Jaromir Weinberger’s “Not Exactly Lost” Saxophone Concerto
Jaromir Weinberger’s “Not Exactly Lost” Saxophone Concerto
Written by Tristan Willems
Tristan Willems, founding member of the Adolphe Saxquartette, has studied saxophone with Al Gallodoro and received his formal music education at Northwestern University where he studied with members of the Chicago Symphony, obtaining the first degree ever granted from that institution in Woodwind Performance. Subsequent studies were taken at New York University and the Conductor's Institute at Bard College.
Jaromír Weinberger - does this name sound familiar to you? He´s the composer who wrote Schwanda, the Bagpiper, one of the most performed operas of the twentieth-century, yet almost nobody knows anything about him or his music today. In fact, he wrote over fifteen operas and operettas in a works list that includes over one hundred more compositions.
Some people of my generation may remember a wonderful band transcription by Glenn Clifford Bainum from Schwanda of the "Polka and Fugue". I played it in High School so I always assumed that other people had done the same somewhere else in the world! It appeared that I was wrong and Weinberger had just fallen through the cracks of the history books. Just who was this child protegee that was hailed as "the next Mozart"?
Jaromír Weinberger was born in the Jewish quarter of Prague (Vinohrady district) on January 8, 1896, although most of his youth was spent on his grandfather´s farm outside of the city. His father was a furniture seller who could support his small family but had little room for luxuries. When Jaromír was five years old, an aunt gave his family a piano and the young boy immediately showed an aptitude for music. He began studies at the age of nine briefly with the renowned Czech composer Jaroslav Křička, and continued with Vaclav Talich and Rudolf Karel who encouraged the child to compose. His first public performance was in 1906 conducting a children´s choir in a programme that included one of his works.
At the age of 14, Weinberger passed the entrance examination to the Prague Conservatory and was accepted into the composition class of Vítězslav Novak as well as the piano class of Karel Hoffmeister. In 1913, (aged 17) he completed his composition studies with performances of his piano sonata, and his "Lustspiel Overture" for orchestra in the famous concert hall, the Rudolfinum. Upon graduation from the Prague Conservatory two years later, he moved to Leipzig to study with Max Reger, with whom he received the thorough grounding in counterpoint which would later become his trademark. He returned to Prague the following year and worked as a freelance composer, pianist and conductor. He wrote incidental music for the theatres in Prague, as well as for the National Theater, and his compositions were recorded by the Czech Philharmonic orchestra. To help support himself, he also wrote "popular music" (cabaret songs) under a pseudonym and gave private piano lessons.
In 1922, Weinberger accepted a position as the composition and theory teacher at the Conservatory in Ithaca, New York, but left after only one year of a four year contract. The reason for this is not quite clear to me yet - it has been cited that his poor English language skills were to blame or that he was homesick. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Upon his return to Czechoslovakia (as it was then known) he was engaged as a Director at the Slovak National Theater in Bratislava (now the capital of Slovakia). During this time he began a collaboration with the playwright Arne Dvořák, to whose dramas Weinberger wrote incidental music. In addition, his first opera, "Kocourkov (6)" was performed in Vienna. Following the end of his contract in Bratislava, Weinberger accepted a teaching post at the conservatory in Eger (Cheb) (7), Hungary, but soon returned back to Prague.
Back in Prague, Weinberger began to work with the librettist Miloš Kareš on a new opera "Schwanda, the Bagpiper". The 1927 world premiere at the National Theater in Prague was a moderate success. It was not until Max Brod provided a German translation and brought the opera to Berlin that it began to receive the recognition it deserved. By 1931, the opera had received more than 2,000 performances in seventeen different languages. In 1929 the conductor Hans Knappertsbusch commissioned Weinberger´s next opera, "Milovaný hlas" ("The Beloved Voice"), which was premiered in 1931 in Munich. Unfortunately for Weinberger, "Schwanda" had been such an international success that anything composed afterwards would be held to that standard. Similarly, his following operas "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" and "Wallenstein" suffered similar fates. In January 1933, Weinberger produced his first operetta, "Jarní Boure" ("Spring Storms"), with a libretto by Gustav Beer, which premiered at the Admiral Palace in Berlin with Richard Tauber and Jarmila Novotná singing the title roles. After the Anschluss of the Sudetenland by the Nazis, a systematic destruction of national art took place. This began with a name being placed on a list (sanctioned by the Fuhrer himself) of artists whose works could not be publicly produced. Next came the nationalization of all music publishers, thereby ceasing the release of any materials and stopping performances. Finally came the seizure of all monies from performing and grand rights leaving the artists, and composers especially, bankrupt.
At this time, Weinberger fled from his homeland first to Baden near Vienna, then temporarily to the French Riveria town of Antibes where he married his wife Hansi Lemberger (known as "Jane") of Lviv, Ukraine in 1931. In 1938, they left Europe for America, only to return during summer holidays between 1958 and 1963, when Jaromír´s health prevented any further travel. Arriving on a tourist visa, the Weinbergers arrived in New York in January 1939 to help produce the performances of "Schwanda" at the New York World´s Fair. They were granted an extension to their visas as "displaced persons" and moved to Far Rockaway in Queens, New York. Since his royalties in the U.S. were not paid and his wife was not allowed to work due to immigration restrictions, the Weinbergers ran into financial difficulties. This led to a case of depression and he recuperated in the Catskill town of Fleischmanns in upstate New York during the summer. The Weinbergers moved there permanently several years later in an attempt to further reduce their expenditures.
Only at the conclusion of World War II did Weinberger receive news from a cousin in Prague: his mother and sister Bedřiška were captured, sent to Treblinka and later, murdered by the Nazis. His financial situation did not improve since his royalties from the Custodian of Enemy Property were forfeited. This led to lengthy and exhausting legal battles which not only preyed on his small savings, but on his health as well. After some time however, he received a regular check from Associated Music Publishers, the representative of his Viennese publisher, Universal Edition in the U.S, which eased his lifestyle, if only slightly.
Having resided in the United States since 1939, the Weinberger´s were granted U.S. citizenship in 1948. At this point in time, Jaromír received a settlement for some of the unpaid royalties due him from his European publishers. With this small re-muneration, he was able to purchase a small tract house (similar to the housing built by the Levitt´s in various communities around America for returning GIs after World War II) in St. Petersburg, Florida. This again, was an exercise in economy as it was less expensive to live in the south than in New York, which was his home since his arrival. At this point, his paranoia and distrust in publishing companies led him to dissolve his relationships with these firms. He then attempted, unsuccessfully, to self-publish his remaining compositions. There appears to be a philosophical dilemma within Weinberger after his residency in the United States. From this period onward, his focus is on works of a religious nature - works in a "Christian" vein. Was this a deliberate attempt to conform to his new country and its ethics or had he turned his back on his Jewish heritage which had, up to this point, caused him to lose his income and possessions, his positions, his family and his homeland? If it was the latter, he would not have been the first displaced person to do so.
What would turn out to be Weinberger´s last completed composition: "Ave" for Chorus and Large Orchestra (written in 1962) received a very cold reception due to its "old-fashioned style". At this point, Weinberger, who had previously suffered a nervous breakdown, had to be hospitalized. He stopped composing and turned to photography instead. He became reclusive, suffered a massive heart attack and several years later developed brain cancer. This, combined with imminent financial difficulties, a total disregard for his works and severe depression, led him to take a fatal overdose of barbiturates on the 8th of August, 1967 at his home in St. Petersburg, Florida.
The Saxophone Concerto
It is interesting to note that only two compositions (in an oeuvre of over 125 works by Weinberger) bear the title "Concerto". The Concerto for Timpani and Brass (four trumpets and four trombones), written in 1939 and the Saxophone Concerto of 1940 which is structurally more akin to the Rhapsody form than to what is traditionally known as concerto form. Here, begins my odyssey and personal involvement with Weinberger’s music.
Back in the Autumn of 1976, while I was a student of Al Gallodoro, I purchased a copy of the piano reduction to Weinberger´s Saxophone Concerto during one of my weekly pilgrimages to Sam Ash´s music store in Hempstead, Long Island, New York. It looked very difficult and I never told Al that I had bought it (in fear he might ask me to actually work on it; he had a habit of doing that when you brought in a new ´toy´) and put it directly into my library where it languished for years. I then left for Northwestern University and again, never told anyone I had a copy (nor did anyone ever ask).
Upon returning to New York after graduation, I began to do a lot of theatre work and private teaching. On an occasional day off, I would sight-read through scores that composers wanted me to perform or record for them and also through an ever growing collection of pieces in my personal library. Every so often, the Weinberger would be next on the stand staring back at me. We wrestled many times, and I always came out "bloody, but unbowed". I just didn´t "get it" - it didn´t make any sense to me; even after sitting at the piano and hacking through the piano part. Then finally, I thought of that old Henny Youngman gag where the doctor turns to his patient and says: "If it hurts when you do that.... don´t do that!" Fast forward 25 years.
It is now July, 2008 and I am on break between semesters teaching at the Tónlistarskóli Reykjanesbær (School of Music) in Iceland (That´s a whole other story!). I have been asked to perform with an orchestra and had been instructed to find something that was not the "Glazounov or Ibert". OK, I´ll just go through my library and see what I have. Let´s see - I have the Cowell, the Creston, (blah, blah, blah, blah and blah), the Villa-Lobos, the Weinberger.... The Weinberger? I don´t remember this! Let me take a look. Well, this is gorgeous! How come I never played this before? (Sometimes I suffer from what my colleague Kenny Berger refers to as "Senior moments"!) Oh, I have to play this, but where are the orchestral materials? So I go on the internet and search the copyright holder´s (Southern Music) website. Yes, they have the piano reduction and solo part for $10.00 USD (You must admit that that is very reasonable in today´s economy - especially when my copy cost $2.75 USD back in 1976!) but no accompanying orchestral materials. That´s odd! Maybe they are on rental only - No, that´s not it. Then, where are they?
After looking further, I found reference to the work in a Master´s thesis by Aaron Butler in which he categorizes all the works in the American saxophonist Cecil Lesson´s archives that were housed at Ball State University in Indiana (where Cecil taught after Interlochen and Northwestern before retiring). Lo, and behold! the Weinberger is listed in the collection. That´s great, but further research shows the collection is no longer housed at Ball State. So, where (if anywhere) did it go? Back to work. I find that the collection was removed (for a reason I do not know NOR is it any of my business) by Cecil´s son and deposited at the National Music Museum on the campus of the University of South Dakota in Vermillion. I´m getting close now (at least I think I am). I contact the curator, Dr. Margaret Banks with my predicament. I tell her about my research and needs and she agrees to look into the matter for me. Within a week, her reply to me is that the materials are indeed in the archives and that she can make copies of the score for me to conduct my research. The only caveat, if you will, is that she can only do so if I am a member of the Museum. I become a member. About a month later, I receive Dr. Bank´s parcel in the post. Not only has she provided a copy of the manuscript full score, but she also found a set of hand written parts (we will come back to this later), a manuscript piano reduction and some photographs of Leeson and Weinberger together(1) as well as correspondence between these two artists. Finally, I can begin to study this piece in it´s entirety - or so I thought!
Here is Cecil´s personal saga of the genesis of this Concerto:
Weinberger “had but recently taken up residence in New York [1939], where he had become, as befitted his international stature, the recipient of a quite considerable number of major orchestral performances as well as composing commissions. One result of this rather sudden widespread popular exposure was the opportunity it gave me to become acquainted with his musical qualities, which I found to be most appealing, and this, together with the fact that he was now close at hand, made him the most logical choice for a solicitation, on my part, of a major work, preferably a concerto, for saxophone and orchestra.
My opportunity to ascertain whether or not he would be interested in doing such a piece for me came about through a chance meeting, in the office of Boosey Hawkes-Belwin, with Dr. Hans Heinsheimer, formerly head of the opera department of Universal Editions, and like Mr. Weinberger, whom he knew very well, uprooted and newly arrived. Dr. Heinsheimer, who lent a sympathetic ear to my proposal, subsequently arranged an audition for me with Mr. Weinberger, at the conclusion of which he (Mr. Weinberger) expressed his willingness to write a Saxophone Concerto for me as soon as his previous commitments would permit him to do so. He then made (and I happily concurred with), what I felt to be a most sensible procedural suggestion, namely, that: in view of the time element involved, which was important in different ways to both of us, he should first furnish me with the solo part plus piano accompaniment, with the instrumental score to be completed subsequently, and dependent on the arrangement of a suitable date for the premiere performance with orchestra.
The score for saxophone and piano was delivered to me on December 30, 1940. I did not anticipate any difficulty with the orchestral premiere; I studied and memorized the piece as was my custom in those days, and played it a number of times with piano, in order to have it thoroughly ready for what I looked forward to as the big moment. But I reckoned without our sudden and violent precipitation into World War II, and it was not until nearly six years later, on December 11, 1947 that the long hoped for world premiere came about. This event took place in Chicago, on the fifth program of the Temple Sholom Concert for Unity Series, with the Chicago Metropolitan Symphony(4) conducted by Max Sinzheimer, former assistant to Sir Thomas Beecham, later, permanent conductor of the Mannheim (Germany) opera, and of course, I was the soloist.
The Concerto itself departs quite noticeably from the conventional format for this genre, "or example, the opening movement is not the familiar Allegro, but is instead, marked Andante Rubato. Beginning in a rather free, récitâtive-like style, it settles down as it goes along, however, continuing in a distinctly rhapsodic vein with innumerable florid and lace-like passages which serve to rescue it to a considerable extent, from any feeling that it is really a slow movement, although, it is the only one in the piece that might be so considered. Likewise, the second movement consists of a sparkling Scherzo, which is substituted for the usual AndanteIt features two contrasting sections, a short cadenza, and a coda fashioned from second section material. The third movement is made up of a set of more or less consecutive variations on a march theme, which, interrupted for a time by an impressionistic interlude, resumes briefly, and ends with a short cadenza, leading to a coda constructed from new material.
It might be of interest to note here that when Mr. Weinberger delivered this piece to me, it was completely devoid of phrase marks and dynamic indications; these he told me, I should myself add as I saw fit. He also told me that, he had used some American themes in the course of the composition, and of this fact, for one reason or another, he seemed to be inordinately proud."
In reviewing the correspondence between the Weinberger´s and Leeson, one can begin to see the confusion that was to ensue.
Leeson´s reply to Mrs. Weinberger (dated April 2, 1968):
On April 8, 1968, in a letter from then Director of Publications for Southern Music Company, Arthur Ephross to Weinberger´s widow, Jane, Ephross responds as follows: "....It is possible that we could have Mr. Weinberger´s Concerto published within a month, however out of respect to your late husband, I feel compelled to refuse to do so." Ephross´ reasoning was that not enough time would be spent on the editing and engraving of the piano reduction. Mrs. Weinberger had sent a letter to Ephross stating that the terms of their agreement was that Southern Music must publish the work within a month of the signing of terms, or return the manuscript. This was not acceptable to Mrs. Weinberger and she asked Leeson to intervene on her behalf.(5) It appears that Leeson convinced Ephross to acquiesce and the solo saxophone part and piano reduction were released in early 1969. Unfortunately, Jane passed away almost a year to the day after her husband (on July 31, 1968 and so never saw the release of the concerto). Even with an additional seven months of preparation time, the materials were printed with an unusual amount of typographical and grammatical errors.
I have reconciled the manuscripts of the piano reduction and the orchestral version to each other and against the printed version of the piano reduction as well. They now match each other not only in terms of duration, but also as to including more of the orchestral material into the piano score so that it is more beneficial for rehearsal purposes. The solo saxophone part has been reedited and I have included fingerings based upon my forthcoming book "Alternate Saxophone Fingerings: An Aestetic Approach". The piano reduction will be available from Southern Music Company later this year. The orchestral materials will be available in 2012.
Dr. Leeson actually recorded this Concerto twice - both times with the Baylor University Symphony Orchestra, first in 1952 (mono) and again in 1977 (stereo) - both times with Daniel Sternberg conducting. Both recordings were issued on Leeson´s vanity label Enchante (Volume 6 of The Art of Cecil Leeson) but have been out of print for over 30 years. Unfortunately, both recordings suffer from severe flaws. To begin with, there were numerous copying errors in the orchestral material (wrong notes, wrong number of multi-measure rests, etc.). These materials were hand copied by Leeson himself on very short notice when Weinberger delivered the score only weeks before the first performance (the musical penmanship is wonderful, but then Dr. Lesson was a fine composer in his own right - a fact unfortunately overlooked today!). Secondly, the orchestral performances by the student orchestra were less than adequate and finally, while Cecil´s playing on the 1952 version is representative of his talents, it was a "live" recording and thus very noisy (from the orchestra as well as the audience); the 1977 reading was done at a time when Dr. Leeson´s control had sadly diminished. If you are interested in these recordings (Leeson is unjustly underrepresented in this medium), various libraries around the U.S. may have a copy in their archives.
(1) Please view their website and become a member by donation. It is truly one of the world´s best resources for musical research. Besides the concerts they offer and the library materials, it´s musical instrument division rivals the Library of Congress´ Dayton Miller Collection.
(2) Photograph courtesy of The National Music Museum; Vermillion, South Dakota.
(3) Cecil Leeson, The Art of Cecil Leeson - Volume VI (liner notes)
(4) An amateur orchestra consisting of businessman and shopkeepers in Chicago.
(5) A tragic footnote to this episode: Mrs. Weinberger passed away only months after this event and only months before the release of publication - only one year after her husband´s passing.
(6) Although his first opera was written in 1924 (aged 28), Weinberger had previously composed 17 works for the stage in the form of incidental music for plays as well as a pantomime.
(7) Most cities in central Europe at this time had both a native language name and a German language name due to the shifts in nationalistic borders as a result of annexation due to the First World War