Sigma Alpha Iota

sai-national.org • Fall 2022 25 Once he played in Pozsony, his hometown, on the piano recently tuned a half-step higher for a military orchestra performance. When the string players couldn't adjust their instruments accordingly, he played his part a half-step lower than written. In chamber music performances, he played with renowned cellists Hugo Becker, Pablo Casals, and Gregor Piatigorsky as well as famous violinists Fritz Kreisler, Joseph Joachim, George Enescu, Albert Spalding, Frances Magnes, and Erica Morini (the latter two with whom my brother also performed). He appeared as soloist with orchestras led by conductors, such as Victor Herbert, Sir omas Beecham, Sir Adrian Boult, and Dimitri Mitropoulos. I wish I had been in Vienna on February 12, 1902, to watch Dohnányi make his conducting debut; I totally agree with his belief about conductors: "Most people like it when the conductor makes eccentric gymnastic movements on the platform. ere are, of course, others who don't care for his gestures and are most interested in the result of his production. e latter are correc" (page 46). Dohnányi had neither a favorite composer nor composition but very definite opinions about jazz (which he called "a caricature of music") and modern music in addition to the role of talented women performers and composers. He clearly stated his objection to the view that an artist should not be allowed to play because of his politics: ". . . it is not only he who is punished. His audience and the whole music world is deprived of the pleasure of hearing him" (page 124). Reading about the period in his life just aer World War II was heart wrenching. Although his actions and words clearly bespoke the opposite, he was accused of being anti-Semitic and a Nazi collaborator. In a Salzburg meeting, hateful, arrogant Otto Pasetti, a recent American citizen who had become an Army officer, abused his power and would not enumerate the charges against Dohnányi yet denied him the opportunity to perform in Austria. How much different his life would have been and what additional greatness he might have achieved without years of enduring these falsehoods! Malicious rumors about him surfaced again when he went to live in Argentina. Aer this less- than-successful sojourn, he finally emigrated to the United States in 1949, though not without visa problems beforehand. Ultimately, in 1953 aer years of artistic struggle, seventy-six-year- old Dohnányi made his victorious New York re-debut, appearing as a soloist in the city's first performance of his own Piano Concerto No. 2 in B Minor with the National Orchestra Association under Leon Barzin. Five times Dohnányi was recalled to the stage of Carnegie Hall for bows. Ilona's powerful biography impelled my further research about this consummate musician, prompting a visit to Tallahassee to peruse his archives at Florida State University where he taught from 1949 until his death. ere, Dr. Arianne Johnson Quinn, Music Special Collections Librarian at the Warren D. Allen Music Library of the College of Music, was especially helpful and attentive. For about nine hours, I combed through materials about him: eight two-inch black binders filled with three- ringed Mylar sheet protectors for miscellaneous items, two scrapbooks, a few boxes of photographs, and special envelopes (one containing his family tree dating back to 1752). I mentally confirmed details in the biography, happily discovering additional gems in this man's life and career. I found the original 1946 programs for the six-part all-Beethoven subscription recital series in Vienna in which he played twenty-seven sonatas. I noted that Dohnányi performed exclusively on Baldwin pianos — duly acknowledged in programs. I saw the November 1948 contract indicating he received $1600 for two performances as soloist with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra as well as other contracts that showed Andrew Schulhof, his agent, occasionally negotiated and offered a lesser — absolutely confidential — fee for appearances. I read letters from his students (potential, current, and past), fan mail (when in English!), promotional sheets with press reviews, requests from orchestras for autographed photographs (including the format to sign them), an offer to be listed in the "Composer's Directory" in Musical Courier for $75 per year, a request for a money order to E.M.I. for three copies of his own solo LPs, Western Union telegrams, birthday cards, and information about the 1987 naming ceremony for the Dohnányi Recital Hall on campus. I skimmed the two 1961 scrapbooks with correspondence between his widow (sometimes addressed as Helen, her English name). I wore the required white cotton gloves to look through the albums of charming photos. I was enchanted by his whimsical Christmas sketch. I viewed a handwritten inventory of the items in his study — cupboard by cupboard, drawer by drawer. I was impressed by three chronological lists. e first list presented 1890-1931 performances numbered from 1 to 1596. I enjoyed deciphering the entries, later looking up information about the venues. For example: "Troy Chromatic Club" (118) documents his 1901 appearance with Fritz Kriesler in Troy, New York. "Birm Town H" (154) records his 1902 performance in Birmingham, England at Town Hall, which was built in 1834 and resembles a Corinthian temple. "St. Louis A Wld of Music Continued on page 62

• Cover