gläubigen glauben: das sei die große Schlußkadenz der B-A-C-H-Fuge gewesen. Na und dann blieb das Contra B noch hängen und gab mir das tönende Geleit, bis ich in mein Taxi einstieg . . . Derlei „Abenteuer“ lesen sich ganz ergötzlich — für andere — aber nur ein Organist kann ermessen, welche Höllenqualen man an solchen Ungeheuern von Pseudo-orgeln aussteht. Zehn kostbare Stunden gehen verloren, man kommt nicht fünf Minuten zum Ausprobieren, geschweige denn zum Üben, man opfert Schlaf und Essen und wird vor Verzweiflung reif für die Nervenanstalt. Nicht jeder Konzertbesucher ist fähig, zu entscheiden, wo die oft schmachwürdigen Hemmungen einer Darstellung liegen. Noch lagen drei Konzerte vor, ehe unser Schiff uns in die Heimat bringen sollte: Poughkeepsie (Vassar College) am Hudson, New York: Wanamaker Farewell-Conzert und Northampton (Smith College). Vassar College ist die exklusivste und kostspieligste aller existierenden Damenhochschulen (12 000 RM jährliche Gebühr), ich lernte eine exzellente Klavierlehrerin, Schülerin der Corrego {?} und eine Menge Elevinnen kennen, deren Eltern uns in allen Teilen der Staaten fürstliche Gastfreundschaft gewahrt haben. Die Orgeln waren vorbildliche Meisterwerke, die Hörer hochkultiviert und für das Programm analytisch klug vorbereitet. Es wurden die wertvollsten Erfolge, leider hatten wir kaum Zeit, die tausend und abertausend begeisterten Hände zu drücken, die uns so herzerfrischend zuwinksten; denn der Nachtexpreß mit seinen sleeping cars wartete in beiden Fällen. Das Traurigste sollte noch kommen: Wanamaker Fare-well-Conzert. Hungernd fahren wir die Nacht durch, Expreß mit Schlafwagen, nur um früh 1/28—12 Uhr mein sehr schweres 3. Programm (mit B-A-C-H) endlich in Ruhe auszuregistrieren! Angekommen: Wanamaker öffnet erst nach 9 Uhr . . . Um 9 Uhr: die Schlüssel zur Orgel hat der Herr Abteilungschef, er kommt 1/210 Uhr . . . Wir verschlingen in Hast ein primitives breakfast. 1 /210 Uhr, der Schlüssel ist da, aber das elektrische Kabel ist defekt, der Techniker kommt gegen 11 Uhr! Ich tobe: mein Konzert ist 1/23 Uhr, ich bin neulich vergeblich von Rochester herübergefahren (36 Stunden Zeit, Nachtschlaf, 60 Dollar Fahrt, alles für die Katze . . . !).

33g

Elmira — And when I took the chance of playing a single note — — I said, “Father, if there were any possibility that those grain-sheds be reduced to rubble this very night, I would prefer to play my B.A.C.H. tomorrow on an ocarina.” Twenty basic registers but 120 stops (of which precisely 100 are sheer swindles!!). At first I groaned, like one who is seasick, when I understood this museumpiece, where the pedalkeys lay so deeply that one had to stand up to play them and in fast passages ran for one’s life as in a trench. I barked in fury, like a horde of wild jackals, whilst Katy whinnied out of pleasure a counterpoint, “Jacob, where art thou?” After an hour’s rehearsal I had to leave, saying that despite the best intention it would not be possible to play a single bar without a catastrophe. Throughout, the minister did not wish to see that his historical rarity had for a long time belonged to some space behind glass and had become an ironical joke as a concert instrument nowadays. Two organ-builders were called over from Buffalo; they, the official organist and I worked without interruption from 6 p.m. until 9 a.m. in and on the completely dismantled organ, without the least tangible success: at any rate, we encountered about 600 wood-worms which had been running around in the labyrinth of the action since 1900. We mumbled our Eternal Rest over the family grave of the worm-colony, but even so the organ still didn’t work. As the pipe-work and wind-chests were completely dried out and a thousand worm-tracks leaked wind, I proposed that steam be forced through the organ. We mobilised: one child’s bathtub, one hipbath, six washbasins and an unverifiable number of pans — all supplied with boiling water which was repeatedly replenished. Whilst the steam was dispersing in the woodwork, we were — all four of us — making ourselves filthy in gumming up the malicious worm-holes with bran, soap and soft cheese!!! The others were still gluing while I took a chance with my first number on the programme. When in the middle of the programme, all couplers abruptly failed again, Katy whispered to me, “Daddy, I think the plaster cast in the action, made out of soap and rubbish, has gone sodden . . . it’s time for us to stop, otherwise the cradle of American organ-building may fall altogether onto our heads”. I came down from the organ-bench and ran back and forth like a desperate seed-sower between the chasm-like pedal-furrows and let the worthy faithful believe that this ought to have been the great closing cadence of the B.A.C.H. fugue. Now and then the bottom B flat remained on and gave me a tonal escort until I got into my taxi . . . An “adventure” like that reads quite delightfully — for others — but only an organist can judge what torments of hell one endures at such an outrageous pseudo-organ. Ten precious hours have been lost; one did not spend even five minutes in try-outs, let alone practice; one sacrifices sleep and food, and becomes in desperation ready for a psychiatric institute. Not one concert-goer is capable of deciding where the often humiliating restraints in a performance lie. There are still three concerts before our ship takes us back home: Poughkeepsie on the Hudson (Vassar College); New York: Wanamaker farewell-concert; and Northampton {Massachusetts} (Smith College). Vassar College is the most exclusive and costly of all the ladies’ colleges in existence (12,000 RM annual charge). I became acquainted with an excellent (lady) piano-teacher, pupil of Corrego, and a crowd of (female) students, whose parents have granted us princely hospitality in all parts of the States. The organs were exemplary masterpieces, the listeners highly cultivated and analytically, intelligently prepared for the programme. These had the most valuable outcome; unfortunately we scarcely had the time to press the thousands upon thousands of enthusiastic hands which refreshingly waved at us; for the night-time express with its sleeping cars awaited in both instances. The saddest was still to come: Wanamaker farewell-concert. Hungry, we travel through the night on an express-train with sleeping cars, so that from 7:30 a.m. to 12 o’clock my very difficult 3rd programme (including B.A.C.H.) can at last be registered in peace! Arrived: Wanamaker doesn’t open until after 9 o’clock . . . Around 9 a.m.: the Manager of the Department has the keys to the organ, he comes in at 9:30 . . . we devour a primitive breakfast. At 9:30 the key is there but the electrical cable is faulty; the technician comes at about 11 o’clock! I an furious: my concert is at 2:30 p.m., I have recently travelled over from Rochester in vain (36 hours, overnight trip for $60, all wasted . . . !).

33e

21. — 22. März 1932 Heute ist es wieder so! Ist denn nun das H in Ordnung? Das Kabel war gerissen! Ist denn alles repariert? Ich muß 55 Variationen und 21 Stationen in der Fuge vorbereiten . . . „Ja — ja est ist alles o. k. Aber „üben“ können Sie heute nicht! Der Saal ist bis 1 Uhr besetzt. Um 2 Uhr ist Saalöffnung für Ihre Rezital . . . “ „Mann, ich erwürge Sie! Ich brauche mindestens 41/2 Stunden Zeit zum Ausprobieren der Registrierung, ich habe noch Händel, Bach und meine 6 Inventionen (außer der 3/4 stündlichen Passacaglia) auf dem Programm! Niemand ist zuständig: Die Orgel ist noch genau so kaputt wie am 12. Januar! Das Kabel H {sic} mit 584 Einzelleitungen ist noch immer unterbrochen.“ Inzwischen sind aber 16 Konzerte gegeben worden!!! Ich erkläre: „Ich wünsche mein Honorar und fahre sogleich ab; es ist eine Unverfrorenheit, einem Künstler ein derartig defektes Instrument anzubieten!“ „Meister „Illert“, absagen ist unmöglich, alle Karten sind ausverkauft, man will Ihre B-A-C-H hören.“ „Ohne H?“ „Ja — es muß eben heute ohne H gehen, da hilft nichts!“ „B-A-C . . . Luftloch? und das viele hundertmale?“ „Ach, so ein Deiwelskerl, wie Sie, komponiert im Augenblick eben einen anderen Ton hinein . . . “ Ich: „Sie sind irrsinnig!“ „Well, wir legen Ihnen auf die Taste H eine Glocke, eine Marimba, eine Harfe, Celesta, Xylophon und eine Posthornhupe alle auf den Ton H, dann gibt es kein Loch, — das würde sogar ein sensationeller Effekt sein. Der Techniker schließt alle diese Perkussionen an die Taste H des Great-Manuals, das ist in 20 Minuten all right!“ Ich sehe Kätherlein stumm an: „Kind, hast du Töne? B-A-C-H auf Wanamakers Orgel mit Castagnetten, Marimba, Ristatrommel auf H.“ 1/22 kommt der Orgelbauer aus Philadelphia — er lötet das Kabel und ist um 3/43 Uhr fertig — seit 1/43 ist das Publikum vollzählig. Ich tippe 584mal das H an, damit der Orgelbauer die 584 Kontakte richtig verbindet. Das Publikum ist Zeuge einer grandiosen Orgelflickerei. Es ist durch ein Ansprache über die Sachlage orientiert . . . 3/43 all right. „So, Meister Illert, jetzt können Sie anfangen!“ Ich: „Ja, ich habe ja nicht einen einzigen Takt registrativ vorbereitet, halten Sie mich denn für einen „playing fool“ (spielenden Hanswurst)?“ — Ich war unrasiert, hatte noch meine Straßenkleidung an, mit der ich in den Orgelkammern herumgekrochen war — und sollte nun vor lauter Fachleuten aus New York, Newark, Princeton, Philadelphia, Baltimore usw. mein anspruchsvolles III. Programm absolvieren. Ich war aber derartig nervenüberspannt und künstlerisch empört, daß ich tatsächlich das Konzert begann: Zunächst stellte ich mich vor die Orgelbank und spielte eine Anzahl chromatischer Skalen in Registern, die defekt waren, bei jedem Defekt mit der linken hand auf die versagende Orgel weisend. Das geschah zirka 8—10mal. Dann begann ich Händel — drei kleine Bachs und Galuppi. Es ging konventionell und gedankenlos — ich wartete sehnlichst auf einen sinnfälligen Orgelstreik. Mit B-A-C-H kam die Erlösung: Der B-moll-Akkord im vollen Werk blieb hängen, er klebte wie ein Hornissenschwarm in den Winkeln des Fernwerkes mit lebender Tremolo-Vox humana, er zischte in den Mixturen hinter der Balustrade und dröhnte in den kleiderschrankdicken 64 Füßen der Pedale, die die ganzen Etagen durchziehen. Nichts konnte diesen abgründigen Akkord zum Schweigen bringen — keine Tuttiauslösung, keine Register- und Kombinationsabstellung. Ich mußte den Wind abstellen — dann versank alles in Klangschutt und Tonasche. Nun steckte ich mir zum Gaudium der Zuhörer Lucky Strike (Zigarette) an und ging auf dem Podium promenieren, während die Orgeltechniker wiederum zu reparieren anfingen. Als ich ein zweites Mal die Variationen begann, blieb eine Schönbergische Zahnschmerzendissonanz in irgendeiner Ecke als Ostinato hängen. Käthchen konstatierte: Die Bescherung kommt aus dem „Choir“, sie öffnet die Choir-Swellbox, damit sie auch Schwerhörige wahrnehmen konnten . . . (Die Hölle hatte Generalversammlung!), ich spielte ironisch das Dresdner Amen und machte meinen Endknix und sagte devot: „Ladies and Gentlemen, this was no Farewell-Recital; this big organ is indeed a „non plus ultra“ work.“ Ich schloß mich hinter der Bühne in ein office ein und weinte wie ein schwerkrankes Kind vor bitterster Enttäuschung und vor nicht mehr zu ertragender Nervosität. Dieses Programm sollte die Krönung meiner so märchenhaft-erfolgreichen und wahrhaftig übermenschlich anstrengenden Kompositionsreise werden. —

34g

New York Today it’s the same! Is the B natural satisfactory now? The cable was torn! Has everything then been repaired? I have to prepare 55 variations and 21 stages in the fugue . . . “Yes — yes, everything is O.K. But you can’t ‘practise’ today! The hall is engaged until 1 o’clock. At 2 o’clock it opens for your recital . . . ” “Man, I’ll throttle you! I need at least 41/2 hours to try out the registration; I still have Handel, Bach and my 6 Inventions (apart from the Passacaglia which takes 3 /4 of an hour) on the programme! No-one is responsible: the organ is still just as kaput as on 12th January! The cable for B natural with 584 individual connections is still cut off.” Meanwhile, however, 16 concerts have been given!!! I announce: “I want my honorarium and will leave immediately; it is an insolence to offer such a faulty instrument to a performer.” “Mister ‘Ee-lert’ {Karg-Elert depicts the American pronunciation of his name}, it’s impossible for you to cancel, the tickets are sold out, people want to hear your B.A.C.H.” “Without B natural?” “Yes, today it will simply have to be without B natural, that doesn’t matter!” “B.A.C. . . . hole in the air? and that same thing many hundreds of times?” “Ah, a devil of a fellow such as yourself can just slip in another note in a moment . . . ” I: “You’re insane!” “Well, we’ll place on the B natural key a bell, a marimba, a harp, celeste, xylophone and a posthorn, all at the pitch B natural, then there’ll be no hole, — that would even give a sensational effect. The technician will connect all these percussions to the B natural key on the Great manual, and everything will be all right in 20 minutes!” I look at Katy, mute: “Child, what a nerve! B.A.C.H. on the Wanamaker organ with castanets, marimba, hand-held drums at B natural”. At 1:30 the organ-builder from Philadelphia comes — he solders the cable and is ready at about 2:45 — since 2:15 the whole audience has been present. I tap B natural lightly 584 times to confirm that the organ-builder has connected the 584 contacts properly. The audience is witness to a fantastic piece of organ patchwork. Through this, they have been orientated to the situation . . . all right at 2:45. “So then, Mister Ee-lert, you can start now!” I: “Yes, but I haven’t registered a single bar, do you take me for a clown fooling about?” — I was unshaven, still had my street clothes on, in which I had been crawling about in the organ-chamber — and should now complete my demanding 3rd programme before an exclusively expert audience from New York, Newark, Princeton, Philadelphia, Baltimore, etc. I was however so overexcited and incensed as an artist that in fact I started into the concert: first of all I went over and stood in front of the organ-bench to play a number of chromatic scales in stops which were defective, showing each fault on the malfunctioning organ with the left hand. That occurred 8—10 times. Then I began with three little pieces — Handel, Bach and Galuppi. They went conventionally and without thought — I waited eagerly for some obvious breakdown on the organ. Deliverance came with the B.A.C.H.: the B flat minor chord on full organ remained suspended, it stuck like a swarm of hornets in the corners of the Echo Division with a lively Vox Humana tremulant, it sizzled in the mixtures behind the balustrade and roared in the Pedal 64 ft. which is as big as a wardrobe, running through the entire floor of the building. Nothing could silence this loathsome chord — no tutti release, no stop- or combination-cancel. I had to turn off the wind — then everything sank into tonal rubble. I now lit up a Lucky Strike (cigarette) for the amusement of the audience and went up onto the podium while the organ-technician again commenced his repairs. When I began the variations for a second time, a Schönberg-like toothache-dissonance lingered as an ostinato in some corner. Katy noticed that the mischief was coming from the “Choir”; she opened the Choir-swellbox to perceive it for she is rather hard of hearing . . . (hell was having a general meeting!), I played ironically the Dresden Amen, made my premature ending and said obsequiously, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this was my Farewell-recital; this big organ is indeed unsurpassable”. {The Dresden Amen, first used by J.G. Naumann, 1741—1801, consists of the stepwise ascending fifth and was taken up by composers such as Mendelssohn and Wagner; Naumann spent much of his life in Dresden.} I locked myself in an office behind the platform and wept like a critically ill child out of the most bitter disappointment and unbearable nervous tension. This programme should have been the culmination of my so fantastically successful and truly, superhumanly strenuous tour with my compositions. —

34e

ca. 22. März 1932 Man rief orkanartig nach mir, man schlug fast die verschlossene Tür ein und holte mich hinaus . . . Da sah ich wiederum eklatant . . . wie man mich dort liebte, man drückte mir fast die Hände wund, man nahm mich an die Schulter und in den Arm und schäumte vor Wut über die schmachwürdigen Orgelverhältnisse bei Wanamaker. Man lud mich nach St. Thomas, nach Newark und Atlantic City ein, mein B-A-C-H dort zu interpretieren, Zeitungsreporter versprachen eine Aktion aus diesen Fall zu machen, der Manager von Wanamaker nahm jede Verantwortung auf sich und sagte, daß nunmehr ein Radikalumbau beschlossen sei. Ich aber habe nichts mehr davon, denn morgen fährt die „Berlin“ nach Deutschland und der schöne Amerikatraum ist zerronnen . . . Mein neuer amerikanisher Verleger, Arth. Schmidt-Boston, lud uns ein, um auf seinem Sommersitz Erholung von den mörderlichen Strapazen zu finden, der große Skinner erinnerte uns an unser Versprechen, unsere Osterferien bei ihm zu verbringen: Miß Ch. Klein, die berühmte Orgelvirtuosin in Washington und die liebte Familie Levithan warten alle . . . aber morgen fährt unser Schiff, und ich habe keine Ruhe, hier zu feiern. Erhebend war aber heute eine stille KargElert-Feier in der berühmten St. Thomas Church New York City mit Skinners schönster Orgel. Vier der begabtesten Orgelkünstler der jüngsten Generation brachten auf Skinners Anregung mir eine Kompositionshuldigung! Sie spielten mir vier meiner größten Orgelwerke in der verfinsterten Kathedrale (mit dem berühmten Tertius Nobelfenster) in einer nicht zu überbietenden Vollkommenheit vor. (Sinfonien, Choräle, Pastels und Impressionen); Skinner sagte: „Siehst Du, durch diese Werke wirst Du nie, nie sterben, durch diese Werke hast Du die tiefste Liebe und die grenzenlose Verehrung aller ernsten amerikanischen Künstler für alle Zeiten erworben. Unser Land ist wirklich Deine Heimat geworden. Mit Deinen verinnerlichten Klängen begleiteten Dich die vier hoffnungsvollsten Orgeltalente in die Heimat.“ Tiefergriffen geleitete uns der Großmeister bis an das Portal. Und als wir an den Pier über den Laufsteg in den Leib der (ach, so kleinen!) „Berlin“ stiegen, brachten uns die begeisterten jungen Künstler mit dem wundervollen Großmeister Skinner Blumen, Blumen, Blumen. „Auf Wiedersehen und glückliche Überfahrt!“ O, die lieben Zurückbleibenden, sie ahnten nicht, daß Neptun die Hölle in Bereitschaft hatte und für die 10tägige Überfahrt uns sehr bald mit Orkan (11° Stärke) bis zum Wahnsinn und Nervenschock martern würde, bis wir endlich am 4. April in Bremerhaven „Mutti, Mutti, Gott sei Dank — Deutschland“ stammeln durften.

35g

New York People shouted for me like a hurricane, they almost smashed down the door and took me out . . . thus I again saw strikingly . . . how the people here love me, they shook my hands almost making them sore, they took me by the shoulder and by the arm and foamed with rage over the disgraceful condition of the Wanamaker organ. I was invited to St. Thomas, to Newark and Atlantic City to perform my B.A.C.H.; newspaper reporters promised a campaign on this case; the manager of Wanamaker accepted full responsibility and said that now a comprehensive rebuilding would ensue. {Mixed up in all the fantasy, this last comment is literally true. Günther Ramin played there in January 1933 and The Diapason reported on his concert in February, including this sentence on p. 1: “For nine months the concert hall in the New York store had been closed and the organ had undergone partial reconstruction, so that its re-opening was a welcome event.”} However, I am not to be a part of this any more, as the “Berlin” sets out for Germany tomorrow and the beautiful American dream will have faded away . . . My new American publisher, Arthur Schmidt of Boston, invited us to his summer residence for a holiday, to recuperate from these murderous stresses; the great Skinner reminded us of our promise to spend our Easter holidays with him. {Schmidt published Opus 108 in 1925 and was hardly ‘new’ to Karg-Elert.} Miss Charlotte Klein, the famous organ-virtuoso in Washington, and the lovely Levithan family are all waiting . . . but our ship sets out tomorrow and I have no inclination for holidays here. Today, however, it was uplifting to attend a secret Karg-Elert celebration in the famous St. Thomas Church, New York City, with Skinner’s most beautiful organ. Four of the youngest and most gifted organists, at Skinner’s suggestion, paid me homage by presenting some of my compositions! {See Skinner’s remarks, from Musical Opinion, Dec., 1932, pp. 247—48, reproduced in Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, p. A-56.} They played to me four of my greatest organworks in the darkened Cathedral (with the famous Tertius Nobel window) at a level of perfection which could not be exceeded: Sinfonias, Chorales, Pastels and Impressions. Skinner said, “You see that through these works you will never, never die; through these works you have earned the deepest love and the boundless respect of all serious American musicians for all time. Our country has really become your homeland. By your sounds, invested with spiritual meaning, thoughts of these four most hopeful, talented organists will accompany you back home.” Deeply moved, the great master led us to the portal. And as we climbed up the gangway from the pier to enter the hull of the (ah, so little!) “Berlin”, the enthusiastic young musicians with the wonderful great master Skinner brought us flowers, flowers, flowers. “Good-bye and a pleasant crossing!” Oh, you dear people who remain behind, you cannot foresee that Neptune has hell in readiness and for the 10-day crossing may torment us very soon with hurricanes (force 11) to the point of madness and nervous shock; until at last, on 4th April, we shall be able to stammer, in Bremerhaven, “Mummy, Mummy, thank God — Germany”.

35e

Appendix Contents 1. Preliminary notices and advertisements The Diapason, Oct., 1931 ......................................................................................A-1 Advertisement blocks..............................................................................................A-1 The American Organist, Jan, 1932 .........................................................................A-1 2. Editorial: “More about programs”.....................................................................................A-2 3. Large press announcements of the opening recital: The Diapason.........................................................................................................A-2 The American Organist ..........................................................................................A-3 4. Concert reviews, mainly for Jan. 6 (small piece for Jan. 12) Editorial The Diapason, Feb., 1932 — on the number present.................................A-5 Critiques: The Diapason, Feb., 1932 ......................................................................A-5 The American Organist, Feb., 1932........................................................................A-8 Comment by Skinner: The American Organist, March 1932 .................................A-10 5. Shorter concert reviews and announcements Washington ..........................................................................................................A-10 Chicago................................................................................................................A-10 Minneapolis..........................................................................................................A-11 Texas (Dallas)......................................................................................................A-11 San Francisco.......................................................................................................A-12 Rochester .............................................................................................................A-12 6. Extracts from letters by Emerson Richards, Henry Willis III and Bernard LaBerge, 15/1/32 to 22/3/32 ................................................................................................A-12 7. Articles on George Eastman and William Oetting............................................................A-14 8. American reaction to the letters as published in London in 1932 Editorial: “Our Guest, Dr. Karg-Elert” .................................................................A-16 Editorial: “And now let’s forget him” ....................................................................A-17 Editorial: “Ach mein” ...........................................................................................A-17 9. Karg-Elert’s final decline and death Request for financial support (medical costs) ........................................................A-20 Death notice .........................................................................................................A-20 Editorial: “Karg-Elert’s death”..............................................................................A-21 Notice from Katharina (with addenda) ..................................................................A-21 10. Letter and “contribution” from Johannes Piersig to Sceats, May 1936 ............................A-24

36

Appendix 1 Appendix 1. Preliminary notice, The Diapason, October 1, 1931, p. 1:

KARG-ELERT COMING TO U.S. Noted German Composer and Organist to Make Tour Early in 1932. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, noted German organist and composer, is to visit the United States in January, February and March. This interesting announcement is made by Bernard R. Laberge, New York concert manager. Dr. Karg-Elert’s compositions are appearing with such increasing frequency on the programs of all prominent recital players in this country and his fame is so worldwide that no doubt every American organist will look forward to meeting and hearing him. Last year Karg-Elert visited England, and an account of his trip appeared in The Diapason. It showed that in addition to being one of the foremost exponents of present-day organ composition, he is a man of delightful personality. This will be the first visit to the United States by any famous German organist in many years, which increases interest in his coming. Dr. Karg-Elert will be heard in recitals in a number of cities and it is announced that he has written several compositions especially for use on this visit. Mr. Laberge is planning for a very successful tour. Full page advertisements in The Diapason, October 1, 1931, p. 23 and December 1, 1931, p. 19, (each with a portrait); October page thus: Bernard R. Laberge has the honor to announce the coming of Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert the famous German organist-composer from the Leipzig Conservatory in his first transcontinental tour under honorary auspices American Guild of Organists January-February-March 1932. For open dates and terms apply to Concert Management Bernard R. Laberge Graybar Building — 420 Lexington Avenue, New York City In December, the wording was modified and availability specified thus (with a similar half-page block, less portrait, in The American Organist, Jan., 1932, p. 47): One of the greatest organ composers of this age Two-thirds of available time already booked Remaining dates available are as follows: East of U.S.A. and Canada . . . January 12th to February 14th Middle West, South and Pacific Coast . . . February 14th to March 15th East . . . March 15th to March 30th The American Organist, vol. 15, January 1932, p. 48: DEBUT JAN. 6 It is a pleasure to announce that Americans will have their first opportunity of hearing Dr. Karg-Elert on Wednesday evening, Jan. 6, on the new 4m Möller concert organ in the Grand Ball Room of the new Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York City. Formal dress optional; admission by invitation-ticket. Application for complimentary ticket should be addressed to M. P. Möller, Inc., Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York City. —WALDORF ORGAN— The 4m Möller in the new Waldorf-Astoria grand ball room, New York, which was officially opened by Wm. A. Goldsworthy Oct. 1st, 1931, in a five-hour program of organ music on the opening day of the new and lavishly appointed hotel, was presented Dec. 13 in a radio program by Carl Bonawitz, the noted theater organist, who had been doing work in the ball room of Convention Hall, Atlantic City.

A-1

Appendix 1 — 3 Mr. Bonawitz is past-master of the art of entertaining the average audience at the console and the new Möller in the Waldorf-Astoria came over the air in many bits of current music that were superbly beautiful examples of organ playing of that type. Mr. Bonawitz was playing for the radio audience alone, there being no audience present in the ball room during his broadcast. {More evidence for Karg-Elert’s remark about kitsch-music.} The broadcasting company which controls the music of the Waldorf is presenting Mr. Bonawitz in several radio programs. Appendix 2. Editorial, The Diapason, February 1, 1932, p. 20 (opening paragraphs only, preceded

by the journal heading):

The Diapason

A Monthly News-Magazine Devoted to the Organ and to Organists. Official Journal of the National Association of Organists. S. E. Gruenstein, Publisher {and editor also at that time} MORE ABOUT PROGRAMS The subject of recital programs is in danger of becoming as hackneyed wherever organists are gathered as has been the topic of free performances for some time. The Diapason has frequently had a word on the one-sidedness of so many lists of compositions played in public. On the one hand we have those who will give us nothing but Bach and César Franck, and some modern compositions which, had they been composed by men with Irish names would never be permitted on any program. At the other extreme are the so-called organists who never go more deeply into organ literature than the Londonderry Air, and, worst of all, cannot play this with any degree of artistry. The bewildered tyro or mere music-lover who goes to an organ recital is driven by the first class to find some solace listening to the latter class, and thereby the cause is done irremediable harm. Not that we have any desire to condemn those who keep their offerings at what they consider the highest level. But we do agree with Van Denman Thompson, who in the November issue of The Diapason had a remarkably thought provoking article in which he declared that a great deal of organ music was not good enough. He closed his argument with the statement that “it is quite as necessary to exclude the dull, sterile, verbose and bombastic as it is the tawdry and superficial,” which hit the nail on the head. We wonder when he said this whether he had in mind some of those forerunners of Bach who should have ceased running long ago or some modernists who have nothing to say and take all evening to say it. Appendix 3. The Diapason, January 1, 1932, p. 3:

SIGFRID KARG-ELERT ARRIVES IN U.S. JAN. 4 FIRST RECITAL IN NEW YORK

Noted German Composer and Organist Will Be Introduced to America at Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on New Möller Organ. Out-of-town organists and music-lovers who wish to attend Sigfrid Karg-Elert’s first American recital at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York, Wednesday evening, Jan. 6, are invited to telegraph to the Möller studios, care of the Waldorf-Astoria, for reservations of seats. Hotel accommodations at special rates will be arranged. Bernard R. Laberge announces that Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, the famous organist and composer of Germany, will arrive in this country on the Europa Jan. 4 for his extensive tour. He will make his American début at the Hotel Waldorf-Astoria the evening of Jan. 6 on the large new Möller organ recently installed in the magnificent banquet hall which seats 2,000 people. He will make his second New York appearance at the Wanamaker Auditorium Jan. 12. On Jan. 10 he will play at Princeton University. Karg-Elert’s opening recital in the country will be given through the courtesy of the directors of the hotel and M. P. Möller and they have invited the A. G. O. as their guests. This will also be an important social event as the Guild plans to give a dinner in one of the banquet-rooms before the recital. All organists are welcome, whether members of the Guild or not.

A-2

Appendix 3 Dr. Karg-Elert’s tour is under the honorary auspices of the American Guild of Organists. Following his New York appearances he will start his tour of the country, which will take him to most of the large cities of the United States and Canada. One of the features of this tour will be the fact that Dr. Karg-Elert will play new works he composed especially for his American visit. Dr. Karg-Elert will be accompanied by his daughter, Käthchen Karg-Elert, who, though only 18 years old, is a devoted and efficient secretary to her famous father. In the course of his tour Karg-Elert will cross the continent and recitals have been arranged in nearly all the principal cities. There is more than usual interest in his visit in view of the vogue of Karg-Elert’s works in this country and the fact that he is the first famous German organist of the present day to undertake an American tour. In 1930 Dr. Karg-Elert paid a visit to England on the occasion of an organ festival of ten recitals of his compositions. The Diapason described that visit and reported that it served to bring about a closer friendship between German and English organ circles. From the account, which appeared in the issue of July 1, the following is quoted: Although Karg-Elert speaks only his own language, he managed to convey his friendly feelings and a collection of stories to his hosts, and the festival, according to all accounts, will go down in English organ history as an important event. Harvey Grace, writing in the Musical Times, in introducing his article on the Karg-Elert visit says: “In no country, it seems, is his music more played than in England, and it may be doubted whether a more striking tribute has ever been paid to an organ composer in his lifetime than the series of ten recitals which made up the Karg-Elert festival held at St. Lawrence Jewry from May 5 to 17.” From an article in Musical Opinion of London in June, one gleans among other interesting information that Karg-Elert is very fond of cats. A picture of him is published holding a large black tabby affectionately in his arms. He is quoted as saying that he is “very fond of ladies and cats, especially the latter.” And he smokes a hundred cigarettes a day! If he will come to America we warn him that one of our enterprising companies manufacturing cigarettes will get his picture in another pose that that of holding a cat. The American Organist, vol. 15, January 1932, p. 53: KARG-ELERT TOUR

FAMOUS ORGANIST-COMPOSER TO ARRIVE JAN. 4

Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Bernard R. Laberge, Americans are to have opportunity to see and hear personally one of the most prominent figures in the contemporary world of the organ. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert is scheduled to arrive on the Europa, Jan. 4th, under the Bernard R. Laberge Concert Management, and will make his début on the new Möller organ in the Grand Ball Room of the new Waldorf-Astoria, New York City — which in reality will constitute a triple-début, for hotel, organ, and organist. He will then make a second New York appearance, in the Wanamaker Auditorium. Dr. Karg-Elert’s tour is under the honorary auspices of the Guild and a reception will be tendered him in the Waldorf after his recital there. Following these events he undertakes his tour, which will include most of the important cities in the States and Canada, so that every organist in the country will have opportunity to meet, see, and hear the organist-composer who today holds an outstanding position in the esteem of the organ world at large. He is accompanied by his daughter Käthchen who in spite of her youth is a most efficient and devoted secretary to her eminent father. As Mr. Fay Leone Faurote has said, “To hear a great artist is a privilege, accorded to only a few — sometimes only once or twice in a lifetime. What would you have given to have heard Bach, to have seen him play, to have studied his technic as he sat at the organ!” Dr. Karg-Elert seems to have been able, in his music, to bridge the gap between the professional and the layman, for his music is perfectly satisfactory to the former and intelligible and enjoyable to the latter. Few indeed have been the composers of whom that could be said.

A-3

Appendix 3 In addition to some unusual works of some of the old masters which have never been played in America, Dr. Karg-Elert will also present some new works which he composed especially for this tour. The American Organist, vol. 15, January 1932, pp. 46—48; these are editorial pages, presumably written by the editor himself, T. Scott Buhrman: Sigfrid Karg-Elert A Brief Biographical Sketch of The Man and His Music Germany is sending America its best-loved exponent of the noble art of organ composition. “Among contemporary composers,” says Mr. Sigmund Klein, “Sigfrid Karg-Elert occupies a unique place.” Continuing, Mr. Klein points out that “for approximately the past twenty years he figures as the most productive and renowned organ composer since Reger.” Upon the death of Reger, Karg-Elert was summoned to the Conservatory at Leipzig, to occupy the post vacated by his distinguished predecessor. And just as Reger’s name had become a household word among organists throughout the world, so also Karg-Elert’s name was destined to become. But the difference between the music of the two men is pretty nearly the difference between the scholastic music of contrapuntal perfection and the romantic music of superlative imaginative beauty. Reger’s music is severe, austere, aloof; it is scientific. Karg-Elert’s is poetic, warm, marked by flights of fancy and heights of reflective beauty. The remarkable thing about Dr. Karg-Elert is that he should be able to compose music that gives every evidence of having been written expressly for the finest of modern American organs, whereas the only instruments with which he is familiar in Germany are of the Bach and Reger type of unimaginative, almost colorless foundation. Dr. Karg-Elert was born Nov. 21, 1879 {sic}, in Oberndorf, Württemberg, and studied with Reinecke, Reisenauer, Jadassohn, and others. He is now the first composer thought of in America when modern German music is mentioned. That’s all there is to the record. “For twelve years,” says Mr. Klein, “he forsook organ composition and wrote orchestral, piano, and chamber music. After many years, satiated with the radical modernistic experiments, the great attraction of composing for the organ again drew him under its spell, and with deep fervor and religious enthusiasm he reverted to the ideals of his youth.” “But the period of his musical wanderings was not futile. He had substantially adopted new elements of style. His manner, in his organ compositions, had benefited by a particular nuance and he definitely divorced himself from the current Reger formulae.” “His harmonies,” continues Mr. Klein in a particularly well-worded paragraph, “are absolutely self-willed, distinctive and at times bold, and the logic of their combinations and modulatory evolutions, intelligent and persuasive.” Just as the modern school of organ building and organ design have made possible a new school of organ playing and organ literature, so also has Dr. Karg-Elert brought into actual being that new school of organ composition. Mr. Klein speaks of this phase of Karg-Elert’s music quite eloquently when he says, “Karg-Elert steeps himself in aggressive orchestral effects in composing for the organ.” And aggressive orchestral effects, indeed, have made this poet of the organ a very welcome guest in America in the opening months of the readjustment year of 1932. What of the man himself? We know his music, and perhaps through his music we know him also. Let us re-paint the word-picture painted for readers of this magazine four years ago by Mrs. J. H. Cassidy of Dallas, who had gone to Germany expressly to meet the famous composer. “A little fat man in a Swiss costume of velvet coat,” wrote Mrs. Cassidy, who “very much resembled a jolly Schubert making fun of his student’s work one moment, storming the next, or patting their shoulders with a loving hand.” Of a student who had just played with too much bodily gestures, Dr. Karg-Elert remarked, “Some day he will learn that emotion is of the heart and not of the body.” “Our next visit,” continues Mrs. Cassidy, “was a revelation. At his home, two sides of the large room are lined with books, and two with cabinets of his own compositions. ‘See,’ he said, ‘my family of compositions has increased so I scarcely know my own children.’ We asked how he found time with his large classes at the Conservatory, and he answered: ‘I have a strong body; I sleep mostly between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m.’ ”

A-4

Appendix 3 — 4 “ ‘The English have been my friends,’ said he, ‘but sometimes they say, "We cannot play your numbers on our organs," but I hear the Americans will play my pieces. I love to look at the American specifications. They will do what my soul calls for.’ ” Yes, truly, the modern American organ will paint the beautiful tone-pictures Dr. Karg-Elert’s soul calls for. It is a privilege to have at work in America today men of commercial genius whose ability bridges the expansive and expensive Atlantic and makes it possible for the Old World to send to the New its great composers, such as Karg-Elert, and the other great composers and performers who have been here before him. With the exception of Guilmant many years ago, none other of the rank of Karg-Elert has been here. What would many of us not give to be able to recall that we too had seen and heard Guilmant for ourselves? We close with four pertinent statements of Mr. Klein, each packed with meaning: “Karg-Elert is liberated from modish ambitions. His compositions show no compromise to either the conservatives or the radicals. His is the urge which actuates him to compose. He is an Apostle of his Art.” Appendix 4. Editorial, The Diapason, February 1, 1932, p. 20 (in full):

WORTH SHOUTING ABOUT It was indeed an event of great musical and social importance which marked the opening of the Möller concert organ in the new Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York on the evening of Jan. 6. Our news columns tell the story in detail, but it is worth while dwelling on the significant fact that so large and so distinguished an audience can be brought together to hear a new instrument and a famous foreign visitor. We only hope that some of our great American performers, who, to say the least, hold their own with any organist the present generation has produced, will be able to draw equally noteworthy audiences with greater frequency. One can forgive the press representative his enthusiasm over the fact that, as a letter to The Diapason from the man in charge of the seating and publicity arrangements for the evening points out, there were more than 600 organists and 400 clergymen present — which is not merely a press agent’s estimate, but was confirmed by The Diapason. Despite a pouring rain nearly every organist in Greater New York and many from distant cities came out, and in the audience were such men as Adolph S. Ochs, publisher of The New York Times, and Monsignor Lavelle of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Let us rejoice and shout hurrah with the publicity man that this was so and hope that the story may be repeated so often that it will no longer stand out as news. The Diapason, February 1, 1932, pp. 1—2 (author not stated): KARG-ELERT, ORGAN AND HOTEL IN JOINT DEBUT GALA OCCASION IN NEW YORK

German Composer Gives Initial Recital at New Waldorf-Astoria, Playing Möller Instrument Before Distinguished Audience. In the presence of a majority of the organists of Greater New York and a large concourse of visitors from nearby, Sigfrid Karg-Elert, world-famous composer of organ music, and the first German organist of prominence to visit the United States for a tour in many moons, made his initial American appearance on the evening of Jan. 6 at the console of the large concert organ built by M. P. Möller for the magnificent new Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. It was a threefold coming-out party — for Herr Karg-Elert, for the latest outstanding instrument and for the musical center established in the beautiful ball-room in this re-born hotel. Here was indeed a setting that justified such a gathering of the clans. The ball-room in which the organ has been installed is something about which to write home, with a seating capacity of close to 2,000 people on its spacious floor and in the tiers of boxes above. When one visualizes this splendid room filled with the flower of the organ world of the metropolis, supplemented by a throng of other invited guests of distinction, including the socially prominent clientele of the hotel, all eager to hear a distinguished visitor perform on a splendid instrument which is sure to be one of the very popular musical facilities of New York, he can form a mental picture of what Dr. Karg-Elert faced when he laid his hands on the manuals. It was, in short, a gala occasion such as seldom comes to the American organ world.

A-5

Appendix 4 The joint hosts of the evening were the forces of M. P. Möller and the board of directors of the Hotel Waldorf-Astoria, in whose name the invitations to the recital had been issued. The entire arrangement had been made under the auspices of the American Guild of Organists. Short talks before the recital were made by Lucius Boomer, president of the Waldorf; M. P. Möller, Jr., son of the builder of the organ; and Frank I. Sealy, warden of the American Guild of Organists, under whose auspices the recital was presented. Three things being the cynosure of the visitor’s eye, all of them making their début, a triplicate task confronts the reviewer. As for the hotel, it is a monument to the enterprise of New York people, and as a hostelry is justifiably classed among the world wonders. The new structure, which covers a square fronting on Park Avenue, is the successor to which descended the reputation of the old Waldorf-Astoria, so long famous until it had to make way for the 102-story Empire State building. The grand ball-room is to be a center of notable social and musical events and the hotel management realized that no more appropriate and effective way of providing for the musical resources of the room could be found than the installation of an adequate organ. M. P. Möller was commissioned to build the instrument and the judgement of the organists present and of many who played it informally in the days before the inaugural recital was that it is entirely worthy of its surroundings. There is ample power for the most stunning climax that may be required in any performance and a multiplicity of beautiful organ effects, in addition to all of which there is opportunity to imitate everything provided in this age by an orchestra in the way of traps and accessories. Dr. Karg-Elert, a simple and friendly man, wedded to his art as a composer, was received with enthusiasm, for who was there among all the organists present who did not play and admire his works? Less than forty-eight hours on American soil, after a stormy ocean voyage in which he no doubt found inspiration for something wilder than Lake Constance ever provided for him, and with opportunities for practice curtailed by the procession of events which filled the day and the night, with intermissions crowded by the din produced by armies of carpet-layers and seat shifters, the German visitor was introduced to an example of American speed which was hardly conducive to performance of the task of becoming intimate with the intricacies of an American console layout. But Herr Karg-Elert made the best of the situation and no doubt will soon attain complete familiarity with American organs as his tour advances. Before embarking on his printed program the visitor paid a graceful compliment to America and an illustrious American when he played an elegy composed by himself, still in manuscript, in memory of Lynnwood Farnam. This work really proved the best of the evening in the eyes of many of his audience. The next offering was a “Suite Brétonique” of César Franck, which was followed by two pieces written in the seventeenth century by Michael Angelo Rossi for a portable organ. The performer made one imagine, however, that the portable organs of that day were well equipped with 2-ft. stops, harps, etc. Then came two “Ritornelles” by Jean Philip Rameau, the “Tambourin” being good “movie” theater music, which evidently had come into being too early. These three numbers all were transcriptions for the organ by Dr. Karg-Elert. The remainder of the program consisted of works of Karg-Elert himself, all of them never before performed in public. The first was a “Moto Perpetuo” from the Second Symphony, and then came a Partita in C minor, made up of four movements, the last being a brilliant toccata. There was variety and “pep” in this partita. As a supplemental offering to an audience such as is seldom in a lifetime brought together to hear a new organ, the Möller forces by request put on two rolls to demonstrate the possibilities of the “Artiste” player. These were the Bacchanale from “Samson and Delilah” by Saint-Saëns, and the overture to Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger.” The latter especially aroused decided enthusiasm and served to display the vast orchestral possibilities of the instrument. The arrangements were the work of Frederick A. Hoschke of the Möller staff. The recital was followed by an inspection of the organ and a general reunion of those brought together by the occasion.

A-6

Appendix 4 The tonal resources of the Waldorf-Astoria organ are embodied in the following stop specification: GREAT ORGAN. 1. Violone, 16 ft., 85 pipes. 2. Major Diapason, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 3. Minor Diapason, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 4. Violone, 8 ft., 61 notes. 5. Major Flute, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 6. Harmonic Flute, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 7. Violoncello, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 8. Violoncello Celeste, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 9. Gemshorn, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 10. Gemshorn Celeste, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 11. Octave, 4 ft., 61 pipes. 12. Violone Octave, 4 ft., 61 notes. 13. Harmonic Flute, 4 ft, 61 notes. 14. Octave Quint, 22/3 ft., 61 pipes. 15. Super Octave, 2 ft., 61 pipes. 16. Mixture, 5 ranks, 305 pipes. 17. Trombone, 16 ft., 85 pipes. 18. Tromba, 8 ft, 61 pipes {notes?} 19. Clarion, 4 ft., 61 notes. 20. Harp, 8 ft., 61 {73?} bars 21. Harp, 4 ft., 61 notes. 22. Chimes, 25 bells. 23. Piano, 8 ft., 61 notes. 24. Piano, 4 ft., 61 notes. SWELL ORGAN. 25. Bass Violin, 16 ft., 97 pipes. 26. Bourdon, 16 ft., 97 pipes. 27. Geigen Diapason, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 28. Stopped Diapason, 8 ft., 73 notes. 29. Traverse Flute, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 30. Solo Violins, 2 rks., 8 ft., 146 pipes. 31. First Violin, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 32. First Violins Celeste, 2 rks., 8 ft., 146 pipes. 33. Second Violin, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 34. Muted Violin, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 35. Muted Violin Celeste, 8 ft, 73 pipes. 36. Geigen Octave, 4 ft., 73 pipes. 37. Harmonic Flute, 4 ft, 73 pipes.

38. Stopped Flute, 4 ft., 73 notes. 39. Violin, 4 ft., 73 notes. 40. Dolce Violins, 2 rks., 4 ft., 61 notes. 41. Nazard, 22/3 ft., 61 pipes. 42. Fifteenth, 2 ft., 61 pipes. 43. Tierce, 13/5 ft., 61 pipes. 44. Cornet {borrowed}, 61 notes. 45. Double Trumpet, 16 ft., 73 pipes. 46. English Horn, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 47. Orchestral Trumpet, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 48. Oboe d’Amore, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 49. Vox Humana, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 50. Clarion, 4 ft., 61 pipes. 51. Xylophone, 4 ft., 49{61?} bars. 52. Xylophone, 2 ft., 49 notes. 53. Chimes, 25 notes. 54. Piano, 8 ft., 73 notes. 55. Piano, 4 ft., 73 notes. CHOIR ORGAN. 56. English Diapason, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 57. Concert Flute, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 58. Quintadena, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 59. Dulciana, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 60. Unda Maris, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 61. Violin, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 62. Violin Celeste, 2 rks, 8 ft., 134 pipes. 63. Violas, 2 rks., 8 ft., 134 pipes. 64. Chimney Flute, 4 ft., 73 pipes. 65. Violas, 2 rks., 4 ft., 61 notes. 66. Flute Twelfth, 22/3 ft., 61 pipes. 67. Flageolet, 2 ft., 61 notes. 68. Viole Cornet, 3 rks., 183 pipes. 69. Clarinet, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 70. Orchestral Oboe, 8 ft., 73 pipes. 71. Orchestral Bells, 4 ft., 37 bars. 72. Glockenspiel, 2 ft., 49 notes. 73. Harp, 8 ft., 61 notes. 74. Harp, 4 ft., 61 notes. 75. Chimes, 25 notes. 76. Piano, 8 ft., 73 notes. 77. Piano, 4 ft., 73 notes.

SOLO ORGAN. 78. Contra Tibia Clausa, 16 ft., 97 pipes. 79. Stentorphone, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 80. Tibia Clausa, 8 ft., 61 notes. 81. Orchestral Cellos, 2 rks., 8 ft., 122 pipes 82. Orchestral Violins, 2 rks., 8 ft., 122 pipes. 83. Tibia Octave, 4 ft., 61 notes. 84. Tibia Twelfth, 22/3 ft., 61 notes. 85. Solo Piccolo, 2 ft., 61 notes. 86. Tuba Mirabilis, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 87. Post Horn, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 88. French Horn, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 89. Solo Vox Humana, 8 ft., 61 pipes. 90. Piano, 8 ft., 61 notes. 91. Piano, 4 ft., 61 notes. 92. Chimes, 25 notes. 93. Xylophone, 4 ft., 49 notes. 94. Xylophone, 2 ft., 49 notes. PEDAL ORGAN. 95. Resultant, 32 ft., 32 notes. 96. Open Diapason, 16 ft., 32 pipes. 97. Viole Diaphone, 16 ft., 44 pipes. 98. Violone, 16 ft., 32 notes. 99. Bass Violin, 16 ft., 32 notes. 100. Viole Dolce, 16 ft., 44 pipes. 101. Tibia Clausa, 16 ft., 32 notes. 102. Bourdon, 16 ft, 44 pipes. 103. Gedeckt, 16 ft., 44 pipes. 104. Lieblich Gedeckt, 16 ft., 32 notes. 105. Octave, 8 ft., 32 notes. 106. Violone, 8 ft., 32 notes. 107. Violoncellos, 2 rks., 8 ft., 32 notes. 108. Violin, 8 ft., 32 notes. 109. Viole Dolce, 8 ft., 32 notes. 110. Tibia Clausa, 8 ft., 32 notes. 111. Flute, 8 ft., 32 notes. 112. Gedeckt, 8 ft., 32 notes. 113. Super Octave, 4 ft., 32 notes. 114. Flute, 4 ft., 32 notes. 115. Bombarde, 16 ft., 32 pipes. 116. Trombone, 16 ft., 32 notes. 117. Trumpet, 16 ft., 32 notes. 118. Tuba, 8 ft., 32 notes. 119. Trombone, 8 ft., 32 notes. 120. Clarion, 4 ft., 32 notes.

The next {same} evening, Jan. 6, the American Guild of Organists held a dinner in honor of Dr. Karg-Elert at the Waldorf-Astoria. It was attended by about fifty members and guests. There were no formal greetings or speeches.

A-7

Appendix 4 Karg-Elert at Wanamaker’s Dr. Karg-Elert’s second New York recital, played at the Wanamaker auditorium, Jan. 12, placed him at greater advantage, as he had ample time for practice and to become acquainted with American organs {not so from the letters}. A good-sized audience heard him and showed its feeling with enthusiastic recalls. The works he played at Wanamaker’s which made the greatest impression were “In Memoriam” (dedicated to Lynnwood Farnam), which he also played at the Waldorf, and three new “Impressions,” declared to be stunning. In the “Impressions,” which he wrote especially for the Wanamaker organ, after a study of its specifications, he brought out unique tone colors, the second being conceived in a humorous vein — a sort of grotesque scherzo, along the lines of Dukas’ “Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” All of these pieces were characterized by beautiful harmonic sense, contrapuntal mastery and keen insight into the orchestral resources of the organ. The American Organist, vol. 15, February 1932, pp. 102—103: Sigfrid Karg-Elert Karg-Elert’s illustrious name drew to the grand ballroom of the new Waldorf-Astoria in New York City on Jan. 6th the most distinguished assemblage of organists America has ever seen. They came from as far away as Harrisburg, Pa. A bus-load came up from Philadelphia. The event was a combination of the opening of the Möller Organ and the American début of Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert. THE PROGRAM Franck, Suite Brétonique Rossi, Andantino and Allegretto Rameau, Musette and Tambourin Karg-Elert, Moto Perpetuo Karg-Elert, Partita No. 3: Fantasia — Dialogo — Minuetto Melanconico — Toccata-Finale. Mr. M. P. Möller, Jr., made a brief welcoming address, among others, and Mr. Bernard R. LaBerge, manager of Dr. Karg-Elert, interpreted the latter’s remarks in German, chiefly to announce that he would prelude the recital by playing a composition he had especially written in memory of Dr. Lynnwood Farnam. The Suite with which the program closed was dedicated to Mr. LaBerge. A note on the program announced that all works were first performances, the first three being Dr. KargElert’s “concert transcriptions” and the others his own recent compositions, the Moto Perpetuo from his second work in sonata form for the organ. Dr. Karg-Elert was vociferously received by the audience when he mounted the platform for his brief address; he had to wait so long for the applause to stop that he didn’t know what to do about it. His program was played from manuscripts, with his daughter turning pages for him and, in one number, playing a brief ornamental figuration against the passages he was playing at the moment. Dr. Karg-Elert is not here as a concert organist, for he has never practised that profession and never intends to; he is here, by grace of the business abilities of an American manager, on the strength of his international reputation as a composer. It must have been quite an ordeal for him to play this great concert organ — one of America’s most modern of instruments — in a recital before a great congregation of the world’s most distinguished concert organists who, unlike himself, were making a business of being concert organists and who had the additional advantage of having a thorough acquaintance with the unprecedented tonal and mechanical resources of the American organ as compared with the organs of Germany with which alone he was familiar. And coupled with these severe handicaps were two others: first the virtual impossibility of obtaining ample free practising time on an organ located in the heart of a great modern hotel, second the necessity of playing the recital on two days’ acquaintance with the organ instead of the week he had at first insisted upon. But certainly the ovation that greeted him when he first stepped upon the platform, an applause that left him quite dumbfounded, was but an evidence of the valuation the American organ profession has placed upon his name; and his very evident happiness and interest later, in not only playing the organ in the dignified sense but in playing with its tonal resources in a very pleasurable sense, were but tokens of the royal welcome this little German school-master had earned for himself. We might repeat the tiresome mousetrap story. Certainly this little, plump, genial, artist-looking composer, by no means as well-known in Germany as he is in America, has built the better mousetraps that have caused Americans to mark a path to his door.

A-8

Appendix 4 This journal has never been able to share the wild enthusiasm of many members of the profession who have seemed to think that all we needed to do in America to hear good organ-playing was to secure an eminent organist from abroad and listen to him. Bonnet came as a concert organist, not as a composer. Then the genial, almost marvellous Marcel Dupré came, also as a concert organist; he developed fame as a composer later. These two men were stupendously gifted as concert artists. Bold indeed would be the average organist who would attempt to compete with them. Accordingly, while fully recognizing the superb ability of the visiting concert organists who came to America as recitalists, these pages have never been able to enthuse over the playing of others who came as composers instead of concert artists. Among the distinguished trio, Bossi, Hollins, and Vierne, who appeared in America because of their fame as composers, not a one of them could equal the playing of a hundred or perhaps even a thousand of our own most brilliant concert organists. This magazine said as much, and the profession disagreed — then. They were not here as concert organists, though of course they played; what else could they do? Give an exhibition by sitting in a soundproof glass cage and writing an organ sonata in forty-five minutes? They, like Dr. Karg-Elert, came because their compositions had given them fame and, fortunately, America is the home of genius in all its manifestations and one manifestation is devoting itself to successfully bringing such world-figures to our shores. Can anyone claim that we in America do not want to see, to meet, to hear these great composers whose names are going down in history? We welcome Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert to America for what he has accomplished. We do not ask him to suddenly transform himself into an entirely different person and perform things that can be well done only after decades of diligent practice. Because we all know there is no other modern composer of organ music who has moved the organ profession in America as has Dr. Karg-Elert, we can join in hearty cheers and hope earnestly that every city of importance in America is to have the privilege of meeting him and hearing him play e’er he returns again to his beloved Germany. We could have suggested, we think, a better program for him to play. His transcriptions of Franck, Rossi, and Rameau cannot arouse our admiration as would more of his own original music. “I’ve worked so hard,” said one concert organist from the southland, “to get every registrational change his music demands — and it is hard work too — and when I come here to see how he gets all those things done, he doesn’t do them at all.” And, as an after thought, “I’m not going to work so hard any more.” Yet the recital evidenced quite a registrational variety. Dr. Karg-Elert did not play his own compositions as well, for example, as did Lynnwood Farnam (professional jealousies compel us to mention only the deceased in such matters); how could he? Had he evidenced any such art, it would have belittled the accomplishments of every artist who claims to have had to work hard for his ability. He liked the Post Horn, liked it very much, in all its snarling individuality; whereas an American organist, perfectly familiar with such voices over a period of years, turns to them only for their very rare legitimate uses, Dr. Karg-Elert, to whom they were delightfully new, turned to them with diligence that did greater credit to his imagination than to his austerity. After all, what this old organ world is suffering from is too much austerity and not enough imagination. This Karg-Elert début in America will go down in history, there’s no doubt of that. And it would not surprise me if some of us ultimately revised our first impressions of it. This little man who has put new life, at least temporarily, into the Reger-mad German school of composers, showed enough imagination to know that the Xylophone, Glockenspiel, and Chimes do have a legitimate musical use in imaginative organ literature, and he was not afraid to use them. If he had been so much a slave to fear of tradition that he would not have used the registrations he did, then similarly he would have been too much tradition-enslaved to write the organ music that has brought him, of all Germans, to our shores. I venture the guess that there was not an organist in the entire Waldorf audience who would have hesitated a moment, had he the choice between owning for himself the ability to write as Karg-Elert has written or to play as Dupré has played. Then I say, hats off to genius and may Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert tremendously enjoy his American visit and carry back with him such exaltation of spirit as will make him contribute to poverty-stricken organ literature imaginative compositions of a sort surpassing even the best he himself has yet conceived. Post Horn or no Post Horn, 16’ manual tone or no 16’ manual tone, Glockenspiel or no, Karg-Elert is a great creative genius whom every organist worthy the name should hear. He went in for violent reeds, for 16’ tone on the manuals, for Tremulant, Harp, and Chimes, even as did you and I in our wildest days of unrestraint; but back of it all there was at work a brand of true, imaginative artistry, no matter how deeply it lay buried under that mass of beclouding registrations. This old organ profession of ours deserves little mercy, for it gives so little.

A-9

Appendix 4 — 5 Hero-worshippers were disappointed. They deserved to be. But those of us who went to see and hear a world-renowned composer, whose name will be remembered in history long after ours have been forgotten, were surprised but not perturbed. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert is a great composer, with an artistic heart; unlike Reger, his values emanate more from his heart than from his head — and Heaven be praised for someone to write and play organ music on that basis. — T. SCOTT BUHRMAN The American Organist, vol. 15, March 1932, p. 175: — KARG-ELERT — I want to tell you how pleased I am at your attitude with regard to Karg-Elert as expressed in the last issue of THE AMERICAN ORGANIST. I feel that the way he was criticized because he did not play the organ as we play it was very unfortunate. Quite obviously he tried to find German effects on the American organ. Also he labored under conditions of noise and interruption and insufficient opportunity for practice. Later on when he becomes an immortal, as I feel sure he is destined to become, I believe the hastily spoken criticisms will be regretted. — ERNEST M. SKINNER {Even after the American rage experienced in June 1932, Skinner remained a loyal supporter; see Your Ever Grateful, Devoted Friend, p. A-56, where his letter to Musical Opinion in December 1932 is reproduced.} Appendix 5. Shorter concert reviews and announcements

The Diapason, February 1, 1932, p. 32: Washington Hears and Is Dinner Host to Sigfrid Karg-Elert By MABEL R. FROST

Washington, D. C., Jan. 21.— Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert made his first recital appearance in Washington at the Library of Congress chamber music auditorium on the afternoon of Jan. 13. Dr. Karg-Elert and his daughter were received enthusiastically by the capacity audience, which included the leading organists and other musicians of Washington, as well as representative organists from all the surrounding cities, including Baltimore, Richmond, Annapolis, Harrisonburg and Hagerstown. In the rendition of the program — which at the last minute was changed in its entirety with the exception of the first number — Fräulein Karg-Elert proved an invaluable assistant to her distinguished father, making changes in the registration and occasionally playing bits of the physically impossible score. There appears to be precedent for this practice among the European masters. A performance which proved stimulating in some features, at least, was marked by interesting and almost bizarre registration, pleasing and characteristically Karg-Elert progressions, and much color shading, both harmonically and tonally. The recital was followed by a delightfully arranged dinner at the Dodge Hotel, the District of Columbia chapter of the American Guild of Organists being host and Dr. and Miss Karg-Elert the guests of honor, the dean, Miss Charlotte Klein, F.A.G.O., presiding. The Diapason, March 1, 1932, p. 22: Karg-Elert in Chicago Gives Fine Exposition of His Compositions Chicago had its opportunity to meet and hear Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert on Feb. 8 and an audience which filled Kimball Hall to greet the noted German visitor accorded him an enthusiastic reception. As in New York, nearly all the organists of the city came out. The recital was under the joint auspices of the Illinois chapter, A. G. O., and the Chicago chapter, N. A. O. {National Association of Organists}, whose officers had made telling efforts to assure the success of the occasion. Dr. Karg-Elert’s program consisted largely of his own works, as was fitting in view of the fact that he has come to America not in the role of a virtuoso performer, but as the exponent of his own style of composition — a style which has attained great popularity on this side of the Atlantic — so

A-10

Appendix 5 much so that it may be said that hardly any up-to-date organ recital program today fails to recognize this German writer. It was noticeable that the Leipzig man has his own manner of registration and tone coloring, as distinct as his style of composition. This runs decidedly to the orchestral, with free use of the 2-ft. tones and mixtures to achieve brilliancy. As to his technique, it was in every way ample. Since his first appearance on American soil the visitor had been given opportunity to become familiar with our organs, and his Chicago performance left nothing to be desired from the standpoint of composure and manual and pedal facility. The opening number, in memory of Lynnwood Farnam, was well received, and, as one man aptly put it, is a work that is “modern without being hideous.” Dr. KargElert’s “Three New Impressions” were colorful tone pictures. The J. Christian Bach sonata and the two Rossi pieces written for a portable organ were novel, but not of a nature to appeal to those who frequent recitals. The final number on the program, Dr. Karg-Elert’s own “Toccatina e Corale”, was thoroughly effective, especially by virtue of the force and dignity of the chorale, and provoked a very sincere and demonstrative recall. At noon on the day of the recital Dr. Karg-Elert and his daughter were guests at a luncheon given jointly by the Guild and N. A. O. of Chicago at the Auditorium Hotel and a large company was present for the occasion. Dean Frank Van Dusen of the Illinois A. G. O. chapter and President E. Stanley Seder of the local N. A. O.; Miss Alice R. Deal, president of the Chicago Club of Women Organists; Dr. Wilhelm Middelschulte and S. E. Gruenstein voiced the feelings of the hosts toward the visitor. Dr. Karg-Elert made a very happy response, convulsing all with an account of some of his American experiences which was as original as his compositions. The Diapason, March 1, 1932, p. 33, (Chapter notes): Karg-Elert at Minneapolis. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert appeared in recital before a capacity audience at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Minneapolis on Sunday afternoon, Feb. 14, under the auspices of St. Mark’s choir and the Minnesota A. G. O. The program opened with a manuscript composition of his own in memory of Lynnwood Farnam. This was followed by his transcriptions of Christian Bach’s Piano Sonata in C minor and of Liszt’s “Benediction de Dieu dans la Solitude.” The final group consisted of his own compositions — “Three New Impressions”. The “Toccatina e Corale” from his Twenty-four Preludes brought the program to a brilliant close. On Saturday preceding the recital a luncheon in honor of Dr. Karg-Elert and his daughter was held at the Curtis Hotel by A. G. O. members and Stanley R. Avery, organist of St. Mark’s Church. At its close Mr. Avery presented Miss Karg-Elert with valentine greetings from the Guild. Dr. KargElert spoke of some of his experiences with American organs at the beginning of his recital tour. HENRY ENGEN, Chapter Secretary. Texas Chapter. The Texas chapter met Feb. 11 at the home of Mrs. Harry V. Culp, with the dean, Mrs. J. M. Sewell, presiding. After the business session an interesting and instructive talk was made by Harold Hart Todd of the piano department of S. M. U. {Southern Methodist University}, the subject being “The Essential Characteristic of a Satisfactory or Efficient Choir.” Announcement was made by Mrs. J. H. Cassidy of the recital to be given by Karg-Elert in McFarlane Auditorium {S. M. U?} Friday, Feb. 19, at 8:15. After the recital a reception was held in the parlors for Dr. Karg-Elert and his daughter by members and patrons of the Guild. Following adjournment Mrs. Culp served a luncheon. {No comment on the Feb. 19 recital; but there was a paragraph listing the works played at a concert at the First Baptist Church on Feb. 14 by Mrs. Cassidy, assisted by a contralto and a violinist. It included Karg-Elert’s “Clair de Lune” amongst other popular pieces.} MRS. HOWARD L. CLIPPINGER, Secretary.

A-11

Appendix 5 — 6 The Diapason, April 1, 1932, p. 46:

San Francisco Hears Karg-Elert By WILLIAM W. CARRUTH, F.A.G.O.

San Francisco, Cal., March 17 — The selection of St. Dominic’s Catholic Church for the Karg-Elert recital was a happy one in more than one way. It is inspiring and restful just to sit in this beautiful Gothic edifice — one of the latest additions to San Francisco churches. While there may be finer organs around the bay, St. Dominic’s is a well-voiced and sonorous instrument, especially suited for the demands of the church. Although it possesses an Estey console and a few sets of Estey pipes, the organ was designed by Dr. H. J. Stewart and built by Jesse Woodberry. The recital was the special feature of a Lenten service, so the church was well filled with worshippers, not counting the faithful devotees of organ music. The organ and choir stalls are in the chancel and the white-robed choir of men and boys singing the processional made an impressive picture. At the close of the recital the choir sang several selections under the capable direction of the organist, Miss Frances Murphy. Dr. Karg-Elert opened his program with his own opus 142, inscribed “in memoriam to my dear friend, Lynnwood Farnam”, played with deep feeling and effective registration. Aside from a Sonata in C minor by Christian Bach and a “Benediction” by Liszt, the rest of the program was devoted to the visiting artist’s own compositions. It was a privilege to hear these numbers with the composer at the console and it made us wish we could hear him in Germany, seated at his favorite console. After the service a buffet supper was given by the Guild in Dr. Karg-Elert’s honor at the Clift Hotel, where everyone had an opportunity of meeting the distinguished guest and his daughter. A new member of the artist colony of San Francisco is Walter Mueller, a young pianist and organist who comes with words of highest praise from leading musicians of Germany. After being graduated from Whitman College, Walla Walla, Wash., in 1923, Mr. Mueller spent four years in study at the Leipzig Conservatory. He was heard recently in a very interesting piano recital at Sorosis Hall, at which Dr. Karg-Elert, with whom Mueller studied while abroad, was present. The Diapason, May 1, 1932, p. 34, (Chapter notes): Karg-Elert Plays for Rochester A. G. O. Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert was the soloist at the March meeting of the Western New York chapter. The recital, which was given at Salem Evangelical Church, Rochester, Sunday afternoon, March 13, had the largest attendance which has been seen at an organ recital in Rochester in many years. On Saturday evening preceding the recital the chapter, with the United German Societies, tendered a banquet to Dr. Karg-Elert and his daughter and after dinner the various German singing societies, numbering in all about 150 singers, presented a program of German songs. It was here, as well as at the home of Harold Gleason, where a small group gathered for dinner following the recital, that the sparkling humor of Dr. Karg-Elert became evident. During his stay in Rochester, Dr. Karg-Elert was the guest of Mrs. William S. Vaugh, who had studied four years with him in Leipzig. ROBERT BERENTSEN, Dean. Appendix 6. Extracts from The American Classic Organ by Charles Callahan, (Organ Historical

Society, Richmond, Virginia — 1990):

No. 79 Emerson Richards to Henry Willis

January 15, 1932 My dear Willis: It has been some time since we have heard from each other, and I thought you would like to have a report on the Karg-Elert recital in New York last Wednesday night. He was to inaugurate the Möller organ of 73 ranks in the Grand Ballroom of the new Hotel Waldorf Astoria. This organ has been voiced by John [sic] Whitelegg {Richard Whitelegg} and was supposed to represent an improvement over general Möller practices. In addition, however, it had a harp, chimes, xylophone, orchestra bells and a piano.

A-12

Appendix 6 The A. G. O. gave Karg-Elert a dinner and the Möller people issued elaborate invitations to all the musical people in New York and vicinity. About a thousand showed up, including of course a large number of well-known organists and other musicians. The affair was a complete bust. Hans Steinmeyer characterized Karg-Elert as a harmonium player, which turned out to be somewhat of a libel on the harmonium! As a player he could not even sustain the rhythm of his own compositions, and he positively could not resist the toys in the organ. He started out with a tribute to Lynnwood Farnam, including harp, chimes and the Vox Humana with a 2’ Flute. The piano appeared in every number and mostly through all the numbers until it finally gave up the ghost in the last piece. Schulenberger of the Möller Company ordered the Post Horn cut off permanently after the first number and bitterly complained to me afterward that the recitalist had not discovered that there was a diapason in the organ. The Möller people were certainly burned up, and the musicians in the audience were shocked. A number of them, including Courboin and Swinnen, came over to my apartment at the Ambassador to get the taste out of their mouths and to speculate on whether or not they had been mistaken about the caliber of his music. The Philadelphia people immediately cancelled their engagement, and I am very much afraid the tour is headed for the rocks. This is all too bad, because judging from his compositions everybody expected something much better and different. They were not looking for a great virtuoso, but they thought that they would have a recitalist of taste, feeling and poetry. Financial conditions are very bad here, with many bank failures and business entirely at a standstill. The Midmer-Losh Company is tied up, due to inability to collect for organs already installed, and work is almost at a standstill on the Convention Hall organ as a result. Am wondering how the Liverpool job came off. I see by the Musical Opinion that you have two good-sized jobs in hand now, evidently since I left. Hope to send you a picture of the sevenmanual console shortly. It is practically finished. Cordially yours, Emerson Richards No. 81 Henry Willis to Emerson Richards

1st February, 1932

My dear Richards: Many thanks for your letter of 15th January. I am not surprised that Karg-Elert’s show was a “flop” — I warned Laberge to try to keep a tight controlling hand on K.E. and to insist on adequate rehearsal on each instrument but I suppose he cannot dictate K.E.’s choice as regards the stops. Some time ago K.E. sent me a long article, intended for the Rotunda, extolling “unification” and giving examples which indicated his being a deep-ender of the worst type. It is a great pity that the Midmer-Losh financial difficulties are holding up the completion of your great Atlantic City organ. I was under the impression that if they got into trouble the job would be finished by a Surety. {Further paragraphs not relevant to this context.} Yours ever, Henry Willis No. 82 Bernard Laberge to Henry Willis

February 25, 1932 My dear Chap: Many thanks for your letter of February 12th received. RE: KARG-ELERT: Well, I admit that what you told me was right and he did in fact practise a lot, but he is so temperamental and nervous that he is really difficult to handle, although he means well. I can tell you I will be happy when he sails March 24th, because it is a great responsibility for me while he is here. RE: GERMANI: My friend Fernando would be quite distressed if this tour did not take place, after having submitted the contents of your last letter to him. He does not expect to make any money and he would be satisfied, for this time, if he simply met his living and railroad expenses while in

A-13

Appendix 6 — 7 England. As to making a hit, there is not the slightest doubt in my mind because he is not only a very fine musician but a great virtuoso. {Asks of Willis “as a personal favor” for assistance, e.g., stay as a house-guest of Goss-Custard in Liverpool, second class rail transport, etc.} . . . [Bernard LaBerge] No. 83 Henry Willis to Bernard LaBerge

16th March 1932 My dear Laberge: Thanks for your letter. In reply to that of the 25th inst. Germani. I have given the matter close consideration and have talked it over with Verne {Willis employee, editor of the Rotunda}. There is not the slightest hope of arranging Recitals, for fees, at the time projected. If he comes over and offers his services gratuitously there would be no difficulty in fixing him up. Farnam often came over out of season but played without fee. Courboin’s recital tour was in season but proved a loss. The fact is that, even in season, Germani could not make money here, nor even expect to pay expenses. Strange as it may seem to you, his name is practically unknown here and it would take an expensive advertising campaign to make it so. Even the fees would be too low to make a tour worthwhile. We had the same experience with Charles Courboin. I am sorry, but facts are facts. Myself. I have decided to postpone this matter until 1933 when the world may be over the worst of the existing depression. Karg-Elert. I have not heard from him. I read your letter with interest and it most certainly would appear to be perfectly clear that you have done your best for him under most difficult conditions. If I may say so, I think it was an error of judgement to let him give that first recital at the Waldorf-Astoria within 48 hours of his landing and with little time at the instrument. I am glad that you do not blame me at all! Yours ever, H.W. No. 84 Bernard LaBerge to Ernest Skinner

March 22, 1932 My dear Mr. Skinner: According to my promise I am sending you herewith Dr. Karg-Elert’s address in Leipzig. . . . The Doctor played yesterday at Wanamaker’s and it was heart breaking for him because the organ was in such a terrific condition that he had to stop twice on account of ciphers and finally had to give up the concert entirely. I did fully sympathize with him, but must say that he was a good sport about it. I take pleasure in telling you that we have settled our differences amicably and I am glad of it because the only thing I get out of this tour is the satisfaction of having presented someone I consider a very great artist and a most artistic soul. Next season I shall bring Günther Ramin and then American audiences will be able to enjoy a straight organ virtuoso. I thank you for your kindness toward the whole thing and for what you did for Dr. Karg-Elert. He leaves these shores with the idea that you are a great man and I fully agree with him. With my kindest regards, Always sincerely yours, Bernard R. Laberge

Appendix 7.

The Diapason, April 1, 1932, p. 16: George Eastman’s Life Marked by Love for Music of Organ

(At the request of the editor of The Diapason Mr. Gleason has written the subjoined article dealing with the interest of the late George Eastman in the organ. The death of Mr. Eastman, maker of cameras at Rochester and one of the wealthiest and most generous philanthropists of America, recalls his benefactions which established the Eastman School of Music. Mr. Gleason has been Mr. Eastman’s personal organist, as well as head of the organ department of the Eastman School, since

A-14

Appendix 7 1920. At the request of Mr. Eastman he designed the large organs mentioned at the school and in the Eastman Theater. At the funeral service he played music that Mr. Eastman before his death had asked him to play.) By HAROLD GLEASON

In the death of George Eastman the world has lost one of the greatest philanthropists of all time. His gifts enriched the whole world as well as the city of Rochester, and while many of these gifts ministered to greater material satisfaction, he also added an enrichment of cultural life that is extraordinary. In his death the cause of music lost one of its best friends. His active interest in music extended over a period of thirty years or more, and was based on a real love for it. The organ always appealed to Mr. Eastman, and on the completion of his East Avenue home he installed a three-manual and echo Aeolian and engaged an organist to play it regularly. About fifteen years ago he added another organ of four manuals, with a new console, making a complete instrument of 120 stops. During this entire period of thirty years Mr. Eastman maintained a private organist and a string quartet, known in later years as the Kilbourn Quartet, in memory of his mother, Maria Kilbourn Eastman. The organ was played for him every day during the breakfast hour and with the string quartet two evenings each week. Sunday evenings it was Mr. Eastman’s custom to invite about 100 friends for the music. The first part of the program took place in the large music room and usually consisted of a string quartet and another chamber work with piano. Frequently, unusual chamber works with clarinet, horn, harp and other combinations were presented. It is safe to say that in the past twenty-five years practically every chamber work of importance has been played in Mr. Eastman’s home. After the supper, which was served to the guests, another program was given in the conservatory music room. The organ is ideally placed here, speaking into the two-story room from three sides, forming a blend of tone that seemed to pervade the room without being definitely located in any particular spot. This program consisted of organ solos, solos by a member of the quartet, and a group of ensemble music for strings, organ and piano. Mr. Eastman was particularly fond of this combination, and a large library of original and arranged music was built up. The organ was Mr. Eastman’s particular joy, and he took a lively interest in the music and in the instrument itself. During the installation of the second organ he told me of the pleasure he had in making one or two suggestions for mechanical improvements. He enjoyed all schools of organ music, provided they had the qualities of color, vitality, rhythm and clear form. He preferred the classics in chamber music and few modern composers after Debussy interested him. Organ music of all periods was played provided it had the qualities he admired, and many transcriptions of orchestral works. His favorite composer was Wagner, and many arrangements for strings and organ were made of selections from the operas. When the Eastman School of Music was built, Mr. Eastman took a personal interest in the organ equipment and talked over specifications and problems of construction with various builders. He rewarded with a kodak a suggestion made by Ernest M. Skinner in regard to the placing of the practice organ. The organ in the Eastman Theater was built by the Austin Organ Company, and the one in Kilbourn Hall by the Skinner Organ Company. Nine two-manual and four three-manual organs built by M. P. Möller and one three-manual by the Skinner Company complete the organ equipment. Mr. Eastman’s death has been a most serious loss, but his magnificent vision in planning and building the Eastman school and theater and his generous interest and foresight in the organ equipment will always serve to remind us of a great man who gave himself as well as his money to the enrichment of our cultural life. {Harold Gleason, 1892—1980, studied civil engineering at the Californian Institute of Technology (1910—12) simultaneously with private studies in music. He moved to Boston in 1917, had lessons from Farnam and was a church organist. Further studies under Bonnet in Paris took place from 1920 to 1923 in short bursts, by which time he was established in Rochester. He continued as church organist, established and directed the Hochstein School (1919—29), and headed the Eastman School of Music from 1921 to 1953 where he was professor of musicology and music literature. He was greatly respected as a teacher. The New Grove (2000) states he was “personal organist and director of music in the house of George Eastman”. His wife was the distinguished concert organist Catharine Crozier, born in 1914.}

A-15

Appendix 7 — 8 The Diapason., April 1, 1932, p. 28 (extracts only): William H. Oetting . . . one of the foremost among the musical educators of Pittsburgh, is a native and a musical product of that city . . . born . . . 1875. Except for a period of study in Europe all his life has been spent in his native city . . . About 1900 he went to Berlin and studied organ with Dr. Heinrich Reimann . . . {also teaching an English harmony class and giving his début recital as organist}. On returning to this country Mr. Oetting settled in Pittsburgh, teaching privately piano, organ and theory. In 1915 he was one of the organizers of the Pittsburgh Musical Institute, Inc. He has always been one of its directors and since 1920 has been its president. Here he teaches piano and organ, being the head of the organ department. Many of his pupils are holding prominent positions. Mr. Oetting is especially interested in bringing to his organ classes the better things in church music. At present he is conducting a chorale prelude class in which among other things the entire six volumes of the Karg-Elert chorale improvisations are being analyzed and played. He is also very much interested in modern organ music and presents in his classes many of these new things. {etc.} Appendix 8.

The Diapason, July 1, 1932, p. 18 (editorial by S. E. Gruenstein): OUR GUEST, DR. KARG-ELERT Herr Karg-Elert has come, and has gone. He gave us what he had in the way of organ playing while he sojourned here and in return he received such filthy lucre as we Americans still may have had in our almost empty pockets, in addition to those manifestations of our friendly spirit of hospitality which we so often exhibit to foreign visitors. This hospitality included food on which we grow fat, but which had the effect of inducing the Leipzig composer to shy away, so that several of the dinners arranged in his honor had to be completed without the benign presence of the distinguished guest. His performances were duly reviewed in The Diapason and in other musical papers, with admiration for the gifts possessed by Herr Karg-Elert — gifts recognized much more generously in America than in his home. Being a rather indulgent people, when all is said and done, this fact was reflected by our publications, and the accounts of the German visitor’s exhibition of registration and technique were tempered with that charity which covers a multitude of sins. We all enjoyed meeting him and hearing him speak and play, and said with our usual courtesy: “So glad you came; be sure to come again.” And now that he has safely returned to Leipzig he is telling all about it, thus giving us a picture of ourselves as grotesque as were some of his conceptions of registration. Musical Opinion of London in its June issue contains the first article of what promises to be a series, headed “Karg-Elert in America.” It reminds one of our old friend Julius Caesar, who wrote all about his visit to Gaul, introducing it with his famous “Veni, vidi, vici.” Musical Opinion quotes our late visitor at length — and with frankness. It is stated that the article is to be continued, but this opening movement is quite ample for all purposes. Incidentally the writer who prepared the article opens by expressing the surprise of London people that Karg-Elert played the organ at all, as he refused to do so when he visited England two years ago. We may let this pass without comment. There is an extended account of Karg-Elert’s arrival in New York, his experiences with his hosts and with American organs, his surprise with our hurry and bustle, our fast elevators, etc., etc. He even recounts how “to the stupefaction of all present he got up and walked out” when at a Rubinstein Club luncheon at which he was guest of honor the speechmaking began. That he was not unfavorably impressed with his own performance appears from the statement that “Karg-Elert says the Americans appeared to be much impressed,” speaking of the WaldorfAstoria recital; that “notwithstanding all this the recital appears to have been a great success,” and that “the recital was again extraordinarily successful” (this of the Wanamaker recital). Nor is there any self-depreciation in this quoted statement: “Goldsworthy (the regular organist) keeps striking himself on the head and invoking the Deity. He does not comprehend what I am making out of his big organ. César Franck sounds unimaginable . . . a giant orchestra, and Rameau with tambourine, castanets, electric bells (out of tune!), drums and triangles, becomes a dream — an exotic orgy! The Arabian Nights in actual life. Three organs — left, middle, right — with but one console. Everybody stands round the console, and on every foot and finger are glued eyes, eyes, eyes! Mr. Möller, the builder of the big organ, gave yesterday a

A-16

Appendix 8 pompous speech about me at the Rubinstein Club, and said that within two minutes he realized that he had never before heard the organ so played; it was an event in the organ world. I ran away. I am not accustomed to this sort of thing! Added to this, I am still land-sick (I reel like a drunken man, and suffer from palpitations and trembling).” [The italics are ours.] Just one more paragraph from this highly interesting travel picture: “Karg-Elert adds that although they (the Americans) have a capacity for appreciation, in the ordinary way they only hear, played on their gigantic organs, music of the claptrap variety. . . . Most American ladies, according to Karg-Elert, smoke continuously, are bedaubed like a paint-pot, and wear dresses in the worst directoire style; but they are most kind-hearted.” Come to think of it, we are a peculiar lot. We always open our arms to receive a man who has won a measure of fame abroad; we entertain him; we dig into our pockets, from which small change seldom is extracted to pay for tickets to a recital by an American, in order to enable the foreign guest to take a supply of cash back with him to a place where the elevators are slower; we profess more or less enthusiasm over what the visitor offers us and close our eyes to any shortcomings, and, never forgetting our manners, we say nothing unpleasant concerning our guest. Perhaps we play only claptrap music on our great organs, but there are lessons in the proprieties for one who has enjoyed our hospitality which we are still able to teach, with all our speed and crudeness. The Diapason, August 1, 1932, p. 16 (editorial by S. E. Gruenstein): AND NOW LET’S FORGET HIM As the majority of those who heard Herr Karg-Elert when he visited America are trying to forget about it, we owe them apologies for bringing up his name once more, but the second installment of his series of articles on his American tour, appearing in Musical Opinion of London July 1, reveals such a complete misconception on the part of the doctor of the impression he made in this country that it reminds one forcefully of Burns’ “Would that some power the giftie gie us,” etc. Incidentally one may be pardoned for questioning the good taste of the editor of Musical Opinion in giving a page a month to the twaddle furnished by the Leipzig composer. Paragraphs telling of the courtesies extended to him alternate with insulting references to our customs and laws and adverse criticisms of our organs. The unadulterated absurdity pervading the whole account of the tour by the doctor and his youthful daughter is illustrated by paragraphs such as the following: “The amount of mediæval superstition to be found in the interior of America is almost without parallel. The pipes of many organs have to be black, and others must not be visible at all, otherwise it would be worldy and a deadly sin. But after the sermon they play a potpourri from ‘Orpheus in the Underworld’ or a fantasia from ‘Traviata!’ . . . ” “It is interesting to note that the American children are the most beautiful and the healthiest in the world, but the least educated. They grow up like tigers, wolves or mandrills; they throw, bellow, rage and fight, and rule all.” There may be a sly attempt at reflection in the statement that at Providence Karg-Elert “came across a waiter who is a nephew of Max Reger.” If it were worth while someone might write a frank and unadorned account of Herr KargElert’s triumphal American tour for Musical Opinion, and we wonder if the editor would be so eager to give it space. An unfortunate result of the whole incident is that it may lead to unjust prejudice against German concert organists, and we would suggest that it would be well for them to take action disavowing the views and conduct of their colleague. The American Organist, vol. 15, August 1, 1932, pp. 499—501, (editorial by T. Scott Buhrman). Ach Mein {Oh my} Quite obviously the efforts of America’s organ journals to welcome distinguished visitors with all possible courtesy, graciously forgetting standards of criticism, is being interpreted against us once more. Musical Opinion, the distinguished British journal which eminently serves as the mouthpiece of the independent British organ world, seems to infer that our standards of perception need

A-17

Appendix 8 cultivation, when it begins a series of Karg-Elert comments by suggesting it “may come as a surprise to those who saw him in London some two years ago” to know that he “visited the United States and Canada for the first time, appearing in the role of organ recitalist.” In England “he did not attempt to play any set organ solos or even his own compositions,” and the writer went on to say he remembers that Dr. Karg-Elert “said he had played extempore for twenty minutes at the Alexandra Palace on the full organ because he did not know what pistons to touch to make the stops go in.” A few of us already know in America (and we kept it to ourselves) what Musical Opinion publishes abroad in the following delightful manner, alluding to a reception given to the famous composer in New York. Dr. Karg-Elert “had found his first impressions of the place so overpowering, and was so little accustomed to the hurry and bustle everywhere, that in the middle of the speeches which followed (in English, of course) to the stupefaction of all present he got up and walked out! Käthchen (his daughter) describing the scene in a letter home, says she could have howled with mortification. Goldsworthy, the regular organist to the Shelton Hotel, who had introduced Karg-Elert and organised the festivities, followed him out, and found him asleep in his room. Möller, the organ builder, then made a tactful speech in an effort to save the situation . . . Käthchen in her letter says that she found his name was everywhere an ‘open sesame’, and even in the chemist’s shop to which she went, the mention of the name caused everyone to speak in superlatives!” Well the fact is that you could mention Bach, and even crow about him, in every chemist’s shop in America and the sum total of possible result is that you’d be kicked out as an insane person; the average American knows no more about organ composers than he does about the number of snow-flakes on the south pole, and he undoubtedly cares less. Americans have the bad habit of trying to be so courteous to their guests that they insult their own intelligence by being highly complimentary to visitors rather than insulting them by saying frankly, “So you’re Theodore Stiffnickle? Well I never heard of you in my life before, what do you want?” We even go so far as to attend organ recitals by visiting Englishmen. “Goldsworthy had already shown them the monster organ . . . tickets for the recital had been sold out long in advance,” which is very true excepting that the organ isn’t a monster organ at all but a modest instrument of a size that is surpassed several hundred times elsewhere in America and there weren’t any tickets sold at all but all were given away. “Karg-Elert says the Americans appeared to be much impressed, and adds that although they have a capacity for appreciation, in the ordinary way they only hear, played on their gigantic organs, music of the claptrap variety,” to which we invite the attention of Carl Weinrich, Albert Riemenschneider, Ernest White, Charles Henry Doersam, Arthur Quimby, Arthur W. Poister, Warren D. Allen, and the dozen others who have been making American audiences swallow huge doses of Bach ever since they were old enough to vote. And then “the two hours practice and a good sleeping draught had completely restored” our distinguished guest and “the recital is the sensation of the season” in more ways than one and “Goldsworthy (the regular organist) keeps striking himself on the head and invoking the Deity. He does not comprehend what I am making out of his big organ . . . Mr. Möller, the builder of the big organ, gave yesterday a pompous speech about me at the Rubinstein Club, and said that within two minutes he realised that he had never before heard the organ so played.” I could use Mr. Möller as supervising Editor; he has an astonishing ability to satisfy everybody with well chosen words. It’s a gift. The article tells of the extreme difficulties of obtaining undisturbed practice hours and then of its own good grace adds: “Notwithstanding all this, the recital appears to have been a great success . . . This recital was broadcast.” Both statements are equally true {sic}. The recital was not broadcast. Then at Wanamaker’s he put the organ out of the running, could not practise till the day of the recital when he “had a chance to practise for an hour . . . ” and “the recital was again extraordinarily successful.” “Now that’s over! . . . By Jove, I should not like to live through these days a second time. Everything was a chaos, a qualm, a bewitched seesaw: nothing madder can be conceived”, says Dr. Karg-Elert, and Musical Opinion adds: “Everybody lives in a hotel; there are no private lodgings. Always sandwiches, and largely vegetarian diet, and everywhere flows iced water! Non-stop lifts running fast to the thirtieth floor.” “It is, by Jove, like being in hell!” says Dr. Karg-Elert.

A-18

Appendix 8 Dr. Karg-Elert was brought to America by the only manager who has ever been able to make an adequate success of booking organ recitals, and he was brought here by virtue of one and only one consideration, which was his deserved present fame as the poet-composer of organ music the like of which is not being written by any other composer anywhere. There are those who think Dr. Karg-Elert’s music will go down pretty close to Franck’s or even Bach’s, a viewpoint I have never been able to share, though manifestly, those marvellously beautiful compositions are at present our choicest diet. Karg-Elert will outlive Widor but by another hundred years his contribution will have been completed and other composers, building upon the foundations he has laid, will completely bury the Karg-Elert catalogue. {In fact, Widor outlived Karg-Elert by about four years, reaching the remarkable age of 93 in 1937.} So that in spite of the fact that there are many in America who worship Karg-Elert as an eternal saint there are others who take a saner view of the situation and are content to rate him as the most outstanding composer in the present world of organ literature. And isn’t that quite praise enough? Do we look for another Bach? or perchance another Franck? I fear we’ll strain our eyes if we do. Just how the Waldorf recital did come off I am not entirely capable of saying, for with the conclusion of the playing of those rather deadly dull transcriptions which constituted the first half of the program, Mr. Gruenstein (that famous “reporter representing the largest newspaper of Chicago” — as Ed. Wynn would say, “I like that, Graham”) Mr Gruenstein and I were called out to join the milling mob that paraded the aisles back of the gallery boxes and I never did get back to hear the famous composer play his own compositions, the only works really worth listening to on the program. That milling mob was expressing its own viewpoints and daring Mr. Gruenstein and myself “to print the truth.” I tried to accept the challenge and I believe I did print the truth. And the truth was, as I hope my original report will now verify, that: Dr. Karg-Elert, the world’s greatest composer of organ music alive today, was tremendously handicapped in his Waldorf recital, but in spite of the handicap he gave a completely satisfying exhibition of what a composer was able to do and could in justice be expected to do when suddenly confronted with an awe-inspiring audience, given the job of recitalist which never in the world could be called his rightful sphere, and told to play. Under those circumstances that little German composer did a splendid job. Does anybody want us to put Dr. Karg-Elert into an airplane and tell him to go out and cut figure eights around Riverside Church and Union Theological Seminary, and then yell like madmen when he crashes to the earth instead? We might at least recognize justice, even if not mercy. There are thousands of young organists who can play rings around Dr. Karg-Elert — but not a one that can write a measure of organ music to compare with some of the gems Dr. Karg-Elert has composed. And, as we live and breathe, we don’t like our British ancestors to have such a good time saying we Americans are a bunch of numbskulls and don’t know the difference between good organ playing and the squeaks of a one-horse shay. Mr. LaBerge had his hands full. A profession that should have been as grateful to him for bringing this great composer of our own day to us, as our forefathers would certainly have been for the privilege of seeing and hearing Bach in person, showed instead a degree of littleness that Mr. LaBerge has entirely forgiven and forgotten but which I think dare not be forgotten if we Americans are to have confidence in ourselves and enjoy that security that can come to the business world only in so far as we live up to our agreements with one another. This cancelling of contracts is unworthy of even the best of us; certainly Lynnwood Farnam never in the world would have consented to the cancellation of a Karg-Elert contract, in spite of the fact that Mr. Farnam as a recitalist compared to Dr. Karg-Elert in that capacity as does the sun to a one-penny candle. At any rate Mr. LaBerge for the coming season is bowing to the demands of the profession and bringing Herr Günther Ramin over here to show us what German organ-playing is like, since we seem to be so insistent that that’s all we care about, counting composition as nothing in comparison. Herr Ramin has the reputation of being Germany’s greatest exponent of organ playing. I do not expect he will compare, on American organs before American audiences, with our own best American players, for the mere playing is nothing; the main thing is the standard of judgement. In fact nothing else matters but standard of judgement, and Herr Ramin, still one hundred percent German, has no more conception of our standards of judgement than the good old scrappy and sarcastic Britishers have. But just as we are all — in such saner moments as we have — most grateful for the privilege of

A-19

Appendix 8 — 9 having seen and heard Dr. Karg-Elert, the great composer, so also will we be grateful for the privilege of hearing the organ-playing of Germany’s most famous exponent of that art. We heard Mr. Bonnet with profit. Mr. Dupré astounded us with his unprecedented improvising, his faultless memory, his mastery of our new-fangled organs, and — let us never forget it — his charming personality and genuine modesty. Messrs. Bossi and Germani came to show the finest modern Italy has, both among its composers and its performers. Mr. Cunningham from England and Mr. Connell from South-Africa came to show the finest England has at home and abroad. We Americans are vastly the richer for these visits. We know it too. Every visitor has contributed at least some one outstanding point to our own accumulation of organ-playing art, and we’re grateful for each contribution; yet who in his right mind, free of professional jealousy, will even attempt to draw comparisons between our visitors and our own native players? It would indeed be a bad-mannered host who would mention aloud the virtues of his guest as compared with his own. Yet on the other hand if it becomes necessary I may undertake to do that on behalf of our Courboins and our Weinrichs, and I’d have a happy time doing it too. Goldsworthy, strike yourself on the head no more; call upon pagan gods no more. Just take it all calmly. It’ll all be the same a hundred years hence. “Sooooo! Play that, Don.” Appendix 9.

The Diapason, January 1, 1933, p. 18: American friends of Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert have received word from Leipzig to the effect that the noted composer of organ music is mortally ill and in dire need. Admirers of Dr. Karg-Elert on this side of the ocean are requested to lend their aid and according to a letter received by The Diapason from Dr. Caspar Koch of Pittsburgh, Dr. Walter Röthig has been authorized to solicit funds from Americans to help the Leipzig man. Dr. Röthig’s address is: Flossplatz 32, Leipzig C-1, Germany. We are glad to comply with a suggestion by Dr. Koch that Dr. Karg-Elert’s condition be brought to the attention of our readers through these columns. The Diapason, June 1, 1933, pp. 4: SIGFRID KARG-ELERT’S LIFE COMES TO CLOSE DIES AFTER LONG ILLNESS

Noted German Composer, Whose Works Have Found Great Favor in America, Passes Away in Leipzig at the Age of 53 {sic}. Sigfrid Karg-Elert, noted German composer for the organ, whose name has been a household word among organists of the present generation, died in Leipzig, his home, April 9, according to word received from Germany. The end came after an extended illness. Dr. Karg-Elert was a victim of a chronic ailment with which he had been afflicted for a number of years. His health broke down completely after his return from a tour of the United States a year ago and he was compelled to spend some time in a sanitarium. Since January, 1932, he had been unable to teach at the Leipzig Conservatorium, where he had long held a chair. A few months ago he rallied and was able to return to his home, but his family and friends were aware that the end was not far off. Sigfrid Karg-Elert was born Nov. 21, 1879 {sic}. He was a tireless writer, and leaves a mass of work of all kinds — songs, choral works, piano and harmonium music, pieces for wind and string instruments and works for chamber and small orchestras. Yet it seems almost certain that his place in history will be as an organ composer. From the moment that the Sixty-six Chorale Improvisations appeared it was evident that a new star had arisen, as one critic writes. Later work deepened the impression. The large-scale compositions that followed, such as the Symphonic Canzone {Canzonas} and Symphonic Chorales; impressionistic pieces, like the “Pastels from Lake Constance” and the Op. 92 “Pastels”; the “Cathedral Windows”; the Partita, in which he returned to the traditional manner, and the fine series of late works, the “Triptych”, the “Kaleidoscope”, the “Musik für Orgel” — all this, with a quantity of smaller but not less interesting pieces, definitely places him among the elect. The passage of years may reveal the presence of mannerisms and show places where his work fitted the taste of his day a little too well to be lastingly satisfying, but as a whole his creations must stand.

A-20

Appendix 9 The Diapason, June 1, 1933, p. 16 — editorial: KARG-ELERT’S DEATH Dr. Sigfrid Karg-Elert’s brilliant career as a composer for the organ has come to too early a close with his death in pathetic circumstances. The organists of America, probably his greatest admirers, will mourn his passing and will perpetuate his memory by playing his compositions. His was a strange life story and that it ended as it did will be regretted by all who met him when he visited the United States a year ago last winter. In his native land he was not honored by a large circle and many pitilessly condemned his creative work, whereas in England and America he found admirers among all classes of progressive organists and his compositions had a large sale and enjoyed the greatest popularity. Outside his own country he was rated as the greatest of living German composers for the organ. Born in poverty, he managed by hard effort to achieve sufficient recognition to hold a chair at the Leipzig Conservatorium. It was because of his fame as a composer that he was asked to come to America on a recital tour, and this proved a heart-breaking fiasco because he was not an organist and had no conception of what was expected of an artist at the console on this side of the ocean. His illness led to situations which must now be forgotten and a series of blunders led to the publication in England of ludicrous libels on his hosts here. For this Musical Opinion of London makes late — and lame — apology in its May issue, stating that the “editor cannot have known, as the writer of these lines subsequently learned, that the English publication was made in the face of Karg-Elert’s formal refusal, and that the letters, already sufficiently misleading in themselves, were, according to him, spiced with awful exaggerations by the anonymous translators.” But as Musical Opinion now says, “it would be well for the story to be erased.” Almost from the time that he returned home from America Dr. Karg-Elert was confined to his bed. That tragedy should enter his life and that his own compatriots should withhold from him what no doubt he deserved by way of recognition is a fate which many of the great have suffered. But posterity will honor him for having made a splendid contribution to organ music, while eccentricities and the like will be quickly and completely forgotten, as indeed they should be. The American Organist, vol. 16, August 1, 1933 (Vol. 16), pp. 407—408: Sigfrid Karg-Elert The Last Days of One of the World’s Greatest Organ Composers By KITTY I. A. KARG-ELERT

DEAR FRIENDS: On Sunday, April 9th, 1933, Sigfrid Karg-Elert departed from us. To the tolling of Palm Sunday chimes at a quarter to two in the afternoon he fell asleep serenely and peacefully. For an entire year he had suffered from severe heart trouble in touching patience. On the 4th of April 1932 he had arrived back home in the Fatherland, sick and exhausted. Without his or our knowledge he had begun his journey to America as a very sick man; it was really a miracle that he was able to carry on as he did. On his return a severe cold led him to consult his physician on April 22nd, for the first time in a year. The diagnosis gave us concern. In spite of financial conditions, thanks to the kind and sacrificial spirit of some true friends in the U.S.A. he was enabled to have the best possible care and medical attention at the City Hospital, under the care of the best heart specialist. His condition became steadily worse during the night of May 8th—9th and it seemed as though the end had come. However it proved a memento mori. Very gradually he rallied. After that night he stopped smoking cigarettes entirely, and this enabled the weakened heart to become stronger. In August, thanks to the aforementioned financial assistance, he sought a sanitarium for heart patients. He was no longer able to walk; helpless and miserable, he was wheeled around in an invalid-chair. An improvement resulted from this four-weeks’ cure, and on returning home this incredibly industrious, never tired man sat down at his desk and resumed work. He composed some new chorale-preludes, wrote a book on theory, and believed that he was cured.

A-21

Appendix 9 But he had overestimated his strength; he became exhausted, asthma and terrible heart spasms tortured him anew. Restless and tired, unable to sleep at night, he sat in his chair, a victim of sheer exhaustion, not able to work or even read. A period of severe prostration followed. Every night the physician came and injected morphine, each time a larger dose, as his system gradually became so accustomed to the drug that small doses no longer had any effect. More suffering followed when it became necessary to withdraw this sedative for fear he would become a morphine addict. Gradually his craving for the narcotic ceased, but saving natural sleep did not come. Often he would say: “Soon I will be at the point where I was some weeks ago, and then comes the 9th of May. I am going down slowly and relentlessly.” The end came a month sooner than he expected, April 9th. In February 1933 he had the first stroke of apoplexy; the left side of his face became paralyzed, his speech was indistinct, but he could walk and move about. In the middle of March more strokes followed; he ate very little and sat apathetically in his chair at the window. Two weeks before his death he became delirious, and was unable to help himself in any way. Softly the twilight of life faded as he passed into the Great Beyond. His last great joy was his tour of America. He was so thankful for your love and admiration; he enjoyed the beauties of your country as only an artist and a romanticist could absorb them. Dear friends, all of you who have known him personally, all of you who love his music: Keep faith, remember him in love, honor his memory. Translated from the original German by Dr. Oscar E. Schminke ADDENDA “I do not know if you are aware,” writes Dr. Schminke, “that I studied with Karg-Elert for a short time, not composition but organs and things in general. He played a lot of his music to me on the piano. The instrument with which he was most familiar was a very highly-developed type of ‘reed’ organ called in German ‘Kunstharmonium.’ He improvised for me on this instrument in a most temperamental and orchestral style. I found him very kindly and sociable in manner, a keen observer of modern trends in music, possessed of a brilliant mind and an effervescent and at times highly explosive temperament. Despite his neglect by the Germans, I never heard him utter bitter or resentful words about his compatriots. After returning to America, I passed on his address to Lynnwood Farnam and some other of his disciples in this country.” — KARG-ELERT PHOTOGRAPHS — Miss Karg-Elert requests us to announce that owing to economic conditions over which she has no control she is unable to comply with the many requests of the American friends of her distinguished father for recent portraits, but she has made arrangements with a Leipzig photographer to supply small enlargements of photographs she herself took of her father. Her list includes: 1. In his studio, Leipzig. 2. Spring, Leipzig. 3. At the Kimball Organ, Chicago. 4. In the street, Lincoln, Neb. 5. In El Paso, New Mexico (?) 6. Bad Steben, Germany, August 1932. 7. During his illness, March 1933. 8. Lying in state in his Studio, April 9, 1933. 9. San Francisco, February 1932, with his daughter. 10. Bad Steben, August 1932, with his wife. These photos can be had at a cost of 60¢ each which, for Miss Karg-Elert’s convenience, should be remitted only by money-order payable in Germany. There is no question but that Sigfrid Karg-Elert will live through his music for another century. Every organist who plays any of his lovely compositions owes the composer a debt of gratitude, and incidentally no doubt the sales of these photographs taken by the composer’s daughter might represent at least a small margin of profit and thereby constitute a token of appreciation of his contribution to the world of organ literature.

A-22

The following pages show original German text with English translation on facing pages.

A-23

Appendix 10g Letter from Johannes Piersig to Sceats, almost fully translated in The Organ Works of Karg-Elert, by Godfrey Sceats, Hinrichsen (1950), pp. 34—35. The following now presents the original German and contains the fragments missing from the above translation. The full sheet of extracts of published critiques is not included as so much is illegible, but a sample is included. Appendix 10.

Johannes Piersig Breslau 18, den 12. Mai 1936. Kantor und Oberorganist Kurfürstenstr. 27, part. zu St. Elisabeth Fernruf 85791 Sehr geehrter Herr Sceats! Nach Beendigung meiner Reise konnte ich endlich daran gehen, Ihnen einiges Bedeutsame aus den letzten Jahren Karg-Elerts zusammenzustellen. Ich hoffe, daß es Ihnen Dienste leistet und möchte Sie bitten, mir vielleicht in Form besonderer Fragenstellung Ihrerseits Gelegenheit zu geben, für Sie noch weiteres Wissenswerte mitzuteilen. Ich danke Ihnen sehr für die freundliche Übersendung Ihrer Orgelkomposition, die ich mit dem größten Interesse gespielt habe. Ich habe inzwischen in Leipzig von Ihnen gehört, u.a. besonders, welch große Verdienste Sie als Leiter der Englischen Karg-Elert Gesellschaft um die Entwickelung der modernen Orgelmusik haben. Ich darf Sie meiner bereitwilligen Mitarbeit in fachlicher Beziehung versichern. Außer dem Beitrag zu Ihrer Arbeit über Karg-Elert schicke ich Ihnen als weiteres Material ein Bild der Silbermann-Orgel und einen Auszug meiner Kritiken. Ich würde es mit großer Freude begrüßen, wenn in Fortsetzung unseres brieflichen Austausches es sich ermöglichen lassen sollte, daß ich einmal als Interpret moderner oder klassischer Orgelmusik nach London kommen könnte, entweder auf Veranlassung der Karg-Elert Gesellschaft oder in einer Ihnen sonst geeignet erscheinenden Weise. Ich bitte Sie, mir Ihre diesbezügliche Meinung mitzuteilen. Wenn ich die Photographie und die Silbermann-Artikel gelegentlich zurückerhalten könnte, wäre ich dankbar. Mit bestem Gruß Ihr sehr ergebener Johannes Piersig. Die persönliche Bekanntschaft Sigfrid Karg-Elerts machte ich in den letzten Jahren vor seinem Tode, anläßlich eines Orgelkonzertes mit modernen Kompositionen, die ich sämtlich als Uraufführungen für den Mitteldeutschen Rundfunk (Leipzig) spielte. Das Instrument des Abends war die berühmte Silbermann-Orgel in Rötha, ein Werk, welches Bach selbst noch gespielt hat und welches seit diesen Tagen unverändert erhalten geblieben ist. Ich bat Karg-Elert um einen kompositorischen Beitrag für das erwähnte UraufführungsOrgelkonzert, da es mir besonders wertvoll war, von dem Meister, dessen bisherige Werke für moderne große Orchesterorgel mir bekannt waren, etwas Neues für diese Bach-Orgel, die einen gänzlich anderen, streng polyphonen und durch wenige Stimmen stets durchsichtigen Satz erfordert, zu erhalten. Meine Bitte begegnete bei Karg-Elert einer überaus freundlichen Aufnahme, und wir verabredeten einen Tag, an welchem ich die ihm bis dahin unbekannte Silbermann-Orgel vorführte. — Ich spielte ihm auf der Orgel Werke Alter Meister (Samuel Scheidt, Diederich Buxtehude) und Kompositionen Johann Sebastian Bachs; darauf improvisierte Karg-Elert selbst. Er entdeckte sogleich akustisch überraschende Möglichkeiten der Registrierung und einige besondere Geheimnisse der Mensurverhältnisse des alten Orgelbaus; dabei spürte er deutlich, daß diese unscheinbare kleine Bachorgel durch die Ausschaltung aller rein technischen Hilfsmittel, durch den Zwang, alles Wesentliche mit 23 Registern herrlichster Klangwerte (aber ohne die Möglichkeit unbegrenzten koloristischen und improvisatorischen Wechsels) auf 2 Manualen und Pedal sagen und kompositorisch darstellen zu müssen, ihn zu einer völlig neuen Konzentrierung seines Stils in formaler und stimmführungstechnischer Beziehung veranlassen werde. Mit der ihm eigenen Sicherheit des Blicks für kompositorische Probleme erkannt er diese völlig neue Lage, der er sich gegenüber sah, sofort; wie sehr er sich innerlich damit beschäftigte, zeigte sich in den folgenden Stunden bei ihm an einer gewissen stummen Unruhe, sodaß ich mich nach der Besichtigung bald verabschiedete.

A-24g

Appendix 10e Johannes Piersig Cantor and Chief organist at St. Elizabeth’s Church

Breslau 18, 12th May, 1936 27 Kurfürstenstrasse (ground floor) Telephone 85791

Dear Mr. Sceats, Now that my trip is concluded, I can at last turn to the compilation of some important information on Karg-Elert’s last years. I hope that this is useful and wish to ask that you perhaps give me a further opportunity by formulating some questions from which you may receive still more worthwhile information. I thank you very much for kindly sending your organ composition, which I have played with the greatest interest. Meanwhile I have heard of you in Leipzig, amongst other things especially the great service you provide as director of the English Karg-Elert Society in the development of modern organ music. I assure you of my willing co-operation in our professional relationship. In addition to the contribution {which follows} to your work on Karg-Elert I am sending you as further material a picture of the Silbermann organ {at Rötha} and a summary of my critiques. I should welcome with great joy, if on resuming our exchange of letters it would be possible that I could come to London as an interpreter of modern or classical organ music, either at the instigation of the Karg-Elert Society or in some other way suitable to you. I ask that you inform me of your opinion regarding this. If I could have the photograph and the Silbermann article returned on some occasion I would be grateful. With best wishes, Yours most sincerely, Johannes Piersig {Sceats writes that Piersig played in the Chapel of King’s College, London, 9th January, 1939 and included “Music for Organ”, Opus 145. Piersig’s “contribution” is as follows:} I became personally acquainted with Sigfrid Karg-Elert during the last few years before his death, on the occasion of an organ recital of modern compositions, consisting entirely of first performances, which I broadcast on Central German Radio from Leipzig. The instrument used for this, an evening performance, was the famous Silbermann organ at Rötha, on which Bach himself had played, which has been maintained ever since in the condition in which it then was, with no alterations. I asked Karg-Elert to contribute a composition for this recital of new and original works considering that it would be particularly valuable to have from the pen of this Master, whose former works for large modern orchestral organs were known to me, something new for this Bach organ, which demanded an entirely different and strictly polyphonic style, of a transparent clearness. Karg-Elert received my request in a very friendly spirit, and we fixed an appointment, when I introduced him to the Silbermann organ for the first time. — I played compositions by Old Masters (Samuel Scheidt, Diederich Buxtehude) and by Johann Sebastian Bach, after which Karg-Elert himself improvised. He at once discovered some astounding acoustical possibilities in the way of registration and some special secrets in the proportions of the scaling of the pipes in the organbuilding of the period, and clearly perceived that this unpretentious little Bach organ, owing to the elimination of all purely mechanical aids and the necessity of expressing everything essential in the composition itself, on the 23 stops of beautiful tone on two manuals and pedals (but without unlimited possibilities in the way of tone-colour or of quick changes), would need an entirely new concentration of his style as regards form and diction. With a sureness of vision which was peculiarly his own, he immediately recognized this entirely new situation with which he was faced; his great inner preoccupation with the problem became evident during the hours which followed and took the form of a certain brooding restlessness, so much so that after he had inspected the instrument I quickly took my leave of him.

A-24e

Appendix 10g Auf das Äußerste war ich überrascht, als ich drei Tage später eine Einladung zu einem Abend bei ihm erhielt, bei dem er mir bereits die fertige Manuskriptausarbeitung der “Musik für Orgel” (welche für die Uraufführung auf der Bach-Orgel bestimmt war) vorführte. KargElert hatte mit diesem Werk tatsächlich eine einzigartige Leistung vollbracht, die innerhalb des kompositorischen neuen deutschen Orgelschaffens so bedeutsam ist, daß ich des Näheren davon schreiben möchte. In Deutschland ist auf eine Zeit nur scheinbar polyphoner, in Wirklichkeit aber figurativ-harmonischer Schreibart, in welcher ein romantisch-improvisatorischer Drang häufig die formale Gestaltung ersetzt (Reger, Karg-Elert mit den Werken seiner frühen und mittleren Periode) die jüngste Schule mit einer konstruktiv-linearen, allen persönlichen Gefühlsäußerungen abholden, formal dabei sehr strengen Kompositionsweise gefolgt (Hindemith, David, Distler). Innerhalb des fast allzuschroffen Gegensatzes dieser beiden Schulen stellen die beiden Spätwerke Karg-Elerts (die bereits erwähnte “Musik für Orgel” und die Passacaglia und Fuge B-A-C-H in “deutscher” Manuskriptfassung, — über welche noch zu reden sein wird, —) einen Höhepunkt, der gleichzeitig Orientierungspunkt für die Zukunft sein wird, dar. Denn wenn man, um ein klassisches Beispiel zu gebrauchen, die zeitlose und universale Bedeutung Johann Sebastian Bachs in ihren wesentlichen musikalischen Grundzügen darstellen will, dann muß man sagen, das Bach in seiner Zeit das harmonische und das lineare Prinzip bis an das Ende ihrer Möglichkeit, jedes in vollster Selbständigkeit ihrer Eigenwerte, ausgestaltet hat und daß er diese beiden gegensätzlichen Pole in einer unerhörten Art der formalen Gestaltung zu einander in eine unauflösliche lebendige Beziehung gesetzt hat. Dasselbe kann man, in Geltung für die moderne Zeit, von den beiden Spätwerken Karg-Elerts für Orgel sagen. Sie enthalten die letzten Werte moderner Harmonik und neuer Stimmführung in einer genialen Synthese. Er selbst hat die entscheidende Bedeutung dieser beiden letzten Kompositionen für seinen künftigen Kompositionsstil auch erkannt; er besprach mit mir eine Fülle von neuen Entwürfen und Durchführungen, bei denen ihm letztlich nur der Tod die Feder aus der Hand genommen hat. Über die Passacaglia und Fuge B-A-C-H ist noch wichtig mitzuteilen, daß die gedruckte Fassung die für die amerikanische Konzertreise ist. In meinem Besitz befindet sich eine zweite, überarbeitete Fassung als Manuskript. Diese Fassung stellt die letzte Intention des Verfassers dar, sie unterscheidet sich von der ersten sehr vorteilhaft durch strenge und aufs Wesentliche hinarbeitende formale Gestaltung, die den dramatischen Aufbau des Stückes viel schärfer herausarbeitet, des Weiteren durch eine auf weite Strecken hin polyphon klarere Schreibweise unter Ausmerzung alles Zufälligen und Improvisorischen. Beide Spätwerke des Meisters brachte ich zur Uraufführung. Es gehört zu meinen besonderen Freuden, des Dankes Karg-Elerts zu gedenken, dem der durchschlagende Erfolg beider Werke zeigte, daß der neue eingeschlagene Weg der kompositorische Weg der Zukunft für ihn sein werde, und nicht nur für ihn persönlich, sondern auch als Führer einer Generation von Orgelspielern und -Komponisten, die ihm teilweise bisher vielleicht noch fern gestanden hatten, nach dem durchschlagenden Erfolg seiner neuen Musik aber seine begeisterten Anhänger wurden. Die Amerikareise, die Karg-Elert für einige Zeit in die Interpretation seines improvisatorischen Stiles (als Zugeständnis an die moderne Orchesterorgel) zurückführte, und sein nach seiner Rückkehr erfolgter Tod haben uns um viele Hoffnungen ärmer gemacht. Jedoch das Vermächtnis seiner letzten großen Werke, der “Musik für Orgel” and der “B-A-C-H Passacaglia und Fuge” in seiner zweiten Manuskriptfassung werden weiterhin ein Merkstein in der Entwickelung der modernen Orgelmusik bleiben. [Anlagen: Prospektbild der Röthaer Silbermann-Orgel; Abschriften eines Artikels über die Silbermann-Orgel (erschienen 1930 in deutschen und amerikanischen Zeitschriften); Kritikenauszug.]

A-25g

Appendix 10e Imagine my astonishment when I received an invitation, three days later, to spend an evening with him. He then produced the finished manuscript of Music for Organ, specially written for the recital of first performances on the baroque organ. In this work Karg-Elert has actually achieved a unique result, which is so significant from the point of view of the creation of new German music for the organ that I should like to discuss it in further detail. In Germany, a period of apparently polyphonic but in reality figured-harmonic writing, in which romantic and extempore impulse frequently replaces formal composition (Reger, Karg-Elert in his early and middle periods), has been succeeded by the most modern school which favours linear construction, discourages any expression of personal feeling, and has a very strict regard for form (Hindemith, David, Distler). Between these two schools, which are almost too sharply contrasted, Karg-Elert’s two late works (Music for Organ, already mentioned, and the Passacaglia and Fugue on B-A-C-H in its “German” manuscript version, — of which more will be said,—) represent the culminating point, which will at the same time give a new direction to future composition. To take a classical example: if we consider the timeless and universal significance of Johann Sebastian Bach, in its essential musical features, we must come to the conclusion that in his day Bach exploited both the harmonic principle and the linear principle, giving to each its highest possible individual value, to the uttermost limit of their potentialities, and also that, in formal composition of a character never before imagined, he brought these two opposite poles together, in a vital and indissoluble union. In terms of modern music, we may say the same of these two late works by Karg-Elert. They represent the latest values in modern harmony and the new counterpoint, combined in an ingenious synthesis. The composer himself recognized the decisive importance of these two last compositions; he discussed with me a whole host of new sketches and developments carried out, from which, in the end, only death had taken the pen out of his hand. As for the Passacaglia and Fugue on B-A-C-H, there is still some important information to announce, concerning the printed version for the American concert-tour. In my possession is a second, revised version in manuscript. This version represents the composer’s final intentions; it differs from the first very advantageously through a fundamental strictness of form, which brings out better the dramatic structure of the composition, with long stretches of writing in a more definitely polyphonic style and an eradication of all that is non-essential or like an improvisation. I gave the premières of both these late works of the Master. It is my special joy to recall KargElert’s thanks for the resounding success accorded to both works; for this newly adopted course represents the direction which will be taken by him in the future, and not only for him personally, but also as a leader of a generation of organists and organ-composers, some of whom had perhaps hitherto stood aloof, but who will become Karg-Elert’s enthusiastic adherents after the resounding success of his new music. {Exactly when this occurred is uncertain: Karg-Elert’s letter to Sceats in June 1929 suggests he had recently become acquainted with Silbermann’s organ at Rötha, but there is no comment about Music for Organ, Opus 145, until the letter of December 1931. Moreover, Gerlach gives 1931 as the year of composition.} The American tour, in which Karg-Elert went back some time in the interpretation of his improvisational style (as a concession to the modern orchestral organ), and his death following his return, have left us the poorer in our aspirations. However, the legacy of his last great works, the Music for Organ and the B-A-C-H Passacaglia and Fugue in his second manuscript version, will remain furthermore a landmark in the evolution of modern organ-music. [Enclosures: Picture of the case of the Silbermann organ at Rötha: copy of an article on the Silbermann organ (published 1930 in German and American journals); summary of critiques.] Some critiques: Leipzig Latest News: Piersig played two organ concertos by G. F. Handel wonderfully, in the spirit of the baroque, with virtuosity in technique and a consideration for registration, full of fire yet with complete delicacy. The Gewandhaus organ sounded in places like an historic instrument. Leipzig Evening Post: Piersig’s Interpretation — complete mastery of everything technical, intuitive eloquence of detailed expression, imposing grandeur overall. A player at the highest level, a musical nature of a sharp mould. Northwest German Newspaper — Piersig, a complete master, showed the works through clear structure and a fine sense of registration in all their profundities and revelations.

A-25e

THE END