Monarch of the Flute: The Life of Georges Barrere

Monarch of the Flute: The Life of Georges Barrère

NANCY TOFF

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS


OF THE


OF THE

THE

LIFE OF

GEORGES BARRÈRE



NANCY TOFF

1 2005

1

Oxford University Press, Inc., publishes works that further Oxford University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education. Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam

Copyright © 2005 by Nancy Toff Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 www.oup.com Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Toff, Nancy. Monarch of the flute : the life of Georges Barrère / Nancy Toff. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN-13 978-0-19-517016-0 ISBN 0-19-517016-4 1. Barrère, Georges, 1876–1944. 2. Flute players. I. Title. ML419.B185T64 2005 788.3'2'092–dc22 2004065498

Frontispiece: Georges Barrère about 1913. Musicians Collection, Humanities Research Center, University of Texas, Austin

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper




to frances blaisdell

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acknowledgments

T

his book got its start in a casual conversation with Frances Blaisdell in 1992, when she suggested that Barrère’s flute-and-piano arrangements be reissued to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of his death. That project quickly came to fruition as The Barrère Album, published by G. Schirmer. Subsequent research led to the exhibition Georges Barrère and the Flute in America at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts and a full year of New York Flute Club programs commemorating not only the Barrère fiftieth but also the seventy-fifth anniversary of the flute club, which he founded. Frances has been a staunch friend to me and to the project ever since, helping me to locate Barrère’s students and colleagues, providing character references that eased my way, searching out music and documents from her own library, and making herself available at all hours to answer questions large and small. Most of all, she has been an inspiration, and I gratefully dedicate this book to her. I also acknowledge the contributions of several other Barrère students who, alas, did not live to see this book completed. Arthur Lora, my own teacher, conveyed the Barrère pedagogy to me in lessons replete with reminiscences that laid the historical underpinnings of the book. His wife, the late Gloria Lora, gave me many wonderful items from his library, and his daughter, Carina Irish, carefully saved his Barrère correspondence, programs, and other memorabilia for me. Another Barrère student, Samuel Baron, encouraged me every step of the way before his untimely death in 1997, and he left behind an eloquent oral history about flute playing in New York. James Hosmer, my friend and colleague in the New York Flute Club, lived to be ninety years young and gave me many

Acknowledgments

years of encouragement, information, and personal references that have been invaluable to my research. Through his sister, Deanie Miller, Jim left me his valuable Barrère correspondence and related memorabilia, including the text of his talk on Barrère at the 1974 National Flute Association convention, long thought lost. I am exceedingly grateful to the many Barrère students and colleagues who took the time to record oral histories, to write me about their memories of Barrère and his times, and to donate concert programs, letters, and other memorabilia to my Barrère archive. I could not have written this book without them. A full list of interviewees is found in the bibliography. Although this is not an authorized biography, three generations of the Barrère family have shown the greatest cooperation, consideration, and enthusiasm for the project. Other great “friends of Barrère” are Svjetlana Kabalin and the Sylvan Winds, who read through the scores of many works played by Barrère’s woodwind ensembles, often from “challenging” manuscripts, and Leone Buyse, Martin Amlin, and Michael Webster, who did the same for the solo literature. Svjetlana and Leone have both been wonderful friends to me and to the entire Barrère project, and we continue to work together on a series of recordings of the Barrère repertoire. Via an introduction from Michel Debost, Pierre Allemand began by allowing me access to the archives of the Paris musicians’ union, but went on to provide much-needed entrée into some of the other French archives, and he was a trove of useful information on the history of Paris, musical and otherwise. With his wife, Barbara, Pierre shared many evenings of good food and stimulating conversation that made my research in Paris particularly pleasant. I am also grateful to the many archivists and librarians who have shown me great courtesies, in person and by correspondence, and also great enthusiasm to have their collections used. I thank especially Fran Barulich at the New York Public Library, who was in charge of the Barrère exhibition in 1994 and has since become a trusted colleague and friend, volunteering all kinds of research finds, whether intentional or accidental. The entire reference staff of the NYPL Music Division has been of the utmost assistance in my research, and I regret that I cannot thank them all individually. The same goes for the Library of Congress Music Division, where the staff rolls out the red carpet (or even, seemingly, a gold carpet) every time I arrive. Wilda Heiss at LC has tirelessly pursued the answers to a barrage of queries that I have not been able to handle in person. The late Alfreda Irwin, historian of the Chautauqua Institution, took a special interest in this biography of one of Chautauqua’s local heroes; as a living piece of its history herself, she provided introductions to many Chautauquans who had known Barrère, and she furnished stacks of photocopies by mail and gracious assistance when I visited the archives. In Paris, Marie-



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Acknowledgments

Gabrielle Soret kindly allowed access to the André Caplet Collection and provided useful guidance to the other rich collections of the Bibliothèque Nationale. I thank as well Catherine Massip, head of the Music Department, and Françoise Granges, Anne Randier, and the other music librarians of the BNF who assisted with my research during six trips to Paris. Felix Meyer of the Paul Sacher Foundation speedily and graciously provided materials from the newly acquired Varèse archive, to which I had been denied access by the previous owner for twelve years. The staff of Special Collections at the University of Georgia gave me extra-special service after I’d driven through an ice storm for my research appointment; Ellen Gartrell and Jacqueline Reid of Special Collections at Duke did the same after I’d flown through a different ice storm to get there, and they helped make up time by poring through the registers of the J. Walter Thompson Collection to find the Bing Crosby show transcripts. University and local history librarians too numerous to name have responded to queries for clippings and programs. I would like to thank by name the following librarians and archivists who eased the way: Danièle Benazzouz (Archives de Paris), Michael Dabrishus and Andrea Cantrell (University of Arkansas Special Collections), Cassandra McCraw (University of Arkansas), Jean-Louis Matthey (Bibliothèque Cantonale et Universitaire, Lausanne), Olivier Gloor (Bibliothèque du Conservatoire de Lausanne), Marie-Jo Blavette (Bibliothèque Gustav Mahler), Mme Morlet (Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris), Mathias Auclair (Bibliothèque de l’Opéra), Bridget Carr (Boston Symphony Archives), Russ Taylor (Brigham Young University), Dent Williamson (Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra), Andrea Cawelti (Chicago Symphony Archives), Yves Mongrolle (Collège Stanislas), James G. Harrison (Converse College), Elizabeth Walker and Joanne Seiter (Curtis Institute), Dolores Hsu (Henry Eichheim Collection, University of California, Santa Barbara), Sid Grolnic and Paula Mentuskey (Free Library of Philadelphia), Annette Fern (Harvard Theatre Collection), Cathy Cherbosque (Huntington Library), Mary Wallace Davidson and David Lasocki (Indiana University), Jane Gottlieb, Steven Novak, Laura Drake, and Jenni Dahmus ( Juilliard School), Betty Auman, William Parsons, Wayne Shirley, Carol Lynn Ward-Bamford, Kate Winters, Ray White, and Walter Zvonchenko (Library of Congress), Vin Novara (University of Maryland), Anna Lou Ashby and Rigbie Turner (Pierpont Morgan Library), Blandine Bouret (Musée de Montmartre), Diana Haskell (Newberry Library), Jean Morrow (New England Conservatory), Barbara Haws and Richard Wandel (New York Philharmonic Archives), Kip Baranoff, Jean Bowen, George Boziwick, John Shepard, and Channan Willner (New York Public Library), Stephen Ferguson, Mary Ann Jensen, and Peggy Stack (Princeton University), Lamar Lentz (Festival-Institute at Round Top), Nathalie Cousin (Sorbonne), Carolyn Davis (Syracuse University), Dell ix



Acknowledgments

Hollingsworth (University of Texas, Austin), D. J. Stern (Woodstock Library), and Ken Crilly and Suzanne Eggleston (Yale University). Many scholars have shared insights from their own research: Leora Auslander, Edward Blakeman, Christophe Charle, Myriam Chimènes, Linda ClarkNewman, James Doering, George Ferencz, Jane Fulcher, Gary Giddins, Claude Kenneson, Kurt Lueders, Thierry Maniguet, Susan Nelson, Jann Passler, Joel Sachs, James A. Smith, Michael Strasser, William Weber, David Whitwell, and Gail Hilson Woldu. Laila Storch, who is working on a biography of Marcel Tabuteau, willingly traded research leads and joined me in the Paris archives, even sharing her precious daily ration of call slips at the Archives de Paris. For providing information on the composers and performers with whom Barrère worked, and permissions where necessary, I thank Eddie Bauman, Chris Beach, John W. Beach, Pierre Caplet, Jennie Goossens Cooke, Frances Bingham Dale, Ingrid DeMilo, Paula Moskovitz Easton, Archibald C. Fraser, Christine Geliot, Mme Jacques d’Indy, George Koutzen, Nadia Koutzen, Peter Langenus, Simone Perkins, William C. Perkins, Fern Fair Pickering , David Quinlan, Gertrude Robinson, Christopher S. Smith, Judith Anne Still, Shirley Jordan Stolley, and Vincent Wagner (Maverick Concerts). Others who provided valuable information, artifacts, and photographs include Cleo Aufderhaar, John Bailey, Ann Barzell, Robert Bigio, Cheryl Bishkoff, Bonnie Boyd, Aileen Cramer, Michel Debost, Michel Denis (Schola Cantorum), Vincent Detraz (Conservatoire Nationale Supérieur d’Art Dramatique), Ann and Lewis Deveau (Wm. S. Haynes Co.), Claude Dorgeuille, Bernard Duplaix, Alf Evers, Demi Fair, Ann Fairbanks, Michael Finkelman, Marius Flothuis, Craig Goodman, Ruth Gordon (Community Concerts), G. Austin Hay, Laurence Ibisch, Kathy Borst Jones, Claude Kenneson, Irving Levin, Ned Mahoney, Lew Mancini (American Federation of Musicians), Joseph Mariano, Rosario Mazzeo, Norman McCann, Ken Peterson (Lasher Funeral Home, Woodstock, N.Y.), René Rateau, Gertrude Robinson, David Ross, Maxine Shimer, Fenwick Smith, Marian Smith (Immigration and Naturalization Service), John Solum, Christopher Steward, Glennis Stout, Robert Stuart, Edward Treutel, Denis Verroust, and Rick Wilson. A large troupe of self-named “Watsons” have tracked down individual facts, programs, and information in various local history collections and performed a variety of research errands: Bonita Boyd, Ann Fairbanks, Pat Harper, Suzanne Lord, Wendy Mehne, Gwen Powell, Gretchen Pusch, Laurie Sokoloff, Sue Waller, and Alice Kogan Weinreb. In Paris, my old friend Maria Vincenza Aloisi, who perhaps better qualifies as Poirot (or Hastings), completed research at the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris when my appointment was canceled by an anthrax scare, provided useful intervention with one particularly recalcitrant Paris source, and also gave invaluable advice on French protocol. Leone



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Acknowledgments

Buyse, Nancy Clew, and Judy Ranheim interviewed several Barrère students whom I was unable to visit. Special thanks as well to the performer colleagues who have mentioned Barrère in their program notes, only to turn up a former Barrère student or colleague in the audience of a retirement home. For providing housing (and much encouragement) during research visits to Washington, I thank Kathleen Burke and Martha and Dave Reifschneider. Fran Barulich, Kathleen Beakley, Leone Buyse, and Barbara Williams cast their eagle eyes over the page proofs. I also thank the many scholars who have signed up to write books for me at Oxford University Press never realizing that they would become involved in a musicology project on the side. They asked the right questions at the right time and also assisted—sometimes without my even asking—with various research missions. At the top of the list I name Bonnie Smith, good friend and trusted advisor, who after answering my early questions on nineteenth-century French history quickly appointed herself my chief cheerleader. She has listened patiently as I talked through various research and writing dilemmas and has commented helpfully on both proposal and manuscript. Not every author has the chair of the Yale history department as her research assistant, and I am grateful to Jon Butler for stumbling upon and dutifully taking notes on the Barrère reference in the Lionel Feininger diary at the New York Public Library. Roger Daniels, Jim Grossman, John Patrick, Don Ritchie, and Jeff Wasserstrom all provided on-location research assistance of great value. At a crucial point, Marilyn Young helped me to think about the themes of the book. For financial support for my research and the cost of photographs, I thank the Music Library Association for its Dena Epstein Award for Archival and Library Research in American Music; I also thank the Sinfonia Foundation for a research assistance grant and the American Musicological Society for a publication subvention. I wish to thank all of my Oxford University Press colleagues in the reference division and elsewhere who have tolerated Barrère for the last twelve years. Susan Ferber and Stacey Hamilton have expertly guided the manuscript through the editorial process, and Merryl Sloane was the excellent copyeditor. My parents have, as always, supported my research and musical activities with great enthusiasm, and my father spent hours in the darkroom copying and printing archival photographs for the Barrère exhibition and for this book. Finally, I thank all of the musicians who have encouraged me and delighted in the finds of new (old) music; I hope you continue to enjoy this repertoire for years to come.

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contents

Introduction

3

1 The Fifer, 1876–93 6 2 The Faun, 1893–95 12 3 The Jeune École, 1895–98 24 4 Fin de Siècle, 1898–99 35 5 1900: In the Vanguard of Progress 42 6

The New Century, 1901–05 59

7 1905: Enter Walter Damrosch 78 8 The World of the Damrosch Brothers, 1905–09 88 9 “A Musical Envoy from France,” 1909–12 104 10 Yankee Entrepreneur, 1912–15 120 11 Alliances Françaises, 1915–17 141

Contents

12 13

“The World’s Greatest Flutist,” 1918–21 168 14

15

Over Here, 1917–18 156

“Pan Himself,” 1921–26 196

“The Casals of the Flute,” 1926–28 227 16

17 18

Jubilee, 1928–30 243

“I Heard the Great Barrère,” 1931–36 258

“The Last Word in Chamber Music,” 1936–40 280 19 “The Last Survivor,” 1940–44 299 Epilogue: Monarch of the Flute 315

Appendix 1: Works Dedicated to Barrère and His Ensembles 329 Appendix 2: Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles 335 Notes 351 Bibliography 399 Index 421 Photo gallery follows p. 226



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OF THE

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Introduction

O

n the fourth of May 1905, King Edward VII of England left the Gare du Nord in Paris, accompanied by six valets, to return to his palace in London. One day later, a twenty-eight-year-old flutist named Georges Barrère left the Gare St. Lazare, bound for Le Havre en route to a new orchestral position in New York. He was gently serenaded by a dozen of the leading flutists in Paris, many in formal dress. As they played “La Marseillaise,” they perhaps knew what France was losing , but they probably never dreamed what lay ahead for their colleague and friend. For the young Barrère, the trip was a calculated risk: he was well established in Parisian musical circles, but still subject to the grip of the rigid seniority system that prevailed in the governmentsubsidized cultural institutions. In America, opportunity beckoned, and the “system” appeared to be less rigid. And so, after relatively little hesitation, he accepted Walter Damrosch’s invitation to join the New York Symphony as principal flutist. Barrère’s story is a musical tale of two cities, and his life provides a unique window onto musical life in Belle Époque Paris and early twentieth-century New York, as seen from the perspective of a successful and versatile performer. Because of the breadth of his activities, his story sheds light on a half century of concert life and on the colorful cast of impresarios, managers, patrons, and audiences who supported it. He performed in professional orchestras as they evolved from musicians’ cooperatives to the pet projects of rich patrons to professionally managed businesses, and he was at the forefront of the emergent musicians’ unions in both France and America. Barrère’s career exemplifies the 3



Monarch of the Flute

fruitful interactions of performers and composers and the productive expansion of the repertory that can result. As a witness to two world wars, the influenza epidemic, and the Great Depression, he experienced the profound effects on the musical community of those major global events. Barrère’s career in France was a microcosm of French music in the fin de siècle in both its conservative and progressive aspects. A first-prize graduate of the tradition-bound Conservatoire and a protégé of Paul Taffanel, he was a member of the Paris Opéra and the Colonne Orchestra — institutions whose repertoire reflected the cultural agendas that were the price of government financial support—and a frequent performer at the salons and benefits of Tout Paris. But he was also a founding officer of the fledgling but increasingly powerful Paris musicians’ union and an advocate of new music—the jeune école— as a performer at the Société Nationale, La Trompette, and the Concerts de l’Opéra and as the entrepreneurial founder of an active woodwind chamber music society, the Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent. By the time he left France he had participated in the premieres of nearly seventy solo and chamber works (not counting orchestral premieres), and seventeen works had been dedicated to him. Barrère was caught in the cross hairs of French musical nationalism, as a colleague of both Debussy—at seventeen, he premiered the landmark Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun — and d’Indy — as a teacher and performer at the Schola Cantorum, where he was at the epicenter of the Baroque revival. He learned to work within the social and institutional hierarchies that assured him financial support and to make the right connections with conductors, other musicians, and the state bureaucracy. He never belonged to one faction or another, managing to navigate the highly partisan territory of musical Paris as it suited his own musical endeavors. A product of the Belle Époque, Barrère was suffused with its elegance, wit, style, and forward-looking optimism. He left France before the tragedy of World War I but was intimately involved in Franco-American support for the French war effort. He continued to advocate French artistic causes throughout his career, performing with visiting artists such as Yvette Guilbert and Maurice Chevalier, introducing French music to American audiences, and participating in the official French government propaganda effort in the post–World War I era. At the Institute of Musical Art and, later, Juilliard, he established the Paris Conservatoire tradition of wind playing , laying the groundwork for a century of American woodwind performance practice. Working with the Wm. S. Haynes Co., he influenced the rapid conversion of American flutists to the open-hole silver flute that was the hallmark of the French style. At the same time, he became a tireless advocate of the music of his adopted country, amid many attempts to create a truly American musical cul-



4

Introduction

ture, insisting that all the programs of his regular ensembles include at least one American work. An extrovert par excellence, he embraced Yankee entrepreneurship, seized on the opportunities afforded by American-style public relations, and enjoyed both American popular culture and high society. Barrère knew everybody in musical and social New York. He reveled in their company and they in his; a man of wit and urbanity, he was a welcome guest in parlors as well as concert halls. In the numerous commemorative photographs of the New York musical world, the bearded visage of this distinguished Frenchman is almost inevitably part of the tableau, the twinkle in his eye omnipresent. Barrère’s long affiliation with conductor Walter Damrosch put him at the forefront of the expanding classical music community in the United States: the establishment of permanent orchestras (he served as first flutist of the New York Symphony from 1905 until the orchestra’s merger with the New York Philharmonic in 1928); the development of a network of local concert presenters and the community-based cooperative concerts model throughout the country; the growth of chamber music and the summer festival circuit; the cultivation of a generation of individual patrons; and the growing power of radio. His association with Haynes was a model for the corporate sponsorships and artist endorsements that characterized the musical instrument industry in the late twentieth century. As in France, one of his great contributions was his collaboration with a wide variety of composers, from academic classicists to radical pioneers. There was nothing predictable about Barrère’s interests or predilections: he had his toe in the waters of the Baroque revival while simultaneously embracing the banner of modernism. He lent his prestige to almost all the factions of the new music community, those started by his fellow Frenchmen and by others with definitively Americanist goals. His own concerts were paragons of creative programming , and his stylish performances played a pivotal role in establishing the flute as a respected solo instrument, in turn fostering the expansion of its repertoire. Barrère lived in Paris when it was the undisputed musical capital of the world; he left for New York as the balance of creativity was shifting west to a new metropolis. As the most prominent early exemplar of the Paris Conservatoire tradition in the United States, he set a new standard for American woodwind performance. Barrère remained a Frenchman at heart and as such had a profound influence on music in his adopted land; at the same time he was much involved in the effort to create new and distinctively American musical traditions. His dual advocacy of French and American music is his enduring legacy.

5






The Fifer, 1876–93

I

n 1876, Stéphane Mallarmé published L’Après-midi d’un faune, the landmark work of symbolist poetry, in a limited edition illustrated by Édouard Manet. In October of the same year, Georges Barrère, whose flute would first give voice to the longing of the faun as evocatively interpreted by Claude Debussy, was born in the port city of Bordeaux. The contributions of Mallarmé, Debussy, and Barrère, each in his own métier, would help shape the aesthetic of a new century. With Debussy’s Faune, that harbinger of impressionism, Pierre Boulez later said, “[T]he art of music began to beat with a new pulse.”1 And with the nuanced tones of his silver flute, Barrère would bridge the gap between the traditional French musical establishment of the nineteenth century and the modernism of the twentieth. Born just five years after the end of the FrancoPrussian War, as France was working hard to regain its political and cultural pride, he would ride the crest of French nationalism and then help to escort the Gallic aesthetic to the New World, as Paris ceded to New York its role as cultural hub. The Barrère family, originally from Gers, had been in Bordeaux for two generations when Georges was born there. Bordeaux was at that time the fourth largest city in France, with nearly 250,000 inhabitants, the home of an archdiocese and a university. Most important, its location on the left bank of the Garonne River made it the country’s third largest port, sending trading ships to the ports of Britain, the Baltic, North and South America, Africa, and India. The commerce in wine, metals, grains, and manufactured products made Bordeaux an industrial center as well, as a result of its need for maritime con-



6

The Fifer, 1876–93

struction and naval supplies. It was, in short, a good place for an able carpenter such as Gabriel Barrère, Georges’s father.2 Georges’s grandfather Pierre Barrère was a shopkeeper whose signature on his son’s birth certificate has the awkwardness of the newly (or barely) literate.3 But by the time of his marriage in 1874, Gabriel had become a cabinetmaker of rising reputation. Marie Périne Courtet, Gabriel’s thirty-two-year-old wife, was the elder daughter of farmers in the village of Guillgomarc’h in Finistère. Sometime before 1872 she moved south to work in Bordeaux. When she gave birth to a son, Étienne, on April 3, 1872, the birth certificate listed her as a journalière, or day worker. By the time of her marriage, on April 23, 1874, she had apparently refined her skills and was listed in the official register as a seamstress, but she was unable to sign her own name to the document. Her parents, then living in Morbihan, did not attend the wedding.4 When Georges was born at the family home at 69 rue des Remparts at 10:00 p.m. on October 31, 1876, his mother was described on the birth certificate as a housewife.5 By Georges’s account his parents were not musical, “although mother possessed a really lovely voice, the memory of which is still very close to my heart. Father was convinced that he should have been a tenor instead of a furniture maker, but I do not feel the shame of a disrespectful son in stating with our contemporary neighbors that he made no mistake in sticking to his own trade.” In the final days of 1879, just after Georges’s third birthday, the family moved from Bordeaux, which he later described as a “hopelessly wet city,” to Paris, “a city very accessible to every one but the German Army.”6 There is no extant record of the father’s activities in Paris until 1889; it is conceivable that he had some affiliation with a Barrère listed as a dealer in tropical woods for veneers in what is today the eleventh arrondissement.7 The year 1886 found the Barrère family in Epernon, a small town near Chartres, some forty miles southwest of Paris. Elder brother Étienne, who had a tin whistle (family legend has it that it was a wooden pipe that he carved himself, with instruction from his father), discarded it in favor of a violin. Georges got the tin whistle and boasted that while his proto-violinist brother was struggling with the C major and A minor scales in the first position, he, the future virtuoso, had mastered all the scales on his primitive six-hole flute. The boys attended the École Drouet, the village school for boys, established in 1872.8 There Georges became the beneficiary of the Jules Ferry education laws of 1881–83, which mandated free, compulsory, nonclerical education for all French children. With the overriding goal of civic education, the curriculum included French history and geography, the sciences, and literature — all with the single goal of making good French citizens. Music, however, does not seem to have been a large part of the curriculum, except perhaps in the guise of patriotic songs.9 At school recess, Georges recalled, he gave tin-whistle lessons to 7



Monarch of the Flute

all his friends. Fortunately, the director of the school, M. Chouet, did double duty as the bandmaster of Epernon’s thirty-four-member fanfare, called La Sparnonienne. Georges would follow the band’s Sunday parades, “playing by ear on my simple flute, encouraged by every member of the band.”10 It was a promising start, and in 1888, when the family moved back to Paris, the Epernon schoolmaster recommended to Gabriel that he continue his son’s musical studies. Where Georges attended school in Paris is not known, but the family lived in a small two-bedroom flat on the second floor of 180, rue Faubourg St. Denis, on the east side of the Gare du Nord in the tenth arrondissement.11 Georges was a member of the 9e Bataillon Scolaire, a program of military education for primary-school students. Following its embarrassing defeat in the Franco-Prussian War, the French government had decided that the key to ensuring an effective military defense was to begin military education early. In 1881 it founded the Bataillons Scolaires, or schoolboy battalions, for which it mandated marching and rifle drills, as well as designs for uniforms and flags, in minute detail. All primary-school boys were required to participate. Curiously, although bugles, drums, and fifes were a regular part of the marching routine, the regulations for the battalions did not specify the musical component of the training. Bastille Day, a patriotic celebration initiated by the French government in 1880, had become the public symbol of the Third Republic, and the Bataillons Scolaires played a central role in the public festivities, with the goal of awakening the patriotism that had been dormant in France for a century. “It is difficult to say what may be awakened in the souls of men by the sight of children exercising their future duty as citizens,” proclaimed a French educational journal.12 It was thus with a great deal of pride that on Bastille Day 1889, the centenary of the French Revolution, the 9e Bataillon Scolaire led by Sergeant Barrère marched before the reviewing stand at Paris’s ornate city hall, newly rebuilt after its devastation by the Commune. Clad in somber blue pants and tunics, their berets topped with red pompons, they were both “comfortable and elegant,” the official manual declaimed, “recalling the costume of the cabin boys of the fleet.” The public showed great tenderness for the schoolboy soldiers: masses of curious spectators surrounded the plaza and overloaded the surrounding windows and balconies, cheering and applauding the young troops. “They have reason to be proud, our little soldiers. The grandeur of France will benefit from what they do today,” exhorted Le Petit Journal.13 But not long thereafter, the Bataillons were abandoned as ineffective, the military drills replaced by purely gymnastic training. The Bataillon’s influence on Sergeant Barrère was quite different from what the government intended. “It did not make a militarist of me,” he remembered, “although I was very proud of my position and uniform.”14 The



8

The Fifer, 1876–93

Bataillons Scolaires may have been deemed a failure in the area of military preparedness, but there was a positive result: they unwittingly encouraged the development of at least one true musician. The instructor of the fife corps was a flute student at the Paris Conservatoire, and he considered Barrère sufficiently promising to send him to his own private teacher, Léon Richaud. Richaud had earned his first prize at the Paris Conservatoire in 1886 and was a distinguished member of the Lamoureux Orchestra in Paris. With him, Georges studied the silver Boehm flute, the instrument of choice at the Conservatoire since 1860.15 In October 1889 he had made sufficient progress that Richaud took him to the Paris Conservatoire to play for Henry Altès, professor of flute. Although Georges played the C major melodic exercise from Altès’s own method, the professor did not deem him sufficiently advanced to enter the class. Awed by the reputation of the institution, Barrère was grateful that Altès allowed him to audit the flute class and to have brief weekly tutoring sessions. The following November, Barrère auditioned again for official admission. The jury was intimidating to Barrère and the other twenty-two applicants.16 Chaired by the esteemed Ambroise Thomas, director of the Conservatoire, it consisted of Altès and the other members of the woodwind and brass faculty, an esteemed cohort that was the glory of the institution. Barrère, who had celebrated his fourteenth birthday just two weeks earlier, played the Tulou First Solo; Thomas rated him “passable” and “good enough” and his sight reading also “passable.” In any case, he acquitted himself sufficiently well that, along with three other boys, he was admitted to the Conservatoire.17 Located between the rue du Conservatoire and the rue du Faubourg Poissonnière, the school was tradition-bound in every way—fusty in its pedagogy, crumbling in its infrastructure, musty in its odor. Pianist Alfredo Casella later wrote, “The old conservatory was a large and horrible edifice with a courtyard which was murderously drafty.” The faculty was aging, teaching fugue, for instance, “with an extraordinary strictness of spirit: ‘It is not necessary to write a fugue like Bach, [but] in the style of the house,’” violinist Georges Enesco recalled.18 Barrère was apparently not intimidated by the school’s traditions. “I was at this time the chum of many of the older flute-players who were as stars in my musical firmament. I was the Benjamin [the youngest son] of the class, all the other boys being between seventeen and twenty-five years of age, some of them in military uniform. They looked upon the small, fourteen year old boy as little more than a baby in their midst. What happy, happy times those were!”19 Indeed, life at the Conservatoire was not all drudgery: the flute class enjoyed off-campus excursions to the nearby billiard parlor, where André Maquarre, future solo flutist of the Boston Symphony and Philadelphia Orchestra, taught Georges the technique; and to the swimming pool, where his compatriots in9



Monarch of the Flute

cluded Henri Casadesus, future viola virtuoso and early music entrepreneur, and his brother Robert-Guillaume, future singer and composer. But the match of the youngster and the aged professor was not ideal; Altès, Barrère later wrote, “was a great teacher but I did not progress as well as I should under his tutorship. I still believe this very systematic teaching gave me no chance to develop my own.” Or, as he put it more charitably in a later version of his autobiography, “While I have a reverent memory of Altès’ strictness and severe training, I must confess that I didn’t understand his methods thoroughly.” Whether for lack of concentration or other reasons, Georges’s progress was, in his own words, “slow and not altogether encouraging.”20 At the midyear examination in January 1891, where the required work was the Twelfth Solo of Tulou, the jury notes record his “good sound, some exaggerations of style — good under the circumstances.” But in view of his “slow progress” he was not admitted to the concours, or competition. According to the rules of the Conservatoire, each student played for a jury twice a year, in January and June; in June, a certain number were chosen to compete in the July concours, where students were eligible for first or second prizes or first or second accessit (honorable mention).21 For the June exam, Barrère played the first part of the First Solo of Tulou, demonstrating that he had “made some progress.”22 And in solfège, his instructor noted, he was “intelligent, a worker” who “has taken flight in six months.”23 At the next midterm examination, in January 1892, Barrère played the Ninth Solo of Tulou, and, although he was criticized for unevenness, the minutes noted he “has made progress, and gives hope.”24 The Barrère family as a whole was also giving hope. In April, they moved to a third-floor apartment with two fireplaces at 95, rue de La Fayette, in a fivestory apartment building only a six-block walk to the Conservatoire. The apartment was just around the corner from Gabriel’s business, which had its main office at 45, rue des Petites Écuries, and his workshop, located in a new building at 8, rue de Bellefond. Étienne, the elder brother, had by this time given up the violin and had joined his father in the furniture business.25 Georges still lived at home; the Conservatoire had abolished its boardinghouse in 1871, so all of its students lived off-campus, either with their families or in their own small apartments in the neighborhood. At the June 1892 exam, the jury notes indicate, Barrère was still having difficulty with evenness and tonguing, but his reading was “fairly good.” As a result, he was admitted to the concours, held on July 30, where he played the Seventh Solo in E Major of Tulou and received the second honorable mention, the lowest possible prize.26 The next year was not much better; Altès noted in the exam reports for January 1893, when Barrère played the Sixth Solo of Tulou, that he had made some progress. At the June exam, however, the judges wrote,



10

The Fifer, 1876–93

“no tone—mediocre, bad reading,” but somehow he was admitted to the concours. He won no prize or, as he himself bluntly put it, he nearly flunked in his traversal of Altès’s own Eighth Solo.27 Although Barrère was no prodigy, perhaps this performance was as much a commentary on the teacher and composer as on the student. Altès, now sixty-seven, was an old man by the standard of the day, and at the end of the term he decided to retire. When the students returned in the fall of 1893, the director of the Conservatoire, the kindly and respected Ambroise Thomas, summoned them to his office to introduce their new professor, Claude Paul Taffanel. That October day was, Barrère wrote, “the turning point of my life.”28

11






The Faun, 1893–95

T

he year 1893 witnessed the creation both of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, the visual embodiment of existential angst, and Henri de ToulouseLautrec’s La Loïe Fuller aux Folies-Bergère, one of that artist’s many evocations of Belle Epoque frivolity. The Munch is not a bad metaphor for the young Barrère’s frustration with the rigidity of the Conservatoire flute class. But the highkicking spirit of Toulouse-Lautrec was more emblematic of his outlook at this time, and it was the philosophical attitude with the more long-lasting effect. Like many of his fellow students at the Conservatoire, the seventeen-year-old Barrère began taking on freelance work—notably, at this time, as first flutist of the Folies-Bergère (although, as he confessed in later years, he was the only flutist). His friend and contemporary Pierre Monteux, then a rising star on the viola, preceded him in this engagement and later recalled his routine: two hours’ practice in the morning, a day of classes, two more hours of practice at home, a family dinner, and then the Folies show from 8:00 p.m. until midnight. The music director of the Folies-Bergère, Léon Désorme, was a serious musician, a frequent performer of string quartets. His orchestra consisted of two first violins, two second violins, a cello, a bass, a flute, an oboe, a trumpet, a trombone, and drums. Given that his job was to provide light theater music, he chose scores that were “of good light character, never vulgar,” in Monteux’s words. In later years, American composer George Gershwin would compliment Monteux for his rhythmic sense; Monteux gave the credit to the music hall: “Oui, my two years at the Folies has a great deal to do with it. There were many



12

The Faun, 1893–95

dancing and acrobatic acts, in which, as you know, the rhythm is marked and extremely precise. It was excellent training for a young musician.” That experience was a boon to his future career as ballet conductor, and it must have had the same salutary effect on Barrère. Monteux continued, “I not only learned how to accompany a danseuse, but I certainly learned much about women from these hard-working, kindly artists of that Parisian revue. I think this work did me no harm, and at least I was helping my mother. I’ll have to admit that my innocence was greatly impaired though.”1 The Folies-Bergère was at that time the most important music hall in Paris, with roots in the city’s cafés-concerts, where citizens from all walks of life gathered to hear chansons merely for the cost of their drinks. The café-concert was succeeded in some venues by a theatrical revue modeled on the British music hall. These early forms of mass culture were publicized by that new medium, the color lithograph, and it was here that Jules Cheret and Toulouse-Lautrec found their métier and their subjects — among them the dancers Loïe Fuller and Jane Avril and the chanteuse (or more accurately, diseuse) Yvette Guilbert, who was then appearing at the Divan Japonais and other Montmartre nightspots. In this period, the Folies-Bergère was the most successful music hall in Paris, bringing in 500,000 people and more than 1 million francs a year, and its entertainment had evolved into something much more varied and exotic than its rivals’. The novelist and art critic J.-K. Huysmans described the “stamp of the boulevards” apparent everywhere: “It is ugly, and it is magnificent; it is in a taste that is both outrageous and exquisite; it is incomplete, like all things truly beautiful.” He detailed “the garden, with its upper galleries, its rough wooden lacework arcades, its . . . hollow trefoils painted in gold and red ochre, its ceiling of garnet-red and greyish-brown striped cloth, its imitation Louvois fountains, with three women back to back between two enormous imitation-bronze saucers set amidst clumps of greenery, and its avenues, lined with tables, chairs, rushwork divans and bars kept by amply made-up women.” Plied with cigars, beer, and other libations, the audience could observe the entertainment onstage and off as high-class prostitutes plied their trade in the bar enshrined on canvas by Manet.2 The chief attraction during Barrère’s engagement was the young American dancer Loïe Fuller, creator of the serpentine dance. When she made her debut in the fall of 1892, Le Figaro predicted, “Voilà—an act that all Paris will rush to see, for no dance has ever been more alluring or more magical.”3 Stéphane Mallarmé was enraptured: “Her performance, sui generis, is at once an artistic intoxication and an industrial achievement. In that terrible bath of materials swoons the radiant, cold dancer, illustrating countless themes of gyration. From her proceeds an expanding web — giant butterflies and petals, unfoldings — everything of a pure and elemental order. She blends with the rapidly 13



Monarch of the Flute

changing colors which vary their lime-lit phantasmagoria of twilight and grotto, their rapid emotional changes — delight, mourning , anger; and to set these off, prismatic, either violent or diluted as they are, there must be the dizziness of soul made visible by an artifice.”4 The Loïe craze that ensued propelled the Folies-Bergère to respectability, despite the variety-show company Fuller kept: Mlle Ducler, the original ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay girl; Wallenda and his Great Danes; Techow and his educated cats; tightrope walkers Ara, Zebra, and Vora; Fatima the belly dancer; Sullivan the kangaroo boxer from Australia; Sherman and Morrissey, American blackface comedians; the Girards, musical clowns; Fantasies parisiennes, a ballet revue; The Lotus Flower, a pantomime ballet; and Ralph Terry with his animated shadows. The Strand of London reported, “The dancing of La Loïe has so raised the reputation of the FoliesBergère that now the most particular Parisian has no hesitation about taking his wife or lady friends there.”5 The rebellious, bohemian atmosphere of the Folies and of nearby Montmartre, whose entertainments were generally less refined, must have been a revelation to Barrère, then an impressionable young man of seventeen. He never forgot what it meant to be an entertainer, nor the essence of French joie de vivre, not to mention the sounds of the music hall. The Folies served Barrère as an introduction to new kinds of pleasures and temptations, but more immediately, it was a source of revenue that allowed him to complete his studies at the Paris Conservatoire, where the education was of the more traditional variety. The appointment of Paul Taffanel as flute professor at the Conservatoire in the autumn of 1893 was fortuitous, to say the least. As Barrère wrote in his autobiography, “While I have a reverent memory of Altès’ strictness and severe training I must avow if it were not for all Paul Taffanel did for me, I should not, to-day, be tooting upon what the wood flute-players so irreverently call the ‘Gas-pipe.’ ”6 Taffanel, himself a student of Altès, had earned the first prize from the Conservatoire in 1860 and was considered the finest flutist in Paris. His student Louis Fleury wrote, “In my opinion he reached limits unknown in the art of flute-playing.”7 Fleury explained, “His virtuosity was prodigious. He did, to the letter, what he wanted to do with his fingers. . . . I still keep the astonishment of his lightning scales, played at random, slowed or stopped at whim, and I will always have in my ear a certain Variation of Schubert, played with an evenness and simplicity that was the height of art. With that, an exquisite tone, warm and rich, and a charm that I cannot describe.”8 Taffanel was also well regarded as a conductor, serving as music director both of the Paris Opéra and of the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire, the city’s most important orchestra, composed primarily of Conservatoire faculty and first-prize graduates.



14

The Faun, 1893–95

Taffanel was trained by Louis Dorus on the repertoire of potpourris and variations that were the common parlance of woodwind players in the 1860s. Fleury later noted wryly that “compared with the effusions of Tulou and Demersseman, the music of Thalberg and Herz is high art.” Taffanel, however, quickly came to consider these pieces unworthy both of himself and his public and discovered the Mozart concerti and Bach sonatas. He was the first French flutist of the nineteenth century to play that repertoire.9 By the 1890s Taffanel was literally an eminence grise, but the impression he made was an understated one: “[s]mall, lightly bent, graying, lively eye behind the double eye-glass, a strong and benevolent mouth atop a short square-trimmed beard, fat hands and short fingers; the fingers that are permanently curved as if they were playing the keys of his flute, the voice a bit veiled, with a bit of a Bordelais accent.”10 In an institution where tradition determined matters large and small, Taffanel’s students gratefully noted that his stature earned him the delivery of an oil lamp to light their dingy classroom; other, less-privileged teachers had to make do with a candle. Another sign of Taffanel’s status was the library in his room.11 Though demanding as a teacher, Taffanel was less of a taskmaster than Altès. “Unlike Altès, he did not pay such strict attention to school routine,” Barrère remembered. He assigned the predictable ration of scales and exercises, but if he trusted the student to do the work conscientiously, he did not waste class time listening to such technical items. Instead, he “would spend the entire time teaching an Andersen study in which he led us to find many beautiful things which would otherwise have passed unnoticed, even though we thoroughly mastered the technical difficulties of the study.”12 Taffanel inspired in his students an admiration bordering on worship — not only for his musicianship but also for his devotion to his students. As Fleury recalled, “[T]his great artist was the most scrupulous and most patient of teachers, [who] never declined to give a half-hour private lesson to a student in his class—an example to follow—and [who] helped us by all the means in his power to earn our daily bread (in that era life was difficult). . . . the students guard his memory with a veritable veneration.”13 Each instrumental class met three times a week for two hours from October to July. The wide range of students’ abilities presented a challenge to the teacher, but Taffanel tailored his instruction to each student’s needs. “He was very careful to assign to his pupils such work as would enable them to progress surely and rapidly,” Barrère recalled. Thus the class method proved salutary: “While he was teaching one pupil the remainder of the class would listen attentively to every observation or suggestion made to improve our friend’s work.” It was also a system of pedagogy by peer pressure that fostered what one student called a “constant and fighting spirit of competition.” The repertoire itself consisted of the Mozart 15



Monarch of the Flute

concerti, Bach and Handel sonatas, Schubert’s Variations, the Reinecke Undine Sonata, and the Godard and Widor suites. It was a choice that stood in notable contrast to the finger-benders assigned (and often written) by Altès. “Many times we would stay after class to listen to solos which [Taffanel] would play for us in his own inimitable style.” Barrère clearly appreciated what he was being offered. “Taffanel was not only the best flutist in the world,” he wrote, “but I doubt if any one can ever fill his place. Quality as well as quantity of tone and fine technique were only a small part of his splendid characteristics as a fluteplayer. His musicianship, his style particularly, was highly inspirational. He loathed cheap sentimentality, excessive expression, endless vibrato or shaking of tone, in a word, all the cheap tricks which are as undignified as they are unmusical.”14 Barrère and Taffanel had a meeting of the minds, and the student began to apply himself with a new vigor. The results were immediately gratifying. At the January 1894 examination, one judge, while noting some problems with his fingering , complimented his “expressive playing” of the Lindpaintner Concerto, and Taffanel wrote that he “has made slight progress.”15 At the spring exams, each student in the flute class played a different piece; Barrère won the approval of the jury for his performance of a Mozart concerto: “good sound, very good reading, quite good.” Taffanel’s own notes state: “making progress on tone and technique.” The fourteen-year-old Philippe Gaubert was simultaneously commended for his “beautiful tone, taste, and future.”16 In the concours, where he played the Ferdinand Langer Concerto, Barrère tied with Jean Grenier for the first accessit. Both were surpassed, however, by Gaubert, who leapfrogged over his elders and was unanimously awarded first prize. Barrère’s parents were not happy.17 Gaubert, who had studied privately with Taffanel beginning at age eleven, had come to the Conservatoire in the fall of 1893 and quickly distinguished himself.18 The rivalry between the two men, though muted, was evident over many years, as Gaubert outranked Barrère at the Opéra, the Concerts de l’Opéra, and in many smaller engagements. Another requirement was solfège, which Barrère studied in the class of Anatole-Léon Grand Jany and then of Émile Schvartz.19 Also required were harmony and basic proficiency at the keyboard. With his freelance earnings Barrère bought an upright piano, which he installed in the family apartment. The piano, alas, disturbed the domestic tranquillity: “I considered this piece of property sacred to my own . . . use and when, one afternoon, I heard Big Brother playing a profane tune on it, I decided to shut down the cover and fasten it with the key. There was a scene, needless to state. Mother did not want me to take such an attitude with my brother and I did not want to retract anything I had said but as I had to obey father and mother, I surrendered the key with the threat that I would no longer live at home, if I must do so.”



16

The Faun, 1893–95

After an evening performance at the Folies-Bergère, Barrère made good on his threat: he moved out of the family home to a tiny hotel room that his friends had helped him to find. Twenty-five years later he wrote, “I can see that infinitesimal hotel room where I practiced, using my bed for a music stand and having actually to open the window in order to secure the correct position of a flute-player.” He took a certain perverse pride in what he took to be a bohemian life — a lifestyle he surely tasted in Montmartre, the rustic symbol of artistic freedom, and at the Folies-Bergère. The wise Taffanel was aware of Barrère’s new domestic accommodations, and Barrère, realizing that his teacher knew, decided to redouble his efforts, “making it a point of pride to excel in my studies.”20 In due course, the family rift was mended, and Georges moved back home to rue La Fayette. The Conservatoire also offered a weekly class on the history of music, taught in Barrère’s day by Louis-Albert Bourgault-Ducoudray, a course more popular with the public, which was permitted to attend, than with the students.21 A prize-winning composer, Bourgault-Ducoudray was fascinated by Greek modes; he imbued a generation of French musicians with historical perspective and was greatly responsible for the popularity of choral music in France. Not a scholar but a cultivated musician, he was uninterested in the details of original research, but his presentation was uniquely appealing. Tall, gaunt, with limbs that would “suddenly catch fire like matches” when they moved and a piercing stare under a double pair of spectacles, he customarily carried an umbrella that he brandished like a saber. The man had a “satanic aspect” that mesmerized his listeners, Fleury remembered. His delivery was unparalleled: “Having adopted a subject, he loved it, and he made his listeners love it. His captivating words, crammed with ideas, did more for the diffusion of the history of music than the thousands of kilograms of funereal articles consecrated to it. It was impossible to attend one of his Thursday courses without retaining something substantial.”22 Barrère absorbed that musicological delight and would always take great joy in rediscovering old scores buried in libraries. Fleury, likewise, would have a distinguished career editing flute works of the Baroque era. The Conservatoire curriculum included as well a chamber music class, which was obligatory for all students from the piano, string, and wind classes who obtained a prize or a first accessit.23 In Barrère’s day it was taught by the composer Benjamin Godard. There was also an orchestral class, open automatically to all prizewinners and to others who could be admitted on the advice of their professors. The class met once a week to read through the classics and sometimes the works of advanced composition students as well. In Barrère’s era, however, it was on hiatus; after its professor, Edmé Deldevez, retired in 1885, there was no permanent successor appointed until after Barrère’s graduation.24 17



Monarch of the Flute

Despite his lack of orchestral training, Barrère secured a freelance engagement in the orchestra of the Société Nationale de Musique (SNM), conducted by Gustave Doret. Now came Barrère’s first great triumph. The occasion was the 242nd concert of the SNM, an organization founded by Camille SaintSaëns and Conservatoire voice professor Romaine Bussine in 1871, in the wake of the Franco-Prussian War, to promote French musical nationalism.25 With the motto Ars gallica (French art), the Société Nationale originally made it a rule to present the works only of living French composers. However, with the growing influence of Franck and d’Indy, the membership voted in 1886 to include works of foreign, as well as deceased French composers, a move that spurred the resignation of its founders. Despite the new policy, the SNM continued to be a highly desirable performance venue for young French composers, and it has been credited with playing a major role in reinvigorating the symphony and chamber music after a century of operatic dominance. It also played an important role in encouraging the younger school of composers, among them d’Indy, Chausson, Debussy, Dukas, and Magnard and, later, Ravel, Roussel, Déodat de Séverac, and Florent Schmitt.26 The Société Nationale’s 242nd program was held at the Salle d’Harcourt at 40, rue Rochechouart, a short walk from the Barrère family flat, on Saturday, December 22, 1894, the very day that Captain Alfred Dreyfus was convicted of treason. The Dreyfus Affair, which intensified bitter political and religious divisions within French society, would fan the flames of nationalism and anti-Semitism and convulse French cultural politics for years. The Société Nationale’s program would have a similar effect on French musical life and aesthetics, which were likewise afflicted by violent partisanship.27 At nine o’clock that evening, conductor Gustave Doret strode to the podium to lead the freelance orchestra in a program that included five new works. Of those premieres, only one would endure, but it would become a cornerstone of the modern French repertoire: Claude Debussy’s Prelude à l’après-midi d’un faune.28 Barrère was present at the creation, as composer, conductor, and musicians worked together in numerous rehearsals. Doret recalled, “What would seem today to a conductor to be but a simple formula, presented at that time problems to resolve, so much that Debussy had great hesitations, doubting himself that certain effects that he had promised himself could be obtained. I assured him that we would take all the time necessary for that delicate production. Little by little, the musicians of the orchestra, excellent as always, became passionate to explain totally the Debussyiste thought.” Debussy was constantly modifying the sound of the piece, trying minute variations until he felt it was right. “Patience was the order of the day,” Doret remembered. Finally, as the work took its final form, “The instrumentalists, familiarized with the new style, understood that we were going to do serious battle. . . . Debussy was not unknown



18

The Faun, 1893–95

by the true dilettantes, but the greater public was still ignorant of him.” Of the performance itself, Doret wrote, “I mounted the podium not without emotion, but fortified and full of confidence. I waited a long moment, after having imposed silence on the late chatterers among the audience. The hall is full. An impressive silence reigned when our marvelous flutist Barrère unrolled his initial theme. Suddenly, I sensed behind my back—it is a distinct faculty of certain conductors!—the public was completely captivated! The triumph is complete, so much so that despite the rule that forbade the ‘bis,’ I did not hesitate to violate the rule. And the orchestra, carried away, repeated with joy the work that they loved.”29 At Debussy’s invitation, Mallarmé attended the premiere. He was sufficiently enthralled with Debussy’s interpretation of his work that he sent the composer an autographed copy of the poem with this inscription: If you would know with what harmonious notes Your flute resounds, O sylvan deity, then hearken to the light that shall be breathed Thereinto by Debussy’s magic art.30 Debussy wrote to critic Georges Jean-Aubry sixteen years later, “[I]t’s my happiest memory of a period when I wasn’t yet plagued by ‘Debussysme.’ ”31 In fact, it was the thirty-two-year-old Debussy’s greatest success to date—and the young Barrère’s, as well. The Conservatoire, too, noted Barrère’s progress. At the January 1895 examination, which must have been something of an anticlimax after the excitement of the Faune just a month prior, he won understated plaudits for his playing of the Godard Allegretto.32 And in June, after playing the Sixth Solo of Demersseman, he was admitted to the concours once again. But even before the concours, Barrère made another step toward becoming a professional. On July 3, he played his first engagement as an extra at the Paris Opéra. It was the first of six appearances in the musique de scène, during a run of Tannhäuser, that he would play that month, earning eight francs a night.33 The public competitions at the Conservatoire were organized with elaborate ceremony, supervised by Émile Réty, the by-the-books secretary to the director. “He was a tedious old man, severe, thick-set, and near-sighted, who lived in his office,” wrote an intimidated Louis Fleury.34 Réty was the perfect administrator for the concours, which were governed by detailed regulations even for matters as minute as how to inspect and tear the tickets. On the day of the concours, the only persons admitted in the corridors and backstage were the professors, the competing students, and the ushers. The door between the stage and the waiting room was reserved, by official decree, exclusively for the personnel of the administration, and no exceptions were made, even for the pro19



Monarch of the Flute

fessors. The juries deliberated behind closed doors and voted by secret ballot. They decided, by majority vote, if there would be a first prize. And if they decided that there must be several first prizes, there had to be a two-thirds vote. The same rules applied for the designation of the other levels of prizes.35 The public concours for the woodwinds was scheduled for Monday, July 29, at noon, in the elegant Grande Salle of the Conservatoire, a room of modest dimensions but with an atmosphere of intimidation befitting its Pompeiian decorative scheme. Harold Bauer, who served as a judge of the piano competition just after the turn of the century, quipped, “The Conservatoire was so conservative that all old traditions had to be preserved at any cost.” Every pupil played the same piece, which was selected six weeks beforehand. After all of the students had played it in turn, they were sequestered in an offstage room to await the sight-reading test; it was important that none of them hear the manuscript piece, which had been written especially for the occasion. Bauer described the agonizing process: One by one, they were released from the locked room and brought back to the stage for this test. It was curious and sometimes pathetic to observe the manner in which they approached the task. A few of them came up quite jauntily, confident in their ability to make a good showing. Others, on the contrary, were hesitant and nervous, walking as slowly as possible towards the piano, their eyes protruding, and obviously hoping to get some idea of the music at a distance before sitting down to the instrument. For these uneasy ones, anything that could serve to delay the actual moment of starting to read was employed, some of the devices being so ingenuously transparent as to cause laughter, which was sternly repressed by the little bell agitated by the Director. The piano stool was too high or too low, the music rack was too close or too far away, those who wore eye-glasses had to wipe them, collars or sleeves had to be pulled up or pulled down, and the sight of all these manipulations, with the eyes of the unhappy pupil glued to the manuscript that had to be deciphered, was irresistibly comical, yet touching as well, for so much depended upon the result. It should be said that the average ability for sight-reading was very high at the Conservatoire, thanks to the intensive training given in solfège.36 Adding to the pressure was the public nature of the event: Parisians began clamoring for the free, and very limited, tickets early in the spring , and the press covered it thoroughly. Perhaps, suggested Bauer, “Public interest in the annual examinations was naturally intense, if only for the reason that tuition at this State supported institution was entirely free, and the taxpayer was curi-



20

The Faun, 1893–95

ous to see if his money was serving the purpose of producing performers and composers of distinction.”37 In a city where the Opéra was the pinnacle of musical and social attainment, the public was generally more interested in the singers than in the instrumentalists.38 Nevertheless, “Very frequently the public disagreed with the verdict of the jury and showed its displeasure in such violent fashion that on more than one occasion I have seen it necessary to summon the police in order to protect members of the jury from actual physical assault when, at the end of an exhausting day, they left the building.”39 The stakes were high: if a student did not win admission to the concours after two years of study, or if he competed for two successive years and failed to win a prize, he would be ejected from the Conservatoire.40 On the other hand, with a first prize in hand, he was nearly guaranteed to be on an upward career path. Moreover, it also relieved him of two of the three years of compulsory military service. Juries were made up of leading musicians, not all of them Conservatoire professors. For the 1895 flute jury there was a typically august assemblage: Ambroise Thomas, the director, who served as chairman; the composers Victorien de Joncières and Émile Jonas; Adrien Barthe, professor of harmony at the Conservatoire; Charles Lefebvre, incoming teacher of the ensemble class; the Belgian flutist A. DeVroye; clarinet professor Charles Turban; and Gustave Wettge, former music director of the Garde Républicaine. The set piece was the Morceau de concert, op. 3, of Joachim Andersen; the sight-reading piece was by Barthe. Taffanel had hoped to have a new piece by Andersen; when he invited Andersen to compose one, he pointed out that one of the first things he did when he took over the flute class was to introduce Andersen’s études, which were now among the students’ favorites. Alas, he gave Andersen very little time to produce the work, and when it arrived it was too long. Andersen was unable to complete the revisions in time for the concours, and Taffanel fell back upon op. 3.41 At age eighteen years, eight months, Barrère won the first prize by a wide margin: eight in favor, one abstention. Le Monde Musical reported that the overall level of playing was higher than the previous year, and “M. Barrère alone possesses an individual nature that earned him, very justifiably, the first prize.” Le Guide Musical agreed: Barrère was “without peer.” Jean Grenier, who had shared the first accessit with him in 1894, took second prize, and the upand-coming Daniel Maquarre, age fourteen, gained a first accessit. (Following in the footsteps of his older brothers Guillaume, first prize in trombone in 1890, and André, first prize in flute in 1893, he would win first prize the following year.) Jules Pascal and Jules Leduc, both nineteen, the second-prize winners in 1893 and 1894, respectively, failed to place at all. They “were left high and dry, not without reason,” said Le Monde Musical, “only M. Barrère 21



Monarch of the Flute

possesses a personal and artistic nature that earned him, justifiably, the first prize.”42 But the announcement did not deter the young professional from performing his evening job, another engagement in the musique de scène at the Opéra. The press judged the music as well as the performance: Le Monde Musical thought the Barthe “too easy, but agreeable,” while Le Progrès Artistique took the Conservatoire more broadly to task for its choices of woodwind contest pieces. “This was a good, an excellent session! However, except for the bassoon class, the morceaux de concours [contest pieces] were absolutely the most oldfashioned, the most pretentiously insignificant that we have heard this year; but all the students put in the service of these banalities such sureness of rhythm, such justice of accent, such a real artistic consciousness, that they ended up making true music.”43 It is a curious contradiction to Taffanel’s philosophy of repertoire both as stated by the master and reported by his students — but it was part of the Conservatoire tradition. However, with one exception, it marked his definitive break with the Tulou-Altès-Demersseman finger-twisters that had an absolute monopoly during the Altès years. It was not until 1898, however, that Taffanel became truly adventurous in his commissions: the Fauré Fantaisie was the first of many landmark contributions to the flute repertoire that grew out of the annual concours commission.44 The prize distribution ceremony took place five days after the concours. The occasion also marked the centenary of the founding of the Conservatoire. Fittingly, academic honors announced at the ceremony included the appointment of Taffanel as an Officer of the Academy. Barrère received his first prize, a large silver medal, and, more important, the automatic respect that the Conservatoire’s first prize conveyed. That imprimatur would serve him well. Harold Bauer, later a close friend of Barrère, reflected on the effects of the Conservatoire method of education on French musical culture: “It was very thorough. It was tremendously serious. It exacted from the students an enormous amount of application and industry. Given the ability to pass the entrance examinations, the final result seemed almost a foregone conclusion. Every student . . . acquired a solid technical foundation, an ability to read music properly, and an understanding of the principles of composition. The students cultivated reverence for the art of music and they certainly enjoyed music.” But the system was not perfect; it was rigid and dry. “What was it,” Bauer asked, that gave the impression that really great talent bloomed and developed not because of the training it received at the great institution but almost in spite of this training? What gave rise to the feeling that original artistic impulse was stifled rather than encouraged, and that es-



22

The Faun, 1893–95

thetic judgment was only considered good when based upon standards of the past which to some were not merely outmoded but quite obscure? To say that the Conservatoire had failed on many occasions to recognize true genius was no refutation of the undoubted fact that the majority of great French musicians — composers as well as performers— . . . had received their training at their national conservatory. There was something in this strictly academic education that colored their productions and their performances in such unmistakable fashion that the listener can assert without possibility of error that “this is French.”45 Barrère would acknowledge this legacy and convey it to several subsequent generations. Despite his personal difficulties with Altès, he would go on to edit his études for an American publisher. He would revere Taffanel throughout his career and would adopt his pedagogical methods — Berbiguier and Andersen études, even the Altès method — and repertoire. His Conservatoire friends — among them Jacques Thibaud, Pierre Monteux, and Henri Casadesus—would remain friends for life. His Conservatoire medal would hang proudly on the wall of his music room, the French woodwind sound would remain in his ear, and the tradition that preceded him would always be evident in his pedagogy and his performances. That tradition would become his great gift to America.

23






The Jeune École, 1895–98

W

hen he graduated from the Conservatoire, Barrère was much like a new medical school graduate: he knew his craft, but he still had much to learn about his art. According to the rules of the Conservatoire, once a student earned his first prize he was permitted to attend the thrice-weekly instrumental classes. Barrère petitioned Taffanel for permission to remain for an extra year. “My request was granted and this was without doubt the most inspirational period of my studies. Taffanel was teaching me, at that time, the repertoire of a flute virtuoso.” He studied harmony and composition with Raoul Pugno and Xavier Leroux, virtuoso pianist and opera composer, respectively, but the main attraction was Taffanel. To Barrère, Taffanel was a father figure: “Each pupil was a musical son and I doubt if there is in the whole world one flute-player who has sat at the feet of Taffanel who does not bear in his heart the loveliest memories of that great master and who does not entertain the greatest veneration and respect for him both as a man and a musician.”1 The extra year with Taffanel was in the nature of an apprenticeship, and the emphasis was on chamber music. Barrère absorbed not only his master’s love for the genre, but also the entrepreneurial skills that enabled him to indulge that passion. Taffanel was a committed chamber musician who in 1879 had founded the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent (Society of Chamber Music for Wind Instruments). Unfazed by the unfamiliarity of that instrumental combination, in a period when all the regular Parisian chamber ensembles consisted primarily of strings and piano, Taffanel did a great deal to build both repertoire and audiences. His society was responsible



24

The Jeune École, 1895–98

for the premieres of some twenty-five major woodwind ensemble works, among them the Divertissement by Émile Bernard, the Septet of René de Boisdeffre, the Petite Symphonie by Charles Gounod, several works by Théodore Gouvy, the Octet of Sylvio Lazzari, and Charles Lefebvre’s Suite, op. 57.2 But, having taken on both orchestral and opera responsibilities as well as the Conservatoire flute professorship, Taffanel felt that he could not continue with the group, and it had ceased performing in 1893. His colleagues and protégés, however, did not wish to abandon it. “The Société des instruments à vent is going to be revived, to the great joy of music lovers,” Le Ménestrel announced in January 1896.3 Four members of the former Taffanel group, including flutist Adolphe Hennebains and oboist Georges Gillet, associated themselves with an existing string and piano ensemble as the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent et à Cordes, and announced a series of three concerts in the Salle Érard.4 A different group of Taffanel’s Opéra colleagues, among them flutist Leopold Lafleurance, called themselves the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Cordes et à Vent and gave a similar series at the Salle Pleyel.5 Both had a repertoire of traditional nineteenth-century German and French works. In 1898, after the Gillet group had played only one season, clarinetist Prosper Mimart took over its direction, and its new personnel included Lafleurance and oboist Georges Longy.6 Almost immediately upon graduation, Barrère, with his teacher’s blessing, started organizing a younger version of the Taffanel society, the Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent (SMIV), composed of fellow recent conservatory graduates.7 Though the critics were, understandably, a bit confused by the similarly named organizations, and advance announcements of their concerts were often unhelpfully vague, there was apparently room for both groups. Moreover, they shared personnel; both Barrère and Gaubert, for example, appeared as guests with the other’s organization. Their repertoire was similar, and both groups endured for many years. The Société Moderne gave its first series of three concerts at the Salle des Quatuors, the smaller of the two halls of the Salle Pleyel, in the spring of 1896. It was the piano manufacturers Pleyel, Érard, and Herz who provided the public venues for chamber music. “The House of Pleyel is a temple dedicated to chamber music,” wrote chronicler Oscar Comettant.8 Conveniently, the Salle Pleyel was practically across the street from the Barrère family’s new apartment in a substantial building at 35, rue Rochechouart. The Société’s first concert, on March 11, 1896, broke no new ground with its choice of traditional German repertoire — works of Spohr, Saint-Saëns, Mozart, and Beethoven. It was “a perfect choice,” said Le Monde Musical, which published the only review. Its critic, Arthur Dandelot, endorsed the enterprise enthusiastically, singling out the Beethoven Quintet, op. 16, for special praise. “Encouraged by the masters 25



Monarch of the Flute

whose advice they had the good taste to listen to, they too merit our sympathies. Their first concert was very satisfying. . . . Provided that they work together, the members of this new Society can arrive at the result so rarely attained: to make good chamber music.”9 The second concert, on March 23, included Charles Lefevbre’s Suite, op. 57; Saint-Saëns’s Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs (which would remain a staple of Barrère’s repertoire); and the Mozart Quintet for piano and winds. It apparently received no reviews in the musical press. Barrère had no reason to take the omission personally, however. Oscar Comettant, in reviewing the 1893 season at the Salle Pleyel, had complained, “Never have chamber music concerts been as numerous and as seriously interesting as in the present era, as much by the merit of the artists they produce as by the choice of works that one hears; and never, by a regrettable anomaly, have they left less of a trace in the history of the art.” Most chamber music concerts or private concerts given in Paris were unknown except to the “amateurs” and the Parisian artists themselves: “Outside, there is not a rumor.” Only the Opéra, the Opéra-Comique, and the major orchestral concerts of Colonne, Lamoureux, and the Société des Concerts (the so-called Grands Concerts) received steady press coverage; the subsidized theaters and the Société Nationale were covered fairly regularly, but other chamber music groups only occasionally. The press, Comettant observed, was so eager to report the trifles of the vie mondaine, “to record the puerile news, often lies of the day before, to note all the behind the scenes rumors and the least facts and jests of the least important comedians and smallest theaters,” that it could not find space for musical coverage, even for announcements of concerts. Thus, “[t]hey take place without a public, a true public, having been informed, and they leave no more trace of their spirit even with those who, by accident, have seen a poster in the window of a music shop, than the wake of a ship in the sea that it crosses.”10 The third concert of the Société Moderne, on April 8, featured Barrère in the Reinecke Undine Sonata, which Dandelot singled out as “ravishing ,” but the critic saved his greatest praise for the Octuor, op. 20, of Sylvio Lazzari, which was dedicated to Taffanel and was superior, in his view, to so many other works of the same composer. He noted the presence in the hall of notable members of the Société Nationale, seizing the rare opportunity to hear the quintet and giving the young players their implicit endorsement.11 Another rarity on the program was the opening work, the Arabesque et Sarabande for woodwind quintet and piano of Hedwige Chrétien. Mme Chrétien was an accomplished graduate of the Conservatoire, with first prizes in harmony, accompanying , and fugue. A prolific composer, she had recently been a solfège instructor at the Conservatoire. Barrère would always make it a habit to promote the works of women composers, and this was a promising start. Le



26

The Jeune École, 1895–98

Ménestrel’s critic wrote of this third concert, “These young men are full of ardor and talent and come off with honor.” He too judged the Lazzari the pièce de résistance: “one would hear it again with pleasure. It was remarkably played under the direction of the composer.”12 In addition to organizing his own ensemble, Barrère quickly established himself as a freelancer available to the numerous chamber music organizations then populating the Paris concert landscape. It was an atmosphere increasingly hospitable to chamber music; the growth of orchestral societies benefited professionals and audiences alike, providing employment for professionals and fostering the expansion of educated, elite audiences sympathetic to instrumental music. Improvements in instrument manufacture and music education provided increasingly competent performers, especially on wind instruments. Chamber music also provided opportunities for composers deterred by the Wagnerisme obsessing the operatic world.13 Just two days before the SMIV’s debut, Barrère played second flute to Hennebains’s first in a performance of d’Indy’s Suite dans le style ancien sponsored by the Société Nationale. The SNM was perhaps the most important of the chamber music presenters in Paris—in the years from 1871 to 1918 it was responsible for more than 400 concerts, mostly of French music—and it was an influential force in the renaissance of the so-called jeune école. Another organization intent on promoting the young French school was the Concerts de l’Opéra, and here too Barrère played a part. The Opéra, even more a symbol of French musical conservatism than the Conservatoire, was increasingly being criticized for its tired bel canto repertory, leavened with Wagner, to the near-exclusion of living French composers. The established orchestral concert series did not do much better; composer/critic Paul Dukas described the Société des Concerts as being “as inhospitable [to new works] as the Arctic cold”—though the terms of its government subventions at least guaranteed a modicum of new music. The Opéra, whose very building symbolized unbending tradition, was run in the mid-1890s by Eugène Bertrand and Pierre Gailhard. In the spring of 1895 they conceived of a Sunday afternoon concert series designed both to reverse its stodgy image and to promote the neglected young composers, who would gain a venue for the performance of their works at no cost. It was a public relations gesture on a bold scale. With more than a little irony, Adolphe Jullien reported in the Journal des Débats, “finally, the paradise of the Opéra is going to open itself to the works of young , French composers.”14 Half of each program was given to the jeunes, the other half to a combination of historic and “modern” works, generally with an interlude of danses anciennes set to Baroque scores. Five programs would each be played twice, on successive Sunday afternoons; Opéra conductor Georges Marty, appointed 27



Monarch of the Flute

chorus master, recruited a chorus of eighty-eight singers, and composer Paul Vidal of the Conservatoire faculty recruited and auditioned an orchestra of ninety players. For the flute section, he chose Gaubert as principal, Barrère as second flute, and Jean Grenier as third and piccolo; the oboists were Joseph Foucault of the Société Moderne and Paul Brun, still a student at the Conservatoire. At sixteen, the future conductor Desiré-Emile Inghelbrecht, who would be known particularly for his interpretations of Debussy, made his professional debut among the second violins, “in the milieu of musicians who composed in my eyes the aristocracy of the corporation.”15 For rehearsals the musicians were paid five francs each; for concerts, thirty-five francs for principals and twenty-five for all others. Also recruited in the cause was the bureaucratic establishment — the Société des Auteurs, Compositeurs et Éditeurs de Musique, which agreed to a reduction of its usual performance royalties, and the minister of public instruction and fine arts, who gave his blessing.16 At the fourth set of concerts, on January 19 and 26, 1896, Gaubert and Barrère were soloists in the premiere of Henri Büsser’s A la Villa Médicis, op. 4, a three-part symphonic suite in which the composer attempted to communicate programmatically his impressions of the richly decorated Renaissance palace, with its formal gardens and panoramic view of Rome, where he had spent his tenure as winner of the Prix de Rome. The same program included the premiere of Le Songe de la Sulamite by Alfred Bachelet, age thirty-two; Oedipe à Colone by the eighteenth-century composer Sacchini; a set of Baroque dances by Bach and Rameau; the Prologue to Françoise de Rimini by Ambroise Thomas; and an orchestral suite by the twenty-four-year-old Henri Hirschmann. The Büsser was one of seventeen premieres that season; of the fortynine works in the series, thirty-five were by French composers, twenty-two of them living. But only five of those contemporary French composers had had a work staged at the Opéra.17 The spring of 1896 brought Barrère’s first engagement as principal flutist of a full orchestra. Gustave Doret, under whose baton he had premiered L’Après-midi d’un faune, had been signed to direct the orchestra of the Swiss National Exposition in Geneva, and the terms he negotiated allowed him to ignore the mediocre local orchestra and instead select a top-notch ensemble of seventy musicians. Under Doret, the “young virtuosos,” as he described them, played twelve Saturday evening concerts in the Victoria Hall. In addition, the assistant conductor led weekday afternoon concerts to entertain visitors to the fair. At these afternoon concerts, Barrère often played flute solos, accompanied either by the orchestra or at the organ by Gustave Ferrari, a composer who subsequently emigrated to the United States.18 Doret was so pleased with the results of the first concert, on May 2, that he felt confident in inviting Saint-Saëns to attend a festival in his honor and



28

The Jeune École, 1895–98

to play the organ in his own Third Symphony. Barrère was excited about the job and about the visiting conductors, who included Saint-Saëns, Ernest Chausson, Bernhard Stavehagen, and Émile Jaques-Dalcroze. The French press applauded Doret for his choice of French repertoire, but Swiss composers, of course, also had a place of honor. The Saint-Saëns festival on September 12 gave the nineteen-year-old principal flutist the opportunity to meet the soloist in the Green Room, where they discussed the Bach flute sonatas, all of which Saint-Saëns knew from memory. Barrère played for him and expressed his preference for one in particular. SaintSaëns, Barrère recalled, grouchily retorted, “There is no such thing as a best Sonata in Bach. . . . they are all the best.”19 The six-month engagement in Geneva should have been a financial success for the young flutist; his room and board cost him only 90 francs of his monthly 330-franc salary. But apparently he spent a bit too freely. “The fact that I was obliged to send my excess baggage home C.O.D. for the express charges, does not argue well in favor of my behavior during this engagement.” His long-suffering father paid the bill.20 Back in Paris, Barrère resumed substituting at the Opéra and played a second season with the Concerts de l’Opéra. One of that series’ few “novelties” to find its way into the standard repertory was the Symphony in C of Paul Dukas, which had its premiere in January 1897. But, as Inghelbrecht recalled at a distance of fifty years, this work represented, for some of its young performers, something of a rite of passage into professional cynicism, as the musicians manifested a rather unprofessional resistance to unfamiliar music. “Who would have believed the protests not just of the public the day of the concert but those of the orchestra musicians beforehand? In the course of the many rehearsals the jests spread around me, and it is necessary to say that the young conductor, Paul Vidal, was not always able to spare the new work from the efforts at sabotage. . . . I was wounded as much by this incomprehension as by a lack of professional conscience that I never would have suspected.”21 The press, well primed by the Opéra management, was generally supportive of the concerts (Fernand Le Borne of Le Monde Artiste was, after all, one of the composers whose works were played), but the Dukas had an uneasy start. The Progrès Artistique critic said, “The beauties occasionally disappear in the middle of an inextricable confusion,” and he disliked the ballet excerpts, too.22 Le Borne thought better of the Dukas and the dancing, but concurred with his colleague that the concerts were less interesting than the previous season because the programming devoted to unpublished works was minimal.23 Le Borne congratulated the management on the important place given to unpublished works, yet he went on, in a contradictory spirit, to criticize Felix Galley’s Concerto-féerie for spoken voice, violin, and orchestra, “whose hearing provoked in the Opéra hall a reaction next to which even that of the Châtelet 29



Monarch of the Flute

seems mild. . . . The public was wrong to act so strongly,” wrote Le Borne, but, he questioned, was it “prudent to expose this totally unknown composer to such a misadventure? Apart from several details in the first part and a pretty phrase in the andante, . . . I don’t see by what side that improvisation of nearly 40 minutes can be defended.”24 New music is always a risk. By the end of the season, the management evidently sided with the reluctant public and the disapproving accountants, who tallied a deficit of between 120,000 and 150,000 francs, and the Concerts de l’Opéra were canceled.25 In the winter and spring of 1897, the Société Moderne was also presenting its second season, a series of three Wednesday afternoon concerts, and was becoming somewhat bolder in its programming. The schedule was itself telling: it was clear that Barrère was catering to a specialist audience, one composed of aristocrats who could afford to attend weekday, daytime concerts and of other musicians, whose professional obligations were usually in the evening.26 Reviewing the first concert, on February 10, for Le Monde Musical, Dandelot struck a cautionary note in view of the competition. He applauded the Weber Grand Duo for clarinet and piano, but remarked that the Mozart Oboe Quartet and the Beethoven Serenade for flute and strings both lacked polish, and he counseled the group not to neglect ensemble rehearsals. He approved of both the Reinecke Octet and the Sextet for winds and piano of the young violist Albert Seitz, which received its premiere.27 Seitz was an auditor in Émile Pessard’s harmony class at the Conservatoire and would go on to a long career in the Société des Concerts and the Opéra orchestra. This was the first of three works by Seitz that the Société Moderne would premiere and one of some 130 premieres for which the Société Moderne was ultimately responsible.28 But the presence of strings may also have been a bone of familiarity thrown to audiences who might be uncomfortable with an all-woodwind program. The second concert of the season, on March 3, enlisted the services of violinist Jacques Thibaud, who was then, like his host, a talented but essentially unrecognized newcomer with a first prize from the Conservatoire. The program included the French premiere of Reinecke’s Trio, op. 188, for piano, oboe, and horn; the Franck Violin Sonata; and a reprise of Lazzari’s Octuor. The critic of Le Monde Artiste took note of the “elite public,” which applauded the “brilliant” Sextet for piano and winds of Georges Pfeiffer, an established pianist/composer who was a partner in the piano manufacturer Pleyel, Wolff. He thought the Reinecke Trio too long and “pompous” and the Lazzari, though derivative (perhaps of his teacher, Franck), to be “well written despite unnecessary harshness.”29 The Seitz and the Reinecke works are indicators of Barrère’s key objective: continuing Taffanel’s efforts to enlarge the woodwind ensemble repertoire. “Music was scarce for our combination and with the intrepidity of my twenty



30

The Jeune École, 1895–98

years I dangled myself on every composer’s doorbell to induce him to write for us,” Barrère recalled. “This gave me an opportunity to meet all the French composers of the day. I also wrote to composers throughout Europe and had some pleasant correspondence.”30 The Reinecke was the first result of this correspondence. The society’s third and final concert of the 1897 season took place on April 7 and featured three premieres: a Sextuor by Eugène Lacroix, newly appointed chief organist of St. Merry, Paris; an Aubade by E. F. Le Tourneux; and another Aubade, op. 93, this one by Charles Lefebvre. A former student of Ambroise Thomas, Lefebvre had recently succeeded Godard as professor of the ensemble class at the Conservatoire. His status as a winner of the Prix de Rome and as a recently named Chevalier of the Legion of Honor lent some prestige to the younger players. Three older works followed: Anselme Vineé’s Trio-Serenade for flute, English horn, and harp, a work that had won the Société des Compositeurs de Musique’s (SCM) contest in 1889; and fragments of Xavier Leroux’s opera Les Perses, a work whose individual “pieces” were published by Leduc in a variety of instrumentations, suitable for any amateur combination. Three weeks later, Barrère added an appearance on a concert of the Société des Compositeurs de Musique to his curriculum vitae. With fellow Société Moderne members, he played the premiere of Edmond Malherbe’s Sextuor for winds, which had won the concours for 1896, earning a purse of 300 francs.31 A pupil of Massenet and Fauré at the Conservatoire with a first prize in harmony, Malherbe would go on to win the Prix de Rome in 1899. Le Progrès Artistique criticized Malherbe’s String Quartet, also an SCM prizewinner that year and played earlier on the program, as “too academic,” but judged the Sextuor to be more “lively and of excellent polyphony without heaviness.”32 In contrast to the Société Nationale, which represented the avant-garde of the day, the Société des Compositeurs de Musique, founded in 1862, was more catholic in its membership, encompassing nearly all styles and levels of composers, from popular arrangers to members of the Académie — though it was too conventional for Debussy or Satie.33 It was also something of a fraternal organization. With complementary, rather than rival, goals, the SNM and SCM memberships thus overlapped, though only the SCM had instrumentalists and interested (and often rich) amateurs, as well as composers, as members. Since 1873 the Société des Compositeurs had run an annual composition competition, with a different instrumentation specified each year.34 A major goal was to promote instrumental music in the face of competition from the operatic world. The concours was its distinguishing feature, and this event attracted many submissions—several of which made their way into Barrère’s repertoire. The juries consisted of seven to ten members of the society, and when possible they were officers or honorary members, so that their names would lend pres31



Monarch of the Flute

tige to the selection. The winning compositions were played at the society’s own concerts, but not necessarily by SCM members. Winners included Taffanel (for his woodwind quintet in 1876 and a two-piano sonata in 1877), the Spanish-born pianist Blas-Marie Colomer (several of whose works would later be premiered by the Société Moderne), and, early in their careers, André Messager, André Caplet, Henri Büsser, and Florent Schmitt. Caplet won the prize for his Quintet for winds and piano at age twenty-two, and Albert Roussel in 1897, at twenty-six, for his Madrigal à quatre voix. But overall, it is fair to say these composers were then working in fairly traditional modes, and that in contrast to the more forward-looking Société Nationale, the SCM attracted a fairly conservative group. Like the Société Nationale, however, it was influential in stimulating the promotion of new instrumental, particularly chamber, music in an era when opera was still regnant.35 Sometime in 1897 Barrère, who had already had private students—possibly including Louis Fleury, before he entered the Conservatoire36—secured his first faculty appointment, at the Collège Stanislas, a post he would hold for seven years.37 Located on the rue Notre-Dame des Champs in Montparnasse, the Collège was a preparatory school for the sons of the aristocracy and the intelligentsia. It had been created by the Archdiocese of Paris and was run by an order of Marianist priests, but most of the teachers were laymen. It had a tradition of ambitious musical activities, and its alumni included such leading musicians as Charles Gounod, Jacques Offenbach, Pierre de Bréville, and, a decade before Barrère’s arrival, Albert Roussel. Instrumental lessons were not a formal part of the curriculum, but a list of teachers was provided to students and parents and the rates were set by the school: private flute instruction consisted of two forty-five-minute lessons per week, at 3.75 francs per lesson, on top of the 1,000- to 2,000-franc annual tuition.38 In the spring of 1897, Barrère was elected third flute of Concerts Colonne, one of the three major Paris orchestras, beating out twenty other competitors.39 The Association Artistique des Concerts Colonne was a cooperative, and the players had a voice not only in the financial affairs of the organization but also in the selection of new members and the conductor. Thus an audition for the Colonne was in two stages: first in front of the conductor, Édouard Colonne, and then for the orchestra committee. At the same audition at which Barrère was accepted, so was his Conservatoire classmate Ernest Million, who would remain in the orchestra until he was killed in the First World War in 1914. Awaiting Barrère’s arrival in the Colonne, which included some of the finest orchestral players in Paris, were two old friends from the Conservatoire. Pierre Monteux, who had already been a violist there for three seasons, would become assistant conductor at the beginning of the 1906–07 season. Jacques Thibaud



32

The Jeune École, 1895–98

had joined the first violin section in the 1896–97 season and stayed for three years; his frequent solo appearances helped to launch his international career as a soloist.40 Monteux later described the status involved: “This was a very serious post for a young man of my years and certainly one of the most important posts in the European music world,” as the 104-man orchestra drew its members from the conservatories of France (mostly Paris Conservatoire prizewinners), Belgium, and Italy.41 Barrère joined the Colonne for its spring tour of Switzerland and Alsace, beginning in Geneva. As the orchestra waited at the railroad station to depart, Thibaud asked Barrère, as a joke, if he had forgotten his flute. Indeed he had, and he dispatched one of the friends who had come to see him off to run home, wake up his father at midnight, and pack and ship the flute special delivery to Geneva. For the first two days, he borrowed instruments from the local flutists, all of whom he knew from the previous year’s stay in that city. On the second morning , a messenger arrived at the orchestra’s rehearsal, made a noisy entrance, “bringing the orchestra to a full stop,” Barrère recalled, and duly delivered a package to the new third flute player. The irascible Colonne, Barrère recalled, “made a speech asking us to be kind enough to receive mail and parcels elsewhere than at rehearsals.” The orchestra moved on to Mulhouse, in Alsace (then German, it was known there as Mulhausen), after which Barrère left the tour to return to Geneva and organize his summer engagements. As soon as the Colonne tour had been confirmed, Barrère decided not to accept an engagement in a seashore resort, as Paris musicians typically did, but to make a tour of Swiss hotels with musical friends he had met on his earlier stint in Geneva. Another series of misadventures ensued: he had only German currency when he arrived and had to buy a necktie to get Swiss change to pay for his dinner in Bienne. Then he lost his railroad ticket and had to send a telegram to his Geneva friends asking for money. He bought another tie to get more Swiss change, then found his ticket and made the train, having now bought three ties “as ugly as they were inexpensive.” He kept them, unworn, as souvenirs. For the rest of the summer, he and his friends toured the hotels, taking up collections after each number and reaping meager offerings from the audience, sometimes averaging out to only a penny per listener. They had to obtain government permits to give their concerts, “thus associating ourselves with bear tamers and onion peddlers,” and they added novelty to their act: Barrère would sometimes sing encores, holding his flute under his arm. The performers would often run for overnight trains after their concerts in order to avoid hotel bills, but they took the time to climb to the top of St. Bernard, where the monks received them hospitably.42 All of this was good practice for the young chamber musician, who

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Monarch of the Flute

would later traverse the United States by train, offering serious music to small towns across America under less than ideal conditions, but always with the philosophy that he was there to entertain. On October 31, 1897, Georges Barrère turned twenty-one and was obligated by French law to report for military service. Two weeks later he entered the 132nd Regiment of the French Army, stationed in the champagne/cathedral town of Rheims. As a first-prize winner of the Conservatoire, he was obligated to serve only one year, rather than the usual three.43 But ironically, that privilege prohibited him from playing in the army band, so he served his country not as a musician but as a private second class. The regiment went on maneuvers in the Ardennes and the Argonne, but the routine in the peacetime army was not arduous, and he recalled “doing my best at all times not to serve my country but to secure leave of absense [sic].” He did enjoy his off-duty trips to drink champagne in Rheims and the company of musician friends he met in the service: violinist Henri Marteau and baritone Léon Rothier. He was released from active duty on September 22, 1898, with a certificate of good conduct, and automatically became a member of the reserve. “It was a happy day for me when I again found myself in civilian clothes. I do not doubt that I glanced into every available mirror.”44



34




Fin de Siècle, 1898–99

W

hile Barrère was serving his country, the Dreyfus Affair had erupted once again in the press; Émile Zola’s J’accuse, a bitter denunciation of the French government’s actions, had appeared in L’Aurore on January 13, 1898. Paris had seen the premiere of Edmond Rostand’s wildly popular historical drama Cyrano de Bergerac, and the musical world recorded the premieres of such disparate works as Debussy’s sensual Chansons de Bilitis, Dukas’s L’Apprenti sorcier, Richard Strauss’s Don Quixote, and Verdi’s Four Sacred Pieces. The city had held its first automobile salon, Albert Santos-Dumont had launched his dirigible, Marconi had made his first radio transmission, and the Curies had discovered radium. It was a new world in so many ways, but for Barrère, not much had changed. On his return to Paris and to civilian life in the autumn of 1898, he picked up exactly where he had left off: he moved back to the family apartment at 35, rue de Rochechouart, resumed substituting in the Opéra, rejoined the Colonne Orchestra, and again took up the leadership of his chamber music society. The Colonne began rehearsals on Thursday, October 6, two weeks after Barrère’s release from the army. Thus began the usual orchestral routine: rehearsals on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings from 9:00 a.m. to midday, and concerts on Sunday afternoons at 2:15 in the Théâtre du Châtelet and on Thursday afternoons at the Nouveau Théâtre throughout a season that extended to April 23.1 The gala opening concert had Pablo Sarasate, Raoul Pugno, and three singers as soloists and Félix Faure, the president of the French Republic, in the audience. The second jubilee concert, an all-French program, was 35



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conducted by Théodore Dubois, the director of the Conservatoire, and the third concert, on Sunday, November 6, presented works of Bizet and Massenet, conducted by Massenet and Édouard Colonne. The principal flutist at this time was probably still the well-regarded Auguste Cantié, who also served as solo flute of the Théâtre Italien and Opéra Comique.2 The origin of the Concerts Colonne dated back to 1873, when the music publisher Georges Hartmann decided to start a series of concerts to promote the young French composers whom he published, among them Franck, Bizet, Saint-Saëns, Massenet, Delibes, Lalo, and Godard.3 He rented the Théâtre de l’Odéon and recruited Édouard Colonne as conductor of what he called the Concert National. Colonne led eight concerts, which were successful musically but not financially, and Mme Érard of the piano-making firm made up the deficit. In 1874, he moved the concerts to the magnificent Théâtre du Châtelet, and as historian Adolphe Boschot reported, had the “same artistic success, same lack of financial success.”4 Hartmann, he said, was “terrified,” and so Colonne took administrative matters in hand: he organized the musicians as a cooperative, each putting in 100 sous. In return, for each performance, the musician earned back a small sum: initially, one franc fifty centimes; in the second year, three francs five centimes; by the fifth year, four francs. In a climate of mounting nationalism, the success of the enterprise was due in no small part to Colonne’s emphasis on the cause of French music and, most especially, his devotion to the music of Berlioz, whom he had known as a young man; because he had observed the composer conducting his works at the Opéra and the Conservatoire, his own interpretations were therefore considered to be authentic. By 1924 the orchestra had given La Damnation de Faust, Colonne’s signature piece, 180 times. There was also no question, in Boschot’s analysis, that it was Colonne who was the driving force: “he was the soul of the organization, the living spirit, . . . who inspired the life and love of art in his magnificent orchestra.”5 Pierre Monteux assessed Colonne from the dual perspectives of orchestral musician and assistant conductor: “With his white hair and white, square-cut beard, he was a striking figure of a conductor. As a person, he was extremely disagreeable. I never once saw him, in the seventeen years I was with the orchestra, make a really kind and affectionate gesture toward anyone. He could be very affable and cordial, if necessary to gain his end. . . . He was an excellent musician with fine taste, and I admired this mark of distinction in him, but I could not admire the mechanics of his conducting; his arm was heavy, lacking the natural flexibility of the born conductor to convey every phrase of the music to his ensemble. He had no facility of expression with his arms and hands.” Barrère himself noted wryly, “He was a great character. His endurance to work was unbelievable,” with a taste for exceedingly long rehearsals (in those



36

Fin de Siècle, 1898–99

pre-union days); to musicians who complained, he replied, “Don’t you love music?”6 The Colonne was one of three major orchestras in Paris, collectively known as the Grands Concerts, each of which gave a series of Sunday afternoon concerts. The Société des Concerts du Conservatoire, founded in 1828, was considered to be in a class by itself by virtue of its seniority and its association with the Conservatoire. Its members were Conservatoire faculty and firstprize winners, and the orchestra was “a closed temple reserved to a privileged public.” A bastion of conservatism, in keeping with its host institution, it played in the concert hall of the Conservatoire, “that sarcophagus of painted wood peopled with venerable mummies,” in the inimitable words of Jean Cocteau.7 The symphonies of Beethoven were its raison d’être; solo works for violin and piano, and vocal pieces, were interspersed with the major orchestral works, a hodgepodge often derided by the critics. Only rarely were the works of living composers performed. Next in rank were the Concerts Colonne and the Concerts Lamoureux. The latter, founded by Charles Lamoureux in 1881 as the Société des Nouveaux Concerts, was reincorporated in 1897 as the Association des Concerts Lamoureux. Lamoureux made his reputation as a militant champion of Wagner, though he was also a strong supporter of French composers, especially Wagnerian partisans such as d’Indy, Chabrier, Chausson, and Lalo. But like his colleagues, he also programmed Brahms, Schumann, and Dvorˇák. Each orchestra received an annual subvention from the state of 15,000 francs, in return for which it was to play twenty-four concerts, including three hours of unpublished French music.8 However small in proportion to the total programming, it was an attempt on the part of the French government to support the French symphony, which the most establishment orchestra, the Société des Concerts, neglected in this period of post-Dreyfus insecurity. Both the Lamoureux and Colonne started an additional series of Thursday concerts, the Lamoureux in 1893, the Colonne in 1897. Colonne’s Thursday programs, held in the Nouveau Théâtre, were typically a mixture of orchestral and chamber works, repertoire appropriate to the relatively intimate setting; the theater held a mere 500 to 700, in contrast to the 2,200 of the Châtelet. Often the programs had a historical bent. With their reduced prices, the Thursday concerts were part of Colonne’s outreach to a new and broader audience. The Colonne charged less than the Lamoureux for tickets, thus drawing a more democratic and often more overtly enthusiastic audience. The rivalry between the two orchestras was fierce; their membership was mutually exclusive and their musicians “detested each other cordially,” in the phrase of Lamoureux bassoonist Auguste Mesnard, who likened them to Paris’s two rival department stores, Belle Jardinière and Samaritaine.9 37



Monarch of the Flute

In addition to its namesake, the Colonne welcomed the engagements of distinguished guest conductors, including , in Barrère’s day, Ysaye, Nikisch, Mottl, Siegfried Wagner, Widor, and Pierné, who became Colonne’s deputy in 1903 and succeeded him seven years later. The Hungarian conductor Arthur Nikisch was a regular visitor to the Châtelet, and as Monteux recalled, “He was fascinatingly romantic, with burning eyes and exquisitely beautiful hands we were all sure had been whitened, and on which he wore a magnificent ring containing a large black pearl of great value. He was adored by the ladies of Paris. . . . He was a natural born conductor and held sway over orchestra and public alike.”10 Such guests were an inspiration to the orchestra, which also enjoyed the collaboration of the leading European soloists. Barrère was now, by his own admission, “growing a little more serious in my work but perhaps not quite so much as I should.”11 His increasing maturity, at age twenty-two, was appropriate to his role in an orchestra that in 1898–99 was celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary jubilee. By February he was ready to make his first solo appearance with the Colonne, performing Bach’s Fourth Brandenburg Concerto with principal flutist Auguste Cantié and violinist Jacques Thibaud under the baton of visiting conductor Felix Mottl. The Colonne’s twenty-four Sunday afternoon concerts in the Théâtre du Châtelet left Barrère ample time to work as a substitute at the Opéra. He had frequent work through December in both the musique de scène (at eight or ten francs per service) and the regular orchestra, in Lohengrin and Die Walkürie (at ten francs apiece).12 The director of the fanfare, or offstage music, and the musique de scène was Adolphe Sax, the son of instrument-maker Adolphe Sax.13 On his return from the army, Barrère signed the substitute roster with restraint; within a few weeks he did so with a confident flourish, his signature’s forty-fivedegree angle perhaps an omen of the trajectory of the career that lay before him. In addition to his orchestral and opera commitments, Barrère quickly reestablished his presence in the city’s chamber music scene. In February and March 1899 he played three concerts with the Société des Instruments à Vent, the old Taffanel group, joining regular members Gaubert, Bas, Bleuzet, Mimart, Lefebvre, and Pénable. At the first, he assisted in the double quintet of Émile Bernard; at the second, the premiere of the Second Suite for winds of Théodore Dubois. Though there was certainly rivalry among the various wind chamber groups, there was apparently also mutual respect, and Barrère saw no conflict in playing with Gaubert’s group as well as his own. Indeed, with its three wind chamber music societies, Paris was a veritable incubator for new woodwind music—and an incubator of musicians, notably Barrère and oboist Georges Longy, who would later take that repertoire and style to the New World and give birth to another generation of French-style woodwind players.



38

Fin de Siècle, 1898–99

Yet it must surely have hurt Barrère when Arthur Dandelot of Le Monde Musical referred to the Société des Instruments à Vent as “the real one, not the little one, composed of the premier artists of Paris” and singled out Gaubert, “the favorite student” of Taffanel, whose playing so closely resembled the master’s performances.14 Barrère also joined Gaubert as an assisting artist at the harp recital of Marie Tassu-Spencer at the Salle Pleyel, a concert designed to showcase the new chromatic harp of G. Lyon, which eliminated the pedals in favor of double ranks of strings corresponding to the white and black notes of the piano. They played the Trio from Berlioz’s L’Enfance du Christ. It must have galled him that Hugues Imbert, the critic of Le Guide Musical, wrote, “M. Gaubert is an artist who walks in the footsteps of his illustrious master, M. Paul Taffanel,” although he noted that both Gaubert and Barrère had played well.15 In March, he appeared as a guest artist with Les Quinze (Société Humbert de Romans), a chamber group in which Caplet, Thibaud, Henri Casadesus, and oboist Fernand Gillet were also involved; at the more-established Société Nationale (on March 18, in the Octuor by Sylvio Lazzari); and at La Trompette (on April 22, with Gaubert, in d’Indy’s Suite in Olden Style), one of the city’s oldest and most prestigious organizations. On February 22, the day after the Dubois performance, Barrère returned to the Salle Pleyel at the head of his own group, the Société Moderne — dubbed Les Petits Vents (The Little Winds) by Dandelot of Le Monde Musical, who explained, “It is a sort of preparatory school of the Société Mimart, whose model hearings should be taken as an example.” Dandelot applauded the choice of repertoire, which included the Reinecke Trio (“although a little monotonous”). He also approved of Leroux’s Deux Romances for flute and piano (which had been premiered by Gaubert the previous season)—“without equaling M. Philippe Gaubert, M. Barrère played them with care and with a beautiful sound.” Dandelot found the premiere of the manuscript Suite for winds and piano, op. 6, of Charles Quef particularly intriguing, but the work is routine and unoriginal by modern standards.16 Quef had better success as an organist, succeeding his teacher, Guilmant, at La Trinité in 1901. Le Guide Musical was encouraging: “We must commend the young artists who, by their initiative and their perseverance, permit the public to appreciate the beauties and the resources of a musical genre that is generally not well known.” The critic singled out Barrère and Louis Gaudard in the performance of the Lefebvre Suite, op. 57, but cautioned that in the Quef Suite, “we would have wished for a little more precision and authority in the ensemble.” (Given the messy nature of the manuscript parts, however, the tentative nature of the performance is understandable.) For this listener, the high point of the program was the Leroux, which earned Barrère and Leroux an appreciative ovation.17 39



Monarch of the Flute

The second concert of the season was on March 15; the third, originally scheduled for April 9, was postponed for two weeks without advance notice (at least to the critics)— to the consternation of Le Monde Musicale’s Dandelot. “Despite the tepid welcome of the gentlemen of the Petits Vents, we believed ourselves obliged to rearrange our schedule to attend . . . because the program contained several new works,” a comment that reveals the group’s increasing importance as a purveyor of new repertoire. The Sextuor of Eugène Lacroix, organist of St. Merry, which opened the program, was not one of the novelties, however, as Dandelot pointed out a bit pedantically, “whatever the notice attached to the program may say, it was entirely written in 1897, but played only in parts. It is a composition of value, of solid writing; the last three parts pleased us particularly.” Dandelot was delighted by Louis Aubert’s Feuillets d’album, rendered by oboist Louis Gaudard and the composer, which “absolutely succeeded.” But he saved his greatest praise for André Caplet, “one of the most brilliant students to come out of the class of Xavier Leroux,” whose inaugural performance with the Société Moderne had been glowingly anticipated by the newspapers and journals. The Société Moderne played the Allegro of his Quintet for piano and winds, still in progress. “May he continue his task with as much success as he has started with, because this piece attests to the rare qualities of inspiration and of harmonic science. What’s more, M. Caplet proves that he has perfect knowledge of the resources of the instruments he uses: flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, and piano.”18 Caplet’s collaboration with Barrère was already two years old; his first published pieces, Rêverie and Petite Valse for flute and piano, were issued by his hometown publisher, Hurstel of Le Havre, in 1897 and dedicated to Barrère. Although Caplet had entered the Conservatoire in 1896, just after Barrère left, he was a friend there of Volaire and Flament, who earned their first prizes in 1898, and studied with Leroux, also Barrère’s harmony teacher. While still a student, he became assistant conductor of the Colonne Orchestra, so through one or both of these routes, the orchestra or the closely knit community of woodwind players, he quickly met Barrère. The flutist would become his greatest champion as a chamber music composer—well before Caplet forged his fruitful collaboration with Debussy or gained fame as a composer of mystical and deeply religious choral music—and the quality of his music would in turn reflect well upon the Société Moderne. Indeed, Barrère’s colleagues credited him with “discovering” Caplet as a woodwind composer.19 (The Barrère-Caplet friendship continued for many years, later strengthened by their mutual residence in the United States, when Caplet was director of the Boston Opera from 1910 to 1914.)



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Fin de Siècle, 1898–99

The end of the spring season, however, brought deep sadness: Barrère’s mother died on the evening of April 22, 1899, while he was playing in Die Valkyrie at the Opéra. “On St. George’s Day,” he said, “I knew my first great sorrow.” Marie Barrère was buried two days later at the Cimetière Saint-Ouen, on the north side of the city.20 The unlettered former seamstress had seen her elder son become a successful Paris businessman—he would soon take over the family furniture business from his father—and her younger son beginning to ascend to the top of his chosen profession. She probably would not have been surprised by what he would eventually achieve: the talent, energy, and creativity that would make him a success were already present in abundance.

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1900: In the Vanguard of Progress

I

n the year 1900 the young Spaniard Pablo Picasso arrived in Paris, where he made himself at home among the artists’ colonies of Montparnasse and Montmartre and became part of a multinational community that would make Paris the artistic center of the world. Colette published her first book, Claudine at School, Debussy published his Three Nocturnes, Ravel published the Pavane pour une infante défunte, and Gustave Charpentier’s opera Louise, “an idealized vision of picturesque poverty” set in Montmartre, opened at the Opéra-Comique.1 The entrenched conservatism of official artistic circles seemed to spur the creativity of the avant-garde to an unprecedented extent. It was the golden age of Montmartre, that butte of narrow, irregular streets and forward-looking artists, a quarter that was also home to equally avant-garde and impecunious musicians. Barrère was very much at home among this adventurous contingent, just as he was amid the traditionalists of the Conservatoire, and he was actively involved in the performance and promotion of various types and generations of composers and their music. On February 12 Barrère played in a concert at the Théâtre des Mathurins devoted to the music of Adolphe Deslandres, the longtime organist of Sainte-Marie-des-Batignolles, Paris.2 In late March and early April, he joined in a tribute to a composer of his own generation, pianist Louis Aubert, who was listed in the Société Moderne’s literature as a cofounder.3 The all-Aubert program at the Salle du Journal, sponsored by Matinées Engel, included the Trois Esquisses for flutes, harp, and string quintet, with Gaubert as first flute; also notable on the concert’s roster was the soprano Jane Bathori, who would go on to champion the works of Les Six and other young com-



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1900: In the Vanguard of Progress

posers and would collaborate with the SMIV in the 1920s. The program was repeated by popular demand on April 4. In May, Barrère substituted for the rival Gaubert in the Mozart Concerto for flute and harp with harpist Lucile Delcourt on a piano concert of Germaine Polack, who had studied at the Conservatoire in the early 1890s. Le Guide Musical judged the Mozart to be the “principal originality” of the concert, “with the excellent cooperation of Mlle. Lucile Delcourt and G. Barrère.” But the Monde Musical critic presciently voiced doubts about the Reinecke cadenzas, which he deemed “not absolutely in the same style, needlessly elongated,” a view that would become accepted in the late twentieth-century quest for authenticity. Barrère’s own published cadenzas to the Mozart G and D Major Concertos were not much more authentic by late twentieth-century standards, nor were Taffanel’s, which Barrère played in a 1903 concert.4 For its fifth season, the Société Moderne gave three closely spaced, lateafternoon concerts at the Salle des Quatuors of the Salle Pleyel. At the first, on February 16, the group officially took on the nickname bestowed the previous season by Arthur Dandelot, billing itself as Les Petits Vents, perhaps a concession to the inevitable critical comparisons, perhaps a bit of Barrèrean humor. There were several premieres by composers old and young: the Caprice moldave for woodwind quintet and piano by Blas-Marie Colomer, a disciple of Lavignac at the Conservatoire, a well-regarded pianist, and a prolific composer of chamber and salon music whose works were regularly performed at both the SNM and the SCM; a series of Valses by Jacques Ehrhart, director of the Société de Choeur Mixte “La Concordia” and the orchestra in the Alsatian city of Mulhouse; and Deux Danses for seven winds by the pianist Alfred Cortot, then only four years out of the Conservatoire. Vincent d’Indy’s Chanson et Danses, op. 50, also for seven winds, which had been premiered a year earlier by the senior Société des Instruments à Vent, was also heard. Yet the concert garnered not a single review in the music journals. The Ehrhart work exemplifies the close working relationship that Barrère developed with a variety of composers. By 1900 Ehrhart had apparently already written one series of Valses for the Taffanel group—probably that was how Barrère made the connection—and he was now at work on another set. Just after New Year’s, Barrère wrote the composer a tad nervously, “I wait impatiently for your news, because you had promised me the Valses by Christmas.” He had already scheduled his three winter concerts, and though he could not tell Ehrhart at which concert his work would appear, “we would be happy to have it in order to rehearse it easily.”5 The parts arrived in due course, and the second set of Valses received its premiere on February 16. Barrère hoped to play one of the sets again at the Ministry of Commerce in late April, but as a precaution did not specify which set when he submitted his program; he hoped he might find 43



Monarch of the Flute

a place for both.6 When the pieces were finally published as the Valses Mulhousiennes in 1925, the first set was dedicated to Aimé Rieder, a friend of the composer, the second to the Société Moderne.7 There is no evidence that Barrère paid Ehrhart for his piece—nor did he pay any other composer—but he did invite Ehrhart and his wife to dine at his home if they came to Paris for the upcoming Exposition Universelle.8 The second concert of the season, on March 9, was similarly ignored by the press, but at least the Monde Musical critic courteously noted the interesting program and regretted that he had not been able to attend. The repertoire included the premieres of Adolphe Deslandres’s Suite for woodwind quintet; the Menuet et Bourrée of Colomer; and the French premiere of Deux Pièces by André Coedès-Mongin for flute quartet, probably arranged from the orchestral original (with Louis Balleron, Ernest Million, and Louis Fleury assisting Barrère).9 Coedès-Mongin, organist of St. Leu, Paris, had previously written a Suite for flute and piano, dedicated to Gaubert.10 Also on the bill were Deux Pièces for English horn and piano by the Comtesse de Grandval, a major benefactor of the Société des Compositeurs (with the composer at the piano), and excerpts from the Sextuor, op. 119, for wind quintet and piano by Georges Pfeiffer. Grandval had studied with Flotow and Saint-Saëns and was, the Lavignac encyclopedia noted some years later, “one of the very small number of women composers who merit serious mention.” Both prolific and popular, she won the Prix Chartier in 1890.11 For the third concert, on March 30, the Société Moderne was equally ambitious, and yet again the press was absent — a fate not shared by the rival woodwind groups and one that must have been particularly frustrating since almost the entire program consisted of new works. The program opened with Poème nocturne for quintet and piano by Édouard Flament, the group’s nineteen-year-old bassoonist. Flament had earned his first prize at the Conservatoire in 1898 but chose to continue his studies there in harmony, accompaniment, and counterpoint and fugue. Also a well-regarded pianist, he took honorable mention in the 1908 Prix de Rome and went on to a significant career as a composer of film music and conductor of Radio France.12 Notably, too, this was the second appearance on a Société Moderne program of the brilliant young André Caplet, who performed his two (unnamed) pieces for flute and piano with Barrère. Presumably these were the now-classic Rêverie and Petite Valse. The ensemble also gave the first full performance of Caplet’s Quintet, whose Allegro movement had been heard for the first time the previous April; again, the composer was at the keyboard. The third premiere was the Suite rustique for six winds by Albert Seitz, who would shortly join the viola section of the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire. The final work was the daringly scored quartet for two oboes and two bas-



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1900: In the Vanguard of Progress

soons by Ange Flégier, a composer primarily of operas who had a particular interest in wind instruments. The bassoonist Auguste Mesnard recalled that Flégier attended the performances of the Concerts Rouge, a small orchestra whose members were Conservatoire first-prize winners. The composer lived in a picturesque studio in Montmartre and frequently invited the young wind players to his home for concerts that were attended by both artists and uppercrust gens du monde. Said Mesnard, “That simple and charming man was democracy personified,” a man equally comfortable attending a concert of his works given by the musicians themselves, musicians so poorly equipped with plates and dishes that they were embarrassed to offer him a cup of tea afterward. Flégier, Mesnard recalled, “encouraged us paternally. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, Mesnard, don’t worry. You must begin by beginning. The future will open before you and I predict a brilliant future. It’s enough for me to hear you play my compositions to be sure which I’ll take forward. One day, you will move, but don’t hurry. When I began, I had nothing better.”13 It is likely that the group included members of the Société Moderne, and given the close links among the young wind players of the time there is little doubt that some of Barrère’s compatriots were involved. This was the typical pattern of collaboration between composers and performers, one that Barrère would cultivate throughout his career. In his “intrepid” pursuit of composers, as Barrère described it, he was consciously emulating his mentor Taffanel. Those collaborations are the essence of Barrère’s contribution to the woodwind literature, and the Société Moderne was in great measure responsible for making the turn of the twentieth century a true Belle Epoque for the woodwinds, as it was for the arts in general. And nowhere was the Belle Epoque better on display than at the Exposition Universelle of 1900, the great world’s fair designed to project French cultural superiority to the world while hosting a rich panoply of international exhibits. It was the culmination of the Belle Epoque, the apogee of a period of recovery and renewed nationalism following two decades that saw economic depression, the rise of socialism and anarchism, the legalization of labor unions and the strikes that followed, increasing conflicts between church and state, the Panama bribery scandal, and not least, the turmoil of the Dreyfus Affair. The Exposition, it was hoped, would provide entertainment for a distracted and distraught country. But it aimed to do more: it would celebrate progress, improve trade and public taste, and raise France’s prestige. In the words of one government official, “France owes it to herself as the Queen of Civilization to hold a great exhibition which will become one of her many claims to glory.”14 Said Alfred Picard, the commissioner of the Exposition, “The 1900 World’s Fair is destined to incarnate the philosophy and the sympathy of the century, as well as its grandeur, grace and beauty; it will reflect the clear genius of 45



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France, and will show our fair country to be, today as yesterday, in the very vanguard of Progress.”15 The fifth and last of the Paris world’s fairs, it surpassed its predecessors and all other cities’ events of the period in grandeur, scale, and ambition. Like all world’s fairs, the Exposition was an uneasy amalgam of education and entertainment; a celebration of industrial progress, of artistic creativity, and of the local color of the constituent regions and nations. Many countries had national pavilions, and French manufacturers in 18 groups and 121 classes displayed their products not only to the public but to official juries.16 But the fair also provided entertainment at all levels, from cafés-concerts to highbrow official concerts. The Exposition took place in the center of Paris, spanning both banks of the Seine. In addition to the many temporary buildings that surrounded the Eiffel Tower on the Left Bank—a “cardboard cosmopolis,” in one memorable description — several permanent structures were erected: the Grand and Petit Palais on the Right Bank, the Gare d’Orsay on the Left, and a new bridge named for the Russian tsar Alexander III to link the two halves. The architecture of the fair was highly traditional, managed by the architects of the School of Fine Arts, but nonetheless gaudy on a grand scale—a characteristic amplified by many thousands of multicolored electric lights, powered by thirty-five generators capable of producing 38,000 kilowatts.17 The Grand Palais presented a retrospective of French art since 1800, a notably conservative selection that essentially ended with the impressionists, now cloaked in respectability. Though Matisse stenciled a frieze in the Grand Palais, there was almost no evidence of post-impressionism. Bonnard and ToulouseLautrec were almost invisible; there was one Seurat, three Cezannes, and an early landscape by Gauguin. The impressionist room comprised fourteen landscapes by Monet and works of Sisley, Degas, Pisarro, Renoir, and Manet. Rodin chose not to participate in the official display and with the financial support of several bankers opened his own private pavilion near the Invalides. The Exposition was a platform for art nouveau, notably the House of Art Nouveau Bing , including the popular glass and vases of Gallé and René Lalique’s dazzling jewelry.18 The American pavilion engaged in cultural propaganda of a very deliberate sort, promoting the “American school” and staking its claim “for New York to displace Paris as the center of the art world.”19 The United States was represented as well by Loïe Fuller’s pavilion on the Right Bank—denoted by French and American tricolors — adjacent to Vieux Paris, the section where Isadora Duncan was one of the notable visitors and where Barrère played several months’ worth of orchestral concerts. Jean Cocteau, who visited the Exposition as a boy of eleven, described the effect that Fuller had on him: “A fat American, bespectacled and quite ugly, standing on a hanging platform, she



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manipulates waves of floating gauze with poles, and somber, active, invisible, like a hornet in a flower, churns about herself a protean orchid of light and material that swirls, rises, flares, roars, turns, floats, changes shape like clay in a potter’s hands, twisted in the air under the emblem of the torch and headdress.”20 How could the adventurous young Barrère not have visited Fuller— and the other American venues — sometime during the Exposition’s duration and perhaps developed his first extended impressions of American culture? Among the industry exhibitions were those of the musical-instrument makers, Class 17, whose judges were Taffanel, d’Indy, and Colonne. They awarded grand prizes to Fontaine-Besson and to Evette et Schaeffer; gold medals for flutes went to the Parisian makers A. Robert, Bonneville, and Barat.21 Le Monde Musicale noted that the instruments by Barat, who had purchased the mark of Louis Lot, Boehm’s French patent designee, had been demonstrated by Hennebains and Gaubert, whose “marvelous talent contributed to the medal given to these instruments.” The journal noted that all the instruments were auditioned by “the remarkable flutist Gaubert, the preferred student of Taffanel.”22 Its mention of Barrère was more reserved: A. Robert, the successor to Cl. Rive in 1895, displayed a variety of woodwind instruments, “played by our most reputable soloists, MM. Mimart, Longy, Bleuzet, Barrère, Balleron,” and others.23 Robert, whose instrument Barrère officially endorsed, often placed advertisements in the Société Moderne programs. The official symbol of the Exposition was the extravagant and enormous statue La Parisienne that surmounted the main gate. The effective symbol, however, was electricity, which was in use throughout the grounds to power a Ferris wheel that could accommodate 1,600 passengers at a time; the Gallery of Machines, where movies were shown on a 70-by-52-foot two-sided screen to audiences of 25,000; the lighted fountains 95 feet high; and most famously, the trottoir roulant, the moving walkway. This novel device, for which admission was fifty centimes in addition to the one-franc fair admission, was mounted some 20 feet above the ground and had two tracks operating at different speeds. It swiftly carried fairgoers to all of the main pavilions; the faster platform moved at a pace of about five miles an hour, the slower at two and a half.24 And for even faster speeds, Paris unveiled the first line of its new Métropolitain, the subway, on July 19, in the midst of the Exposition, its entrances heralded by the art nouveau ironwork of Hector Guimard. A counterpoint to the high-technology theme, however, was built out into the river from the Right Bank. Vieux Paris, or Old Paris, was a historical reconstruction in the styles of various eras in the city’s history, designed by the engineer and futurist Albert Robida. It was, wrote Auguste Mesnard, “a veritable pasteboard masterpiece.”25 This picturesque reconstruction of the tortuously curving medieval streets, with small shops run by artisans clad in cos47



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tumes of the time, also had a Grand Théâtre for large concerts and an assortment of pleasant cafes and branches of fashionable Paris restaurants. Festively costumed jugglers strolled the area, and mystery players provided street theater. A variety of Asian, Eastern European, and Spanish dancers also performed in Old Paris. On April 14, 1900, President Émile Loubet and his entourage officially opened the Exposition with the usual pomp and oratory. The Exposition was an official project, and like every official project it had the requisite legal underpinnings and bureaucracy, a plethora of officials and committees and juries. One of these, the Commission des Auditions Musicales, consisted of the establishment musicians, headed by Taffanel. The official performances were designed to survey French music over the centuries. At the Trocadéro, a cavernous amphitheater seating 4,700, there were ten Thursday concerts with orchestra, soloist, and chorus, 250 performers in all; ten organ recitals; and nine chamber music concerts. Prices were modest: fifty centimes to two francs for orchestral concerts, fifty centimes for organ recitals, and one franc for chamber music. Favoritism was a given: Taffanel himself conducted the orchestra, and the official chamber music concerts were played by the former Taffanel group, the Société des Instruments à Vent.26 At Old Paris, the prices were greater, but so were the ambitions. Its Grand Théâtre, which could seat 1,900 listeners, was constructed entirely of wood, with beams twenty-six meters high, and the stage was backed by beautifully restored seventeenth-century tapestries. Thirty young, pretty women, costumed in eighteenth-century style, presented each spectator with a cushion embroidered in the red and blue colors of Vieux Paris. (The orchestra wore white tie.) The hall was lit by 250 incandescent lamps and 10 arc lights set in antique lanterns.27 Édouard Colonne was contracted to provide the orchestral programs, and he dreamed up a plan of 360 one-hour concerts, two per day for six months, one at two o’clock and the other at eight. Mondays and Tuesdays were reserved for French music, Wednesdays and Thursdays for “foreign music,” Fridays and Saturdays for “international music” (how that differed from foreign music was not clear), and Sundays for popular concerts.28 The orchestra for the occasion was not the Association Artistique, the cooperative organization that Colonne conducted during the winter, though many of its members were the same. Barrère, then third flute of the Association, was engaged as principal flutist. The one hundred musicians had personal contracts with Édouard Colonne and were to be paid 500 francs per month, which on a prorated annual basis of 6,000 francs was five times that of an entry-level Opéra musician’s salary.29 For the French concerts, such guests as Charles-Marie Widor took to the podium to lead their own works; in mid-June, Arthur Dandelot singled out for praise



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Barrère’s performance in the Nocturne from Widor’s Conte d’Avril.30 Foreign guests were also enlisted to help in the effort: for example, Émile de Mlynarski, the principal conductor of the Imperial Opera in Warsaw, was to conduct two concerts of Polish music. The series got off to a rocky start, given that electricity was not installed in the Grand Théâtre or anywhere in Vieux Paris on time, meaning that only afternoon concerts were possible for almost a month, until May 11. But the initial reactions of the critics were positive: Hugues Imbert of Le Guide Musical attended the second concert, on April 21, and judged the orchestra “admirable” and the acoustics of the wooden hall “truly marvelous.”31 Barrère received program credit as soloist thirty-four times, occasionally in the Bach Suite in B Minor and Gluck’s Orphée, many times in Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and the Menuet from Bizet’s L’Arlésienne. On April 26, the Société Moderne played its own concert at the Exposition—whether at the exhibit of one of the instrument makers or as part of the Vieux Paris series, there is no indication. Though the sextet of winds and piano was followed by Louis Urban and His Tsiganes, a troupe of gypsy dancers, the program was serious, comprising works of Colomer, Ehrhart, Mozart, Pfeiffer, Saint-Saëns, and Seitz. But there were problems facing the series. First, the publicity was decidedly subpar— there were no posters on the city’s ubiquitous Morris columns, no announcements in the newspapers or music journals. Even in Vieux Paris itself, there were no posters listing the times and place of the concerts.32 By mid-May, Mangeot observed in Le Monde Musical that Colonne was giving his concerts to an almost-empty hall, the result of bad publicity and excessive prices; visitors had to pay the Exposition fee of one franc, another franc or two to enter Vieux Paris, and a third fee of two to six francs to enter the hall. “Clearly it’s abusive, the public is worn out and it is right.”33 But the problem could also have been an issue of taste: the Exposition of 1900 drew a record 50 million visitors, versus 16 million in 1878 and 32 million in 1889, thanks to the low general-admission fee. This was no high-society event; it drew all classes, from all over France and the Continent.34 And it was easy for visitors to forsake serious music in favor of the thousands of other attractions at the fair. The musicians were tired and frustrated. They dutifully reported two or three times a day to the fair, braving torrid heat and difficult transportation; there were often queues of 200 people waiting for the omnibuses. They played three rehearsals and fourteen concerts a week. “We didn’t work any less than slaves,” bassoonist Auguste Mesnard recalled. Colonne prolonged the agony by giving encores to the furiously applauding workers scattered at the back of the hall.35 The musicians feared that the engagement would be a failure, like the many other Exposition attractions that had been forced to close early. Mesnard complained to his wife that the musicians outnumbered the “ragtag and bob49



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tail” audience, and he threatened to quit. His wife, a more practical sort, reminded him that he was still being paid. But by the end of July, Le Monde Musical predicted that “it is probable that the Concerts Colonne of Old Paris will no longer be alive.” As Mesnard recalled, at the end of July, Colonne announced at an orchestra rehearsal “with crocodile tears” that the management of Vieux Paris had decided to cancel the concerts. By mid-August the Concerts Colonne were closed. Statistically, the accomplishments of the three months of concerts were impressive: Le Monde Artiste tallied 180 concerts, 52 of French music, 54 of foreign music, 54 of international programs, and 20 of popular music, and gave a long laundry list of the composers represented. It kept up the grandiloquent propaganda to the end, reporting that “M. Édouard Colonne has finished triumphantly.”36 The musicians were anything but triumphant; they were out three months’ salary, or 1,500 francs each. Colonne offered a payment of 500 francs if the musicians would agree not to sue him for the full contracted amount. Mesnard contemplated filing a lawsuit, but his wife convinced him that they were so poor that it was not worth a falling out with Colonne, which could bar him from future engagements. He accepted the buy-out. The next month, the musicians learned that the Vieux Paris management had already paid Colonne the entire fee for the season. “We swallow sour wine,” he lamented.37 Barrère was less accepting, more litigious, and certainly less strategic than his friend Mesnard regarding the future. For one thing, he did not yet have to worry about supporting a family. “I was rather pitiless, I fear, as I sued him for my money for the concerts and won, thus losing for the time being the affection of our conductor.” There is no surviving court record of the lawsuit, but the bitterness of the battle had its legacy. His job with the regular Colonne Orchestra was safe, because he was a member in good standing of the cooperative Association Artistique, but his relationship with Colonne grew predictably chilly. And when the orchestra announced auditions for second flute in the fall, the orchestra committee also cooled to Barrère. He did not win the audition, and thus remained in third chair, while Gaston Blanquart ascended from fourth to second. “My friends were sorry and some of the members of the Committee came to apologize. I think I was the only one who saw anything at all humorous in the situation. I realized the trick had been played in the hope that I would withdraw my membership from the Association, but trick for trick, I kept it and wise was I as two years later I was given first position, being promoted over the head of the same flute-player who had jumped over mine, leaving him second flute once more.”38 The Colonne-Exposition incident had a more profound effect, however: it spurred Barrère’s interest in the burgeoning union movement among musicians, an activity that would occupy much of his time over the next five years.



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Another likely result of the Exposition engagement was Barrère’s acquaintance with Charles Bordes, the man in charge of the music at Saint-Julien des Ménétriers, the replica of a fourteenth-century church located in Vieux Paris. A former composition student of Franck, he had since 1890 been maître de chapelle at St. Gervais, Paris, where he founded the Association des Chanteurs de Saint-Gervais, a group dedicated to performing concerts of French and Italian Renaissance music. His public concerts of religious music also gave new life to works of the Baroque—Carissimi, Schütz, and especially J. S. Bach. In 1894, with the organist Alexandre Guilmant and the composer Vincent d’Indy, Bordes founded the Schola Cantorum, a new organization dedicated to the performance of that repertoire, and two years later the performing organization became a school of religious music.39 With d’Indy in charge of composition and Guilmant of organ, both of which were paying courses, it was designed to teach religious music for performance in sacred and secular settings; Bordes, André Pirro, and the Abbé Vigourel taught free courses in solfège, Gregorian chant, harpsichord, and vocal ensemble. The school opened with ten paying students; by 1896 it had twenty-one and had added new courses in preparatory organ, advanced piano (taught by Édouard Risler), and counterpoint and composition (taught by Pierre de Bréville). By 1899 it had sixty-nine students, wanted to admit women, and had outgrown its building on rue Stanislas. With the help of Abbé Vigourel, the plainchant professor, Bordes located a former Benedictine abbey at 269, rue St. Jacques, slightly east of the Luxembourg Gardens and south of the Sorbonne. The purchase was financed by investments from a group of thirty-two of his friends, including the d’Indys, Albert Roussel, and Count Polignac. Major renovations began in July 1900; the chapel became a 500-seat concert hall.40 The school inaugurated its new home with a series of ceremonies and concerts at the beginning of November and was officially certified as an école supérieure de musique. In 1900, the school announced that it would offer a free musical education to twenty-five young men, consisting of classes in theory and in applied singing, piano, flute, oboe, violin, cello, and other instruments. Each student would also take part in the ensemble class and the choir, and for performances by those groups, each student would be paid. The distinguished faculty of the reorganized Schola Cantorum included Barrère, solo flutist of the Colonne and member of the Opéra; Louis Bleuzet, solo oboist of the Concerts Colonne; Louis Letellier, solo bassoonist of the Opéra and Société des Concerts; Prosper Mimart, principal clarinetist of the Société des Concerts; Adolphe Sax, leader of the Opéra fanfare, who taught the valved brass instruments; Henri Casadesus, violist of the Châtelet; and other members of the Colonne Orchestra and the Société des Concerts.41 In 1901, d’Indy recruited for the piano class the seventeen-year-old Blanche Selva, who would become an influential 51



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pedagogue particularly known for her interpretation of Bach, Franck, and Albéniz.42 The following year Albert Roussel, who had entered as a student in 1898, took over the counterpoint class. His friendship with Barrère would last for more than thirty years; no doubt his firsthand knowledge of Barrère’s sound contributed to his effective orchestration of the Trio, op. 40, which Barrère premiered, and the Andante et Scherzo, op. 51, which is dedicated to him.43 At this point, d’Indy became the guiding spirit of the Schola, a school he designated, in his inaugural address, as a “school of art responding to modern needs,”44 and he deliberately set the school on a course that contrasted in several significant ways from that of the Conservatoire. Despite its reliable production of superior instrumentalists, the Conservatoire had nevertheless given pride of place to vocal music, particularly in the area of composition. D’Indy, by contrast, emphasized instrumental music in the composition course. Much of the Schola curriculum was modeled on the reforms d’Indy had suggested to the Conservatoire when he served on an outside advisory committee in 1892, but which had been rejected. At the Schola, primary-level instrumentalists studied a set series of études, which he called “warm-up exercises in a military drill,” to provide underlying technical mastery, as well as passages from Bach, eighteenth- and nineteenth-century composers, and some more recent concertos.45 At the secondary level, students broadened their mastery of different styles and periods. The program in composition was thoroughly based on historical principles, and thus differed most substantially from that of the Conservatoire. The woodwind instruction of the Conservatoire was probably not that different, with one notable exception: the Schola abolished the concours system. This change was in line with d’Indy’s goal to produce “virtuoso artists,” whom he defined not by technical brilliance but by a broad knowledge of musical history and style. He differentiated between “good” and “bad” virtuosos — the latter were “musical circus clowns” who could surmount all technical obstacles, whereas the former were “simple and faithful servants of music.” The six steps to becoming a good virtuoso, as he detailed some years later in Le Monde Musical, were “complete mastery of one’s instrument, deep understanding of the works one performs, knowledge of the various styles in the history of music, understanding of musical accent and its expressive possibilities, scrupulous respect for the original text of a composition, and refusal to perform bad music.”46 In fact this was not so different from Paul Taffanel’s model of virtuosity. As Fleury described it in the Lavignac encyclopedia, “The art of Taffanel was essentially elegant, supple, and sensitive, and his prodigious virtuosity was made as inconspicuous as possible. He detested affectation, professing absolute respect for the texts, and the fluid suppleness of his playing hid an extreme rigor in the observance of the meter and rhythm. . . . His tone, full of charm, was, however, quite ample.”47



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The school began to attract more and better students: in 1900–01 it had 175 students; in 1901–02, 222; in 1902–03, 260. The flute class followed a similar growth pattern: Barrère’s teaching obligation consisted of one day of flute class per week, typically at three o’clock on either Monday or Tuesday. The first year, 1900–01, he had four students, including Jules Bastin, who later won plaudits for his performances in Schola concerts. The third year, his Schola roster listed thirteen students.48 Among the Schola’s alumni were Albéric Magnard, Gustave Samazeuilh, Déodat de Séverac, Joseph Canteloube, and perhaps most significantly for Barrère, his future collaborator Edgard Varèse. Varèse resisted the school’s inherent conservatism, just as he resisted that of the Conservatoire, but what made the greatest impression upon him was Bordes’s tutelage in medieval, Renaissance, and early Baroque choral music and style. For Barrère, coming to the Schola after training with Taffanel, a true artist who had at least opened the door to Bach and Mozart, the historical approach was probably a welcome one. He certainly was a willing participant in another crucial element of the Schola’s pedagogy: the regular performance of historical music. The ambitious and unusual concerts presented by the Schola had multiple goals: not only to provide the students with performance experience but also to promote, even propagandize, on behalf of early music. For the Schola’s opening celebration on November 3, 1900, Barrère joined contralto Mme Joly de la Mare in a Bach aria. Among the Schola’s first concerts in its new home were a series of three December programs featuring the church cantatas of Bach; Barrère was one of the instrumental soloists. Subsequent concerts included the Incoronazione di Poppea of Monteverdi; Iphigenie en Aulide, Armide, and Orphée of Gluck; and above all the works of Rameau, including Hippolyte et Aricie, Castor et Pollux, and Dardanus. Indeed, the Schola became the definitive institution behind the Rameau revival, an effort enhanced by its concerts in its branches throughout France, and through its periodical and music-score publications.49 Jean Marnold, critic of Le Mercure de France, was a key supporter of d’Indy’s intellectual and historical approach to repertoire. “There is no other place in Paris, or perhaps even the world,” he wrote, “where in six months one could have heard, as we heard this year, several of Bach’s cantatas, all of Beethoven’s string quartets and some of his most beautiful piano sonatas . . . complete acts from the operas of Lully, Rameau, and Gluck, forgotten or almost forgotten works of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century clavecinists and organists, songs of Carissimi, lieder of Schumann and Schubert, organ chorales of Bach and Franck, [and] Mozart’s Requiem. At the Schola a lot of music is performed and it is simply the best music.”50 The programming philosophy of Bordes and d’Indy was contagious: Blanche Selva, for example, began giving recitals of Bach, paving the way for 53



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harpsichordist Wanda Landowska to appear in Paris. Yet the critic M. D. Calvocoressi describes a virtual war between the proponents of “modern music” and those promoting “a strong reaction against the neglect of old masterpieces.” The result was a period of factional bickering that set supporters of Debussy against those of Ravel, or the Schola against both Debussy and Ravel, or the Schola against the Conservatoire. “Eventually a few of the combatants— especially among those engaged in fighting for modern music — developed a taste for warfare for its own sake, and indulged in fighting around modern music rather than for it.”51 Barrère, it seems, stayed above the fray, working with both the modernists and the historicists. His Société Moderne appeared at least twice in the spring of 1901 on the Schola’s own concert series, with premieres of André Caplet’s exotic and unusual Suite persane and Albert Seitz’s Sextuor, a work with both aural and technical challenges, as well as more traditional works. The Schola became known for its founders’ right-wing politics, for its antiDreyfus stance, and for its nationalist sentiments, in many ways becoming more conservative than the Conservatoire. How much of this agenda Barrère absorbed, or even cared about, we do not know, though his French cultural loyalty remained with him always. He was proud to have d’Indy’s endorsement for the Société Moderne—indeed, d’Indy is listed in the promotional literature as président d’honneur— but Barrère also worked closely with Théodore Dubois, director of the Conservatoire. What Barrère certainly absorbed from the Schola (as well as from Taffanel) was an appreciation of historical styles and musicological research, notably an interest in Rameau that would permeate his repertoire for the next forty years. Surely it was no coincidence that he played many seasons of historical concerts at major American colleges and universities, that he gave pioneering recitals of Bach sonatas, and that his ensembles often programmed works of Rameau. From April to September 1900, Barrère had paid his duty to his country in a rather different way: he participated in a series of part-time exercises with the 132nd Infantry. On November 1, he officially entered the reserve of the active army, the next step in his ongoing military obligation. Meanwhile, in October, he took another audition, for fourth flute in the Opéra. The new slot was occasioned by the departure of Edmond Bertram, Barrère’s former classmate at the Conservatoire. “The colleague who had occupied the fourth chair had died of a form of apoplexy brought about by disappointment because an invention of his failed to interest flute-makers,” Barrère wrote. “If I recall rightly, he had tried to have flutes made with a bell attachment such as are used on brass instruments. I am sorry for the death of my colleague but am rather happy over the non-success of his invention. Most of us are agreed that the better the flute, the fewer the attachments and ornaments, such as the thumb rest and other in-



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conveniences. It would have been a hard blow at the pride of many of us had we been obliged to carry a sort of baby phonograph under our arms.” Barrère remained true to his Louis Lot and Bonneville instruments.52 The Opéra audition process, open only to men, was rigorous. The intimidating jury consisted of the two directors of the Opéra, all three conductors, and all the first-chair wind players. “I like to remember this examination,” he wrote. “Each of the thirty applicants was required to play a full flute concerto and then to sightread ‘difficult music’ for both flute and piccolo.” This requirement, Barrère later noted, was in marked contrast to the patronage system he would later observe in the United States, where personnel managers and conductors had full discretion to choose orchestra members without auditions.53 The Opéra orchestra did have its own internal dynastic system: all the flutists, for example, had studied with Taffanel; sometimes a chair was passed from father to son; and advancement was strictly by seniority. In any case, Barrère triumphed over the other twenty-nine applicants, and on October 1, 1900, he was officially enrolled as an “artist of the orchestra.” Housed in the magnificent and ornate neo-Baroque opera house designed by Charles Garnier that opened in 1875, the Opéra was impressive in every way. It was the centerpiece of musical interest and the pinnacle of social arrivisme, a place to be seen as much as to see (the opera). For the aristocratic subscribers, the Opéra functioned as a sort of salon; it was a place to do business and to “admire the beautiful women, emerging like nymphs from that fascinating aquarium.”54 Only after 1907 were the house lights dimmed during the performance. To a young musician, going to work in the Palais Garnier was, like a Conservatoire first prize, a sign of arrival. “For a laureate of the Conservatoire, entry into the Opéra is the definitive consecration of his talent. He is deservedly proud,” the union paper proclaimed.55 The Opéra assignment ensured a modicum of financial stability, increasing Barrère’s income dramatically: whereas his earnings as an extra ranged from as low as one 8-franc engagement a month to as high as 130 francs, now he was guaranteed a steady 2,000 francs per annum.56 In addition, most Opéra musicians took in between 5 and 204 francs a month in feux, or vouchers, for extra services and for playing additional instruments.57 But the reward for Barrère was never so much financial as one of status in the state-subsidized theater: “the position . . . was not particularly a remunerative one but through association with this famous orchestra I became somewhat like a government official. At that time honors were much more important than money.”58 The contract terms were, however, fairly draconian: Barrère was to perform in all the performances or concerts that the administration judged to be convenient, at any hour on any day, either in the orchestra or on stage, and an unlimited number of rehearsals. For services beyond the regular 192, whether 55



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operas, concerts, masked balls, or other performances, he would be paid an additional sum at the end of the year. He agreed to submit to the regulations for orchestral service, including the provision that “[t]he artists of the orchestra are placed under the direction of a conductor to whom they must give absolute obedience in everything that concerns their service.” They had to arrive fifteen minutes prior to the overture of the opera or ballet; there were rigid provisions for sick leave, subject to the approval of the house doctors; and if the house closed because of force majeure, the artists would not be paid, but could not seek permanent employment elsewhere for three months.59 Nothing was said, however, about other, simultaneous engagements, and indeed the schedule allowed him to continue playing in the Colonne (which performed on Sunday afternoons) and directing the Société Moderne.60 As a result of these terms of indenture, and perhaps also as a result of boredom, the members of the Opéra orchestra became known for their lack of discipline, an attitude decried by Berlioz in Les Soirées de l’orchestre as early as 1852. In Barrère’s era, their behavior remained a problem, as critic Alphonse Lemonnier described in 1895: “During the performance, . . . you see the first violin reading his newspaper, the viola drawing on his part, the cornet sending pellets at the noses of his comrades, the clarinet mocking the actors, the cello ogling [the ladies] in the hall, the bass snoring on his instrument, the timpanist making signs to his friends whom he has seen in the balcony.”61 It is hard to know how Barrère reacted to this scene: whether his image of the Opéra orchestra was the group of distinguished artists painted by Degas or the more juvenile assemblage described by the critics. It may have been a combination, but it likely leaned to the former. However, it was certainly true that conflict between musicians and management was never far from the surface, and after the turn of the century that conflict would result in a series of strikes and the tightening of discipline. Fresh from his own run-in with Colonne, Barrère surely absorbed the tension of the situation, and it would have added stimulus to his future union-organizing activities. As the crème de la crème of the government-subsidized theaters, the Opéra, or, as it was formally known, the Académie Nationale de Musique, was the largest and most prestigious of the city’s lyric theaters, with a budget of nearly 4 million francs supported by a subvention from the state of 800,000 francs.62 It had a payroll of 101 choristers, 106 musicians, 136 dancers, 86 members of the corps de ballet, 50 singers, 3 conductors, a ballet master, a director, and technical personnel. In 1900, this large cast presented 230 total performances, but only 20 different operas (whereas another 80 were presented in other Paris venues that year). That carte represented conservative official taste, in keeping with its official mandate not only to “instruct, charm, and captivate the spectator,” but also to “furnish to French writers multiple occasions to pro-



56

1900: In the Vanguard of Progress

duce their most original and distinguished works.” Its repertoire was therefore heavily slanted toward French composers; though Gluck, Rossini, Donizetti, and Puccini had their place, in sheer numbers the French had priority. Wagner was performed 40 times, for example, Gounod 58. The concept of standard repertory was taken to exceptional lengths: Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots approached its 1,000th performance, Gounod’s Faust and Rossini’s William Tell had passed the 800 mark, and twelve works had been presented more than 100 times.63 For Barrère, the Opéra post was an opportunity to learn the standard repertory, to acquaint himself with singers who would appear with his woodwind ensemble, and to familiarize himself further with Paris society. As the 1900–01 season started, then, Barrère had settled into a satisfyingly busy routine: the Colonne Orchestra began rehearsals on October 16 for a twenty-four-concert season that opened five days later; there were rehearsals on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings and concerts at the Châtelet on Sunday afternoons and at the Nouveau Théâtre on Thursday afternoons. The Opéra gave four performances a week, on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, for which there was at least one rehearsal. On Monday afternoons (with occasional rescheduling ) Barrère taught the flute class at the Schola, and he still taught at the Collège Stanislas. A variety of freelance work, the Société Moderne, and abundant private teaching added variety to the routine. The financial results were at least satisfactory: 2,000 francs a year from the Opéra, at least 1,128 a year for the Colonne Sunday concerts, and presumably a minimum of 96 francs for the Thursday concerts; 3.75 per Collège Stanislas lesson; and probably in the same neighborhood at the Schola, where he taught three to four students for a twenty-four-week course, earning around 300 francs.64 His total income was thus something in the neighborhood of 3,500 francs, not including freelance engagements and private teaching—and he had plenty of both. And of course there were the 3,000 francs from the Exposition orchestra. It was an era when 86 percent of the French population made less than 2,500 francs a year; the average government official or skilled worker, such as a musical-instrument maker, made around 1,500. The director of the Conservatoire made 12,000 a year, most professors only 1,500 to 2,400.65 As to expenses, a musical score cost from 1.5 to 20 francs, the Altès method 30 francs, a silver flute by A. Robert 525 to 575 francs, a wooden piccolo 190.66 Typical workers had expenses of 305 francs for rent and utilities, 840 for food, 185 for clothes and laundry; they spent 35 on health, 60 on entertainment, and saved or gave to charity another 60. The bourgeois, who earned closer to 6,000, might allocate 1,200 to rent and utilities, 780 to clothes and laundry, 60 to health, 380 to entertainment, and 240 to savings and charity.67 In 1900, Barrère was still able to share some of these more quotidian ex57



Monarch of the Flute

penses, certainly rent and utilities, with his prosperous bourgeois father and brother; at age twenty-four, this was quite acceptable. In May, the three of them had moved across the street to 42, rue de Rochechouart,68 next door to the former Salle Harcourt. He could walk to the Opéra, but had to rely on omnibuses to reach his other jobs around Paris. His photographs show a slim, good-looking young man, still clean-shaven, reaping the benefits of a prosperous household and a burgeoning career, with his foot firmly placed on the career ladder of the musical establishment. Étienne, too, was coming into his own; it appears that Gabriel turned the business over to his elder son around this time. Where the business directory of 1900 listed G. Barrère at the fashionable 86, rue de Richelieu, that of 1901 simply changed the initial to E. The display advertisement was otherwise identical, offering office furniture for lawyers, engineers, and other professionals, specializing in a “New model of Franco-American desk.” Was it an omen?



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The New Century, 1901–05

A

t the turn of the twentieth century, Paris offered a “wealth of major and minor entertainments,” recalled Jean Cocteau, who noted “this mad prodigality of a city of genius in the face of so much ingratitude.”1 Cocteau’s Paris was in many ways Barrère’s Paris, and that was exactly the situation that Barrère faced as an entrepreneur: an active chamber music scene that was appreciated by a select few but ignored by much of the public and press. For its spring 1901 series, the Société Moderne moved to the Petite Salle Érard on the rue de Mail, a venue that, like the Salle Pleyel, was hosted by a leading piano manufacturer. The season started off with a program of great interest but a nonexistent critical reception. That was in no way the fault of the artistic director, who included four premieres on the opening concert, on February 9. Two of the new works were by Gaubert, an Andante & Tarentelle for flute, oboe, and piano, and a Méditation for four winds and piano, the latter his only known work for multiple winds. Also included were Deux Pièces for bassoon and piano by André Lavaud, and two movements of Albert Seitz’s second Sextuor for wind quintet and piano. Not one of the music journals covered the event.2 The second concert, on March 9, was devoted exclusively to the works of the rising star André Caplet: the Quintet for piano and winds; the premiere of Suite persane, a three-movement work on Persian themes for double quintet; and the premiere of the complete Feuillets d’album, a set of five pieces for flute and piano, with the composer at the keyboard. Of these latter five, the two pieces known and in print today, the Rêverie and Petite Valse, had been pre59



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miered by Barrère and Caplet at the SMIV in March 1900; this set added an Allegretto, Babillage, and Invocation. Though none of the flute versions survives, Caplet did rework the Invocation in two versions for violin with organ or piano.3 The Quintet, which the Société had premiered a year earlier, had in the meantime won the twenty-two-year-old composer the prestigious 500-franc prize of the Société des Compositeurs de Musique, offered by the minister of public instruction and fine arts, and in February Barrère’s group had played it for the SCM’s own concert series.4 Perhaps as a result of that prize, the critics did come to the March concert, and they were duly impressed. Le Ménestrel wrote that the Quintet showed “a distinction of sentiment and a suppleness of workmanship remarkable in a young composer” and likewise praised the Suite persane for its rich tonal color and “piquant” rhythmic variety. In sum, Caplet had “shown the diverse resources of an artistic temperament, already joined to a sure technique and personal qualities that place him on a par with the musicians on whom the young school can pin serious hopes.”5 Le Guide Musical was equally enthusiastic, and also took time to praise the performers as “a phalanx whose homogeneity was almost perfect.” Barrère in particular was “a flutist of great lineage,” “remarkable” in the Feuillets d’album.6 Le Monde Musical singled out the Feuillets as a “charming fantasy” that was “played deliciously” by Barrère. “But in the Suite Persane, M. Caplet affirms again the highest qualities,” and Dandelot called it “a very ingenious work of instrumental combinations and much inspiration.”7 The bassoonist Édouard Flament, writing some years later, said, “The musical life of André Caplet followed the destinies of this society,” and in fact the young society and the young composer had a symbiotic relationship in their formative years.8 Le Soir essentially spoke for all the critics when it predicted that Caplet was “a young composer with a great future.”9 Indeed, in July it was announced that Caplet had won the Premier Grand Prix du Rome, France’s highest honor for composition, for his cantata Myrrha. When Caplet’s native Le Havre feted its local hero with a Festival Caplet in November, Barrère and four other colleagues from the Opéra and the Colonne participated. Barrère played three of the five Feuillets d’album and, for reasons unknown, the Doppler Fantaisie pastorale hongroise (probably with Eugène Wagner at the keyboard). The Société Moderne’s third concert of 1901 was on April 6, and the repertoire was a mix of “important works,” in Le Monde Musical’s estimation, and new ones. The Sextuor of Georges Alary, winner of the Prix Chartier in 1895; d’Indy’s Chanson et Danses, conducted by the composer; and an Octet by Paul de Wailly were the largest in instrumentation.10 There were also works of two younger men: the Reverie et Scherzo for clarinet and piano by the nineteen-yearold Marcel Rousseau, whose father was chorus master of the Société des Con-



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The New Century, 1901–05

certs; and two pieces by Jules Bouval, Lamento for English horn and Idylle for oboe, both of which Le Monde Musicale deemed “insignificant.” Le Guide Musical took the opportunity to lecture the enthusiastic young players, advising that they “moderate the power of their sound. The fortes and mezzo fortes dominate, and the pianos are most often absent. We should not forget, in all the arts, the effects of light and shadow must co-exist!”11 For the first time, this season, the Société was invited to appear on a program of the Mercredis-Danbé, formally the Société des Matinées Artistiques Populaires, a concert series run by Jules Danbé, music director of the ThéâtreLyrique, or Théâtre de la Renaissance. Though Danbé had lost the vote for conductor of the Société des Concerts to Taffanel in 1892, he held no grudge against Taffanel’s student. As conductor of the Opéra-Comique, he had formed the Société d’Auditions Lyriques to provide a performance venue for young composers, and he was thus inclined to encourage a new generation of musicians.12 The mixed chamber music program on March 6 was heard by a full house of society types and members of the nobility, as well as the composer Augusta Holmès — an audience so large that more than 200 people were turned away and so enthusiastic that it demanded four encores. Such venues were crucial to young musicians in need of sponsorship and publicity. At the end of May Barrère was again at the Société des Compositeurs, this time to give the premiere of Eugène Lacroix’s 4 Pièces for flute and piano. The Invocation’s whole-note flute pedalpoint, completely unsuited to the instrument, could only be the work of an organist; the other movements, Badinage, Paysage, and Caprice, are more idiomatically scored. Whatever its merits, Le Monde Musical praised the “velvety tone and virtuosity” of Barrère’s rendition.13 Also on the program was a selection of movements from the Pièces de concert of Rameau, for flute, cello, and harpsichord, pieces that would remain in Barrère’s active repertoire for the next forty years. One may wonder how Rameau got onto the program of an organization devoted to promoting the modern French composers; the explanation lies with its president, Saint-Saëns, who for reasons of chauvinism bordering on xenophobia had quit the Société Nationale when it allowed the works of foreigners to be played. The Société des Compositeurs, by contrast, banned works by foreign composers but allowed those of dead Frenchmen, earning it the facetious slogan plutôt morts qu’étrangers (rather dead than foreign).14 Many of Barrère’s contemporaries shared his interest in early music, and their mastery of the old instruments was duly applauded by Hugues Imbert of Le Guide Musical (though Barrère played a modern silver flute). In the fall, Barrère joined Henri Casadesus (viola d’amore and head of the newly founded Société des Instruments Anciens) and his wife, Lucette Casadesus (viola d’amore), Fernand Gillet (oboe d’amore, future oboist of the Boston Symphony), Ernest 61



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Million (flute), Édouard Nanny (double bass), and others in a concert of the Société Rameau, organized by Max Schiller, the physician/impresario husband of Yvette Guilbert.15 Their program of Rameau, Lully, Mouret, Sacchini, and others was conducted from the harpsichord by Gabriel Grovlez, who had earned his first prize in piano (there was no harpsichord class) from the Conservatoire in 1899. The most important work on the program was Rameau’s cantata Le Berger fidèle, which would also remain in Barrère’s repertoire. Many of the same musicians had played together a few months earlier at the salon of Mme Villa, wife of a military officer. Such occasions provided not only financial remuneration, but also a means of professional ascent: a reputation gained in one salon led to engagements in other salons and in more public arenas. To work this circuit successfully, it was necessary for the young artists to conform to the social conventions of le monde, to charm and entertain the members of these aristocratic circles while remaining socially distinct from them. It was excellent training in comportment, fundraising , and catering to an audience that Barrère would use to advantage for the rest of his career.16 In the spring of 1901, Colonne took his orchestra on a foreign tour, spending a week in Germany and Austria, potentially a risky endeavor. Le Guide Musical reported chauvinistically that the “incontestable superiority” of certain instruments had been noted, but the foreign critics saw it somewhat differently.17 The Neue Freie Presse sniffed that the Colonne was certainly not at the same level as the Vienna Philharmonic and that both the Colonne and Lamoureux paled in comparison to the first orchestra of Paris, the Société des Concerts. “It is not from the point of view of virtuosity, but of finish, and of the beauty of sound, that denotes the difference.” However, “[o]ne cannot deny the Colonne orchestra the warmest praise. The musicians are young , ardent, very skilled, and possess partly excellent instruments, an indispensable base for a good ensemble effect. If they sometimes lack perfect beauty of sound, if the wind instruments are sometimes excessively shrill, the fault is, in large part, in the woodwinds, which, to our Viennese point of view, lack individuality. The flutes don’t have the poetic charm of the Viennese flutes, the oboes and clarinets have more kinship than difference of timbre; in sum, the winds do not have the richness of color that shines on the whole orchestra.”18 At this time, German and English flutists still favored the wood flute, with its heavier, reedier, lessinflected, and generally vibrato-less sound; the French and Belgians favored the more limpid tone of the silver flute, with a soupçon of vibrato. This situation began to change only in 1903, when Mahler hired, as solo flute of the Vienna Opera, Ary van Leeuwen, who became the first person to bring the silver flute to an Austrian orchestra.19 The flute section of the Colonne at this point consisted of Auguste Cantié (principal), Gaston Blanquart, Ernest Million, and Barrère — Blanquart



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The New Century, 1901–05

having ascended in the pecking order after Barrère was effectively blackballed by the post-Exposition litigation. Perhaps adding salt to his wound was the appearance of Philippe Gaubert as soloist in the Hüe Nocturne in February 1901. Thus it is no surprise that the next big stage on which Barrère appeared was the dais of the boardroom of a new musicians’ union. In April 1901, a young musician at the Théâtre Ambigu-Comique, Adrien Deschamps, organized a meeting of musicians from nineteen Paris theaters and café-concerts; the subsidized theaters, such as the Opéra, were not represented initially. Dissatisfaction over fees and working conditions was rampant, and conditions were right for the musicians to organize. In 1884, France had legalized trade unions. Three years later Bourses de Travail, centers for worker education, mutual aid, and hiring halls, were founded, and they formed a national federation in 1892. Union membership in France grew from 140,000 in 1890 to 580,000 by 1899 (out of a total population of 39 million), and the unions were militant.20 By 1901 there were already musicians’ unions in several provincial cities; Paris was relatively late to follow suit. There had been some tentative attempts to form a Paris musicians’ union in the late 1870s and again in 1895, with agendas of salary increases, limits on rehearsals, and opposition to the importation of foreign musicians. But these efforts had failed because of divisions among the membership and lack of effective leadership. Now, in 1901, a new group, called the Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens de Paris, had more success thanks to its strong leadership. Moreover, the involvement of musicians of the first rank helped put to rest the repugnance, on the part of men who considered themselves artists, to being associated with the working class.21 A board of fifteen and a membership committee of seven were selected. Cellist Eugène Laperierre of the Casino de Paris was elected president; Barrère, vice president. Composers Gustave Charpentier and Alfred Bruneau were named honorary presidents. In his formal address at the union’s first general assembly, Charpentier declared, “For a long time I have dreamed of the possibility of a grouping of artist musicians. . . . I said to myself, ‘the artists are thus always the eternal amusers of an ungrateful society.’”22 The founding by-laws of the Chambre Syndicale stated its aims: to improve the moral and financial status of its members, to provide a forum for the arbitration of disputes, and to aid unemployed musicians. Early on, the union dealt with the requirements for membership, deciding that military musicians and conductors would be banned. It did, however, admit foreigners once they had resided in France for a year, believing that they were not a threat to their livelihoods, but additional converts to the union cause; this was a point for which Barrère argued strongly. The council soon decided that it had a moral obligation to affiliate with the Union of Syndicates of the Seine, the confed63



Monarch of the Flute

eration of workers’ unions in Paris.23 Both of these decisions indicate a clear feeling among these activist musicians that there was power in numbers. Membership in the Chambre Syndicale grew quickly: by June 1901 there were 227 members, by November, 687, and by December, having reached the 1,000 mark, the council made plans for a celebratory dinner.24 From the beginning, Barrère played an active role in the day-to-day operations of the union, serving as a member of several committees and as interim (summer) treasurer, urging that members delinquent on dues payments be excluded from the general assembly, proposing a model membership form, planning benefit concerts, advocating the cases of ailing colleagues in need of assistance, and acting as an emissary to theater managers with whom the union had disputes. He took frequent and eloquent part in the board’s debates and was well respected, reelected repeatedly both to the board and to special committees.25 In the spring of 1902, the Chambre Syndicale proposed a mandatory payment scale for Paris musicians that divided them into categories according to level of responsibility and type of theater or repertoire: principal players at major theaters, for instance, would be in the first, most highly paid category. The proposal called for the first class to receive eight francs for an evening performance; the second class, seven francs; and the third class, six francs. But recognizing the difficulty of implementing its demands, the council suggested a two-year phase-in plan, adding provisions for payments for matinees on the same scale, for overtime, and—daringly for the time—payment for rehearsals, which had always been badly paid, if paid at all. It also demanded such concessions as providing the musicians with parts to new works eight days in advance, to give them time to practice; the preparation time would be provided gratis, but they asked that salaries be paid weekly. The theater managements of Paris completely ignored the musicians’ demands. The union called a general strike, and almost immediately it won agreements from every theater in the city. (The Opéra and Opéra-Comique, as semigovernmental institutions, were not affected by this strike.)26 It was the union’s first great success and definitively established its credibility. The union gained the standing to intervene with management on behalf of the musicians and was thus able to attract more members, including the previously reluctant members of the Opéra orchestra. The union also decided that spring to federate all of the musicians’ unions in France, creating the Federation des Artistes Musiciens de France, which united seven unions and 2,500 members, lending it even more muscle in dealing with theater managements. Barrère was very much at the forefront of all these efforts, even securing a ten-franc donation to the strike fund from his businessman brother.27 In the meantime, Barrère’s winter 1902 chamber music season began back



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at the Société Nationale on January 25; with the soprano Charlotte Lormont and pianist Blanche Selva, his colleague at the Schola Cantorum, he premiered Georges Hüe’s song “Soir païen.” Also on that program was the Suite basque on popular themes for flute and strings by another Schola colleague, Charles Bordes; though Le Guide Musical criticized the sloppy performance of the strings (“one could have thought one was attending the first rehearsal”) it gave good notices to the work’s “ingenious rhythms and singing poetry of the beautiful basque country.”28 This 1887 piece, with its echoes of Wagner’s Forest Murmurs in the Paysage movement, is considered one of Bordes’s best works and was one of his many efforts to preserve and promote the folk roots of his native Basque country. In early February, the Schola continued its series of Bach cantata programs, supplementing the vocal works with instrumental ones. On February 5, the Trio Sonata from the Musical Offering, with Renée (Mme H.) Casadesus-Dellerba and Alexandre Guilmant, was programmed between an aria from the wedding cantata Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten, BWV 202, and the irreverent Coffee Cantata, BWV211, both with generous flute parts. It was a concert that drew lengthy, ecstatic encomia to the works of Bach from Victor Debay of Le Courrier Musical, who deemed it “two hours of absolute intellectual and moral satisfaction.”29 On April 16, Barrère played the obbligatos to several arias, and then on May 7 he joined the Belgian violinist Mme Schmidt and pianist Blanche Selva for the Concerto in D (the Fifth Brandenburg). Though trained in the repertoire and a specialist in the muscular repertory of Franck and Beethoven, Selva was known for a restrained, pure style of Bach playing unusual at the time.30 Barrère’s own recordings of Bach, made many years later, display a similar concern for a long line and are Spartan in their ornamentation. Other freelance opportunities arose for Barrère: the violinist and early music specialist Henri Lammers invited him to participate in a concert of eighteenth-century music at the Salle Pleyel—programming so daring for the time that Le Monde Musical asked provocatively “if such music were not so uniform that it was dangerous to program it exclusively in a single concert? Doesn’t it,” asked the critic, “resemble a dinner where one serves an exquisite dish, but unique, and one that comes back always? That was the impression that the works of Rameau, Leclair, Quantz, Bach, Senaillé, Loeillet, Exaudet, etc. produced in us.” But “the flute of M. Barrère was so moving that he ravished the audience” in the Quantz Concerto.31 In the year 1902, the Société Moderne was perhaps, at last, coming into its own as a main course on the Paris musical menu, offering a three-concert Friday afternoon series in the Salle Henri Herz, at 27, rue des Petits-Hôtels in the tenth arrondissement. In announcing the series, the Courrier de l’Orchestre, the union paper, declared, “one wants to know at what point this society — best 65



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known under the name ‘Petits Vents’—justifies its title. Of 17 works announced for its programs, we find 11 premieres, among them pieces of de Wailly, Ehrardt [sic], Eug. Wagner and our collaborator Seitz.” “The ‘Petits Vents,’ founded in 1895, can be proud of the work accomplished since that time; it is to their young and disinterested initiative that we are indebted for a good part for all the production of music for winds that has appeared in these last years.”32 The first concert, on March 7, featured the premieres of the Aubade for flute, oboe, and clarinet of Paul de Wailly, a woodwind quintet by the otherwise unidentified W. Hagen, and a clarinet sonata by Louis Narici, a composer otherwise known for his piano reductions of opera scores. Established works included Caplet’s Suite persane and Pierné’s Pastorale variée, op. 30. Le Guide Musical concluded that although the hall was too small (especially for the Erlanger trumpet solo, valiantly played by Louis Jeanjean) and the program too long and of uneven interest, the artists were “excellent”; they “formed a phalanx of winds capable of surmounting all obstacles.”33 The second concert, on March 21, also featured a number of premieres: the first was the Petite Suite for double woodwind quintet and trumpet by the violinist D.-E. Inghelbrecht, fils, Barrère’s colleague at the Concerts de l’Opéra. The mature Inghelbrecht would write in his memoirs, “Once, young musicians were protected from their haste to be published by the resistance of the publishers. If my first attempts had been published, I would have regretted it later.” Quite possibly he referred to this piece; his first published composition would be the Deux esquisses antiques for flute and harp, dedicated to Gaubert and published by Eschig in 1902.34 But Barrère had no regrets about supporting young composers, even when their early works might not stand the test of time, even if future generations might not consider them “Groveworthy.” Also on the program were the Pièce romantique by Gaubert, in a new version for flute, bassoon (replacing the original cello), and piano; Emilio Provinciali’s Danse villageoise for woodwind quartet, a lighthearted piece of salon music, in its first Paris performance; Pièce enfantine for five winds by Auguste Delacroix, a composer five years Barrère’s senior who had studied at the Conservatoire with Taudou and Guiraud; and the first performance of the Suite for flute and piano by Jacques Ehrhart, which was dedicated to Barrère. He would later play the Suite with its full orchestral accompaniment in a benefit concert under the composer’s direction.35 As described by Le Monde Musical, “The Notturnino is one of melancholy and the requisite monotony; the Scherzo is full of spirit; the Romance, despite its length, contains pretty phrases savvily developed and the Valse is of real originality. The work could not find a better interpreter than M. G. Barrère, to whom it is dedicated; he knows easily how to vanquish the difficulties of the scherzo and he drew from his flute silvery sonorities, nuanced by the most delicate taste. His partner, the



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pianist Chadeigne, does not merit any fewer compliments.”36 The program concluded with the Quintet on Popular Themes by Henry Woollett, a work of more academic interest, each movement scored for a different combination of woodwinds. Woollett, who studied piano with Pugno and composition with Massenet, was largely a self-taught composer, better known as a teacher (not only of Caplet, but also Henry Fevrier and Raymond Loucheur), conductor, and musicologist in Le Havre. The Glazounov Rêverie for horn and piano was but a small indication of the growing Russian influence in Paris. The final concert of the Société Moderne, on April 11, featured two works of Eugène Lacroix, the Variations symphoniques for eight winds (including alto saxophone) and Trois Pièces for bassoon and piano; the premiere of the Suite in G Minor for double choir of reeds by Albert Seitz; a Suite for reeds and piano by Eugène Wagner; d’Indy’s Fantaisie for oboe and piano; and the Caplet Suite persane, repeated by public demand. The critics were united in their approbation for the adventuresome programming. In fact, Victor Debay of Le Courrier Musical was moved to regret his previous neglect of the Société Moderne’s concerts. “Rarely are we able to hear a better choice” of repertoire, “all works of value.” He repented in part for his previous absences by a lengthy and thoughtful critique, noting the Suite persane’s effective use of oriental modes and evocative timbres, appropriate to the Persian motif. Debay likewise praised Seitz’s Suite for wind choir as “inspired, but not enslaved, by the olden style, and . . . remarkable for the freedom of its rhythms and the characteristic ingeniously developed themes.” He noted Lacroix’s skillful writing for the bassoon, “a slightly ungrateful instrument,” and glowingly described the development of the pastoral theme in the Variations symphoniques, initially posed by the English horn and ingeniously transformed by the other instruments. He did note that the performance seemed a little less sure than in the other pieces — as with Lacroix’s other works, perhaps a result of the often-illegible manuscript.37 In May, the Société Moderne made its first road trip en province, appearing in Le Havre on the fourteenth of the month. Befitting the locale, the group featured works of Henry Woollett, director of the local conservatory, and his prize pupil André Caplet, in works written for the society. Le Monde Musical noted, “I will not speak here of so remarkable qualities of all these reputable artists, who are known to your readers; they were marvelously homogeneous and sonorous in the ensemble works; they were stunning in the virtuosity of their solos; I cite especially Georges Barrère in the charming Fantaisie for flute and piano of Fauré, which earned him a veritable ovation.” The only complaint: the program was so long that Caplet’s prizewinning Quintet was not heard until after midnight.38 This was one lesson that Barrère never learned well: his enthusiasm for his repertoire was so great that his programs were nearly always too long.39 67



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In March 1902 the Courrier de l’Orchestre had proudly announced that the union’s vice president and camarade Georges Barrère was engaged to Mlle Michelette Burani. A young music student, Michelette was the only daughter of the late chansonnier and librettist Paul Burani. Born in the Paris suburb of Asnières in 1881, she was five years younger than her fiancé; orphaned in October 1901, she was living with her cousins, the Arrachart family, in the fourteenth arrondissement, not far from the Schola Cantorum. At sixteen, Michelette was apparently forced by an injury or illness to abandon a budding career as a pianist, and instead she became a singer. Thin and coquettish in her publicity photograph, and with theater in her genes, she made a logical choice.40 Her father, Paul Burani, quite a prominent playwright and critic, had been the publisher of the journals Le Calino, Café Concert, and La Chanson Illustrée and the author of more than seventy operetta libretti, among them Les Pompiers de Nanterre, Le sire de fiche ton-kan, La Fauvette du temple (with music by André Messager, 1885), and Le Roi malgré lui (with music by Emmanuel Chabrier, premiered at the Opéra-Comique in 1887). Some of his operettas were produced at the Châtelet, as well as in many other Paris theaters, and he may have had some affiliation with the Folies-Bergère. Family legend says that Burani introduced his daughter to the handsome young orchestra musician Georges Barrère, who probably played in some of those productions.41 By the time of his death in October 1901, Burani had fallen on hard times; he had moved from the substantial house at 21, rue Franklin, in Asnières where Michelette had grown up to an apartment on the rue d’Arcole, next door to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, and he earned his living as a ghostwriter to young and amateur songwriters.42 Michelette’s mother, the former Marie Bunières, had died in July 1898, and Michelette, who was listed as her sole heir, owned three buildings: a house on the impasse d’Astrolabe in the fifteenth arrondissement of Paris, and two houses in Asnières, the family home on rue Franklin and another at 34, rue Victor Hugo. All of these properties were heavily mortgaged; in addition, Michelette assumed responsibility for some 65,000 francs in debts from her father’s estate. As was the custom, the couple signed a formal marriage contract, which was prepared by the Paris notary A. Cottin, who had handled Marie Burani’s estate. Paul Arthur Arrachart, Michelette’s cousin by marriage and a clerk in the postal and telegraph service, signed on behalf of the Burani family. That contract, the equivalent of today’s prenuptial agreement, specified that the real estate remain Michelette’s alone, not a part of the community property. In 1903, the liquidation of Paul Burani’s estate, to which Michelette had renounced her claim just prior to her marriage, was approved by the Tribunal Civil of Paris; it did not leave her much.43 According to French law and tradition, the marriage banns were posted in both the ninth and fourteenth arrondissements of Paris and at the mayor’s



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office in Asnières. No objections being made, the wedding was celebrated on May 22, 1902, at the mairie of the fourteenth arrondissement; in the absence of the bride’s parents, the playwright Henri Kéroul and the bride’s cousin Mélanie Sébrier (Paul Arrachart’s wife), in whose household she then resided, were the witnesses for Michelette. Gabriel Barrère stood up with his son, along with the two foremost aristocrats of the flute in Paris: Paul Taffanel, chief conductor of the Opéra, and Adolphe Hennebains, first flutist of the Opéra, a gesture that was a true measure of respect for their younger colleague.44 In August the couple moved not far from rue de Rochechouart, just a few blocks north to 12, rue Gérando. If the marriage ceremony itself was not celebrated in a church, God was certainly looking down on them; rue Gérando is just south of the imposing basilica of Sacré-Coeur, an exotic five-domed structure in Roman-Byzantine style begun in 1876.45 The couple did not take a long honeymoon, if they took one at all: by June 2 Barrère was at his accustomed place on the council of the musicians’ union. On May 19, three days before the wedding, he had been reelected as vice president despite his absence from the meeting. In the fall of 1902, the long-time principal flutist of the Colonne, Auguste Cantié, decided to retire “after a long and brilliant career,” in the words of the union paper, and Barrère won the audition to replace him, leapfrogging over his friend and fellow union activist Gaston Blanquart.46 This was the thirtieth season of the Association Artistique, and the orchestra celebrated with a gala benefit performance of La Damnation de Faust. It opened the regular season at the Châtelet on October 19 with a concert that included the premieres of Saint-Saëns’s Marche du Couronnement and Koechlin’s La Fin de l’homme. At the end of December, the Association Artistique “unanimously and by acclamation” reelected Édouard Colonne as president of the orchestra for a tenyear term. Colonne took the orchestra on a week-long New Year’s tour of Spain and Portugal. In Lisbon the orchestra was honored by the presence of the royal family in the audience. The programs were largely French, featuring works of Saint-Saëns, Massenet, Franck, Bizet, and Lalo. Barrère was soloist in two performances of the Bach B Minor Suite.47 Now principal flutist, Barrère had his turn as soloist. In early April, he and violinist Pablo de Sarasate made separate but notably equal appearances, Sarasate in the Beethoven Violin Concerto, Barrère in the Bach Suite in B Minor. He played “so deliciously,” wrote Le Ménestrel, that the audience demanded a repetition. “The very remarkable flutist M. Barrère obtained a success as big as Sarasate’s,” said Hugues Imbert in Le Guide Musical. Le Monde Musicale referred to the “divine flute” of Barrère, “who shows himself full of care for the style and at the same time with a virtuosity that could not be overshadowed by that of Sarasate.”48 In early 1903 Barrère’s career received further validation 69



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when he was named an Officer of the Academy, the first rung on the ladder of honorary distinctions bestowed by the minister of public instruction and fine arts. The inspector who endorsed his nomination was none other than Victorien de Joncières, president of the Société des Compositeurs de Musique.49 The spring was a particularly busy one for Barrère the performer, for he was absent from nearly all the union meetings and postponed or canceled most of his flute classes at the Schola Cantorum. In addition to the regular schedule and two solo turns with the Colonne and the regular schedule at the Opéra, his calendar was replete with chamber music engagements. In January, he assisted Opéra cellist Gaston Courras in a recital at the Salle Érard, contributing Charles de Bériot’s flute sonata; in May, at a benefit concert for the naval hospitals, he joined violinist Henri Lammers in Henri Rabaud’s Andante et Scherzo. In February, Barrère collaborated with the young virtuoso pianist Céliny Richez, a protégée of Raoul Pugno, in two recitals of flute and piano sonatas. The first offered Bach, Reinecke, and Marcello sonatas and the Widor Suite, leavened by a few songs by Paul Vidal, accompanied by the composer. It was a radical bit of programming , a fact borne out by Le Guide Musical, which expressed the prevailing prejudice that the sonata was by definition full of “deep, wide, and serious ideas” that are difficult to develop within the relatively narrow range of the flute, that “organ of gracious frivolity.” Perhaps anticipating that the audience would find a complete program of flute sonatas too challenging, Barrère invited Paul Vidal to accompany the soprano Mathieu d’Ancy in several of his own romances. But the performance was superior: “thanks to a delicious tone and a great technique, M. Barrère deserves to be the continuer of the traditions of Taffanel, and obtained a great success.”50 It was an encomium Barrère must have cherished. The second recital presented four sonatas: Leclair, the Bach B Minor, Hummel, and the premiere of a sonata by Henry Woollett. It was a long work, four movements lasting some twenty-nine minutes, with shades of d’Indy and Fauré, published by Costallat in 1908 and dedicated to Barrère.51 Again the program was leavened by a singer, this time Marthe Chassang in a selection of Schubert lieder and a song by André Wormser. With or without singer, it was a brave thing for Barrère to undertake these recitals, certainly a rarity for the time, and something not even Taffanel ever did.52 A decade later the tenor Edmond Clément observed, “Recitals by one artist, unassisted by others, are infrequent there and they seem never to have become really popular”; recitals by flutists were that much more unusual.53 In addition to preparing the two recitals and the Colonne appearances, Barrère must have spent a great deal of time preparing for the ambitious threeconcert series of the Société Moderne in April. This year, the group shifted its venue to the Salle des Agriculteurs on the rue d’Athènes, off the Place de l’Eu-



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rope and just behind the Opéra, the fashionable end of the ninth arrondissement, and scheduled its concerts for Tuesday evenings. The first concert took place on April 7, and the Monde Musical critic confessed that he was not bothered by its length because it was so interesting. Composed of four substantial wind ensemble works and one smaller-scale premiere, it presented the Divertissement, op. 36, by Émile Bernard (premiered by Taffanel in 1884); the Mozart Quintet for winds and piano; the Suite gauloise of Théodore Gouvy, a tuneful work for nine winds published posthumously in 1900; and the Suite rustique of Albert Seitz (premiered by the Société in 1900). Le Guide Musicale, while noting that the ensemble was “good, even distinguished,” suggested that “perhaps they could demand a little more blend.” The individual players were excellent: “We believe, however, that the ensemble would be even better if he who conducts (the first flute) would make more sober gestures. . . . And one more piece of advice: The concert should begin at the hour indicated on the program.”54 In a more restrained vein, Louis Fleury and violinist Paulin Gaillard joined the composer/pianist Mel-Bonis in what was billed as the premiere of her Suite, though the same performers had played it at the Salle Pleyel on March 27 for the Société des Compositeurs. Mel-Bonis, née Mélanie Bonis, had been one of the rare female students at the Paris Conservatoire; admitted in 1877, she studied harmony with Ernest Guiraud and organ with Franck and won first prize in harmony in 1880. Forced into an arranged marriage with Albert Domange, a widowed industrialist twenty-five years her senior, she raised his five children and the three they had together, and continued to compose. A member (and, for a time, secretary) of the Société des Compositeurs, whose prize she won in 1898, she befriended a number of musicians, including Fleury, for whom she wrote both the Suite (published by Demets in 1903) and a Sonata (published the following year); the Sonata is dedicated to him. The music was technically accessible to amateur performers and aesthetically pleasing to its upper-crust listeners: lyrical, bucolic, with modern tendencies that were interesting but not unduly challenging. The post-romantic style earned another of her chamber works a back-handed compliment from Saint-Saëns: “I never would have believed that a woman was capable of writing that; she knows all the tricks of the trade.”55 The second concert of the Société Moderne, two weeks later, presented works of Lefebvre (the Second Suite); Caplet (the Quintet for piano and winds); the Société’s pianist, Eugène Wagner (the Suite for five winds and piano and the premiere of the Fantaisie for oboe, clarinet, and piano); and Beethoven (the Octet for winds, op. 103). It was a model of balanced programming. The Catalan mezzo-soprano María Gay, who had made her debut in Brussels in 1902 and would debut at La Scala in 1906, becoming one of the 71



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leading Carmens of the century, contributed songs by Brahms and Caplet. The Lefebvre, perhaps even a better work than the well-known Suite, op. 57, for woodwind quintet, is a substantial work scored for wind sextet, with a rousing march for its final movement. Dedicated to the Société Moderne, it was not published until 1910. The critics found the Beethoven the chief attraction. Beethoven, said Le Monde Musical, “served to blaze a humble and noble path among all that modern polyphony.”56 The season ended with great success on April 28. Le Monde Musical singled out the Aubade of Paul de Wailly, a sprightly trio for flute, oboe, and clarinet with intricate and difficult voice-swapping, which the audience demanded that they repeat. The premieres of the evening were the “solidly crafted” Aubade of Eugène Lacroix for eight winds; the “very gracious and amiable” Passacaille of Georges Brun, for the full double quintet; and the Introduction & Allegro appassionato for clarinet and piano by Carl Reinecke. Dramatic soprano Jeanne Hatto of the Opéra was the vocal soloist in songs of Léon Moreau, with the composer at the piano—the inclusion of vocal interludes catering to the predilections of the opera-loving public. Valses by Jacques Ehrhart provided some lightweight entertainment, and the Reinecke Octet, op. 216, some additional substance. Monde Musical wrote approvingly, “Honor to this young and vibrant society which, without letting itself become discouraged by the difficulties of all sorts that such an enterprise encounters, valiantly follows its path.”57 The summer of 1903 was taken up with union activities, including a benefit concert at the Trocadéro on April 30 in which 400 musicians took part. In the spring elections, Barrère was elected treasurer and had some difficulty in wresting the records from his predecessor. Perhaps as a result he argued forcefully that the union’s accountant should be an independent professional, not a member of the union. He served as the delegate for Nice to the federal congress and was involved in a heated debate over whether musicians should donate their services to the upper classes for benefit concerts. Barrère, who no doubt understood the value of such bookings as revenue for the musicians themselves, thought they should not.58 The Colonne resumed rehearsals on October 8, and the season opened at the Châtelet ten days later. The season would emphasize the works of Wagner as well as the Berlioz centenary and would also include the Beethoven Choral Symphony. The Colonne would observe the Berlioz anniversary with pairs of performances of La Damnation de Faust, L’Enfance du Christ, Roméo et Juliette, and the Requiem. Other French works also got their due, including the Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune. Le Ménestrel reported, “The success was spontaneous.” The audience demanded a repetition. Conductor Gabriel Pierné was found; he hesitated, looking left and right for guidance while the audience waited for a decision. Finally the work was repeated “played even better than the first time,”



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and again acclaimed—just as it had been at its premiere nine years earlier. The first flutist, of course, was the first Faune’s first flutist, Georges Barrère, though the critics did not mention him by name. The next month, however, he and Blanquart were both generously mentioned by name by no fewer than three critics, including Romain Rolland in La Revue Musicale, for their performance of the much lesser trio for two flutes and harp in L’Enfance du Christ (the Colonne’s fourteenth full performance of the work since 1875).59 In the winter–spring season, Barrère’s efforts were more concentrated than in the prior year—with three challenging concerts to organize for the Société Moderne, his freelance chamber music engagements were fewer but much appreciated. Reviewing a performance with the Zimmer Quartet of Charles Bordes’s picturesque Suite basque for flute and strings at the Société Nationale, Gustave Samazeuilh of Le Guide Musical termed him an “expert flutist,” and Le Monde Musical complimented the “always seductive and singing flute of M. Barrère.”60 He also appeared as soloist in Jacques Ehrhart’s Suite, op. 39, for flute and orchestra, a work dedicated to him by the Mulhouse conductor and whose premiere he had played with piano accompaniment at the Société Moderne in 1902. The occasion was a benefit concert for Ehrhart, conducted by the composer, probably in mid-December of 1903, where Barrère also played the Mozart G Major Concerto with Taffanel’s cadenzas.61 The Société Moderne, now in its ninth year, finally received a long-sought government endorsement. In November 1903, it was informed that the Ministry of Fine Arts had granted it a subvention of 200 francs per year, a subsidy for which Barrère, as its secretary, had worked diligently, having stationed himself for hours in the corridors of the ministry to plead his case. Under Henry Marcel, the Ministry of Fine Arts was eager to promote new French works, and its award to the Société Moderne reflected that goal. However small monetarily, the grant was something that the Société trumpeted proudly in all of its subsequent literature, an official blessing that put it, if not in the class of the Taffanel group, at least on a rung of the musical establishment’s ladder.62 It was also a fact that got the attention of the all-important critics, who approvingly noted the stimulus the Société Moderne had in turn given to the younger school of composers. Le Monde Musical reported that the Société had “fought courageously for the cause of art” and “how much an encouragement by the State is merited by those who give their time and their talent for the benefit of new works. Is it possible to believe that our words were heard in high places?” the journal asked, patting itself on the back for its own advocacy of grants to those who supported new music. And, it reported, the increasing size of the Société’s audience “furnishes the young artists its own subvention, the most necessary of all.”63 On March 24 the Société Moderne opened its season with an ambitious 73



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program that began with Caplet’s Suite persane. There were premieres of two large works, a four-movement suite for wind quintet and piano by Patrice Devanchy, a Conservatoire piano student in the early 1890s, and Gabriel Pierné’s Preludio e fughetta for seven winds. Two sets of songs by Reynaldo Hahn, sung by Jeanne Leclerc with the composer at the piano, and the Beethoven Quintet for winds and piano rounded out the program. Le Monde Musical judged the Suite persane, which had now been heard six times at the SMIV, one of the best works in the repertoire; it also approved of the charming Pierné, while finding the Devanchy less successful and less interesting, though pretty. It was perhaps ironic that the critic singled out Fleury’s performance of the Andante, scored only for flute and piano, for particular praise; the composer had dedicated the work to Barrère and oboist Lucien Leclercq. The second concert, on April 20, boasted seven premieres — a record — opening with the first full hearing of a Serenade for double quintet by Jacques Ehrhart. American-born soprano Berthe Auguez de Montalant, then singing at the Opéra-Comique, and Eugène Wagner gave the first performances of three songs by the Spanish composer R. Torre Alfina, settings of poems by Baudelaire, followed by the premiere of a Pastorale by Jean Huré, pianist, organist, musicologist, and future founder of the École Normale de Musique. This was in reality a miniature piano concerto, anticipating the Concerto for piano and winds of Stravinsky. A more questionable attribution of the “first hearing” label applied to a sonata by Leclair, with figured bass realized by Paul Vidal; Leclair had already been featured prominently on Barrère’s programs, but perhaps he used some license and applied it to the Vidal realization. Three more Torre Alfina songs, including another first hearing, preceded a classical ending: the Beethoven Rondino and George Pfeiffer’s arrangement for eight winds of a Schubert Menuet. Le Guide Musical concluded that “interest never falters” in the programs of the Société Moderne. “One has only praise for the interpreters who form the most charming wind orchestra that one can dream of.” Philippe Moreau of Le Monde Musical described Barrère’s execution of the Leclair with only a bit of hyperbole: “What is there to say of M. Barrère that is not beneath the praise that he merits? His delicacy and his emotion earned him the warm applause and Le Clair [sic] l’ainé must be thrilled for joy in his tomb.”64 The season concluded on April 29 with yet another set of three premieres, the most conservative of which was the First Suite for winds by Théodore Dubois. Then director of the Conservatoire, Dubois was a much-despised figure in late nineteenth-century Paris. An able and powerful administrator, he was the personification of official taste. He resisted reform at the Conservatoire and was a fervent foe of the Schola. Yet the director of the Conservatoire followed the Société Moderne’s concerts closely, even though its founder taught



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at the Schola, and as Louis Fleury observed, “[H]e didn’t perhaps approve all of the audacity but he understood its eclectic spirit.” The composer confided to the ensemble the performances of both his woodwind suites—which Fleury judged “in truth, rather slender, but remarkably instrumented.” They were, he recalled, quite a relief to the performers. “We had played, in the previous concerts, several works all bubbling with ideas, full of vigor and originality and almost unplayable because of their technical clumsiness, when we came to these little pieces of Th. Dubois. The sureness of the writing , the rendering of the combinations of timbres, struck us so much” that he immediately thanked the composer. “He accepted the compliment with the most graceful satisfaction.”65 The other premieres on the program were the Trois pièces for mixed wind groups by Henry Woollett, of which the finale, for two flutes and piano, benefited from the virtuosity of Barrère and Fleury; and Trois pièces brèves for flute, oboe, and piano of Marthe Ducourau, a former Schola student who had become director of the Société Charles Bordes at St. Jean-de-Luz (Pyrénées) and whose compositions were published by several major publishing houses. The befuddled Monde Musical critic termed them “three bizarre Short Pieces (what pieces, my God!) on Basque themes.” Le Courrier Musical, by contrast, called them “three ravishing pages on popular Basque themes, ingeniously set.” By popular request, the Pierné Preludio e fughetta was played for the second time. Henri Fevrier, a former student of Woollett, accompanied Emma Holmstrand in eight of his songs, and the program also included Gaubert’s Deux pièces for English horn and piano and the Mozart Serenade in E-flat. Le Monde Musical wrote that the Société had concluded a “particularly brilliant” season and referred to Barrère and Fleury as “prestigious virtuosos,” saving its greatest praise for the Pierné, which it termed “true chamber music. . . . The ingenuity of the combination of timbres, the solidity of the writing and perfect knowledge of the nuances of each instrument make the short piece one of the best works of the contemporary output for the winds.”66 Bolstered by critical success and—one infers—some financial prosperity, Georges and Michelette had moved in the spring to 13, rue de Londres, a mixeduse building of shops and apartments in the more bourgeois Europe district, a very short walk to the Opéra and an even shorter one to the Salle des Agriculteurs. Rave reviews, a new home—he was beginning to become comfortable, if not completely satisfied. “Barrère, de l’Opéra et des Concerts Colonne” was regularly running classified advertisements in Le Courrier Musical offering lessons in “flute and accompaniment.” By contrast, the unaffiliated Louis Fleury’s adjacent and more modest advertisement listed “private flute lessons” and “preparation for the Conservatoire.”67 In the fall of 1904, the Paris musical journals carried the season announce75



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ment of the Concerts Colonne, a solid program that included all nine symphonies of Beethoven, Schumann’s Manfred, Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Gustave Charpentier’s La Vie de poète, Franck’s Rédemption, the Berlioz Requiem, and La Damnation de Faust. It was a challenging season and was supported by a subvention of 15,000 francs from the Ministry of Public Instruction and Fine Arts. The Lamoureux Orchestra, under Camille Chevillard, received an equal amount, each more than seven times that of the SMIV. In return for this sum, each orchestra was obligated to give a certain number of unpublished symphonic, choral, or lyric works by French composers totaling no less than three hours in duration. Among the sixteen new works that made their debut that season were Pierné’s La croisade des enfants, Raoul Brunel’s Circé, Fauré’s Clair de lune, Koechlin’s Étude symphonique, and Enesco’s Suite for orchestra.68 Rehearsals began on October 8 and the season officially opened eight days later at the Châtelet with an all-Franck program, on the occasion of the dedication of a monument to the composer. A month later, Barrère was featured in two performances of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and in the spring he played the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto, with pianist Louis Diémer and violinist Firmin Touche, a performance described by Le Ménestrel as “a pure marvel.”69 It was a glowing affirmation of the public’s growing appreciation of Bach. The tenth anniversary of the Société Moderne was cause for celebration, and its young players obliged with a commemorative brochure that trumpeted its qualitative and quantitative accomplishments. Full of endorsements from the leading musicians of the day—among them Saint-Saëns, Pierné, Dubois, Alfred Bruneau, Massenet, Fauré, and Widor — it also had statistics about its repertoire (14 works by six classic composers; 128 works by sixty-three modern composers) and a breakdown by nationality of the composers. Alas, it listed neither those composers’ names nor their works. Since 1896, the Société had given premieres of 61 works, most composed specially for it.70 (Taffanel’s original group had given premieres of only 26 works in fourteen years.) Now, with the official endorsement of a government subvention, the Société Moderne was becoming known in fashionable circles. In March it played at one of the Saturday salons of Étienne Dujardin-Beaumetz, the undersecretary of state for fine arts, considered one of the most brilliant and most soughtafter salons of the Paris artistic world.71 The first public concert of the season took place on February 1, 1905, at the Salle des Agriculteurs. Le Monde Musical allowed that “after such a magnificent effort and in view of the success that has come to reward such labor, it seems that this valiant Société has earned the right to rest a little and to live on its repertoire.” But the players were, as the critic indicated, young, enthusiastic, and adventurous, and so their opening program included three more premieres: a quintet by Vladimir Dyck, a Ukrainian-born



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1904 Conservatoire graduate who would go on to win the second Prix de Rome in 1911; two songs by Gaubert; and the Sextuor, op. 271, of Carl Reinecke. The second concert, on March 1, announced still more first hearings: what was billed as the first French performance of the Serenade for fifteen wind instruments by the German pianist Walther Lampe, who conducted, and Trois pièces brèves for seven winds by Jean-Baptiste Ganaye, an 1899 Conservatoire graduate.72 The Lampe was not, in fact, a first hearing: the Taffanel society had performed it on February 23 (also with Lampe conducting and with the same second oboist, Paul Brun), an occasion that gave the critics the opportunity to compare the two groups. First was the matter of personnel; the Société de Musique de Chambre drew nearly all of its members from the Société des Concerts; the Société Moderne drew its from the Colonne Orchestra. The former group had a more classic repertoire, the Société Moderne a more adventurous one; the former gave hour-and-a-half afternoon concerts, the latter’s spanned three hours in the evening. But the critics applauded their spirit of mutual endeavor, citing the fact that Barrère’s group played Gaubert’s works. “This rivalry between artists of the first rank is one of the rarest and is worth being cited as an example of good fellowship.”73 On March 28, the Société Moderne had a veritable triumph with the premieres of Léon Moreau’s Nocturne for double quintet and Reynaldo Hahn’s Le Bal de Béatrice d’Este for fourteen instruments. Though it was not true chamber music, nor uniquely suited to a woodwind ensemble, said Le Monde Musical, “Hahn excels at these pastiches of old music where he mixes with infinite tact a strong aroma of modernism.” The very full program also included Charles Lefebvre’s Suite, op. 57; Brahms’s First Clarinet Sonata; a sextet by Coedès-Mongin; songs by Patrice Devanchy, who was at the keyboard; and extracts from the Suite gauloise of Théodore Gouvy. In sum, “The success of this concert was dazzling: an enormous crowd, recalls, encores, nothing was wanting.”74 But a young man on the rise could always want more.

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1905: Enter Walter Damrosch

W

alter Damrosch, the music director of the New York Symphony, could not have come from a background more different from Barrère’s. Born in Germany, the son of musical parents, he grew up in an atmosphere of high culture. But as an entrepreneur, the ambitious Damrosch was every bit Barrère’s equal, and despite Wagnerian leanings he was also a Francophile. In late April 1905 he arrived in Paris on a mission. Walter Damrosch had been raised in the thoroughly German musical tradition of his father, Leopold, who had emigrated to America and founded the New York Oratorio Society and the Damrosch Symphony, which became the New York Symphony Society in 1878. After his father’s death in 1885, Walter, then only twenty-three, had inherited the conductor’s mantle at both the Oratorio Society and the Symphony. The orchestra had a modest six-concert New York season and was also the pit orchestra for the German season at the Metropolitan Opera. Leopold was succeeded at the Met by Anton Seidl, and Walter continued there as assistant conductor. But after seven years the Met abandoned the German repertory in favor of French and Italian works. Walter had in any case decided to leave the Met and took the orchestra with him.1 At the time of Leopold’s death, the United States claimed only three regular resident orchestras: the New York Symphony, the New York Philharmonic, and the Boston Symphony, plus the itinerant Theodore Thomas Orchestra. Founded in 1842, the Philharmonic was the oldest, but far from the powerhouse it would become in the twentieth century. A cooperative organization, it was run by the musicians themselves, who hired the conductor. Nevertheless,



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its members were not particularly loyal to it, frequently sending substitutes. It gave only six concerts a season, and since 1877 had been under the baton of Theodore Thomas.2 The Boston Symphony, by contrast, was strong and stable; thanks to the generosity of Henry Lee Higginson, who guaranteed $50,000 a year, it paid its musicians weekly salaries for a thirty-week season, had daily rehearsals, and thus qualified as the first “permanent” symphony orchestra in the country. This was Damrosch’s model for the New York Symphony, and he set about establishing two regular concert series in New York, a two-month series in Madison Square Garden, and a series of nationwide tours to provide his men with steady employment.3 He raised a guarantee fund of $50,000 from eleven subscribers, among them William K. Vanderbilt, J. Pierpont Morgan, and Andrew Carnegie. And he convinced the latter to provide most of the financing for a new Music Hall at the corner of Seventh Avenue and 57th Street to house both the Symphony and the Oratorio Society. The building opened in 1891 with Tchaikovsky as guest conductor and soon became known as Carnegie Hall. The odds were somewhat against Damrosch; Musical Courier predicted dourly in 1891, “Nobody expects that musically the permanent orchestra will be a success, for as everyone knows young Damrosch will conduct that permanent orchestra, and as everyone also knows young Mr. Damrosch is a permanently bad conductor.”4 Moreover there was the threat of renewed competition from the New York Philharmonic. In the spring of 1891, a frustrated Theodore Thomas left the Philharmonic and took up the baton of the newly formed Chicago Symphony Orchestra. He was succeeded by Anton Seidl, a more talented conductor than Walter Damrosch, who now attempted to overtake Damrosch in the orchestral arena, as he had at the opera. Indeed, with its longer tradition and the better conductor, the Philharmonic began to improve in quality and popularity. In 1895 Walter founded the Damrosch Opera Company, which provided additional employment for his musicians: “This enabled me to maintain a beautifully trained orchestra for the Wagner operas, but also gave to my symphony performances a greater finish. The orchestra was now under my exclusive control and could rehearse as often as the endowed orchestra of Colonel Higginson.”5 However, the necessity of touring and the exhaustion of the guarantee fund compelled him in 1898 to abandon the regular orchestral subscription concerts in New York. In the meantime, the Philharmonic was having its own problems. Seidl died suddenly in 1898, and his successor, Emil Paur, did not have great success. Ticket sales declined, the membership roster of the cooperative shrank, and the musicians’ attendance was even worse. For the 1902–03 season the Philharmonic invited Damrosch to take the podium of the orchestra that had been his rival, but he too failed to win over the musicians.6 79



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Instead, Damrosch renewed his commitment to the dormant New York Symphony, now a touring band of only fifty players, with neither audience nor backers in New York. In the spring of 1903, he resolved to reorganize his orchestra on the Boston model, with a permanent roster and daily rehearsals.7 New directors were elected, and the theatrical producer Daniel Frohman became president. Considerable support came from the Seligman family of investment bankers and from the music publisher Rudolph Schirmer. But by far the most important single board member would be Harry Harkness Flagler, heir to a fortune based on Florida real estate development and a major interest in the Standard Oil Trust, who followed Damrosch from the Philharmonic to the Symphony. By August 1903 the Symphony Society announced that it would again play for the Oratorio Society and the Symphony Concerts for Young People, the latter conducted by Walter’s older brother Frank. In addition, it would offer a fiveconcert subscription series on Sunday afternoons (an apparent violation of the “blue laws” that prohibited “entertainments of the stage” on Sundays). The following year, the Symphony added a sixth concert to its series and gave the American premiere of the Mahler Symphony No. 4. Improving the quality of the personnel was a key goal. In 1903, the New York Times reported, “[The] strings have muscularity but little sensuous charm; the brasses are sometimes rude, and the woodwinds — alas the woodwinds showed the inevitable tendency to play out of tune.”8 Damrosch did not disagree and set his sights on matching Higginson and Boston. He recalled many years later, “My strings and brasses were just as good as his, but his woodwind players were better than mine. He brought them over from France, while I was compelled to take my men from our New York Union, who at that time could not compete with the French players.”9 At that time, the Musical Mutual Protective Union (MMPU), which was almost entirely German, required conductors to hire from the local union ranks; if there was no one satisfactory, they could hire from other locals. But foreigners were strictly ineligible to play in orchestras (they were allowed as soloists) until they became union members. Although German himself, Damrosch had never been enamored of German woodwind players. After hearing the first performance of Parsifal, he observed, “The strings of the Bayreuth orchestra were noble and rich in tone, but I was disturbed by many inaccuracies and false intonations of the wind choir, which surprised me.” Damrosch preferred that his brass players be Germans and his string players Russian or Polish Jews, but, he wrote, “I have always had a penchant for French wood-wind players, and have given them and their Belgian cousins a preference in my orchestra.”10 In fact, in 1903 he had hired Charles Molé, trained by Altès at the Paris Conservatoire and a former mem-



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ber of the Boston Symphony, as first flute. Alas, Molé died in January 1905, and the principal flute desk was again vacant.11 To Damrosch, the solution was clear: defy the union and go to France in search of five French wind players. “Generally speaking ,” he wrote, “a conductor can safely engage a first prize from the Paris Conservatoire in flute, oboe, or bassoon without giving him any further examination.” He arrived in Paris in early April and took a room at the Hôtel de France et Choiseul on the rue St. Honoré. There is no evidence that he sought advice in advance, but when he arrived he was fortunate to find an old friend, the violinist and composer Charles Martin Loeffler.12 Damrosch’s arrival created quite an uproar. Bassoonist Auguste Mesnard recalled that when he returned from a tour of Spain and Portugal, all the orchestra musicians “were in a state of excitement. Like a trail of powder the news spread that the American orchestra conductor Walter Damrosch had arrived in Paris to engage wind instruments.” According to Mesnard, he held open auditions and the musicians of Paris began to dream of making their fortunes in America, still believing in “the legend of golden dollars, eager for the promised land.” Mesnard professed himself to be the only man unmoved. But curiosity prevailed over his desire to remain in France. When Damrosch offered him a three-year contract immediately after his audition, he wrote, “I fell into the trap.”13 More important than the open auditions, perhaps, were the contacts that Damrosch made at the Conservatoire. Through oboe professor Georges Gillet he found his new second oboist, Marcel Tabuteau, and through Taffanel he found Barrère.14 (It was later rumored in Paris that Damrosch first offered the post to Gaubert, who turned it down because of his conducting and composing prospects.)15 Loeffler served as translator in their several interviews—Barrère spoke no English and Damrosch, though quite fluent in French, did not trust himself—and Barrère credited Loeffler with his decision to emigrate. For all of the potential émigrés, the decision about whether to leave Paris was a complicated one. Barrère, principal at the Colonne, a member of the Opéra, a busy teacher, and director of the Société Moderne, was surely successful — but he was also at the mercy of the system. At the Opéra, he was fourth flute, and improving his status there would require the death or departure of the other three flutists. Hennebains at the time was forty-two years old, Lafleurance forty, and Gaubert three years younger than Barrère. “My three colleagues are young and healthy,” he explained with the sober analysis of an actuary. “My only chance would be that the opera house would burn down during an evening where all three would be playing and I would be off that same night. Truly, I cannot bank much on such a chance.” Moreover, it seems likely that Gaubert’s ascendancy must have rankled him; although Gaubert had just

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become assistant conductor of the Société des Concerts, Barrère had no way of knowing that he would eventually trade the flute for the baton.16 On the other hand, going to America was a gamble: “To many of my conservative colleagues my acceptance seemed utter folly.”17 But he had a solution. On April 18, he wrote to Damrosch, “I’ve reflected a great deal this evening on the proposals that you have made me, and on the opportunity that there will be for me if I emigrate. I have, certainly, a great desire to tempt adventure, but I cannot do it except with an absolute certitude that I am not abandoning the situation that I’ve acquired through my patience and my labor. As a consequence, I am making you a proposal that may surprise you by its demands, but I ask you to excuse me for confessing it. You understand my intentions as well as my duties.” Barrère asked that he be engaged for a one-year trial period, with a guarantee of 10,000 francs ($2,000) a year, and that Damrosch pay the firstclass fares for himself and his wife and his membership dues in the American musicians’ union. “Excuse these brutal numbers, but in the manner of the Americans, I want to be categorical,” he wrote. At the end of the trial year, Barrère proposed, “we will see if I have rendered the services you expected, and . . . if the position and the life of an artist in New York are compatible with my temperament and my needs.” Barrère knew that he was negotiating from a position of strength and demanded a speedy answer.18 The conductor assented, and on May 2 Damrosch, on behalf of the New York Symphony Orchestra Fund Committee, and Barrère signed a contract that had been drafted by the Paris law firm of Valois, Hyde & Harper. Barrère would serve as “flute and teacher of flute” for one year beginning on May 20. (The Symphony Society Fund in turn signed an agreement with the new Institute of Musical Art for his services as teacher.) He would be guaranteed a minimum of $2,000 a year, paid in weekly installments of $38.46. In return, Barrère agreed to “play in orchestral concerts, chamber music concerts and concerts of every kind, public or private, whenever or wherever required by the party of the first part, to give lessons on the flute, provided, however, that the number of appearances of the party of the second part shall not exceed in value the yearly compensation mentioned above, and this shall be determined according to the following scale of prices: For a single concert, $8.00 For a weekly engagement in Summer, $30.00 (twice a day); in winter $35.00 (eight times a week) For hotel expenses for out of town single concert engagements per day, $1.50 For hotel expenses for out of town weekly concert engagements per week, $10.00.



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If the engagements amounted to more than $2,000 worth, he would be paid the balance according to the same scale. Barrère agreed “not to accept any other engagements as Flute and teacher, nor play in other concerts or exhibitions of instrumental music either in public or private without the permission of the party of the first part.” The contract noted that it would not become effective until Barrère had become a member of the New York musicians’ union. The Symphony retained the right to renew the contract for two years, providing that Barrère did not declare his intention before February 1 of wishing to return to Europe, but he was forbidden to accept any other engagement in the United States.19 As a safeguard, Barrère did not resign his positions at the Opéra and the Colonne, but instead requested a leave of absence from each. “At the former I had a hard time but again Taffanel helped me by interceding in my behalf with Gailhard and Capoul, the directors, who seemed to think that the absence of their regular piccolo-player would cause a drop in the receipts of the house. However, with Taffanel’s assistance I secured a temporary release. It was somewhat easier to arrange matters at the Colonne Orchestra, being a member of the Committee I voted ‘Yes’ to my own request.”20 Damrosch achieved his goal of finding “five Frenchmen.” As second oboe of the New York Symphony he engaged the promising Marcel Tabuteau, then age seventeen. Only a year out of the Conservatoire but “already full of talent,” in the words of Mesnard, he was at that time playing at the Théâtre des Variétés and was an active freelancer. The new clarinetist would be Henry Léon Leroy, who had earned his first prize at the Conservatoire in 1897 and was then a member of the elite band of the Garde Républicaine. Auguste Mesnard, also a first prize winner in 1897, was a bassoonist with the Lamoureux Orchestra and the Théâtre de la Gaité. Trumpeter Adolphe Dubois played at the Théâtre de la Monnaie in Brussels. On May 3 Charles Martin Loeffler reported to his fiancée, Elise Fay, that Damrosch had left for New York, his mission accomplished. “Damrosch went off with the contracts of 4 [sic] Frenchmen in his pocket. They will follow him in a week to New York. He does not and cannot make generous contracts like Higginson and I tell you they have to work for the money. Their average salary per annum is 8,000 francs.” Of the five, Barrère had negotiated the best deal: an annual salary of $2,000 versus $1,400 each for Dubois, Leroy, and Mesnard and $1,200 for Tabuteau.21 Before he left Paris, Barrère fulfilled his responsibilities to the Colonne with a gala performance at the Trocadéro on May 4. The concert was one of four Grands Festivals Populaires held at that cavernous arena, and for the last time Barrère shared the spotlight with Sarasate. His solo vehicle, three movements from the Bach Suite in B Minor, does not seem the most appropriate 83



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choice for such a hall, whose acoustics were more fitting for its enormous Cavaillé-Coll concert organ, but the audience nevertheless demanded a repetition.22 It was a fitting capstone to his career in France. The next night Barrère boarded a midnight train at the Gare St. Lazare, a few blocks from his home on the rue de Londres, bound for Le Havre. From there he would make the week-long sailing on the French Line’s La Savoie to New York, where he had reserved a room at the Hotel May at 50 West 28th Street.23 With him were two others of the Damrosch five: Dubois and Tabuteau.24 Leroy would follow on La Lorraine on May 27 and Mesnard on La Bretagne on October 8.25 La Savoie arrived in New York on Saturday, May 13. Barrère recalled in his autobiography: Before docking, I saw the great downtown sky scrapers on that grey, cloudy morning and watched the busy traffic of the harbor with its noisy ferry boats and important little tugs snorting about, and suddenly, I began to feel myself very small and distressingly unknown in all the pandemonium. I began to regret leaving Paris and all the dear friends there, to say nothing of my work. I felt they would be utterly withdrawn from my life and I must now deal with strange people, new customs, wrestle with the English language, and in short enter into an entirely new element. This state of mind did not last long. The very next day I walked about New York as in my own home town. I must confess I walked all the time being afraid to use street cars whose strange signs meant nothing to me. I knew New York topography, however, having studied the map assiduously while crossing, so was quite sure when I was on 23rd Street, I was between 22nd and 24th, thus showing my great intelligence. I began to study English at once and would not go to bed without having learned the names of the days of the week, months of the year, numbers, or any other lesson which I had set myself to master.26 The immediate challenge, however, was not homesickness or the language barrier, but the musicians’ union. It was a predictable obstacle. The situation in New York was emblematic of American labor in general, which opposed immigration as a source of competition to workers already in the United States. (The union members apparently ignored the fact that they, too, were for the most part immigrants.) The American Federation of Labor had supported immigration quotas, and Congress in 1885 had passed the Alien Contract Labor Law, forbidding Americans from importing foreigners to work in the United States. Although the attorney general had ruled that this law did not apply to musicians because they were artists or professionals, not laborers, the musicians’



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union found its own methods to carry out the spirit of the law. It imposed strict penalties on anyone who hired alien musicians: such employers were placed on an “unfair list” and union members could not work for them. Moreover, musicians contracted abroad were banned from joining the union for six months, and membership was limited to U.S. citizens or people who had submitted their first papers for naturalization.27 Conflict with the union was nothing new to Damrosch; twice before he had hired non-union players and had nearly been expelled from the MMPU for his actions. He had managed to get the union to waive the rule in the case of the Russian violinist Adolph Brodsky in 1891. But in 1893, when he had tried to hire the Danish cellist Anton Hegner, the orchestra had staged an embarrassing strike, and members of the union angrily accused him of importing “rafts of pauper musicians.” This was the first strike by a regular symphony orchestra in the United States, and significantly, the issue was not wages or working conditions, but job protection, as skilled, full-time professionals like Hegner threatened to take work from less-skilled part-time musicians.28 Now, twelve years later, Damrosch faced off with the union again as the MMPU refused to admit the Frenchmen. The Evening Post wrote, “The gang of monopolists who call themselves the Musical Mutual Protective Union have again put their feet in the trough. These men, most of whom are immigrants from Germany, where, had they remained, they would have earned about onethird as much as they earn here, have devised an ingenious method of preventing other Europeans from coming over and sharing their gains.”29 The New York Sun agreed: “Manifestly the chief aim of this organization is to exclude all imported players, and to compel managers and conductors on this side of the Atlantic to employ only American musicians. The consideration of art is set entirely aside. If the local performer is inferior, that does not concern the union, and the public must hear him whether it wishes to or not. The position of this union and its endeavors to control employers reduce musical performance to the level of bricklaying. It is not at all astonishing that orchestral performers meet with little public sympathy in their contests with their employers.”30 But the Musical Courier, never a Damrosch supporter, published an editorial that defended the union: “The Musical Union here has as competent symphony players as can be found on earth, and all the foreign conductors freely assert this. One reform should be introduced here, and that is that our own language should be substituted for the German language in all discussions and records. As long as our union here deliberates in a foreign tongue its case against foreign musicians loses strength. The time has come to drop the foreign tongue and talk United States.”31 But because the union was now a local of the American Federation of 85



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Musicians, Damrosch had a forum for appeal. As luck would have it, the national convention was meeting that month in Detroit, and Damrosch decided to make his case to the executive board in person. He prepared a careful and logical typewritten brief, which he delivered at the May 17 meeting: The opposition to the admission of these . . . gentlemen comes principally either from persons wishing harm to the New York Symphony Orchestra because they belong to rival organizations, or from those who were not chosen by us for the vacant positions because we did not consider them the right men for the place. I maintain that there are not any musicians to be found in New York among those free to accept engagements who are of such merit as to be able to stand the test of comparison with, for instance, our rival, the Boston Symphony Orchestra. . . . I would be perfectly willing to have this point established by a competitive test among any applicants for the positions of solo flute, solo clarionet [sic], English horn, solo trumpet and solo bassoon. The three “French gentlemen have every right to admittance to our union. They are magnificent players, have passed the examination satisfactorily, and have taken out their first citizenship papers.” (The last phrase was a work of fiction.) “They have not been brought over as ‘pauper musicians’ nor for the purpose of lowering the wages of musicians in this country.” He also pointed out the irony that Barrère was a prominent member of the board of directors of the Paris musicians’ union; his argument would have been even stronger had he noted that Barrère had advocated admitting foreigners to that union as a means of strengthening it. The improvement of the wind section, Damrosch argued, was crucial to the economic future of the New York Symphony. He had lined up large potential subsidies to increase the number of concerts—which would be an economic boon to all the member musicians — and these would be lost if the Frenchmen were rejected. He appealed to the union’s self-interest: “The New York Symphony Orchestra is a union orchestra. It is the most formidable Eastern rival of the Boston Orchestra, which is non-union. Mr. Higginson of Boston and many ladies and gentlemen interested in music in this city have always asserted that a first class symphony orchestra could not be maintained on union lines. If you tie our hands in the matter of these few instruments you will prove that these people are right, while if you enable us to develop an orchestra of highest excellence we will be the strongest battering ram for you to use in storming the Boston fortress.” Damrosch intimated that if he were refused, “[a] storm of indignation against the union would sweep over this city,” a situation that would adversely



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affect the economic well-being of all orchestra musicians. “I am morally certain that such action would lead to the formation of a powerfully backed nonunion symphony orchestra in New York.” Claiming to be in sympathy with the general principles of unions, he claimed that he objected only to the artificial scarcity created by the union, which would do artistic harm without achieving any financial benefit.32 Damrosch later recalled, “My plea was of course violently contested by the New York delegates, and I remember as if it were yesterday, how one of them, German by birth, said, ‘Ve don’t vant to have our pissness spoiled by those foreigners.’ ”33 But the executive board met privately and delegated President Joseph N. Weber to resolve the matter. Damrosch returned to New York and, in the short term, put Barrère on the New York Symphony programs as a soloist, an action authorized by a May 20 telegram from Owen Miller, secretary of the national union, pending the decision of the convention.34 That evening, Barrère made his American debut at one of the spring concerts of the New York Theatre Roof Garden. “I began work in America very low,” he later recalled, “playing first the ‘Madrigal’ by André Wormser which begins with a low C sharp,” and then the Widor Scherzo. From May 24 to June 1, Barrère appeared five more times as soloist, in the Saint-Saëns Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs, Taffanel’s arrangements of Chopin’s Nocturne and Waltz, and works of Godard, Bizet, and Doppler. Damrosch himself accompanied at the piano.35 On behalf of the national union, Joseph Weber issued a written decision: “The claim of Mr. Damrosch that he needs members with symphonic experience, and that such were not available in this country, cannot be accepted as absolutely correct.” It might have been difficult to find them, but not impossible. He concluded that Damrosch had not made sufficient efforts to find AFM members with the necessary qualifications, and fined him $1,000, which Damrosch promptly paid. But the applicants for membership in Local 310 were to be enrolled “without undue delay.” And “Mr. Damrosch must agree that in future, before inducing musicians to come to this country, he will consult with this Organization through its officers, so as to avoid such embarrassing circumstances as have developed in this instance.”36 Damrosch’s board supported him completely, and on June 1, NYSO secretary Richard Welling noted in his diary that “Schirmer, Welling & Park approve of his action and congratulate him on securing the services of the five valued foreign players.”37 Charles Martin Loeffler was disgusted. “Vive la liberté! What a joke! Ours is a beautiful but not a free country,” he wrote to Damrosch.38 Barrère, as was his wont, not only took the incident in stride but saw its positive aspect: “The third week everything was fixed and I took my seat in the orchestra. . . . These solo appearances and the union difficulties had made a celebrity of me at once.”39 87






The World of the Damrosch Brothers, 1905–09

O

n June 3, 1905, Michelette Barrère, then twenty-three years old, boarded La Savoie at Le Havre, bound for New York City. Though she had yet to make her operatic debut, the aspiring singer was listed in the manifest as a professor of music, en route to join her husband.1 After the ship docked on June 10, however, she had little time to settle into her new home. One week later, Barrère became a barnstormer in the great Damrosch tradition: the orchestra was installed at Ravinia Park in the Chicago suburbs for a six-week engagement, playing afternoon and evening concerts daily. Michelette, too, went on tour, and within a month the couple had conceived their first son. Located in Highland Park, on the North Shore, Ravinia was the invention of the Chicago and Milwaukee Electric Railway, built to encourage use of its new line. Opened the year before with a baseball diamond, theater, dining halls, and dance floor, Ravinia boasted a 1,420-seat open-air pavilion built to Damrosch’s specifications. Although the Chicago Symphony was well established as a winter orchestra, the New York Symphony would be a summer fixture at Ravinia until 1910. Damrosch certainly knew how to please an audience, using a variety of implements from his entertainer’s toolbox. For sophistication, he scheduled twelve solo appearances by his dashing new solo flutist, fresh off the boat from France. For drama, he closed the season with the Haydn Farewell Symphony, each musician extinguishing his candle as he left the stage. For nostalgia, he then turned the lights back on, and the audience sang along in “Auld Lang Syne.”2 At the end of July, the New York Symphony decamped for its next en-



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gagement, at Willow Grove Park outside Philadelphia. This venue, too, was the creation of a trolley company, in this case the Rapid Transit Company. The park opened in 1896 with a military band as the main musical attraction, which was not a great success, and the management invited the Damrosch orchestra to take over the entertainment the following season. Damrosch recalled, “I began by giving them popular programmes of good music with a regular symphony night every Monday and a Wagner programme every Friday evening , with excellent results. Our audiences usually numbered from fifteen to twenty thousand.” (Theodore Thomas had adopted a similar strategy for his concerts in New York and for his “midsummer nights” in Chicago.)3 Barrère appeared seven times as soloist before the orchestra moved on to yet another festival, the Pittsburgh Exposition, where he was a soloist three more times. The summer finally over, the orchestra returned to New York. Though he was thousands of miles from home, Barrère’s energy was undiminished by his new surroundings. In October, before the Symphony season began, he went on the road with soprano Emma Calvé, substituting for his old friend Louis Fleury, Calvé’s regular tour flutist; Fleury was back in France fulfilling engagements with the Société Moderne, where he had succeeded Barrère as flutist and director. Fleury himself spent five months in the United States and reported back to the Chambre Syndicale on the organization and activities of the American musicians’ unions.4 He gave a glowing account, for example, of the new headquarters of the New York local, which numbered 4,500 members: it was centrally located (in the German-dominated Yorkville neighborhood) and had six floors, an immense main hall, where the musicians carried out their daily transactions, a vast basement with bar and restaurant, offices for the elected officials, a theater, a roof garden, and “all the American commodities: elevators, telephones, washstands, etc,” all at a cost of $300,000.5 Barrère was, of course, now a member of the union in good standing. In the meantime, Walter Damrosch proudly announced the forthcoming season of his re-formed New York Symphony: “The orchestra of 90, comprising the best players of New York, has been further strengthened by the addition of the following artists: Mons. George Barrère, first flute at the Colonne concerts and at the opera in Paris; . . . Tabuteau, Dubois, Leroy, [and] Mesnard.”6 The press took note that Mesnard was the first French bassoonist to join a New York orchestra. “The tone of the French bassoon differs materially from the German,” explained Musical Courier: It is more “wood” and resonant, and according to Mr. Damrosch, amalgamates better with the other instruments of the woodwind choir. The arrival of these French musicians in New York has created a great stir among local orchestra musicians. While some of them looked 89



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on it as an invasion of their rights as older residents who had held the field, many of the better local musicians have shown their good sense by calling on the Frenchmen and asking them to demonstrate their technic [sic] and school, and to show wherein these differ from the German. New York has had some notable exponents of the German school of woodwind players in the past, but it seems to be generally accepted now that the French school is superior.7 Indeed, the silver flute championed by Barrère would soon become dominant; American oboists would take Tabuteau as their prophet; the French clarinet was firmly entrenched almost everywhere; and only the French bassoon would fail to supersede its German rival. Barrère and Leroy were at the dock when the last of the “five Frenchmen,” Auguste Mesnard, arrived with his wife and son on October 8. Mesnard later recalled, “The first already affected an American air; whereas the other seemed jealous. It’s very French.” Barrère had arranged for a room for the Mesnards in a French-Swiss boardinghouse on 28th Street, and he escorted the family on the trolley. Mesnard’s first impression of New York was not positive: “On leaving the dock in this flat city I thought I’d been transported into the poor quarters of London. It was ugly, sad, deserted, because it was Sunday and everything was closed. A troupe of men and women of the Salvation Army sang hymns, which contributed to the sadness. It was the first music I heard in the United States, and remains engraved in my memory.” But for Mesnard, as for Barrère, New York represented hope for a more prosperous life and a place where his Paris Conservatoire training would be needed and appreciated: “Damrosch was a perfect gentleman and I believed we would be well treated.”8 Barrère attempted to assist Damrosch in recruiting even more French talent. In September he wrote to the conductor that although Pruvot, the French percussionist Damrosch had hoped to hire, was gravely ill, Barrère knew another (unnamed) Frenchman who could come—and, as a bonus, could serve at the same time as third or fourth flute. At the same time, Barrère helped Damrosch to get some unauthorized copyist’s parts for a piece of French music via his friend Louis C. Perret, editor in chief of Courrier de l’Orchestre, the Paris union newspaper.9 Whatever they thought of the city, the Frenchmen would have no trouble adjusting to the NYSO’s repertoire, which, like that of the Paris orchestras, was a mixture of French and German works. Moreover, the soloists brought a touch of home. Bach’s Suite in B Minor and Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun would give Barrère solo exposure; the New York premieres of d’Indy’s Symphony on a French Mountain Air, with Raoul Pugno, Barrère’s Conserva-



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toire harmony teacher, as piano soloist, and a Beethoven trio for oboe, clarinet, and English horn would provide novelties. Tuesday, October 31, was not only Barrère’s twenty-ninth birthday, but also the official opening for what would become one of the most important musical institutions in New York: the Institute of Musical Art. The Institute was the brainchild of Walter Damrosch’s older brother Frank, already an accomplished choral conductor and educator, the supervisor of music for the New York public schools, and conductor of the Oratorio Society of New York. Frank had raised a $500,000 endowment from the investment banker and amateur cellist James Loeb as well as pledges from numerous other trustees. Housed in the former James Lenox mansion at Fifth Avenue and 12th Street, remodeled to accommodate a 300-seat recital hall as well as classroom space, it was a school in the grand style. On opening day it enrolled 250 students, a number that rose to 350 within a month and to 467 by the end of the year.10 The Institute, said Damrosch in an interview with Musical America, was to be a thoroughly American school of music: “We are a school and not a college of music. . . . we do not use the methods employed in conservatories of music, but prefer individual instruction. Our classes are not made up as at the Paris Conservatoire, where each pupil receives, say, ten minutes of the two hours allotted to the entire class. Instead of that, each and every pupil receives a half-hour lesson. However, the course is laid out just as in a university—the pupil has to take certain prescribed subjects, and cannot dictate to his teachers in regard to his work.”11 The faculty, however, was anything but American — a fact representative of New York musicians as a whole. It was also a public relations gesture, as Damrosch’s financial backer, James Loeb, instructed him in April: “I think it would be very desirable if you could determine on some of the heads of departments & open negotiations with them — this applies particularly to such as may be brought over from Europe. The School needs a big very big foreign name to give it a proper send-off.”12 In the spring, Frank Damrosch followed his brother to Paris to recruit professors for his school. Le Monde Musical reported with disdain that he had offered 20,000 francs a year—more than ten times what Louis Diémer and his Paris Conservatoire colleagues earned — to a young graduate of the Conservatoire. But, the journal reported with a whiff of anti-Americanism often to be heard in the succeeding century: “The young virtuoso turned down this unexpected position because he did not want to leave Paris. Dollars do not always carry the day.”13 The Symphony’s “five Frenchmen” were obligated by their orchestral contracts to teach at the Institute, but Frank Damrosch also recruited other foreigners: Alfred Giraudet, Etelka Gerster, and Georg Henschel to teach voice,

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Sigismund Stojowski and Percy Goetschius for piano and theory. The Kneisel Quartet was lured from Boston to teach the strings, the German-born Victor Louis Saar hired for theory and composition. A New York Sun editorial observed, “Hitherto it has been the custom of students of music to go to Europe to place themselves under the instruction of world famous teachers and to saturate themselves in that artistic atmosphere which is believed to exist only on the Continent. It seems to be Mr. Damrosch’s purpose to import a number of renowned instructors and thus obviate the necessity for students to go abroad. It has always been a pet theory with local musicians that when the foreign celebrity settled in America he quickly lost the glamour through which he was viewed from this side of the ocean to the other. It remains to be seen whether American aspirants for musical learning will hasten to throw themselves at the feet of the imported teachers to whose personalities distance will no longer lend enchantment. If Mr. Damrosch’s experiment is successful, music study will be made much less expensive and more practicable.”14 The experiment was indeed successful, and the Institute soon eclipsed its local competitors, notably the New York College of Music (founded 1878) and the National Conservatory of Music (founded 1885 and best known for Dvorˇák’s directorship in the mid-1890s). The latter followed the Paris Conservatoire model, though its flute teacher, like others in the city, was a German American, Otto Oesterle. Elsewhere in the country, there were only a few conservatories functioning: Oberlin (founded in 1865); Boston, New England, and Cincinnati (all 1867); and Peabody in Baltimore (1868).15 But with Frank Damrosch’s contacts and intense dedication, the Institute became the first truly world-class music school in the United States. By the end of the first school year the Institute had 467 students, almost double the figure at its opening , each of whom paid $165 in annual tuition.16 Frank Damrosch personally auditioned each student and assigned (and if necessary reassigned) his teacher: “some teachers are particularly good in training a pupil technically, while others excel in matters of phrasing and interpretation. . . . there is no individual glory for the teacher in our institution. We make everybody work together for the welfare of the pupil. . . . Each teacher is a specialist; we have no junior teachers.”17 Barrère, as head of the woodwind department, was at age twenty-nine no longer a junior. And his teaching schedule was soon well in excess of the required hours. For the 1906–07 school year, he was obligated by his New York Symphony contract to teach 66 2/3 hours, but he actually taught 120, 30 each to John Fabrizio (a future member of the Philharmonic), Homer Honeyman, Adolph Muhlenthaler, and Frederick Lewis White. Several of his colleagues, on the other hand, were under quota, and the net result, the Institute accountant informed the Symphony, was that “you are in our debt.”18



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In January 1906, the New York Symphony took to the road for a two-week tour that included Boston, Detroit, Louisville, Minneapolis, Chicago, and Toronto. Tours like this, combined with the two-concert-a-day summer festivals, gave the orchestra a total of 300 concerts a year, six times its record three years earlier. They served several purposes, providing many of the orchestra’s ninety-five musicians with nearly year-round employment and also enhancing the cohesiveness and overall quality of the ensemble. When the orchestra had played in Chicago in 1905 under Felix Weingartner, it was not terribly well received. But in 1906, under Damrosch, the Chicago Examiner critic declared that it “surpassed the orchestras of Pittsburgh and Cincinnati . . . [and] fairly challenges comparison with the two greatest orchestras of the country—our own and that of Boston.”19 The tours also helped the player-teachers to recruit students for the Institute of Musical Art. The NYSO tours also offered the citizens of the United States access to classical music that was otherwise unavailable. For Damrosch, as for Theodore Thomas before him, orchestra tours were a sort of mission, his goal to evangelize for symphonic music in the benighted cities of the provinces, bringing them the cultural sophistication of Europe and making the New York Symphony the best-known orchestra in the country. It was an enterprise that he relished. Winthrop Sargeant, a backstand violinist in the New York Symphony before becoming a critic for the New Yorker, recalled, “Damrosch was an inveterate trouper, a sort of symphonic Buffalo Bill. His orchestra lived a good deal of its life in Pullman berths, and trudged through blizzards and desert heat to bring the gospel of symphonic music to places that, in those preradio days, had never heard of it.” Damrosch was in his element, and his enthusiasm engendered a certain bond among the musicians: “the restlessness, the clannishness and the lonely exhibitionism of circus folk.”20 Perhaps Barrère’s boyhood dream of joining the circus was at last coming true. In the meantime, Barrère took another step toward recreating his Paris world in New York. In December 1905, it was announced, Walter Damrosch would form the New York Symphony Wind Instrument Club, an organization modeled on Barrère’s Société Moderne. Barrère, of course, would be leader and first flute.21 It was perhaps no coincidence that the announcement followed by little more than a week what was described (incorrectly) as the formal New York debut of the Longy Club, a similar organization started in Boston five years earlier by Boston Symphony oboist Georges Longy, who had played in the Mimart/Gaubert group in Paris.22 The Longy Club’s members were all members of the Boston Symphony, including flutists André and Daniel Maquarre (Barrère’s Conservatoire classmates). The fact that Barrère was a Damrosch favorite did not sit well with some of the old-timers in the New York Symphony, notably first oboist Cesare Ad93



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dimando. In early February 1906, the oboist wrote to his conductor: “I am sorry to inform you that I cannot belong to the Wind Instrument Club. . . . In the beginning I was enthusiastic at the idea of a Wind Instrument Club but now . . . you want to impose upon me to play under the leadership of a man whose swelled headed behavior has more than surprised me, and has turned all my enthusiasm to utter disgust. With this feeling toward a Conductor it would be hard to play for him even if I were being well payed [sic] but to be his lackey free of charge is utterly impossible for me to do.”23 Damrosch wrote back the next day with calculation and diplomacy: I have received your letter of Feb. 7, and I confess that I am somewhat surprised at its contents, as I know you to be a man of your word and your contract distinctly provides for chamber music concerts whenever called upon by me. For the present, it is my intention to give a few concerts with these ten wind instrument players for the New York Symphony Orchestra Committee, because I consider that concerts and rehearsals of this kind will greatly help to improve the ensemble. I certainly should not think that you were acting with great consideration for me if you should refuse to remain a member of an organization, all of whom are fellow members of the same orchestra and who will profit materially in a financial way from the organization as there is a fine field for a club of this character in New York. Your opinion of Mr. Barrère is an absolutely mistaken one, as you will find out when you get to know him better. He is, like yourself, a fine artist, and I have always found him modest and well bred. There is no idea of your being his “lackey” or playing for him free of charge. I must therefore for the present ask you to attend the rehearsals called for the above purpose; which rehearsals, by the way, are and will be under my personal supervision. You will then be better able to judge than at present of Mr. Barrère’s qualities and personal characteristics.24 Addimando did as he was instructed, and the group made its debut on March 7, 1906, at a private party arranged by Damrosch’s good friend Rudoph Schirmer. The program was ambitious, to say the least; opening with a Beethoven Rondino for eight winds and a Schubert Menuet for nine, followed by a Beethoven Trio for oboe, clarinet, and English horn. Then came the Gounod Petite Symphonie, flute solos by Gluck and Bach, the Pierné Pastorale e fughetta, and one movement of Caplet’s Suite persane. Barrère later recalled, “The program was too long for American audiences as I found out later.”25 By November, the group was in need of professional management, and Damrosch sent a letter of reference on its behalf to three New York managers, Henry Wolfson, J. E. Francke, and Loudon Charlton.26 The group, now re-



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duced to a woodwind quintet, consisted of Barrère, Addimando, Leroy, Mesnard, and hornist Hermann Hand (formerly of the Vienna Opera). Charlton took them on and published a brochure entitled The New York Symphony Quintette, George Barrère, Leader. It reprinted an endorsement from SaintSaëns: “In continuing the work of La Société Moderne d’Instruments à vent which you so successfully founded in Paris, you will contribute to the development of Musical Art in America, by introducing to the American public many highly interesting works too little known there. . . . I have no doubt your enterprise will be crowned with success.”27 On April 10, shortly after the club’s debut, the Barrères greeted the arrival of their first son, Claude, who Barrère gratefully named for his mentor Taffanel. But he quickly was on the road again for a three-week orchestra tour, beginning on April 18 in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, and concluding on May 7 in Louisville, Kentucky. To save money, Damrosch felt he could travel without a soloist; the orchestra itself would be “the real drawing card.” But, if the local presenter desired, there was an economical alternative: he could offer Barrère, concertmaster David Mannes, or solo cellist Leo Schulz, for only $50 extra (“with the understanding that this price is to be kept confidential, as the regular price for Mannes or Schulz is $100”).28 As it happened, this was one of the few Damrosch tours in which Barrère never did make a solo appearance. After the spring tour it was back to Willow Grove, where Barrère appeared six times as soloist, then on to Ravinia on June 23 for a six-week stay and fifteen solos, and finally to the Pittsburgh Exposition, with five solos. With the exception of movements from the Bach Suite in B Minor, all of the solo vehicles were short and light — the Chopin Nocturne and Valse; Widor’s Scherzo; Wormser’s Madrigal from L’Enfant Prodigue; Saint-Saëns’s Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs (with Addimando and Leroy). There was even the occasional potboiler: the Anderson Allegro militaire or Bosquet’s The Birds polka, each for two flutes. The pattern would be repeated almost exactly the following year; the festival circuit would become routine. Barrère rented a house in the Philadelphia suburb of Oak Lane and charmed his music-loving neighbors, who remembered him for generations. The orchestra’s 1906–07 season was announced in August: a series of eight Saturday evening concerts in Carnegie Hall, replacing the previous winter’s Tuesday evening series. Musical America complained that there were only three “novelties.”29 The season opened on November 3 and 4 with the estimable Camille Saint-Saëns as soloist, his first appearance in the New York area. This was part of a six-week U.S. tour for the seventy-year-old musician. Damrosch invited Saint-Saëns to play one of his piano concertos and asked him to conduct one of his symphonic poems on the same program; he had already scheduled L’Afrique. Saint-Saëns was gratified to find so many French players in the 95



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American orchestras and so much sympathy for French music on the part of Damrosch and other American conductors. He was impressed by a performance of Pierné’s Children’s Crusade and the works of Franck, and his patriotic nature was affected by the many statues of Lafayette he saw around the country. “The Americans have one quality which touched me greatly; they are not ungrateful; they have not forgotten the part played by France in their independence.” He also enjoyed the creature comforts of America: en suite bathrooms, telephones, and the efficient railroad system.30 However gratifying it may have been to have that reunion with SaintSaëns, Barrère was probably more excited by the program for the second week, when he shared the solo spotlight with Ernestine Schumann-Heink; he contributed three movements from the Bach Suite in B Minor. Musical America judged it “the most satisfactory pair of concerts ever given by the New York Symphony Orchestra. . . . Mr. Barrère deserved the applause accorded him for his artistic performances.”31 The orchestra went on a two-week tour in January 1907, and not long after its return, Damrosch gave Richard Welling, the secretary of the NYSO, his “personal guarantee” that the money to support an orchestra of fifty men at a minimum salary of $1,085 for thirty-one weeks a year “will be found for at least three years to come, and that I consider myself personally responsible for the above.”32 Presumably, however, he would raise the money from his committee. At a meeting of subscribers to the Symphony Orchestra Fund held in midMarch, the committee in charge reported that it had the funds to “give the orchestra the commanding position in New York which its attainments warranted,” and it recommended that the board instruct Damrosch to engage the orchestra on a regular salaried basis. Beginning the following October, it said, the orchestra should have continuous rehearsals and concerts for at least seven months of the year. It announced plans for eight regular Saturday evening concerts and twenty Sunday afternoon concerts beginning in November.33 But before that season could begin, the orchestra had a long haul in front of it: a six-week tour of the Midwest and South that ended May 11 and another engagement at Willow Grove, from May 25 through June 15— where, despite “programs of the usual high-class character,” bad weather kept attendance low. Then it was on to Ravinia, where “[t]he selections chosen for the orchestra by Mr. Damrosch have hit the public taste exactly.” In total, the orchestra logged more than 300 concerts in 1906–07.34 From music for the masses to intimate concerts for the elite, the Barrère ensemble made a quick transition. For the “cottage set” in Bar Harbor, Maine, the quintet performed an August concert at the newly built Temple of Music and Arts. Modeled on an ancient Greek temple, complete with plaster casts of friezes from the Parthenon made in Paris from the sections at the Louvre, the



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classically simple hall was designed to seat 400. The dedication was held in mid-July, with Metropolitan Opera stars Emma Eames and Emilio de Gogorza. The Barrère quintet was scheduled for August 9.35 Barrère owed the engagement to a referral from Damrosch, who had declined an invitation from Dave Morris, chairman of the Temple and secretary of the NYSO, for a thirty-piece Symphony contingent to appear. He charged $300 for the concert—$100 for himself as leader and $50 for each of his colleagues, a substantial sum — but even more, the engagement was an opportunity to cultivate potential backers.36 It was an opportunity he had often, for Damrosch frequently invited the musicians to perform at private musicales for the Symphony’s donors and to attend postconcert parties. Some NYSO musicians felt demeaned by the attempts of Flagler and the other patrons to make them feel welcome at social occasions. When invited to receptions in their honor, “We went with a vague feeling that the silver had been carefully hidden, and instinctively made our way to the kitchen entrance,” Winthrop Sargeant recalled. “We attempted to shake hands with the butler. We tried making other friendly overtures to the servants. But we were quickly put in our place. . . . Damrosch and the ladies would be very polite, . . . and try to draw us out and make us feel like real artists. But it never worked. These were not our people. With the exception of a few worldly-wise figures like Georges Barrère, we didn’t feel like gentlemen at all.” Barrère and the other newly imported Frenchmen were not only flattered by the attention but felt very much at home in the salonlike atmosphere. Mesnard, who had despaired of the menial status of the typical Paris musician, exulted that “America is a democratic country where one is hardly troubled by the differences of class. It suffices that one is polite and well-bred to be admitted in society. In this France is behind.”37 The Symphony program for 1907–08 was ambitious: after an October stand at the Pittsburgh Exposition there were twenty Sunday afternoon and eight or nine Saturday evening subscription concerts at Carnegie Hall and runouts to East Orange, Montclair, and Newark, New Jersey; Brooklyn; Philadelphia; and other neighboring towns. There would be a two-week tour beginning December 31 and an eight-week spring tour to the Far West beginning the day after Easter. Impresario Loudon Charlton termed it a “somewhat unprecedented undertaking ,” noting proudly that it was the only orchestra in New York “which can and does and must meet every day.”38 Unusual, but not unprecedented, was its diverse membership: it comprised men of fourteen nationalities. As Sargeant recalled, “The Philharmonic used to refer to it, patronizingly, as ‘the foreign legion.’” (In the Philharmonic, by comparison, nearly all of the regular members of the cooperative were German, though the ranks of extras were broadening to include French, Italians, and Russian and Central European Jews, who were becoming an increasingly important component of 97



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the city’s musical population.) Perhaps with a small dig at the musicians’ union, its publicity made much of the fact (which was, technically, false) that “they all have become good Americans.”39 Sargeant provided a colorful and no doubt exaggerated description: “The Damrosch orchestra was unquestionably one of the strangest aggregations of human beings ever gathered together for a common purpose. Damrosch seemed to have a positive genius for surrounding himself with the eccentric, bedraggled and homeless fringe of the musical world. . . . He hired members of the French Legion of Honor, unsuccessful composers, ex-wrestlers, down-on-theirluck conductors, gypsy fiddle players, waiters, Ukrainian professors and former Algerian longshoremen with impartiality, and a certain quiet joy in their evident variety and color.” The impression that the orchestra made on the hustings was not subtle: “When this curious collection assembled, dressed in everything from Prince Albert to caftans and shedding a loud babble of assorted languages and dialects, there could be no doubt in the mind of the average American that something very artistic indeed was about to take place.”40 But behind the scenes, the orchestra faced a number of challenges. The first was legal: in December 1907 the New York City Board of Aldermen voted against authorizing an exception to the blue laws that exempted sacred and educational concerts, and one of the Sunday concerts had to be canceled before the ban was lifted. The January tour also had its dramatic moments, not all of them musical. En route from Binghamton, New York, to Montreal, the orchestra’s train stopped for lunch in Saratoga. Ten musicians missed the train, and Damrosch had to charter another, at a cost of $250, to get the derelicts to the concert on time. The Musical America headline read, “$250 to Feed Musicians.” All publicity was good publicity.41 For Barrère, there was even more drama: he became ill while on tour and apparently incurred significant expense (and perhaps loss of salary). Harry Harkness Flagler and other members of the orchestra committee stepped in with a welcome check, which Barrère and Damrosch each acknowledged in his own way. Wrote the conductor, “You are a trump in E flat which is the highest kind of trumpet. Your generosity will not only make Barrère very happy but will tie him closer to the Symphony Society.” Barrère himself wrote, “I think you know how my english language is poor and I regrett [sic] it to-day so I wish to express to you all my thankfulness in better words.”42 Then, at the end of June, Damrosch reported to Richard Welling about some of the “naughty children” in the orchestra. First on the list was Tabuteau, who had accepted an offer from the Metropolitan Opera despite his Symphony contract, which had another year to run. Tabuteau, Damrosch wrote, had intended to accept the offer secretly while continuing to draw his Symphony salary through November. Damrosch found out and told the oboist he would



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hold him to the contract. Tabuteau left anyway. The already cranky Addimando attempted to use the occasion to give two weeks’ notice and then to try to extract an extra $500 a year from Damrosch. But Damrosch was too quick for him: he engaged Albert DeBusscher, “[s]aid to be the finest oboe in the country,” who had come to Cincinnati three years earlier, “and I think we are safe.” At the same time, Damrosch dismissed John Roodenberg , the second flute, because at a concert with soprano Lillian Nordica he had aped her dramatic gestures. “He is furious but we are well rid of him as he is one of the old guard who do not like the new order. I have a splendid Belgian in his place.”43 In the summer of 1908 the orchestra was again at Ravinia for five weeks, after a 212-concert season in New York and on tour. During that period the musicians found chamber music engagements in the nearby Chicago suburbs. In two of those concerts, Barrère shared the stage with his wife, billed as Madam M. B. Barrère, at the Hotel Moraine in Highland Park and at the Schwartz Theater, where the concert was sponsored by the Waukegan Conservatory. Vocal selections by Gounod and Verdi, accompanied by the Symphony men, were supplemented by instrumental chamber works of Saint-Saëns and Weber and flute solos by Boehm, Widor, and Chopin. These joint recitals seem to have been very rare; the Barrères appeared only three more times, in suburban Chicago in 1910 and at a women’s club in the New York suburbs in 1913. The 1908–09 NYSO season began with the Pittsburgh Exposition and a Pennsylvania-Midwest tour before opening in New York itself. One local critic’s reaction to a concert in Cincinnati, in which Barrère was featured in the Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun and the Bach Suite in B Minor, exemplified the musical state of the country: “The solo for the flute was somewhat of an innovation for Cincinnati, but the worth of the composition and the excellent performance of the soloist completely won the audience; the last movement had to be repeated in response to an insistent encore. The rest of the program was familiar to Cincinnati concert goers, excepting the Debussy number, which left the hearers in much doubt as to the meaning of the composition. The local authorities say that the composition is beautiful, but incomprehensible.”44 In New York, by contrast, great excitement greeted Isadora Duncan’s appearance with the Damrosch orchestra in a series of Greek dances at the Academy of Music on November 19. Introduced to Duncan’s art through the childhood enthusiasm of a niece, Damrosch had attended her performance of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony at the Criterion Theater in New York and was smitten (professionally and, perhaps, personally as well). He visited her studio and offered her a contract with the Symphony—an action that was a calculated risk to his reputation but represented for Duncan “a sudden benediction: the chance to return home . . . under the aegis of one of the country’s best-known conductors and orchestras.” In both Europe and New York, she had suffered 99



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with inferior backup ensembles and orchestras, and the prestige of the Damrosch name and his well-traveled orchestra represented a major endorsement.45 Audience reaction varied. Some found the barefooted dancer a bit risqué; others were intrigued by a sort of free dancing they had never previously imagined. She and the orchestra also performed in Washington, D.C., where they were honored by the presence in the audience of President Franklin Roosevelt and his wife, Eleanor. Duncan was more inspired by her orchestral colleagues: “There was a flutist who played so divinely the solo of the Happy Spirits in ‘Orpheus’ that I often found myself immobile on the stage with the tears flowing from my eyes, just from the ecstasy of listening to him.”46 Barrère, as usual, parlayed the occasion into something more: he would later conduct his own orchestra for Duncan’s students. Barrère had a number of opportunities to shine that season. In early November, for a concert featuring violinist Albert Spalding as soloist, Musical America noted, “A further hearing of the wood-wind section of this orchestra confirms the opinions formed concerning its good qualities. The work of Barrère, flute, and DeBusscher, oboe, is especially excellent.”47 Later that month he played two movements of the Mozart G Major Concerto, and Musical America wrote appreciatively that he “added to a natural beauty of tone a most musicianly style of phrasing, and gave great pleasure to the large audience.”48 The Symphony Concert for Young People on Saturday afternoon, December 19, included the Serenade from Berlioz’s L’Enfance du Christ, for two flutes and harp. “The playing of Mr. Barrère, first flute . . . was as usual beautiful and artistic, and far superior to that of his colleague” (probably Gustave Schmit).49 For all the enthusiasm of Musical America, Musical Courier took every opportunity to criticize Damrosch and the orchestra, quite possibly because Damrosch had recently testified on behalf of Victor Herbert in his libel suit against the journal. In January, for instance, its critic wrote of the premiere of the new Elgar Symphony No. 1, “preceding the performance of the work here . . . Walter Damrosch, following his usual and totally superfluous habit, made some explanatory remarks to the audience, and thereby interfered greatly with the state of mind in which most of the hearers were prepared to listen to the novelty. . . . What the Damrosch explanation tried to make clear, his performance was equally unsuccessful in bringing to light.”50 A review of the Bach Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, titled “‘Doctor’ Damrosch’s Recomposed Composers,” was similarly nasty. The reviewer’s displeasure with the inauthentic instruments was reasonable, if unusual for the time. Upset that the trumpet part was played on a clarinet, because “the trumpeter could not cope with his music at rehearsal,” that “the piano was modified with harpsichord action and tone,” and that a Boehm flute was substituted for a recorder, he wrote, “The Bach concerto . . . was a rank and indecent outrage against art,



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and a musical crime which deserves the severest condemnation of every music lover with an atom of good taste and even a mite of veneration for the great name of Bach.”51 The tone of the journal was anti-Semitic as well, snidely commenting on the Damrosch brothers’ financial acumen and on their backing by Carnegie, Morgan, “and several of the Hebrew financiers.”52 As for repeat performances of Beethoven’s Ninth in March, “Undoubtedly it is a fine thing to hear the ‘Ninth’ in a duplicated performance, but it is by far better not to hear it at all, as conducted by Walter Damrosch.”53 The peregrinations of Walter Damrosch’s ragtag orchestra might seem unremarkable, but for its time—an era before radio, before most cities had their own orchestras — its influence was considerable. Anecdotes about musically untutored but appreciative audiences regularly made the daily and musical press and are preserved in the memoirs of musicians of the day. The future flutist and composer Otto Luening heard the orchestra when he was a child in Madison, Wisconsin, and he later remembered it as the most important musical event of his boyhood: “It was the first time I had seen or heard a full symphony orchestra. The beautiful shapes of the string instruments, varnished with shades of brown and sometimes yellow; the woodwind instruments . . . with a beautiful array of silver keys, mysterious and complicated; the shiny brass instruments and the forbidding timpani and bass drum made me want to have something to do with an orchestra. And the artists in full dress with white ties looked magnificent.” Damrosch himself made a strong impression; he “had the airs and manners of the ambassador to the Court of St. James. When he conducted he projected the dignity of Metternich presiding at the Congress of Vienna. His conducting was restrained but the program was dashing.”54 For American flutists, the orchestra tours had a profound, if more indirect, influence. It was in Chicago in 1910 that the young Verne Q. Powell, then working as a jeweler in Fort Scott, Kansas, heard Barrère perform with the New York Symphony.55 Powell had come to the big city to take some lessons with Alfred Quensel, the German-born first flutist of Theodore Thomas’s Chicago Symphony and a veteran of the Berlin Philharmonic, but it was Barrère who changed his life. Barrère’s silver flute spurred Powell to return to the jewelry store, melt down scrap silver from teaspoons, watch cases, and coins, and make his own silver flute. His craftsmanship won him a job as a flutemaker with the Wm. S. Haynes Co. of Boston, the foremost flutemaker in the country. Powell went out on his own in 1926; Haynes and Powell would dominate the American flute market with their silver instruments for most of the century and would train several generations of American flutemakers.56 The fame of Walter Damrosch’s traveling band redounded to the benefit of his brother’s Institute of Musical Art, as well. Young flutists who heard Barrère (and presumably some of the other soloists) on the road came east to study 101



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at the Institute — among them Homer Honeyman (Portland, Oregon), John Koockogey (Townville, Pennsylvania), George Possell (Buffalo, New York; later, second flute of the New York Symphony), Louis Babst (Sabetha, Kansas), and Frohman Foster (Anderson, Indiana). Meredith Willson, raised in the small town of Mason City, Iowa, never actually heard the New York Symphony on tour, but he heard about Barrère as a result of those tours. As he recalled in his delightful memoir And There I Stood with My Piccolo, “Of course the main idea of going to New York, aside from the forlorn hope of getting my piccolo straightened, was to study the flute with the world-famous flutist, the great Georges Barrère. . . . I was sure nervous on the way to his house on account of I’d been dreaming of studying the flute with him ever since the vague images of being a fireman, a great surgeon, a lawyer, and a bank president became lost in the realization that I was turning into a flute player.”57 Willson studied with Barrère privately and at the Institute in the early 1920s and had a successful career as a flutist, playing in the New York Philharmonic and the New York Chamber Music Society before turning full time to writing musical comedies. Having Barrère as flute teacher, job finder, and mentor had no small influence on that career. Barrère’s immediate success influenced many other careers as well, and it epitomized the triumph of French woodwind style, as he quickly displaced Carl Wehner as the leading flute player in New York. Wehner, who had been as big a presence on the New York musical scene as his massive physical presence would indicate, was born in Germany and had studied with Theobald Boehm. After serving as first flute of the Imperial Opera ballet in St. Petersburg and the royal theater in Hanover, he was invited by Theodore Thomas to become first flute of the New York Philharmonic in 1886, and his performances in New York confirmed the reputation he had gained in Europe. In 1902 Wehner retired from the Philharmonic, but he continued to teach.58 The meteoric rise of Barrère and his silver French-model Boehm flute, and the decline of Wehner, with his wooden, open-G-sharp, closed-hole flute, signaled the passing of the torch. Wehner, now past seventy, remained the symbol of the old German style, refusing to teach anyone who played a metal instrument. Barrère, who arrived with silver Louis Lot and Bonneville instruments, was soon influential in engineering the complete conversion of the Haynes company, the leading American flutemaker, to the silver flute. According to Leonardo De Lorenzo, who came to New York at the end of 1909 and occasionally substituted for Barrère in the New York Symphony, after Barrère’s arrival Wehner lost most of his students and ended up in extreme financial distress. De Lorenzo’s account of the rivalry between the elegant young Frenchman and the aging German burgher may have been somewhat overstated. He claimed, for example, that Wehner once walked out of a Barrère concert. In



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fact Wehner was three years retired and well past his prime when Barrère arrived in 1905. Nevertheless, he was no doubt wounded by the glamorous young Frenchman’s success; he died embittered and impoverished in 1912, and his legacy soon faded.59 At the Philharmonic, a section that had been entirely German-trained in the first decade of the twentieth century would welcome Barrère’s Conservatoire classmate Daniel Maquarre beginning in 1909, and by the early 1920s the entire section except the principal, Nicholas Kouloukis, and then John Amans, would be Barrère students ( John Fabrizio, J. Henry Bové, and Meredith Willson).60 Just as the Damrosch brothers owned music education, oratorio, and much of the orchestral arena, Barrère soon owned the flute world.

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E

ven as he settled into the routine of an American orchestral musician, playing in the New York Symphony, touring, teaching at the Institute of Musical Art and in his private studio, Barrère remained a Frenchman, a chamber musician, and a man of great ambition. From his base in the Damrosch brothers’ establishment he drew a basic salary and received a crash course in local customs—learning about touring, fundraising, programming, and making social connections. The Damrosches knew not only how to get things done, but also who could get things done. The savoir faire that Barrère had acquired in the Paris salons and the connections made through the Damrosches proved to be a powerful combination that would enable him to exert his independence through tangential chamber music activities and ultimately to go out on his own. The Damrosch base also enabled Barrère to make a name for himself as a soloist and to associate with other leading musicians affiliated with the Institute — most notably violinist Franz Kneisel. Together they worked the salon circuit, playing for an educated American aristocracy who would be Barrère’s patrons. He used these venues to offer what he considered to be a solid, serious, high-class repertoire, notably devoid of fireworks, a repertoire that was largely French. Barrère still considered himself “a musical envoy from France” and so it was a pleasure for him to begin a partnership with the French pianist Lillie Sang-Collins, a fellow teacher at the Institute of Musical Art and fellow Paris Conservatoire graduate. Together they presented two concerts at the Institute:



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“When I glance back today at those programs I wonder why critics did not blame me for an exaggerated sense of patriotism.” Caplet and Enesco, he recalled, were not known at all then, Fauré was scarcely played, and Pierné was known only for his youthful Serenade.1 The selections of Widor, Bruneau, Leroux, Hahn, and Dubois on their programs were similarly rare birds. The Times noted with a touch of humor that this repertoire had “almost become obsolete except in France, which is the home of wind instruments and the finest skill in playing them, and where gibes about the superiority of one flute over two do not prevail. Almost everything on the programme of this recital was charming, graceful, and devised with perfect appreciation of the qualities and limitations of the instrument. None of it was perhaps great music; but most of it was good.”2 That winter, with the help once again of Rudolph Schirmer, the duo added Paul Kéfer, principal cellist of the New York Symphony. Kéfer was an old Paris friend of Barrère, a 1900 graduate of the Conservatoire and a former member of the Colonne Orchestra. With a repertoire of French music from Rameau to Debussy, the trio gave private recitals at the homes of such gentry as Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt. Guest artists included soprano Susan Metcalfe (later Mrs. Pablo Casals). Walter Damrosch had, of course, been an eager promoter of Barrère’s first New York chamber venture, the New York Symphony Wind Instrument Club. He also accompanied Barrère in numerous solo numbers during Symphony concerts; they were an empathetic duo. In late February 1909 they invited Kéfer to join them for a recital of trios at the Lyceum Theatre. Musical Courier approved of Kéfer, if not of Damrosch, while also betraying a xenophobic streak: “For musicians of Kéfer’s caliber, there is room and welcome in this country.” Damrosch played harpsichord in works by Boccherini and Rameau, though the Times critic complained of dynamic monotony. Also on the program were the Weber trio (with piano) and the Pierné Flute Sonata. Musical America was most appreciative of the French aspects of the performance, calling the Pierné “directly in line with the best results of modern French music . . . in a measure akin to d’Indy and Franck.” But it reserved its greatest raves for Barrère himself: “The perfection of Mr. Barrère’s art upon the flute is well known to New Yorkers. In this concert one had an unusual opportunity to hear him display all the phases of that art. He produced almost as many different qualities and shadings of tone as that extraordinary Bostonian, Mr. Longy, with his oboe.”3 It was probably through Paul Kéfer that in 1909 Barrère began a long association with the pianist and harpsichordist Arthur Whiting, then in the third year of a venture called Expositions of Classic and Modern Chamber Music or, more familiarly, University Concerts. Whiting was one of the earliest twentieth-century proponents of early music in the United States and the first ma105



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jor figure in the harpsichord revival. It was Whiting, “an indefatigable pioneer,” who was later credited with paving the way for Wanda Landowska in the United States.4 Having studied historical keyboards in Germany, he purchased a harpsichord made by Arnold Dolmetsch and gave a harpsichord recital in New York as early as 1907. Kéfer, too, had a Dolmetsch instrument, a viola da gamba made under Dolmetsch’s supervision by Chickering of Boston (Dolmetsch had established the company’s department of early instruments in 1905), and he had studied, at least informally, with Dolmetsch. The partnership between Whiting and Kéfer was short-lived — each thought the other “a dull fellow,” according to Dolmetsch’s wife, Mabel, who had introduced them. But he did participate for a few years in Whiting’s ensemble, which toured East Coast colleges — Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Bryn Mawr, and others — and boarding schools, presenting programs of Baroque and nineteenth-century chamber music. Barrère and Dolmetsch, a native of Le Mans, also became friends; the flutist visited the instrument maker at his suburban Boston home, and the Barrères returned the hospitality. Mabel Dolmetsch recalled that “we were entertained by him in his family circle, whose atmosphere was wholly French, and therefore very congenial to Arnold (now beginning to feel homesick). When the time arrived for the evening meal, a dear little boy of four opened the sitting-room door with a flourish and, bowing to me, announced, ‘Madame est servie.’”5 Barrère joined the Whiting group in November 1909.6 Its varied repertoire included flute sonatas by Gluck, Marcello, Purcell, Leclair, Bach, and Handel; many arias with instrumental accompaniment; and concerted works by Couperin and Rameau. It was unusual fare for the time, but well received. Critics noted approvingly that Whiting used a real harpsichord, not an altered piano: “There is undeniable quaintness and charm in its soft, tinkling tone, and it is interesting to hear in their original shape the various numbers which have become familiar to the present generation through a very different medium. Nevertheless, the lack of dynamic variety and limited range of expression characteristic of the harpsichord render a comparatively brief exhibition of its qualities all sufficient.” The Bach sonata with Barrère, by contrast, drew hearty applause, even between movements.7 For many of the pieces, Whiting made his own arrangements—which are far simpler than the editions of the same pieces (for example, Gluck’s Dance of the Blessed Spirits, Tambourin, and Musette) that Barrère later published with G. Schirmer. Perhaps their simplicity was a reflection of Whiting’s infatuation with the clavichord; in a pioneering treatise on that instrument, written in 1909, he wrote that the clavichord would teach musicians “to make the greatest effects with the smallest means — to cultivate the art of suggestion.” The



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tone of Whiting’s performances on his two-manual Dolmetsch/Chickering harpsichord drew notice for its “unsuspected qualities of sweetness and delicate elegance.”8 The “early music” familiar to Americans at the time was primarily choral — and had its roots in religious institutions. Amateur choral societies, dating back to the founding of Boston’s Handel & Haydn Society in 1815, had performed the masterworks of Bach and Handel even in smaller American cities for quite some time. In New York, the Oratorio Society (founded by Leopold Damrosch in 1873) and the Musical Art Society (the creation of Frank Damrosch in 1894) branched out to include Palestrina, Josquin, Lassus, and other masters of Renaissance polyphony, often using the Schola Cantorum editions of Charles Bordes. It dipped its toes into instrumental waters, inserting occasional instrumental interludes. Barrère and Lillie Sang-Collins, for instance, had appeared on one of its programs in 1906. Whiting repeated his University Concerts in New York, at his own studio on East 40th Street, at the Stuyvesant Theatre, and at Rumford Hall on East 41st Street. Even in New York, the Whiting group’s Baroque repertoire was sufficiently unfamiliar that it drew ill-founded speculation from some critics; the Times surmised of one concert, “Several of these ensemble pieces must have been arrangements of pieces written for harpsichord alone, though no statement to that effect was made upon the programme.”9 Barrère took it upon himself to reply; in a letter published on January 14, 1912, he stated that he was responsible for suggesting the Couperin and Rameau trios and that their instrumentation was authentic. The Rameau Pièces de concert were, he said, originally for violin or flute and viola da gamba or cello “with harpsichord or piano. We used the latest edition revised by C. Saint-Saëns.” For the Couperin, scored for the same instruments, they used the Georges Marty edition, and the Leclair sonatas indicated that either violin or flute could play them. Concluded Barrère, “As I play transcriptions as little as possible I thought that I did my best to avoid them in such interesting programmes as Mr. Whiting’s are.”10 Whiting’s reception in university settings was enthusiastic; the students appreciated his informative introductions and lack of condescension. The Daily Princetonian, terming an all-Bach concert “a complete success,” wrote, “This imposing name usually strikes terror to the heart of the musical layman, and the prospect of Bach might well cause the average college student to think twice before entering. No such hesitation was evident, however. Moreover, there was no trace of the feigned interest or polite patience so often considered to be the necessary accompaniment of ‘classical music.’ ” The critic Sigmund Spaeth recalled one of Whiting’s appearances at Princeton. Whiting, he wrote, “[a] rather slight, gray-haired man, with a serious and scholarly face, stepped upon the stage and was greeted with a storm of applause.” “He tells us a few 107



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things about classical music in such a way that you forget you are being educated, and then illustrates his point by having various pieces presented by soloists or by himself at the piano.” Ralph Kirkpatrick, the leading American harpsichordist of the mid-twentieth century, a specialist in Bach and Scarlatti who taught at Yale for more than thirty-five years, attributed his initial interest in the instrument to hearing Whiting in concert at Harvard in 1927.11 In 1928, when the Harvard music department was considering reducing the Whiting concerts from five to three per year, the Times critic Richard Aldrich, then a member of the visiting committee, wrote to chairman Mark A. DeWolfe Howe, “I am strongly for anything that brings the students into direct contact with real music rather than with talking and reading about music. It is a necessary complement.” Those recitals — many of which Aldrich himself had heard in Whiting’s New York studio —“do so in an admirable manner, without any of the glitter of the virtuoso, but in a really competent and musicianly performance. I am told on good authority — my boy, among others—that there is a pretty regular attendance of about 150. . . . I understand that Whiting is paid $2,000 for the five concerts, which, considering the amount of assistance he has to have of sometimes rather expensive artists (as Barrère) does not seem high. I think the product of the fund we raised could not be devoted to better purposes than to keep on this series.”12 The series did continue until 1930, and Barrère was a part of it until the end. Another sort of early music that appealed to Barrère was vernacular French music, the traditional folksongs of the provinces. Barrère’s first partner in this endeavor was Anna Arnaud, his wife’s voice teacher. A graduate of the conservatory in Lille, Arnaud had established her reputation in France with 325 performances of Carmen, as well as a broad French operatic repertoire. After a U.S. recital tour she had settled in New York and set up a studio; during the Hans Conried regime she directed the French class at the Metropolitan Opera, where she coached Olive Fremstad for the role of Carmen.13 In the second decade of the century, Arnaud specialized in costume recitals of old French chansons, often with Barrère as her colleague. A typical recital bore the title “Chansons du Pays de France, Sung and Illustrated by Madame Anna Arnaud, Assisted by Monsieur Georges Barrère, French Flute Virtuoso.” The chansons and ballads, for which Arnaud searched during summers in France, ranged from the trouvères of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries to the chansons of the seventeenth century, and included the folksongs of various provinces of France.14 Barrère’s solos were also French, but not quite so old— Leclair, Debussy, and Hüe were typical. Could there be any doubt of their national loyalties? Arnaud, who wore different costumes to illustrate each historical period, “sang and acted with all the grace and dramatic power of a finished actress,” reported Musical Courier. At the Plaza Hotel, a stage set of an old



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French garden added to the atmospheric presentation. The combination of “French peasant costumes expressly designed for her”—historically, something of an oxymoron — and Barrère, “whose stage presence is as suave and gentle as the tone of his instrument,” was a winner with the critics and the encorehungry audiences.15 The same combination— costumes, setting, and the dashing Barrère—would later work for Yvette Guilbert when she returned to America in 1916. More conventional was Barrère’s collaboration, in these earlier years, with the foremost string quartet in the nation, the Kneisel Quartet. Its four members, all former members of the Boston Symphony, had been lured by Frank Damrosch to join the founding string faculty of the Institute of Musical Art in 1905.16 Kneisel is credited with establishing the string quartet in America, an effort that had started with the Mason-Thomas concerts in the mid-1850s but had soon fizzled; the founding of the Kneisel in 1885 was the beginning of a new era in American chamber music. Working with Kneisel was an opportunity that Barrère seized eagerly. The other four members of the New York Symphony Wind Instrument Club had appeared with the Kneisel in December 1906, but Barrère did not make the first of his five appearances until January 1910, in Princeton, in the Beethoven Serenade, op. 25. The concert was repeated in Brooklyn and New York, and Barrère reduced his usual fee of $50 for a chamber music or solo appearance, charging only $75 for the two “on account at [sic] my relationship with Mr. Kneisel.”17 The Brooklyn audience was ecstatic: “The romantic tinge lent to the piece by Mr. Barrère’s playing reminded many older people in the audience of the days when the flute was something more than part of an orchestra,” reported the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. The audience demanded four curtain calls, but the performers refused to play an encore. Not all of the critics were pleased, however; Herbert F. Peyser of Musical America complained that the Beethoven “failed to justify its presence on the program” alongside a Brahms quintet and Schubert quartet. “It is vapid and puerile, and, though short, is nevertheless too long considering the insignificant material of which it is built.” Nevertheless, “[s]pecial mention must here be made of the exquisite management of the flute part by Mr. Barrère.”18 Just as important to Barrère as the Kneisel concerts were the professional connections the Kneisel association gave to him. The quartet’s first manager, Frances Seaver, would also handle Barrère’s engagements for a time; her agency was bought out in 1912 by Helen Love, who would later manage the Beethoven Association concerts as well. Kneisel was one of the founders and the long-time president of the Bohemians, formally the New York Musicians Club, a social club that sponsored a long-running series of chamber music concerts at which Barrère would perform regularly. The Kneisel household was a touch of Old 109



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Vienna, and Barrère was one of the regulars in their home, a European-style salon that he enjoyed along with Harry Harkness Flagler, Harold Bauer, Ernest Hutcheson, Mischa Elman, Willem Willeke, and Richard Aldrich. In this setting, the Franco-German animosity that often characterized the musical world was notably absent. In this same period, Barrère made himself available to a number of other chamber music collaborators: the soprano Emma Trentini, accompanied by Kurt Schindler; harpists Maud Morgan and Ada Sassoli (including the Mozart Concerto for flute and harp); soprano Jeanne Fauré, with harpist Gaetane Britt and pianist André Benoist; and tenor Edmond Clément. Some of these concerts were in public halls; many others, such as the musicale he played with soprano Alma Gluck and violinist Efrem Zimbalist at a home in Convent Station, New Jersey, were private events attended by the wealthy — in that case, philanthropist Otto Kahn, a future benefactor. At the same time he took it upon himself to proselytize for the flute, still a rarity as a solo instrument, in print as well as in concert, publishing an eloquent article in Musical America entitled “‘Violin of the Wood Wind Instruments’— The Flute.” Observing that the concours requirements of the Paris Conservatoire enforced a rigid equality among the instruments, he concluded that any lack of public interest in the wind instruments was the fault not of the instruments themselves but of “the unfortunate choice” of contest pieces, “music which, while containing everything that can cause the performer to scintillate, extinguishes in him true musical appreciation.” The problem had been remedied, since the mid-1890s, by the concours commissions of the previous and current Conservatoire directors, Théodore Dubois and Gabriel Fauré— curiously, Barrère did not credit his mentor Taffanel with this innovation — with the result that “there is now not a single instrument that can complain of the lack of a piece of real music.” But in truth, he pointed out, the flute was “already quite rich in classics,” a literature now extended by the efforts of “the entire young and brilliant French school.” Barrère blamed the flute’s tarnished reputation on his fellow performers who, given but rare opportunities to appear as soloists, chose musically inferior works. “They delude themselves by believing that the modern public, whose musical discrimination becomes more acute from day to day, can still be made to take an interest in pompous variations and the ancient acrobatics of the instrument, so greatly valued by our for[e]bears of sixty years ago.” With an optimism that was perhaps a bit premature, he wrote, “These monstrosities, as we regard them to-day, are dead beyond revival.” The fault lay with his colleagues not just as performers but as composers. These pieces were generally written by flutists and thus “remarkably well adapted to the instrument” from a technical point of view, but “their intrinsic poverty excludes but a legacy of superannu-



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ated interest. To play persistently a repertoire of this character, to call up the lifeless skeletons of a past . . . is effectually to coerce public sentiment to the convention that the flute is scarcely to be regarded as a musical instrument.” In a paragraph that indicates his thorough knowledge of musical history and performance practice, Barrère recounted the experience of coloratura Adelina Patti, who a half-century earlier had been forced to alter her programs as a result of the progression of public taste effected by musical education. “People had been brought to expect from music something more than the mere evocation of astonishment. They had learned . . . that this transcendent art could with its wordless incantations, release the unsuspected treasures of the human heart.”19 With such words, Barrère flattered his American audiences with his appreciation of their increasing musical knowledge; he simultaneously—and successfully — worked as a performer to ensure their appreciation for his instrument and its unfamiliar French repertoire. Business was good; Barrère was busy. “But something was missing in my work,” he later wrote. “The wind instruments seemed to have been forgotten.” He went to Rudolph Schirmer for advice. “I told him I had to give concerts, that it was in me and I had to get it out. . . . At his suggestion I organized a committee and found it was the only way to run musical affairs in New York. Berlioz used to say that to be an orchestra conductor the only necessity was to have an orchestra. I found that in New York, in order to become a Conductor, the orchestra is secondary providing a backing is assured.” With his charm and connections, Barrère quickly found that backing in the person of Mary Callender, a wealthy member of the New York Symphony board. “We planned everything together and she let me have the benefit of her wide experience. We decided to give the group a name and she said that a little touch of French in it would be a help. Mary Callender was the godmother of The Barrère Ensemble.” Along with Callender, the guarantors’ committee included Lizzie P. Bliss, later a founder of the Museum of Modern Art; Frederick G. Corning, of the Corning Glass family; Edmond J. de Coppet, founder and sole supporter of the Flonzaley Quartet; Mrs. Charles Ditson, wife of the music publisher; music publishers Carl Fischer and Rudolph Schirmer; Harry Harkness Flagler; Mrs. John R. MacArthur; and Mrs. Henry Seligman and Paul Warburg of “Our Crowd,” the German Jewish investment banking families. The Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent was truly about to be reincarnated, on a scale much greater than that of the first Symphony Club. Barrère scheduled two public concerts in the thousand-seat Stuyvesant Theatre. And when it came to publicity, history did not hurt: Barrère proudly noted that the Société Moderne was then in its sixteenth season, and the Evening Sun took the bait: “Barrère, Honored in Paris, Is New Society’s Head.” It noted approvingly, “During five years in New York, Mr. Barrère has won friends for that abused 111



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instrument, the flute; has shown that its repertory includes music of the masters instead of second class ‘show pieces,’ and that its players are really interpretative artists.”20 The Barrères’ second child, Gabriel Paul—named for his grandfather and his father’s teacher — made his entrance on February 23. Five days later, on Monday afternoon, the Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments made its debut with ten woodwind players and trumpeter Carl Heinrich participating.21 The Société Moderne sent two congratulatory wreaths to its founder. The program featured classic composers: octets by Haydn and Beethoven, a Mozart Serenade, and flute sonatas by Bach and Handel, with Arthur Whiting backing Barrère at the harpsichord. The Times critic worked hard to be openminded, writing that the program “produced some interesting results. There is a considerable literature for wind instruments, both ancient and modern, that is rarely performed in public concerts, and though this music is not of a sort that is likely to make a very wide appeal to the public, it may be made of much charm and attractiveness in the hands of skillful players. Its most obvious drawback is a certain monotony of tone-color. The modern ear is so habituated to the sounds of the stringed instruments that they are missed at first. But there is variety even in this class of musical literature . . . and the audience, few but fit, found the concert one of really absorbing interest.”22 The Tribune was less jaded: “An event of more than ordinary interest occurred yesterday afternoon at the Stuyvesant Theatre in the birth of a new musical organization, . . . which . . . may prove an important addition to the musical life of the city. . . . The playing of the ensemble was in all respects delightful, the musicians showing remarkable precision and fine musical understanding.” The Tribune also counted the house differently: “The audience, which was of good size, appeared to enjoy the concert to the utmost.”23 The Evening Sun critic, by contrast, was flippant: “These fellows are a happy, healthy lot whose profession it is to blow their own horns. But they have peace and calm beauty to impart. Musical therapeutics can no further go than did the ‘Siciliano’ of [a] sonata by Bach or the final octet of Beethoven. . . . It’s an illwind ensemble indeed, that blows nobody good returns for such artistic endeavor.”24 The Barrère Ensemble’s second concert, played on March 7 before a larger audience, presented “what was then modern music, but would be considered almost classic today,” Barrère recalled eighteen years later.25 The Octet, op. 216, by Carl Reinecke and the Sextet, op. 5, for piano and winds by Ludwig Thuille represented the German school; Pierné’s Pastorale variée, d’Indy’s Chanson et danses, op. 50, and André Caplet’s Suite persane the French school. Anna Arnaud and pianist Clara Mannes (or Mrs. David Mannes, as she was billed) provided two interludes of modern French songs. The Times critic found the repertoire of the



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second concert less interesting than the first because “it was devoted entirely to modern music, and there is, proportionately, much less music of the greatest modern composers written for wind instruments than there was by the older composers. The modern repertory offers less to draw on, and what there is is less significant. The playing of Mr. Barrère and his men had the same fine quality that it had at the first performance, but it was expended upon music scarcely worthy of it.” The Post and Sun were again more positive, and Musical America opined: “M. Barrère’s colleagues repeated in every particular the admirable performances they gave last week. There was the same perfection and finish of ensemble, the same beautiful variety of tone colors, and the same poetry of interpretation. Such an organization should not be heard so infrequently.”26 The initial success made Barrère bullish: he wanted to outdo the Longy Club of Boston. He told Musical America shortly after the second concert, “I think that a combination of wind instruments can be made as popular as the string quartet. The reason that it has never seemed to be so is that there have always been fewer really good players on the flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn than on the violin, the cello, the viola.” And, he admitted, the “great masters” had not done as well by the winds as by the strings.27 The second season was more ambitious: three concerts in the Belasco Theatre (the renamed Stuyvesant). The first concert, on December 5, presented works of Raff, the Comtesse de Grandval, the Miniature Characteristic Suite (1897) of Joseph Holbrooke, and the Deux esquisses antiques for flute and harp by Barrère’s Paris colleague D.-E. Inghelbrecht. The pièce de résistance was Reynaldo Hahn’s Le Bal de Béatrice d’Este, a pastiche of sixteenth-century pieces scored for ten winds, piano, two harps, and percussion, which the Société Moderne had premiered, with the composer at the piano, in March 1905. The pianist now was Michelette Barrère, who just six days earlier had sung in a musicale at Anna Arnaud’s studio in preparation for her forthcoming operatic debut in France.28 The publicity noted that the work had been played in London on three successive occasions at the special request of King Edward VII. The Times critic was basically approving of the program: “Raff ’s Sinfonietta is not likely to escape the mists that have been gradually enveloping most of his music in recent years, but it was worth rescuing it for a hearing at least once.” He was intrigued by Holbrooke, “a young English composer, whose music has been much talked about in England and scarcely played in this country, if at all. . . . Its five movements showed very little that was ‘characteristic,’ very little that could charm, or that could answer to the fanciful titles the composer has put to them.” But the playing , the Times said, was “excellent: it was finished, in true intonation, and generally, if not always delicate and transparent. Such an ensemble is not easy to attain.”29 The Post essentially concurred: “The performance of the organization was 113



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a most worthy feat from the point of view of precision of rhythm, excellence of phrasing , and delicacy of nuance. While the minutest gradations of color may not be quite as practical here as in the string quartet, the tone quality obtainable surpasses it in warmth, richness, and solidity, and does not pall nearly as soon. Of course, the music available is not comparable to that for the quartet. Raff ’s ‘Sinfonietta’ is fully as long as the average symphony, regardless of its diminutive title, and is not of supreme interest. The entire concert would have been more enjoyable had the progamme been somewhat curtailed.”30 The second Barrère Ensemble concert, on January 9, 1911, comprised the Beethoven Octet, Rossini Quartet, the Enesco Dixtuor (premiered by the Société Moderne in 1906), and the Petite Suite of Debussy, transcribed for winds by Marcel Tournier from the original two-piano version. This was only one of many New York hearings for Enesco, then the court violinist to the queen of Romania, and a composer of rising reputation, that season: Clara and David Mannes played the Violin Sonata in F Minor, which they had read with the composer in Paris the previous summer; the Philharmonic would also program his work.31 The Times deemed the program “interesting and entertaining music, none of it, however, of very serious consequence,” noting anomalously that the Debussy suite was written “in the days before he had quite invented Debussyism.” There is no indication of whether that was a positive or negative comment, but Musical America observed in a similar vein that the Debussy transcription “made one wonder how the composer of this charming suite has perpetrated such things as ‘Rondes de Printemps,’ ‘Iberia,’ and ‘Gigue Triste.’”32 The third Barrère Ensemble concert, on February 6, presented more traditional literature, an arrangement of a Schubert Menuet and Finale for woodwind octet; Saint-Saëns’s tuneful Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs, of which the Times wryly commented, “It cannot be supposed that Dr. Saint-Saëns expended a great deal of midnight oil upon his caprice”;33 and Richard Strauss’s Suite in B-flat (also known as Serenade) for thirteen winds. Written in 1884 in Strauss’s conservative younger style but with the innovation of the newly invented contrabass clarinet, the piece was receiving its American premiere, played from manuscript; it would be published later that year. Only one piece on the program was completely new: the Aquarelles hollandaises of Christiaan Kriens, a Dutchman then active as a teacher, violinist, and conductor of the Kriens Symphony Club, a New York training orchestra for young musicians that specialized in American music. Educated at The Hague, where he studied violin with Sarasate, he played in the Philadelphia Orchestra, New York Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and Metropolitan Opera. Kriens wrote several pieces for Barrère: the Aquarelles for ten winds; Ronde des lutins for flute, oboe, and clarinet (published by Carl Fischer in 1928); and La Nymphe bocagère (for flute and piano, published by Fischer in 1909).



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The Aquarelles hollandaises (Dutch Watercolors), scored for ten instruments, consisted of three movements: the bell-like La Cathédrale; Berceuse, a lullaby; and Variations on a Dutch Folk Song, Piet Hein. The Barrère Ensemble played it in manuscript with the composer present. Significantly, Barrère announced that the piece would be performed by the Société Moderne in Paris in February.34 The Kriens was probably the first of the manuscript exchanges that Barrère made with the Société Moderne, now run by Fleury; other American works would make their way east to Paris, and even more French works, such as the Enesco, would come back with him after his summer vacations in France, where he continued to search out new music. A month after the Aquarelles premiere, the International Society of Pianoforte Teachers presented an entire evening of Kriens’s works at the Virgil Piano School, where he taught. There Barrère performed La Nymphe bocagère, playing it, said Musical America, “with the most exquisite total effect that can be imagined. Of his flute playing only the highest praise can be given, for such tone on the flute is a revelation to all music-lovers.”35 On the first of April 1911, Michelette sailed for France in preparation for her upcoming operatic debut and took an apartment on the rue de Constantinople, not far from the couple’s previous home on the rue de Londres. Her husband, obligated to join the New York Symphony on its six-week tour, ending May 31, followed on June 10. In September, both Barrère and Horace Britt, also an 1895 Conservatoire graduate, now solo cellist of the New York Philharmonic Society, would attend a concert of Kriens’s works in Paris. Barrère returned to New York on La Lorraine, along with harpist Carlos Salzedo, an old friend, and pianist Ernesto Consolo (who was coming to join the Institute faculty), arriving on October 8; the children stayed in Paris with Michelette. The Institute opened its fall term the very next day, and the New York Symphony season began on the twenty-seventh of the month.36 From a chamber music perspective, the season would be particularly busy. In its fall forecast issue, Musical America assessed the situation. Two years earlier, the journal wrote, “complaints were rife that New York was being treated to more musical fare than it could comfortably digest. New York is first and foremost an opera-going city and the fact that two opera houses were making insistent demands on its attention exerted an unmistakable influence on the activities of the concert field. Sparsely settled auditoriums and unsatisfactory box office returns told emphatically that in the case of an over-supply even the very best is no longer a temptation.” The result, in 1910–11, had been restraint on the part of the managers, but with only one opera house now in business — Oscar Hammerstein’s Manhattan Opera Company having folded in 1910—and fewer concerts scheduled, “[t]he attendance and enthusiasm were, on the whole, most gratifying.” For 1911–12, Musical America predicted, “there will be 115



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plenty of chamber music to satisfy the inner brotherhood of ‘highbrows.’” On tap were concerts by the Kneisel, Flonzaley, and Olive Mead quartets; the Margulies and Weber trios; the Beebe-Dethier and Mannes sonata recitals; and “the incomparable Barrère Ensemble.”37 Both the Kneisels and the Barrère Ensemble would again be managed by Frances Seaver; the latter would play at the Waldorf-Astoria in November and in two Monday afternoon concerts at the Belasco Theatre. For the first of its regular concerts, on November 27, the program consisted of the Mozart Serenade in E-flat Major; Schubert’s Introduction and Variations on Tröckne Blumen, op. 160, for flute and piano (with Consolo at the keyboard); Paul de Wailly’s Aubade; Chabrier’s Danse villageoise, arranged by André Caplet for seven winds; and the first hearing (probably in the United States) of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Quintet in B-flat Major for piano, flute, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, written in 1876 but published posthumously. The Times predicted that “it will not enhance his fame. . . . the composer has, in this composition, an obviously unripe method and a tormenting way of repeating and repeating, with scarcely a sense of development or formal structure.” “Delightful,” “enjoyable,” and “pleasing” were the adjectives A. Walter Kramer used to describe the Caplet in his Musical America review, and that description was right in character, for Caplet would make his early reputation as the orchestrator of Debussy’s Children’s Corner and Le Martyre de Saint-Sébastien (both completed in 1911).38 The second New York concert, on January 22, 1912, opened with a repetition, by request, of Kriens’s Aquarelles hollandaises; the premieres of Eclogue, for ten winds, by Howard Brockway and a Bach arrangement for eleven winds; and Caplet’s Suite persane. The so-called Pastoral Suite by Bach was the work of Archer Gibson, organist of the Brick Church in Manhattan, who had heard an earlier concert of the Barrère Ensemble. Gibson, like several of the Parisian organists (Quef, Widor, Lacroix, and Dubois, for example), was impressed with the similarity between the effects created by a woodwind choir and the sounds of the organ, and he was moved to make this arrangement, which he dedicated to Barrère. It is actually an amalgam of the Pastorale in F Major for organ, BWV 590, and the Prelude and Fugue in F Major for organ, BWV 556.39 Certainly by today’s standards, when the incongruity of Bach and clarinets may well be jarring to listeners accustomed to “authentic” performances, the transcription has not aged well, but it is a competent piece of workmanship and highly unusual for its time. However, the Times critic noted that the program “looked as if Mr. Barrère were somewhat hard put to it to find chamber music for wind instruments to play at the two concerts he gives in the season.” The Kriens, he wrote, hardly warranted repetition at successive concerts, “whose programme should be of such a choice character. Nor does it seem the business of such an organization as his to devote itself to arrangements of organ music.”



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Given the “finish and flexibility, the balance and richness of tone” of the ensemble, he pronounced himself “sad to complain” about the poor choice of repertoire. Barrère responded tartly to the criticism: “Do you think the Kneisels would be likely to perform a beautiful quartet only once and then fail to repeat it at some future time for fear that the critics would brand their repertoire as small?”40 The Eclogue by Howard Brockway, a Brooklyn-born but Berlin-trained composer and pianist who had recently returned to New York after teaching at the Peabody Institute in Baltimore, was a typically colorful, but probably slight piece of program music. Confronted with the titles of its two movements, “At Twilight” and “An Idyl of Murmuring Waters,” Irving Weil of the New York Journal minced no words in describing the piece: “Perhaps, some day, not so very far in the future, we shall be confronted on musical programmes with things such as ‘New York’s Skyline in the Fog,’ or ‘The Palisades by Moonlight’; or, perhaps some bit of still life such as ‘A Basket of Bermuda Onions.’ Even portraiture, as ‘Lady with a Lily,’ should not be beyond the music of the future. Nor will music, perhaps, disdain to move over into the realm of the senses not distinctly its own. ‘Fragrance of Violets’ may entitle some delectable composition or ‘Steaming Corned Beef and Cabbage.’ ” Returning to purely musical matters, Weil declared, “Mr. Brockway was doing nothing more with his ‘Eclogue’ than trying to follow the feeble trend of the time. He is enamored of the delicate exfoliation known as Debussy. But the art of the Frenchman is something enclosed within itself. It is essentially subjective. And in that lies the difference.”41 Herbert Peyser disagreed to some extent, terming it “well written and often charming,” but inferior to the Kriens. “The first movement . . . seems like an abridged edition of Debussy’s ‘L’après-midi d’un faune,’” which would not be such a bad comparison, but “the second is an innocuous bit of fantasy, daintily colored though, though thematically unimportant, and so long drawn out that its bubbling and rippling end by losing their effect.”42 The season concluded with an extra, third concert on April 14. Two numbers from the earlier concerts were repeated: the Mozart Serenade and the de Wailly Aubade, followed by two movements from the woodwind quintet, op. 57, of Charles Lefebvre. The rest of the program was devoted to works of the guest artist, Barrère’s close friend André Caplet, then in his second year as conductor of the Boston Opera. The Rêverie and Petite Valse, written for Barrère in 1897, were “miniatures written for the flute, as only the modern Frenchmen know how to write,” as A. Walter Kramer aptly put it in Musical America, and the audience demanded that both pieces be repeated. The concert concluded with Caplet’s Quintet for piano and winds. Here the all-knowing Kramer got it wrong: he was convinced that the Quintet “was doubtless written long be117



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fore the two pieces for flute; in spite of its being modern in spirit it shows an influence of an earlier day than do the short pieces. It is as though M. Caplet had studied his Cesar Franck then and was devoting his time for investigation to Debussy, Ravel and D’Indy now.”43 In fact, the Quintet was completed in 1900, three years after the flute pieces. Whatever the chronology, the Quintet won praise from all the critics. The critics were a necessary evil, despite their periodic lack of research or perspicuity. So perhaps it was a relief for Barrère to leave on the annual spring tour of the Symphony on April 15, a grueling excursion that would take the men to more than a dozen cities in thirty days. With all this activity, Barrère was unable to be present when Michelette finally made her debut in Paris. She was billed as Mme Burani, perhaps in tribute to her father, who had had several productions staged there in the 1880s and 1890s, perhaps as a public relations gesture because of his renown in Paris theatrical circles. The great event took place on February 13, 1912, at the Gaité Lyrique, and the vehicle for her debut was Quo Vadis, an opera by Jean Nouguès with libretto by Henri Cain. Despite the press’s usually thorough coverage of opera and of the governmentsubsidized theaters, the event apparently went unremarked by the French press. In mid-February, she sang Marguerite in a concert performance of the first part of La Damnation de Faust with Concerts Rouge and received at least one glowing review: “Let us not forget the perfect interpretation . . . of Berlioz’s Marguerite by Mme. Barrère-Burani, in a fresh voice, in a refined, truly musical style.”44 In May, she had perhaps greater success at a grand matinée artistique sponsored by the Association Amicale des Morbihannais à Paris at the Palais des Fêtes. Sharing the program was Barrère’s former Schola Cantorum colleague oboist Louis Bleuzet, now soloist of the Opéra and the Société des Concerts. Mme Burani, the Morbihannais house organ reported, “interpreted in a sure voice, in turn melodious and powerful,” songs of Hahn and Godard. “This excellent artist truly transported the listeners,” who recalled her to reprise Godard’s La Vivandière.45 The Institute of Musical Art held its commencement ceremony on June 3, and three days later Barrère sailed for France to join his wife. According to the abundant publicity, he would not only look for new woodwind works—“Critical Clamor for New Compositions,” read the Musical America subtitle — but would serve on a jury at the Paris Conservatoire. Though it was not unusual for distinguished alumni to serve on the school’s juries, the records of the woodwind concours give no indication that Barrère actually did so. He told the press that he would try to secure “a little musical joke by Saint-Saëns,” the nowfamiliar Carnival of the Animals, which had been written in 1896 but remained unpublished until 1922. He hoped to get the composer’s permission to perform it. He also intended to meet with the French impressionist composer Ernest



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Fanelli to obtain some orchestral works for Walter Damrosch and, if time permitted, work on some of his own compositions. But, he said, “As likely as not I shall keep them locked in my desk.”46 His Nocturne, his only published composition for solo flute, quite possibly dates from that summer; G. Schirmer issued it in 1913. The summer nearly ended in disaster. In August, word reached the United States that Barrère had been in a bicycle accident near his summer home in Normandy. A child riding on the handlebars of the bicycle — probably twoyear-old Gabriel, but possibly six-year-old Claude—had caught his foot in the front wheel, and both had landed in a ditch. Barrère dislocated his left elbow and wrist, which interfered with practicing—but not with his ability to garner publicity. From France, he announced a fall tour of the Midwest for the Barrère Ensemble, new repertoire for a series of “Innovation Concerts” in New York, and the acquisition of some piano compositions of Richard Wagner and a great deal of chamber music, including an unpublished string quartet by Fanelli. The bicycle was in the shop, but the publicity machine continued to work effectively. The reunited Barrères returned to New York via the south of France at the end of September, ready to resume life in America.47

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I

n the fall of 1912, the New York Symphony was an orchestra in transition. Its long-time concertmaster (and Walter Damrosch’s brother-in-law), David Mannes, had resigned to devote himself to his educational endeavors, and his place was taken by the former assistant concertmaster, Alexander Saslavsky. The orchestra moved from the acoustically defective Century Theatre to a new home, opening its season on October 12 at Aeolian Hall, on West 42nd Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. This auditorium, in the headquarters of the Aeolian piano company, seated 1,400. Musical America reported, “Aeolian Hall passed with triumphant success through its supreme acoustical test. . . . It was a pleasure also to realize that the New York Symphony Orchestra has at last found itself a worthy home in New York. . . . In Aeolian Hall an orchestra can revel in heroically sonorous outbursts of tone without ever giving the impression of offensive loudness. And on the other hand the hall provides such a perfect sense of intimacy between audience and players that the full value of the very subtlest effects can be realized and appreciated to perfection.”1 But Damrosch’s famous first flutist was not on stage for the gala opening. Rather, he was in Greencastle, Indiana, population 3,790, where the Barrère Ensemble was beginning its first tour. The Greencastle Herald announced “A Rare Musical Treat,” a miniature wind orchestra “rarely heard in this day of augmented orchestra.” Its leader was both proud and nervous—a nervousness partially remedied by the presence of his new first clarinetist, Fred Van Amburgh, known as Van, who would become his right-hand man in the logistical area. The concert was a success: DePauw University’s Meharry Hall was “com-



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fortably filled” with a mix of students and townsfolk, and the local reporter, clearly intrigued by the varied timbres of the instrumental combinations, predicted that the success of the program would reinvigorate the university’s concert/lecture series.2 From Indiana the ensemble traveled to Oberlin, Ohio; Pittsburgh; upstate New York; Boston; Princeton; Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania; New Haven and Waterbury, Connecticut; and ended at Dobbs Ferry, in the New York suburbs, on November 21. The program at the Oberlin Conservatory was all French except for Mozart, and it garnered an enthusiastic response, not a great surprise given the conservatory audience. The Pittsburgh audience was perhaps less prepared for this unusual ensemble, but it was intrigued, and the concert drew a large crowd despite inclement weather. The Pittsburgh Dispatch reported, “It was Pittsburgh’s first opportunity to hear this unique miniature orchestra, for such it can be rightly called. Last evening this ensemble of wind instruments produced a performance that was irresistible in its charm and in its fire and technical perfection.” The critic—who was no doubt unaware of Barrère’s previous assignment with the Folies-Bergère — wrote of the six French works, “[T]he performers had splendid opportunity to do tricks — such as might obtain for them an engagement on the Keith circuit if their programs ever become too modern for the concert hall.”3 Back in New York, the Barrère Ensemble planned two ambitious programs at the Belasco Theater. At the first, on December 9, he enlisted the choristers of the Oratorio Society for two pieces, Beethoven’s Bundeslied and Schumann’s Beim Abschied, both scored for choir and winds. Along with the Mozart Grand Serenade, the ensemble played Richard Strauss’s Serenade, op. 7, and Albert Périlhou’s Divertissement for rotating quartets: first flutes and clarinets, then oboes and bassoons, then horns, and a finale played by the full ensemble, a classic demonstration of the woodwind ensemble’s coloristic potential. A few days later, the group was honored with an invitation to perform at a meeting of the National Institute of Arts and Letters, a high compliment to its increasingly well-respected leader. On November 30, Barrère, Arthur Whiting , and contralto Anna TaylorJones provided a recital of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century chamber music for the first musical evening of the Bohemians, a new musicians’ club that had been formed by Franz Kneisel, Frank Damrosch, Rafael Joseffy, Rubin Goldmark, and others with lofty fraternal aims: “goodfellowship, camaraderie were to be promoted, the too common feelings of envy and jealousy frowned on, the art and its practitioners, lofty and lowly, encouraged.”4 The group also incorporated the Musicians Foundation to provide financial assistance to needy professional musicians. But the core of the organization was its social and musical activities—all but the banquets were for men only—which ranged from 121



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informal “smokers” for its members, to cabaret entertainments, to extremely sophisticated chamber concerts, to dinners honoring leading musicians, which were “some of the most elaborate and imposing banquets ever given in the city.”5 One member, Karl Feininger, a violinist and author of a classic text on the psychology of music, noted in his diary, “The flutist, Mr. George Barrère, was the best performer there, on the grounds that his playing was musically and dynamically vocal, without a break or weakness.” Feininger, perhaps fortified by his $4 bottle of Château Margaux, also commented approvingly upon the friendliness of the musicians in attendance — one of the key aims of the organization. Indeed, the good feelings continued throughout the evening: the formal concert was followed by a cabaret and a “Bohemian Kitchen Symphony,” an item typical of the sophisticated, insider musical jokes the Bohemians loved to write and perform.6 In January, the NYSO made its annual two-week tour, starting in Toronto and covering the Midwest and upstate New York. Barrère was one of the soloists, as he was for the orchestra’s first concert back in New York. In addition to his featured status in the Afternoon of a Faun, he was soloist in three movements of the Bach Suite in B Minor and a minuet and arabesque by Debussy. A. Walter Kramer of Musical America applauded the performance of Barrère, “whose equal as a flute player is yet to be discovered.” Of the Faun he wrote, “This orchestral poem, which a half dozen years ago sounded unusual, is today as an open book”—a remark confirmed by the NYSO’s tour reviews a few years earlier.7 On February 3, the Barrère Ensemble gave its second subscription concert of the season, with soprano Florence Hinkle as guest soloist. Along with large works by Gouvy, Gounod, and Sylvio Lazzari—the American premiere of his Octuor, a work “in the spirit of Tristan,” in the words of Musical America— there were also a number of French songs, including “La Flûte enchantée” by Ravel with Barrère’s flute obbligato in the title role. The large audience, the Times reported, was indicative of growing public interest in music for wind instruments, but also of the easy listening the concert provided. “There was nothing to make a strain upon the intellect or wrack the nerves of the listeners, or to puzzle the brains of those who are not in the current of the newest in music. Perhaps it was as well that there was not, and that the concert was a cheerful period of easily bought enjoyment.”8 Enjoyment was clearly on the agenda when it came to entertaining society on the charity circuit. The next day, the Ensemble assisted pianist Carolyn Beebe in one of her morning musicales, this one at the home of Mrs. James Talcot. On February 17, Barrère, clarinetist Gustave Langenus, and oboist Bruno Labate, along with baritone Francis Rogers, played a charity concert at the home of Mrs. Prescott Hall Butler. Barrère was doing an excellent job of



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cultivating upper-class patrons, and indeed the announcements of these concerts often showed up not on the music pages of the daily newspapers, but on the society pages. The group repeated much of the February 3 program at Cooper Union for the People’s Symphony Club, a free series of concerts intended for music-hungry European immigrants begun in 1902, and then the Ensemble moved uptown to Carnegie Hall, whose stage was bedecked with palms and flowering plants for a concert in which it accompanied Barrère’s good friend tenor Edmond Clément. Like Michelette Barrère, Clément was a student of Anna Arnaud. A star of the Opéra-Comique in Paris, he had quit the Metropolitan after manager Giulio Gatti-Casazza insisted that he take on Italian rather than French roles in 1910, and he was then a frequent performer at the Boston Opera, where André Caplet was on the podium. Despite the cold weather, Carnegie Hall was nearly full for a program entirely composed of modern French songs; Barrère provided flute obbligati in “Clair de lune,” Hüe’s “À des Oiseaux,” and the traditional French song “À mes sabots.” In addition to accompanying the tenor in settings apparently wrought by Barrère, a facile arranger, the instrumentalists played various movements by Gouvy and Gounod, and harpist Carlos Salzedo — yet another Paris Conservatoire friend, now principal harpist of the Metropolitan Opera, who had joined Barrère’s French-émigré circle—provided some Debussy transcriptions. This concert was the first of their many U.S. collaborations over some twentyfive years.9 Many of the critics were in agreement that the marriage of tenor and woodwind ensemble was not entirely happy. Said one, “A musician, who has a sense of humor, remarked that there was something of the effect of ‘improved bagpipes’ in the color of these instruments.” Barrère’s own Debussyesque “Chanson d’automne,” a setting of Verlaine’s poem, dedicated to Clément, was so popular that it was repeated. “It is a happy conception of the spirit of the text, particularly with its melancholy phrases in the English horn, but it does not reach the depth of real pathos that lies within the few dozen words of the poet. Mr. Clément sang it with especially neat phrasing,” said the New York Journal.10 Alas, the woodwind version does not survive; the edition published by G. Schirmer in 1915 has only piano accompaniment. At the end of March, the ensemble was scheduled to appear at Williams College in Massachusetts, but its train was delayed by floods in upstate New York. As the New York Times reported with some understatement, “[W]hen finally a weary, hungry, and bedraggled ensemble arrived at Williamstown, it found the town wrapped in peaceful slumber.” This proved to be a major financial setback to Barrère, who was responsible for the musicians’ fees and travel costs despite the cancellation. To the rescue came Mrs. Frederick Trevor Hill, the wife of a wealthy New York lawyer and novelist, who hosted a Tues123



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day afternoon benefit concert for the group at her West 86th Street studio on April 15.11 Barrère’s social connections paid off again, and this time he was able to repay the favor well; outside of society circles, Mrs. Hill had her own career as the composer M. W. Hill, or Mabel Wood Hill, and Barrère would premiere several of her works the following year. The concept of a woodwind ensemble was beginning to spread in the United States. In June the Philharmonic Ensemble announced two concerts for the fall; its members included Auguste Mesnard, who was about to defect to the Philharmonic as principal bassoonist; and Henry Léon Leroy, solo clarinetist, who had joined the Philharmonic in 1911. Barrère’s student Emanuel Mesthene organized a program of woodwind and other chamber music at the Carnegie Lyceum in January 1913, recruiting clarinetist Burnet Tuthill and cellist Paul Kéfer, among others. In Chicago, Barrère’s old French friend Alfred Barthel, then principal oboe of the Chicago Symphony, had formed a woodwind quintet with his orchestra colleagues. And in Boston, there was the Longy Ensemble, now in its thirteenth year, and in November 1913 Longy attempted to give Barrère competition on his home turf, dubbing the Longy Club the Longy New York Chamber Music Society for the occasion. But Barrère had apparently staked his territory sufficiently that Longy gave only one concert; the New York World warned protectively that any future concerts by Longy “may rival . . . those of the Barrère Ensemble, which is really our own, and has established itself.” The Boston Transcript reported only that the “city [was] already overcrowded with concerts.”12 There were solo recitals as well. In early February Barrère demonstrated the flute for a group of blind children attending a lecture by curator Frances Morris at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He played not only his own silver flute but an ivory one belonging to the museum—an interesting choice in that all the museum’s ivory instruments are one- or eight-key old-system instruments from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and there is no evidence that Barrère was familiar with the old fingering systems.13 Of far greater significance was the “joint sonata recital” he and pianist Ernesto Consolo gave at the Belasco Theatre on March 2. The concept of a sonata recital, much less a flute sonata recital, was quite unusual in New York, as in Paris, and the critics made no bones about their expectations of monotony and their belief that not just any flutist could make a recital interesting. As the Sun pointed out, the duo had built “a goodly following of admirers” so they would draw an audience, but since compositions for flute and piano were so rarely heard, “sensitive music lovers are not likely to clamor for their performance except at the hands of players rarely equipped.” But they were pleasantly surprised. Of the Schubert Variations, op. 130, A. Walter Kramer wrote in Musical America, “It is a work full of sunshine and joy and was admirably played.



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Mr. Barrère’s technic [sic] in all of the variations was extraordinary and in one of them, taken at a hair-raising tempo, his almost uncanny breath control fairly drew his audience out of their chairs. It is only such flute playing that can make the instrument interesting.” Of the Bach A Major Sonata, the Times opined, “Mr. Barrère’s delightful playing of the flute part, of limpid fluency and exquisite phrasing, was matched by Mr. Consolo’s crisp delivery of the part originally intended for the harpsichord, which he played in a style appropriate to it.” The Pierné Sonata completed the program.14 A month later, Barrère made his first recording for the Columbia Phonograph Company: “The Swan” from Carnival of the Animals, the Allegretto from the Widor Suite, and Simple aveu by Francis Thomé. He would return to the studio in November to record his signature piece, the Dance of the Blessed Spirits from Orfeo, and the Minuet from Bizet’s L’Arlesienne Suite No. 2. The Barrère Ensemble, too, benefited from a new association with Columbia and began cutting discs in 1915.15 Finally, after the NYSO spring tour, Barrère was off to the Loire Valley in France for a summer of vacation and music-gathering , the results of which would appear on the programs of the 1913–14 season in New York. A September press release from his manager, Catherine Bamman, reported, “Mr. Barrère has spent even more time than usual in this quest this season, conferring extensively with leading composers, and studying their scores with them.” Among his trophies: the Lied et scherzo, op. 54, by Florent Schmitt, which might be conducted in New York by the composer; the First Symphony of Vladimir Dyck; and the Divertissement, op. 6, by Albert Roussel, which had been premiered by the Société Moderne in April 1906. In addition, Bamman reported, Georges Hüe was orchestrating his Fantaisie for flute for the Barrère Ensemble, and it would be included this season if it was completed in time. American works would have their place as well—the composers Mabel W. Hill and Seth Bingham were mentioned, along with Christiaan Kriens. She noted, finally, that because some listeners were unable to attend the usual matinee series, at least some of the series would be given in the evening.16 Bamman, who was new to the field, made a specialty of chamber music presentations; apparently Barrère was responsible for getting her started in the business and was her first client. A music lover trained in commercial art and typography, Bamman worked out of her home on West 154th Street, in Washington Heights. “I had not the faintest idea of engaging in musical work from the business side, until one day I was talking with Mr. Barrère and he suggested that I take the management of the Ensemble,” she recalled. Unfazed by her inexperience, she began by taking her brother’s football guide and writing to colleges all over the country: “It cost M. Barrère a small fortune in stamps during that first year, but I got it back for him.” Bamman soon took on more clients, 125



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among them cellist Horace Britt, one of Barrère’s Conservatoire chums, the baritone Reinhold von Warlich, and later Yvette Guilbert and Carlos Salzedo. Bamman was one of a generation of indomitable women managers. “I have always tried to play the game like a man,” she said, “because they have been at it a long time and they know the rules.”17 She would represent Barrère loyally for the next eight years. NYSO rehearsals began in October, with the season opener on the thirtyfirst, Barrère’s birthday. There would be eight Friday afternoon and sixteen Sunday afternoon concerts in its Aeolian Hall subscription series, as well as a six-concert Beethoven Festival to be played both in Manhattan and Brooklyn. Aeolian, though only a year old, had already undergone renovation; the rear orchestra seating had been placed on an incline to improve the sight lines. The December 5 program was a showcase for Barrère: the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto with Alexander Saslavsky and Harold Bauer. The Times wrote, “They were in deep sympathy and accord, and their effects . . . were ravishing.” Musical America echoed the sentiment: it was “an unadulterated delight. A more sympathetic cooperation of the three solo artists, a finer understanding of style, a truer balance, a clearer sense of the content of this music than was evinced by these players could neither have been desired nor elsewhere obtained.”18 As if that were not triumph enough, the Bach was followed by the Afternoon of a Faun and the American premiere of Debussy’s Printemps, newly orchestrated by Henri Büsser. Two days later, the newly organized Society of the Friends of Music gave its first concert, at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. It was an opportunity for Barrère to introduce his first protégé, William Kincaid, now in the third year of study at the Institute; they appeared together in the Fourth Brandenburg Concerto of Bach, accompanied by a small string ensemble consisting of the Kneisel Quartet and colleagues. Barrère spotted Kincaid’s potential early: in his first year of study, he called Kincaid “[a]n excellent and interesting student”; by the second year, “[a] genuine natural talent.”19 In an interesting juxtaposition, rival woodwind entrepreneur Georges Longy was soloist in the Mozart Oboe Quartet. The Barrère Ensemble opened its fifth season with a matinee on Monday, December 15, with pianist Carolyn Beebe as guest artist. The concept was light: a Quintet “on themes in a popular form” by Henry Woollett; the New York premiere of Percy Grainger’s Walking Tune, which Grainger had scored in 1905; a Beethoven Duo for clarinet and bassoon (“a curious product, not likely to enhance the fame of the composer,” judged the Times); the premiere of Ronde des lutins, a trio by Christiaan Kriens; a Haydn sonata; and the Roussel Divertissement. Barrère, suggested the Times, may have found sources of woodwind ensemble music “running rather dry.” The Roussel, reported Musical America, “is modern French in its conception, but does not present any great musical idea.



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It was the least important number of the afternoon”—ironic, in that the piece is today considered one of the landmarks of the woodwind repertoire. Nonetheless, the critics applauded the effort: “Mr. Barrère and his musicians have made for themselves a distinct and not at all [un]important place in New York’s musical life, and their concerts have been attended by the true epicures of music.”20 The second concert, on February 2, 1914, again found the Times dubious about the program owing to its “essential unimportance.” The concert began with the First Symphony of Vladimir Dyck, “whose insignificance persisted through four movements”; the premieres of two pieces by M. W. Hill were “quite as inconsequential,” said the Times. Lied et scherzo, op. 54, by Florent Schmitt, a composer of growing reputation, failed to capture the critic either. On the American side, the Suite, op. 17, of the organist Seth Bingham, then a music instructor at Yale, received its premiere. Dedicated to Barrère, the Suite was “a more cogent and interesting work” than the Schmitt or Dyck, declared the Times. Bingham formed another arm of Barrère’s French connection: a student of d’Indy at the Schola, he was married to a Frenchwoman who had sung at the Schola concerts. The Star critic appreciated that pedigree and the work’s “ingenious construction of the French school,” but the Post concluded, “None of these works was of sufficient importance or value to call for discussion.”21 The Ensemble toured briefly in March — Detroit, Cincinnati, and Charleston, West Virginia — and appeared at the People’s Symphony Club at Cooper Union, where “[o]nly a portion of the audience seemed to take a fancy to this latter ultra-modern music,” meaning the Schmitt. The Wailly and Kriens were apparently more palatable. If the Barrère Ensemble seemed to have reached a plateau, or if its novelty had worn off, perhaps it was because Barrère was occupied with two other, more significant events that month: the debuts of two new ensembles, a trio and a chamber symphony. In the fall, Barrère and two French colleagues, cellist Paul Kéfer and harpist Carlos Salzedo, had formed the first of these, the Trio de Lutèce, so named for the ancient Latin word for Paris, Lutetia. Salzedo, like Barrère, had come to the United States in search of adventure. “I am young and active and it is but natural that I should wish to see something of the world before settling down,” he told Musical America.22 For four years he had been solo harpist of the Metropolitan Opera orchestra under Toscanini; he had just quit the orchestra at the beginning of this season because of his active touring schedule. Too proud to last long in an orchestra, particularly under the autocratic Toscanini, he was intent on building a reputation as a virtuoso soloist. Nevertheless, he was an enthusiastic participant in the chamber music enterprise. “I think Carlos was eager to have us appear publicly as soon as we found ourselves fit to do so,” Barrère recalled.23 Their friendship dated back to the Conservatoire and the 127



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Colonne Orchestra, where both were principals a decade earlier. The two reunited in America for what would become a twenty-five-year chamber music collaboration. Kéfer, too, was a Colonne veteran, but very different in personality from Salzedo; his friend Hervey White described him as “the aristocratic, silent type, fine as Damascus steel and of like temper.”24 He was now going freelance after five years as principal cellist of the New York Symphony. The advance literature played up the chamber music collaboration in almost saccharine terms: “the completest possible sympathy and mutual understanding among its component members.” “Messrs. Barrère, Salzedo, and Kéfer have long been associated in intimate friendship. . . . Theirs has long been the exalted brotherhood of a glorious service toward the most human, and therefore the most inspiring , of all arts.” Fittingly, Barrère and Kéfer were both present at Salzedo’s wedding , on April 20, to harpist Viola Gramm. At the post-wedding festivities in Salzedo’s Carnegie Hall studio, they, along with pianist Yves Nat; Kurt Schindler, conductor of the New York Schola Cantorum; and art dealer Stephan Bourgeois (a key figure in the Armory Show), formed part of an impromptu chorus that performed a wedding cantata based on the Twenty-third Psalm and a choral piece based on Paris street cries.25 It was a gesture entirely characteristic of these clever, irreverent, and high-spirited young men. The Trio de Lutèce made its debut on Washington’s birthday, with contralto Jeanne Gerville-Réache as guest soloist. Its repertoire, befitting its name, was entirely French: Hahn, Pierné, and Debussy trios (the Petite suite for piano four hands, arranged by Salzedo), plus solos by each of the three (works by Aubert and Leclair for Barrère). The Debussy was one of many such arrangements that Salzedo would make for the group. Musical America applauded the “novel and beautiful combination,” while the New York Tribune sounded a cautionary note: “There is probably a place for the trio in New York’s musical life, though the circle which will enjoy the concerts is necessarily small.” The first audience, at least, responded with enthusiasm, and a second concert was rapidly scheduled for two weeks hence. Again the program was French—in fact, several numbers were repeated — and the Times critic’s only complaint concerned the excessive encores.26 Just five days after the Trio de Lutèce appeared on the scene, Barrère was onstage at Carnegie Hall with yet another infant ensemble. He had been asked to organize a concert for the benefit of the New York Red Cross Hospital, and he assembled many of the first-desk players from the New York Symphony into a group he called the New York Little Symphony. The soloist was the eminent soprano Olive Fremstad, then a reigning star at the Metropolitan Opera. With the Red Cross flag suspended over the stage, Barrère conducted a varied program of Wormser, d’Indy, Saint-Saëns, and Wolf-Ferrari chamber works, with



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Scandinavian folksongs and Verdi arias by Fremstad (who also accompanied herself at the piano in two of her encores).27 This would be Fremstad’s last season at the Met, but for the New York Little Symphony, soon to be renamed the Barrère Little Symphony, this was the first of twenty-eight seasons. Just about this time, an interesting intramural incident occurred in the flute world: Marcel Moyse, a French flutist thirteen years Barrère’s junior, was in the United States touring as accompanist to the Australian soprano Nellie Melba. (When Melba appeared with the New York Symphony in October, however, Barrère provided the flute obbligati.) The story goes — as told with minor variations both by Moyse28 and Barrère — that the Minneapolis Symphony offered Moyse a position and a contract, but when he returned to Minneapolis after the Melba tour he found that there was no job for him. Moyse, recalled Barrère, “was simply stranded in the U.S.A. without the least knowledge of the language and less of the business conditions.” Barrère, who probably did not know Moyse in Paris—the younger man had spent his only year at the Conservatoire in 1905–06—loaned him a small sum of money, “for which he gave me as collateral a very good flute with commission to sell it if possible.” Moyse earned his passage home taking care of the horses on a cargo ship and would not find a permanent home in the United States until 1951. A year or so after he made the loan, Barrère saw Moyse again at the Paris Conservatoire examinations and gave him the proceeds from the sale of the flute. “I never saw a man more astonished than he was,” Barrère remembered with a touch of acerbity some twenty-five years later.29 On June 1 came the first proof of Barrère’s skills as a teacher: William Kincaid, his first star student, graduated from the Institute of Musical Art, playing the Bach Suite in B Minor at the commencement ceremony. Even as he continued his studies at the Institute for several more years, Kincaid would take his place next to Barrère in the New York Symphony and join the New York Chamber Music Society. By 1921 he was principal flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra under Stokowski, and he would become the most influential flute teacher of his generation, perhaps of his century, surpassing his own teacher in the rigor of his methodology and the sheer number of his students placed as orchestra principals. That spring, Barrère had made the acquaintance of Diana Watts, known publicly as Mrs. Roger Watts, an expert on ancient Greek dances and the author of The Renaissance of the Greek Ideal, a treatise on physical education and training.30 Because the first two instruments associated with the ancient Greeks were the flute and harp, she invited the Trio de Lutèce to accompany her in concert. On April 21, the day after Salzedo’s wedding, they appeared together at New York’s Booth Theatre in a demonstration entitled “The Movement of Greek Statues,” interpreted, according to the press release, “through what she 129



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terms the ‘Law of Balance.’ That the music of the old Greeks of 2000 years ago was governed by the same immutable law Mrs. Watts further demonstrates, and for this purpose she has secured from Gabriel Fauré an example of early Greek music, the famous ‘Hymn to Apollo,’ unearthed at Delphi in 1904 by the French Archaeological School.”31 In fact, the fragment had been found a decade earlier and transcribed by Théodore Reinach, a professor at the École du Louvre and an authority on Greek music; Fauré made two harmonizations, one for voice, flute, harp, and two clarinets, another for voice and piano. The work was published by Bornemann in 1894 and in a revised edition in 1914.32 Presumably Barrère or Salzedo prepared this one, but the manuscript is lost.33 “Mrs. Watts’s idea,” reported the New York Times, “is to train the muscles as did the ancient Greeks and by perfect control of the body to clear and strengthen the mind and will.” Dressed in “a short, sleeveless white silk Grecian tunic, silk fleshes, and sandals,” she “displayed much grace and wonderful balance in her unusual dances and postures,” a description that sounds something like a cross between Isadora Duncan’s dancing and yoga technique. The audience, populated by society women, remained after the performance for tea in the lounge.34 There were additional performances in Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, and then the trio and Diana Watts decamped for London, where the program was entitled “Perfect Balance in Movement.” The midafternoon “demonstration” on June 23 was such a success that a repeat performance was scheduled for July 9, this time at 5:30 p.m. “in order that professional men and women may have an opportunity of being present.”35 The trio also appeared at Bechstein Hall with the singer Murray Davey in a concert of songs by Davey and Poldowski, and at the homes of the painter John Singer Sargent and Baroness Von Schroeder. Noted Barrère, “If you consider that this was our best paid engagement, from a German baroness on the French Bastille Day, two weeks before the declaration of war between France and Germany, you will realize the amazing coincidence.”36 The London sojourn was also an opportunity for reunions. Coincidentally, Barrère’s good friend Pierre Monteux was also performing in London that week, conducting the Russian Ballet with principal dancer Adolph Bolm, a future collaborator with the Barrère Little Symphony. Jacques Thibaud had played a Bechstein Hall recital on June 9. Barrère also planned to meet Eugène Wagner, the pianist of the Société Moderne, and Percy Grainger.37 The newly married Salzedo and his bride, Viola Gramm, took the opportunity to honeymoon near Geneva. Despite the rumbling of approaching war, the Barrères went off to Rotheneuf, a seaside village in Brittany. Edith Wharton was also in France, and she recalled, “The whole fabric of the country’s seemingly undisturbed routine was threaded with noiseless invisible currents of preparation,



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the sense of them was in the calm air as the sense of changing weather is in the balminess of a perfect afternoon. Paris counted the minutes till the evening papers came.”38 On August 3, Germany declared war on France. Wharton reported, “The tone of France after the declaration of war was the white glow of dedication: a great nation’s collective impulse (since there is no English equivalent for that winged word, élan) to resist destruction. But at that time no one knew what the resistance was to cost, how long it would have to last, what sacrifices, material and moral, it would necessitate.” “It is hard to evoke, without seeming to exaggerate it, that mood of early August: the assurance, the balance, the kind of smiling fatalism with which Paris moved to her task.”39 Barrère became obsessed with the war, making daily bicycle trips to nearby St. Malo to get news. There, he remembered, “I saw the first Belgian refugees arrive from Charleroi. It was the beginning of the war. No one thought that it would last four years, and personally I was convinced that it would be over before the end of the summer.” He had planned to return to New York in September and did not anticipate any problem with the military authorities because the army had discharged him from the reserves in 1903. As he recalled upon his return, “Matters seemed perfectly facile for my departure from France, for I am a ‘reformed’ soldier, and am exempted from service on account of my exceedingly impaired eyesight. My ten years’ residence in this country together with my work, interests and affiliations here make it more of a homecoming than my citizen’s papers possibly could.” What further proof did he need than his ability to make puns in the English language? In French, the verb for military discharge is reformer. (In his autobiography, too, he says that the army rejected him for bad eyesight, but the official record gives the unlikely explanation that he was “[d]ischarged on September 13, 1903 by the Special Commission of Paris for chronic infection of the middle ear resulting in the right [ear] in almost complete destruction of the eardrum.” This dispensation was likely the bureaucratic equivalent of a wink.40 After he had made a coastal trip from Brittany to Le Havre, avoiding Paris, French officials refused him his passport because the minister of war had ordered that all rejected reservists be reexamined. But because of his status in the “distant” reserve—he had completed the second of three stages of French military service — he would not actually be reexamined until the spring of 1915. Barrère argued to the officials that he would be more useful to France working in the United States than doing nothing in France, and his passport was granted on the condition that he would report immediately upon arrival in New York to the French consul. By September 28 Georges and Michelette were back in New York, and on his thirty-eighth birthday, October 31, 1914, the French consul reaffirmed his discharge on the basis of a chronic ear infection.41 131



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Owing to their large foreign-born memberships, American orchestras felt the effects of the war immediately. Two of Barrère’s New York Symphony colleagues, principal violist William Eastes and principal cellist Jacques Renard, were also in Europe; the NYSO confidently but inaccurately (at least in Barrère’s case) announced in early September that “as all are naturalized and enthusiastic Americans, they will be back in a few weeks.” The Boston Symphony, fearing that several of its members would be stranded in Europe, canceled its fall tour.42 And on the Continent itself, concert life came to a standstill; Musical America ran the provocative headline “European Musical Life Paralyzed by War; Prominent Artists Involved in Conflict” as early as August 8. Of Barrère’s contemporaries, many were called up, and many were wounded or killed. To this cohort of musicians, the horrific French casualties were not a statistic; they hit very close to home. Of the 8.4 million Frenchmen mobilized, 1.4 million, some 16 percent, were killed; France also tallied 2.8 million wounded.43 Leroy, now first clarinetist of the New York Philharmonic, was drafted by France and had to go back. Clarinetist Georges Grisez and oboist Pierre Fosse of the Boston Symphony were also mobilized.44 Salzedo’s honeymoon ended when he was recalled to the 167th Infantry; he became seriously ill and was discharged in November 1915. Baritone Léon Rothier served in the army of the Marne and was falsely reported as killed in battle. Tenor Edmond Clément was wounded in April 1915.45 Composer André Caplet would ultimately suffer mortal effects from being gassed, dying in 1925 at the age of fortysix. Pierre Monteux would spend two years in a French uniform—not on the front lines, but in the 35th Territorial Regiment, serving at the Marne, Verdun, and the Argonne, where he could take along his violin.46 Four members and four auxiliary members of the Société Moderne were killed, among them Barrère’s Conservatoire classmate Ernest Million.47 When the New York Symphony reconvened for its first fall rehearsal, Walter Damrosch, ever the diplomat and always ready to give a speech, was prepared: As we have about thirteen nationalities represented in this orchestra, including all those now at war with each other in Europe, . . . it may not be a mistake for me to say a few words to you regarding the advisability of following our good and great President’s advice and to maintain a coherent neutrality regarding the terrible European war. I know that such an attitude may be difficult for some of us. Artists feel all things intensely and many of you have ties of love and traditional loyalty which bind you to your mother country. But I think your life in America has taught you, as it has me, that the real cause of this war is what we consider an unreasonable race hatred which should have no place among people.



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The New York Symphony, said Damrosch, “is abundant proof that life under the beneficent and impartial institutions of a free country does away with race hatred and many race prejudices.” On their many long tours, “I have never known a quarrel to arise between any members of this orchestra because of the fact that one was a Teuton and the other a Slav or a Frenchman.” They were all Americans, and there was to be no discussion about “who started it”; they should be thankful that they were in a peaceful country.48 He proudly took his polyglot band on tour for some six months of the year, including a trip to Canada that required special permission of the Canadian government so that the five German members of the Symphony who did not yet have their second naturalization papers could enter and leave Canada.49 For Barrère, the wartime mood was an opportunity to prove his credentials as an American musician. Even before the outbreak of hostilities, Catherine Bamman had announced that although he typically spent his summers in Europe looking for new manuscripts for the Barrère Ensemble, “with each succeeding year more and more American manuscripts are being submitted, and as Mr. Barrère has from the first given these the preference, it is not at all unlikely that he may present an entire program of them next season.” He intended to tour the country, showing , in a phrase that anticipated John F. Kennedy, “not only what the wind instrument[s] can accomplish, but what American composers are accomplishing for the wind instrument.”50 The timing was excellent for this public relations initiative—one that Walter Damrosch seized as well, programming the works of five American composers (David Stanley Smith, Converse, Loeffler, Stock, and Whiting) in November.51 Not all American musicians agreed. In the 1890s, as debates about the future of American music intensified, Edward MacDowell had spoken out against all-American programs as political, rather than musical, events.52 Now, in 1914, Arthur Whiting was opposed to a similar sort of propaganda for American composers, a point of view he voiced in a paper read at the American Academy of Arts and Letters/National Institute of Arts and Letters. He spoke contemptuously of “professional agitators,” well-meaning but misguided “friends” who charged that American composers did not get a fair hearing. Claiming to speak for other self-respecting American composers “eager to rebuke these ‘foolish friends of American art,’ ” Whiting declared that American composers needed no “boost.”53 In a decidedly Darwinian analysis, Whiting reasoned that if American composers were not appreciated, it was because they lacked technique, and thus the public’s preference for European music was justified. The solution, he said, was to enlarge opportunities for music education; he remained optimistic about the development of a “distinctive American school of music.”54 For Barrère, the time was ripe for something he had been planning for a 133



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long time: “I want to establish to our audiences the fact that we are not compelled to draw entirely on foreign sources for our program material, for composers over here have been waking up to the opportunities presented.”55 The PR machine was only warming up. In late November, Catherine Bamman wrote a lengthy article for Musical America, lauding Barrère’s efforts to resurrect the wind ensemble literature in both Paris and New York. The chamber literature of the European courts had been eclipsed by the expansion of the orchestra, she explained in purple prose: “From this sleep of centuries, the Barrère Ensemble has emerged, an evangelist to propagate the gospel of musical purity.” His first program in New York, consisting of works of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Handel, and Haydn, was “an entire program of twentieth century first hearings in New York. It is interesting to note that American composers are beginning to awake to an appreciation of the expressive qualities and colorful effects possible” in the woodwind ensemble.56 All this was a buildup to the concert held at the Belasco Theatre on November 22, involving fifteen wind players, two pianists, two conductors, and baritone David Bispham, an entire program of American compositions, many of them in premiere performances. It opened with the Suite in the Olden Style by M. W. (Mabel Wood) Hill. The Musical America critic was not impressed: “It has the merit of being very short. Pleasing at times, it nevertheless reveals poverty of invention.”57 Next were two pieces, The Frogs and Scherzino, by George Whitefield Chadwick, director of the New England Conservatory, arranged by Barrère for woodwind ensemble; Eclogue, a four-part set by Howard Brockway, two of whose movements were heard here for the first time; and two pieces by Victor Herbert, conducted by the composer. WardStephens’s setting of the song “Ecstasy,” the English translation of a text by Victor Hugo, was accompanied by large wind ensemble and piano, and several other American songs were interspersed. Critical reaction was overwhelmingly positive: reviews appeared in at least ten New York papers, plus the national musical journals. The New York Evening Post noted, “The final ‘s’ has disappeared from the Christian name of Mr. Barrère, who is now plain George, the silver flute he plays was ‘made in America,’ and so was all the music heard at last night’s concert in the Belasco Theatre. Music is the one international and universal language, and any composition which fails to measure up to this definition lacks in value, for which reason a distinctively national programme awakens misgivings to the seasoned concertgoer. Especially is this the case where the nation to be exploited is America, which, however literal in patronage or keen in appreciation, has just emerged from the sophomore stage in composition. With a past containing few great names, although the future seems hopeful, Mr. Barrère’s experiment with present-day composers was courageous, and found its only possible justification in



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success.”58 Said the New York Press, “There is always a disadvantage in limiting one’s self to the creations of a nation that, comparatively speaking , has put forth so little music as America. But though there were some things on the list of contributions that lacked any particular significance, George Barrère had made a good selection, producing several novelties decidedly worth hearing.” The New York Sun concurred: “The music offered for the delectation of last evening’s audience was all made in America and some of it was decidedly good. None of it was bad and all of it was pleasing.”59 As if the critics had not said enough, immediately after the concert Barrère gave an interview to Musical America headlined “George Barrère as Defender of the Cause of American Music,” in which he replied to the many American colleagues who had asked him why he had arranged an all-American program. The implication was that his aim was “either to display neutrality or frankly as an advertising scheme. One eminent gentleman well known to you all went so far as to say that he pitied me, and sarcastically wished me ‘Good Luck.’ I thank him for these good wishes, but declare emphatically that I do not need them. If we . . . perform American Music, it is not for the sake of neutrality — there is no such thing in music — nor in order to gain a popularity otherwise unattainable; it is not even to show any partiality or nationalism; it is only to take a step . . . in the general forward movement which spells progress in art.” It was all part of his youthful enthusiasm, he said, to encourage his peers among American composers. “I myself shall do my utmost to give the prophet honor in his own country. After all is it not the best return I could make to that generous American public which has so splendidly supported my efforts?”60 The public had also supported the New York Symphony, but the orchestra still relied on the generosity of a relatively small group of patrons. In this respect it had never been on more solid ground. In the spring of 1914, Harry Harkness Flagler, its president, had announced that henceforth he would personally defray the orchestra’s expenses. For its previous season of a hundred concerts, sixty-two in New York and Brooklyn, thirty-eight out of town, the orchestra’s annual deficit of $56,000 had been met by a group of twenty-eight “subscribers.” (The budget had included an increase of $8,000 in orchestra salaries and an increase of thirty-nine concerts over the previous year.) Flagler did not set up an endowment, as originally announced, but pledged an annual gift of $100,000.61 The following February, Musical Courier conducted a thorough analysis of the state of American orchestras and reported that the New York Symphony ranked high in comparison to many of the others. With ninety-five full-time musicians at weekly salaries of $40 or more, it was outnumbered only by the Boston Symphony, with ninety-seven. The minimum union rate for a single concert was $8, which included one rehearsal; extra rehearsals were $4. It rented 135



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space in Aeolian Hall and had a $50,000 deficit. In the 1913–14 season it gave forty-eight regular New York concerts, plus an additional fifty engagements in the city and fifty-four out of town. The eighty-seven-member Philharmonic, by comparison, gave forty regular concerts in a twenty-three-week season, plus extra concerts; Boston gave forty-eight concerts in thirty weeks, plus a ten-week Pops season; Philadelphia had fifty regular concerts and fourteen extras in twenty-seven weeks; Cincinnati, forty-eight concerts in twenty-five weeks; Chicago, fifty-six regular and fourteen extra concerts in twenty-eight weeks; Denver, Kansas City, Los Angeles, and San Francisco were far behind, with only eight to sixteen concerts a year. Salaries were relatively comparable nationwide. The NYSO had the second-largest deficit listed, $50,000 (second only to Cincinnati’s $55,000); Chicago and Boston were listed as self-supporting; and the New York Philharmonic had an endowment fund that assured it a $100,000 annual guarantee.62 Barrère continued to be an attraction to New York Symphony audiences, and in early January 1915, he appeared as soloist with the Symphony in a set of French pieces for flute and piano—Damrosch at the keyboard—interrupting the otherwise Bohemian orchestral program of Dvorˇak, Suk, and Smetana. The set comprised the Fauré Andantino (presumably his own arrangement, later published by G. Schirmer), the Hüe Serenade, Barrère’s own Nocturne, and Caplet’s Petite valse. In what now seems a bit of critical irony, A. Walter Kramer of Musical America called the Nocturne, today largely forgotten, “impressionistic music of the first rank” and the Caplet, today a staple of the literature, “rather common.” He summarized: “Superb were this modern Pan’s performances once more. Nothing remains to be said about Mr. Barrère; he succeeds in interesting laymen and musicians alike in the flute, the rather pitiable literature of which he should strive to enrich with such worth-while things as the Nocturne of his own composition.”63 Two days later Barrère, having arranged with Damrosch to take periodic leaves to tour with his own groups, was in Grand Rapids, Michigan, with the Trio de Lutèce.64 Barrère was in charge of the trio’s travel arrangements, and here he made an error, mistakenly routing the trio to Bloomington, Illinois, rather than Bloomington, Indiana. They reached the former town uneventfully, and it was not until noon that they discovered the mistake. They were due in Indiana in a few hours. A quick-thinking salesman borrowed a grocery wagon to transfer the musicians from one railroad station to another at the junction point of Crawfordsville, Indiana. After reaching the correct Bloomington on time, they played to a standing-room-only audience of more than 1,300, where they reportedly gave a “polished performance” as part of the Indiana Union Entertainment Series sponsored by the state university.65 Barrère returned to New York in time to accompany Emma Calvé at a pri-



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vate musicale on January 29 at the home of the eccentric philanthropists Sarah Cooper Hewitt and Eleanor G. Hewitt, founders of the Cooper Union Museum for the Arts of Decoration (later known as the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum). But even before the Symphony finished its Aeolian Hall series on March 7, he was back on the road, this time for a three-month transcontinental tour by the Barrère Ensemble that drew a sine curve of triumph and disappointment. The Buffalo concert was its first in that city, and the capacity audience and critics alike were pleased; the Musical America correspondent called it “a concert of rare artistic merit.”66 Several of the engagements, including Cincinnati, were repeat appearances, a fact the advertising proudly trumpeted.67 The Cincinnati Commercial Tribune, noting that the audience was both larger and more enthusiastic than at the Ensemble’s concert the previous year, reported, “It is doubtful if the walls of the auditorium of the Woman’s Club ever rang to more spontaneous and enthusiastic applause.”68 After a brief return to New York for a concert with the Choral Art Club, the second leg of the tour got off to an excellent start at the Schubert Club of St. Paul, Minnesota, where it drew an audience of more than 1,200, reportedly the largest ever assembled in St. Paul to hear chamber music. The program was long and ambitious: major works by Beethoven, Mozart, and Gounod; shorter ones by Deslandres, Pierné, Kriens, and Kuhlau; and a variety of short French flute solos.69 But when the nine musicians arrived in St. Louis, they could find no announcement of their appearance, and the local manager had vanished. By the time the Ensemble arrived in Redlands, California, it was ahead of schedule and out of money, and Barrère was forced to ask local impresario L. E. Behymer to loan him enough cash to pay the hotel bill.70 The Ensemble considered California fertile territory, appearing in Los Angeles and San Diego before conquering the Bay Area. At the first San Francisco concert, in the Columbia Theater, the audience was filled with professional musicians eager to hear the legendary flutist. The San Francisco Enquirer gushed, “Not to hear the Barrère Ensemble would be as great a sin against the high aesthetic deities as it would be to miss the Boston Symphony. Their art is perfect.”71 Two days later, the concert across the bay at the Berkeley Musical Association drew 2,500 music lovers. On his return from the 13,000-mile tour, Barrère pronounced himself very pleased with the performance of his men: “It has been a sense of great satisfaction, a veritable joy to me, that my men find real pleasure in their work. It is not merely an art with them, bringing only material returns. I never have to ‘call’ rehearsals. They ask for them, and will practice and rehearse without any limitation being placed upon their time. During our recent tour it was most amusing and gratifying to see them, on the long ‘jumps’ from one city to another take their instruments into the smoking car, and there, to play for hours! 137



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It was a lovely feeling to know they were not merely mercenary musicians.” He was also flattered by the new chamber groups springing up in the cities they had visited earlier: “Every week I receive letters inquiring for lists of music and advice. I am always happy to aid them in their kindly competition.”72 One of these organizations was the San Francisco Quintet Club, organized by his former student Elias M. Hecht. The New York Symphony, meanwhile, had left in mid-April on its annual spring tour—again without its principal flutist. The tour was a success despite Barrère’s absence; Damrosch reported to Flagler from Little Rock, Arkansas, “Everything without exception has gone well and in most particulars wonderfully well. The behaviour of the orchestra has been admirable and their playing has been up to ‘New York’ standard.” And the tour provided the proverbial big break for the understudy. Damrosch reported, “Little Kincaid has astonished us all by his beautiful flute playing and I have taken him as our third flute for next season as I am pretty sure that he will become our first whenever Barrère retires from orchestral playing.”73 At the end of the tour, Barrère received a telegram from Catherine Bamman, summoning the Ensemble back to play a concert with David Bispham in Atlantic City. The auditorium was large, and the management wanted an expanded ensemble, with two horns, two alto clarinets, and contrabassoon in addition to the usual group in order to play the Mozart Grand Serenade. There were several rehearsals in New York and then the concert on May 15— before a sparse audience. The manager proved unable to pay, and again Barrère had to bear the loss, which canceled out most of the profits from the California trip.74 There was other bad news as well, as reports came in from the war zone that some of Barrère’s musician friends had been wounded. On the family front, the news was not so good either. On February 20, 1915, Étienne Barrère was married in Paris. Georges did not attend his brother’s wedding; whether for reasons of war, or professional conflicts, or inclination, we do not know. Whether the brothers had even stayed in contact is a question; their father had died some years earlier, and the family speculates that Étienne, proprietor of the family furniture business, harbored some resentment of his very prominent brother. In New York, another hint of trouble was the New Year’s Eve party given by baritone Francis Rogers and his wife. The Times printed the guest list, which included Mr. and Mrs. Ossip Gabrilowitsch, Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Schelling, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Damrosch, Mr. and Mrs. Howard Brockway, but only Georges—not Mr. and Mrs.—Barrère.75 It was not until June 1915 that Barrère sadly wrote Walter Damrosch a formal letter to deliver the news: “I am now putting the last word to an agreement in separation from my wife. There is no use in such case to advocate any side. Furthermore you know me well enough to be sure that I am not going to argue



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about this situation.” Was this an admission of guilt? Barrère continued, “It is rather painful for me in account of the children”—Claude was now nine years old, Gabriel five —“but I am sure I will have every op[p]ortunity to see them and look after their welfare.” On a positive note, he welcomed the summer vacation, in which he could regroup mentally, to “recover my optimistic courage for work w[h]ich has always been my consolation against any trouble. . . . Do not worry about me, however, I am ready to fight, and I will.”76 According to family lore, Georges and Michelette cohabited in the apartment on West 104th Street for a year without speaking to one another—it was a matter of financial necessity. But by mid-September Georges had moved to a small apartment on East 36th Street, just off Madison Avenue, and Michelette had moved to Central Park West and 97th Street. It was perhaps this move that forced Barrère to ask Flagler for an advance on his salary, a courtesy the orchestra had evidently extended in prior years. Flagler assented. The divorce was finalized in New York State Supreme Court on February 26, 1917.77 In what survives of Barrère’s correspondence, there are no clues to the reasons for the dissolution of the marriage; he kept his troubles to himself. The family believes that Barrère was seeing another woman (but it was not the woman who would become his second wife). And indeed, since the couple was divorced in New York, where the only ground for divorce in that era was adultery, that seems a logical explanation. One could also speculate that his constant travel made him a less than attentive husband and father, and his son Gabriel later told his own children that Barrère would shut himself in his music room early in the morning, not to be disturbed by wife or children. Nor is it inconceivable that Michelette, who had not made a great success of her vocal career, felt overshadowed professionally and resentful of his success. It was not until after the divorce that she became fluent in English — thanks to the other musicians’ wives, who took her grocery shopping and forced her to practice the new language—and she forged a successful career as a character actress, making her Broadway debut in Lilac Time with Jane Cowl in 1917. Billed as Michelette Burani, she went on to play many roles on stage and screen, often cast as a French or Italian maid, appearing with Claudette Colbert (to whom she gave voice lessons), Cary Grant, Judy Garland, and Helen Hayes and as a star of the French Theatre in New York.78 In May 1915, despite the separation, there was nevertheless cause for Barrère to celebrate: it had been exactly ten years since he had arrived in America, and a celebratory dinner was in order. Friends and colleagues—the aristocracy of New York’s musical circles — gathered at the Café des Beaux Arts on May 20, the exact anniversary of Barrère’s first appearance with the New York Symphony. Walter Damrosch and David Mannes provided the oratory, Barrère a reply; Damrosch, Flagler, and orchestra members presented him a loving cup; 139



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and the Barrère Ensemble sent a huge laurel wreath. The Musical America photo was headlined “Honored for Ten Years’ Service to American Music.”79 Barrère echoed the sentiment in an endorsement for the magazine in the fall: “Those foreigners who do not believe in America as a musical world would be convinced to the contrary if they knew as much as I do about Musical America. George [no s!] Barrère.”80



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I

n April 1915, at Ypres, France, Germany tried out its latest weapon, chlorine poison gas. Though it had little strategic effect, it added to Germany’s reputation for barbarism and provided fodder for Allied propaganda. In February, Germany resumed submarine warfare against enemy vessels, and on May 7 it sank the Lusitania, a British ship with 128 Americans among its passengers. It was an event that outraged the American public. Even so, the United States remained officially neutral, and President Woodrow Wilson worked assiduously to keep the United States out of war. Musical life in the United States went on much as before: for Barrère there was the usual menu of concerts and teaching and some tentative forays into the recording studio. There was much work to be done for the new season, which would include eight New York concerts, two each by the Trio de Lutèce, Barrère Ensemble, and Barrère Little Symphony, and two sonata recitals. In addition, the Ensemble would tour extensively in the fall and early winter. As the New York Sun tactfully put it, “When none of these organizations is busy Mr. Barrère is first flute in the Symphony Society Orchestra.”1 He had made his priorities clear and had wrung a remarkable degree of flexibility from his employer. When he did appear with the New York Symphony, he made up for his absences with star billing. For instance, on the afternoons of December 12 and 13, in addition to a featured role in Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite, Barrère played several solos, a Gigue and Musette of Leclair and an Air by Louis Aubert. The provenance of these little arrangements, which were published by G. Schirmer in the 1920s, mystified the learned New York Times critic, who nonetheless 141



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commended their suitability to the instrument: “The old music Mr. Barrère played yesterday, while charming in itself, gained from the fact that it was exactly suitable to the nature of the flute as a solo instrument. It made no demand for varied tone-shading or for excessive emotional quality, which the instrument does not possess in notable degree, nor did it indulge in the other extreme, a gymnastic brilliancy, which in rapid passages on the instrument often causes windiness or injures the tone by mixing fundamentals with harmonics, or vice versa. Instead of these things there were the beauties associated with what is sometimes called the ‘severe’ classical style.” It was a curious comment, in that the Times reviewer went on to appreciate the Ravel as emblematic of “new French music”—presumably, with all the subtle tone-coloring that genre entailed. Indeed, the Ravel was becoming more familiar to New York concertgoers, “gaining the public’s interest with each fresh performance,” the World reported.2 Herbert Peyser, writing in Musical America, likewise confirmed the soloist’s stature and unusual knowledge of the repertoire: “Than Mr. Barrère there is no more consummate virtuoso of the flute in this country to-day. The distinguished Frenchman plays with such impeccable taste, such finesse and such rare charm of phrasing that even persons who take little pleasure in the muchabused instrument for solo purposes readily succumb to its allurements when such a master operates it. Mozart would never have cursed the flute in the historic fashion he did could he have lived to hear George Barrère.”3 In the spring and summer of 1915, Barrère made several solo recordings for Columbia, and the Barrère Ensemble cut a few sides as well. Recordings with the Trio could not begin until Salzedo returned in the fall; when he did get back he joined Barrère under Catherine Bamman’s management, as did Paul Kéfer. Also on her roster was another exemplar of French musical tradition, the incomparable chanteuse Yvette Guilbert.4 Only four years in the business, Bamman was able to move downtown to West 39th Street, just off Fifth Avenue, and to expand her office. In December Barrère was back in New York, where he plunged into an unusually busy schedule of chamber music, at least fourteen concerts in all, sometimes two a day, likely in an effort both to escape his unpleasant personal situation and to make extra money. On December 1, he joined pianist Clarence Adler in a recital at the Hotel McAlpin, playing the Bach A Major Sonata, the Pierné Sonata, and a long list of short French pieces; two days later, he was at Princeton University with Arthur Whiting’s Expositions of Classic and Modern Chamber Music in a program of Italian and English Baroque music. The program of Corelli, Purcell, Handel, and Arne was repeated at Yale on the thirteenth and Harvard on the sixteenth. On December 6 he assisted David and Clara Mannes in one of their pioneering sonata recitals at Aeolian Hall, where



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their performances of Bach’s Sonata in C Minor for flute, violin, and piano from the Musical Offering and a Gluck trio sonata were both billed as New York premieres. The Mannes recitals nationwide were as unusual as Barrère’s own flute recitals, and thus landmarks in the annals of American chamber music. On the nineteenth, there was a concert for the Friends of Music in the RitzCarlton ballroom, in which he played a Bach sonata with Harold Bauer and conducted a small orchestra in a Brahms serenade. That same month, Barrère made his first joint appearance in New York with Yvette Guilbert. This one involved the Trio de Lutèce; in most of her twenty New York concerts over the next several weeks she would be accompanied by the Trio, the Little Symphony, or Barrère alone. A veteran of the FoliesBergère — where it is likely that her performances coincided with Barrère’s — and the café-concerts of Montmartre, Guilbert had first appeared in America in 1897 with a characteristically earthy vernacular repertoire. She was applauded by the public, alternately vilified and acclaimed by the press, and snubbed by leading singers such as Melba and Nordica. Wrote Charles Henry Meltzer in the World, “The fiction of American prudishness has been killed, the word ‘shocking’ has been eliminated from the dictionary. . . . Yvette has sung her songs verbatim et literatim, with their Rabelaisian wit and their Zolaesque naturalism, and they have been applauded and encored.”5 In 1906 she returned with a less-ribald repertoire—a new historical carte that ranged from the Latin songs of the eleventh century to chansons crinoline of the mid-nineteenth.6 Her concerts in 1915 were in the latter vein and ideally suited for a collaboration with Barrère and company. With a German-born husband, Guilbert found it prudent to leave France for America after war broke out. “It is my desire to escape for a time from the agonizing vision of universal mourning, . . . from the sight of these thousands of men so awfully mutilated, from all the horrible recollections which will never be effaced from my memory,” she wrote to Bamman dramatically. “After all these visions of hell, my trip to America to me is like unto the divine grace of entrance into the Promised Land . . . into a Paradise of Peace. . . . I am sure of the hearty, helpful good-will of the American people.”7 Guilbert announced that her concerts were a “cultural mission from France,” though in fact she had no official government status. She described her role as that of “the ancient troubadour or minstrel, who wandered from one land to another, instilling into other nations the love and respect for his own, by celebrating in song its manifold beauties.”8 In his own way, this was a mission Barrère shared. “I have come to your country of America,” Guilbert told potential audiences in a promotional booklet no doubt cowritten by Catherine Bamman, “to sow the living germs of a culture, which when better known and popularized through song, will stimulate and encourage the growth and blos143



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soming of a culture that will be nationally American. . . . The hour has come for France to forge the golden link of art in the chain of sympathies which unites the two countries.”9 Guilbert’s performances were sui generis. “It is not acting, it is not singing, it is not recitation; yet it combines the finest beauties of all three,” explained Vogue drama critic Clayton Hamilton.10 The repertoire was by turns comical or religious, historical (one cycle was based on Joan of Arc) or sentimental. Guilbert nonetheless brought eloquence and flexibility to her interpretations, fully in command of gesture and audience, as was her flutist.11 Indeed, her act had matured since her last visit: “The voice of the boulevards has ripened into an art vibrant with imagination and dramatic suggestion,” proclaimed the New York Dramatic Mirror.12 Guilbert’s concerts with Barrère and his groups interspersed her songs with French trios (typically Rameau, Couperin, and Debussy), orchestral interludes, and French flute solos of the usual variety, often a device to allow the chanteuse to change costumes or for audiences to clear their ears of songs that could sound monotonously similar. There were, however, occasional instrumental novelties as well. On January 2, 1916, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the Ensemble gave the New York premiere of Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro.13 The programs were not unlike those Barrère had given with Anna Arnaud several years earlier, but Arnaud did not have the drawing power of the great Guilbert, who was virtually guaranteed a sold-out house in New York. H. T. Parker, the venerable critic of the Boston Evening Transcript, observed, “[N]ever before have the socially and artistically elect of New York, from which Boston often takes the cue in such things, so warmly acclaimed her.” It took conservative Boston, where she and Barrère gave a series of concerts in March, until the end of her ten-day run to warm to her fully. This slow warming , Parker mused, “must amuse the cosmopolitan and astute-minded diseuse, who observes her audiences only a little less closely than she studies her imaginary personages.”14 The success of the Little Symphony as the backup to Guilbert proved the launching ground for that organization’s revenue-producing sideline, as the backup band for other artists. That winter, it accompanied the American debut of the flamenco specialist La Argentina, at the Maxine Elliott Theatre, a recital that included the premiere of Granados’s Tango of the Green Eyes. Considered a “virtuoso of the castanets,” she enchanted the critics with her “considerable personal beauty of the Spanish type” and her skillful sense of rhythm.15 Catherine Bamman marketed the Little Symphony as a utility orchestra in nationally published advertisements: “The Little Symphony possesses a many-sided usefulness which must instantly commend itself to managers, directors of choral societies, officers of vocal clubs, etc. It can furnish its own quasi-orchestral-chamber music program, including , if desired, George



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Barrère as soloist. It can likewise support a vocal soloist, or a moderate sized chorus, and this at a comparatively small figure, especially when on tour.”16 American support for France was not yet military, but rather financial and psychological. American bankers floated loans to the British and French governments, and exports of war materiel to Britain and France escalated sharply. Otto Kahn, a partner in the investment banking firm of Kuhn, Loeb and Company, was behind much of this largesse; in 1916 he was instrumental in issuing a $50 million bond to the city of Paris, the first such financing from outside France. Similar loans to other French cities followed quickly. A patron of culture on a grand scale, he was a founding council member of L’Institut Français aux Etats-Unis, treasurer of the Museum of French Art in New York, and a contributor to Gabriel Astruc’s Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris. In cementing his connections with the French, he hoped to neutralize the potential liabilities of his German Jewish ancestry. Kahn also made it possible for European artists to find performance opportunities in America and for the United States to become an eager consumer of modern European culture. Indeed New York and the United States as a whole were the beneficiaries of the destruction occurring in European cities. Said Kahn, who recognized the irony of the situation, “America is reveling in its prosperity . . . whilst the blood of Frenchmen is flowing in streams. . . . New York is very busy and very gay—much too gay, considering the appalling tragedy which is being enacted in Europe.”17 Barrère and other French artists in America responded to that tragedy with great energy. For them, 1916 was the year of the charity benefit. His beloved France was desperately in need of assistance from its émigré community, and he and his confreres were eager to do their part. Though the U.S. government was officially neutral, its citizens were nevertheless extremely sympathetic to civilian suffering in Europe, particularly in France and Belgium. Established organizations, notably the Red Cross, mobilized across America to organize medical aid, and a patchwork quilt of other, smaller groups emerged around the country, some 6,000 in all over the course of the war. Among the fundraising techniques were musical and theatrical events of all kinds. Barrère began the new year with a concert organized by the Vacation Committee for the benefit of the French Flotilla Committee, which was raising money to purchase “ambulance automobile flotillas.” Medical care was a particular concern, as the underfunded and notoriously poor French medical service soon gained a reputation for “callousness and inefficiency,” and its death rate far exceeded the other Allies’.18 For the benefit, Barrère conducted an orchestra composed entirely of French musicians, accompanying the singers Emma Calvé, Loraine Wyman (who replaced the scheduled Yvette Guilbert), Victor Maurel, Reinhold de Warlich (formerly Reinhold von Warlich, renamed just as sauerkraut became Victory cabbage and hot dogs replaced frankfurters 145



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on American menus), pianist Yves Nat, and Salzedo on harp. The evening concluded with a stirring rendition of the “Marseillaise” replete with symbolism: Salzedo had made the orchestration during his off-hours in the trenches, and the anthem was performed by a chorus of 200 backing Calvé, clad in the Red Cross uniform she had worn while serving as a nurse in France. “The singer,” said the Times, “swept the audience . . . to a dizzy height of patriotic sentiment.” Indeed, “[t]he heart of France and of French sympathy beat in the Metropolitan Opera House last night.” The concert was a definitive success, raising more than $12,000 in ticket sales and pledges, enough to equip more than five ambulance stations capable of serving 75,000 troops.19 Calvé would devote the entire spring season to fundraising for this group. During the same year Barrère contributed musical performances to a wide variety of similar causes: the Women’s Auxiliary of the French Hospital, the Fatherless Children of France, injured graduates of the Paris Conservatoire, Le Pacquet du Soldat (which sent “comfort kits,” food, and tobacco to the front lines), the Cercle Rochambeau, and the American Friends of Musicians in France. In March he joined an international array of musicians — pianists Ignace Paderewski of Poland, Enrique Granados of Spain, and Ernest Schelling of the United States; tenor Lucien Muratore of France; and the Flonzaley Quartet (whose members hailed from Italy, Belgium, and Switzerland)— in a Carnegie Hall concert to benefit the musicians of the Paris Conservatoire, many of whom were injured in military service or put out of work by the war. The concert succeeded in raising $10,000. Acknowledging the gift, Camille Saint-Saëns wrote on behalf of Fraternelle des Artistes, “Honor once again to American generosity! We well believe that New York will hold for a long time the record for receipts for one concert.”20 For the United States, one positive effect of the war was the exodus of French artists to the United States. Late in December 1915, one of Barrère’s oldest friends joined him on American shores. Driven from Paris by the virtual shuttering of the city’s artistic life, Edgard Varèse would find a warm welcome among the French émigré community and with them would make enormous contributions to its artistic development. France was under assault from the Germans in the theaters, concert halls, and galleries as well as on the battlefield, and of those artists not conscripted into the fighting, many chose to try their luck in the United States. This migration worked to the benefit of both the European artists and the citizens of the United States, who were introduced to the cultural innovations of the early modernists as a result. The United States provided not only a safe haven for the French émigrés, but also fertile ground for their cultural propaganda. The French nationalism that Varèse had experienced when he studied at the Schola Cantorum in the first decade of the century was reignited by the war. As he boarded the ship for



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America, he wrote to his daughter, who remained in France, that his mission was “to do good work for all French music.”21 The territory onto which he stepped had already been seeded by the visual artists who preceded him. The Armory Show of 1913 had made celebrities of Marcel Duchamp, Francis Picabia, Henri Matisse, and many other French artists; those who came in wartime included Duchamp, Picabia, fellow painters Jean Crotti and Albert Gleizes, and poet Henri Barzun, who would form the core of the avant-garde in New York. Crotti explained why New York was attractive: “If we come over here it is not to infuse the American spirit into our work, but rather to seek that freedom from turmoil which is impossible at home. When our artists, in the past, have gone over to Europe to study with famous masters, they have not . . . renounced their nationality. As a rule, they have come over, learned what Europe had to teach, and then returned. That is the way with the European artists who are now coming over to America.”22 For Varèse, the sole composer in the group, the goal was “Amériques! I came to this country: the opening of horizons. . . . It’s the point of departure. You think of freedom, you think of expanding. . . . Nothing can ever beat . . . the euphoria of discovery.”23 For the visual artists, there were galleries and existing social networks; for Varèse, there were no formal organizations — at least not yet. But there were old friends — Salzedo and Barrère in particular. There was also Otto Kahn to pay the bills, and a month after his arrival Varèse wrote to his mother-in-law, “Otto H. Kahn and [Cornelius] Vanderbilt (2 billionaires) are taking care of me. . . . I think that they are arranging to have me conduct a very big concert next month, here at Carnegie Hall—(which is the largest concert hall)—with the New York Symphony Orchestra. If that succeeds, it will be the basis for the future, and the point of departure.”24 In fact, he would make his conducting debut in an even bigger hall, a gigantic performance of the Berlioz Requiem at the 5,300-seat Hippodrome. In September 1916, another of Barrère’s old friends, Pierre Monteux, arrived from France, dispatched to conduct the tour of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. Met at the dock by tour sponsor Otto Kahn, Monteux quickly renewed his friendship with Barrère, going directly to the flutist’s apartment to await Nijinsky’s instructions about the rehearsal schedule.25 The Diaghilev troupe would open a three-week run in New York before undertaking a coast-to-coast tour. Kahn had gotten Vaslav Nijinsky released from “open arrest” in Budapest and orchestrated the difficult negotiations among Diaghilev, Nijinsky, and Gatti-Casazza, the powerful general manager of the Metropolitan Opera; he also hired the up-and-coming public relations guru Edward Bernays to handle the publicity. It was a major step forward for modernism and the avantgarde in America, preparing American audiences to accept art forms totally outside their prior experience.26 147



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The next month, yet another French musician, Jacques Thibaud, arrived. He had recovered from his war wounds physically but not psychologically. When he appeared as soloist with the New York Symphony at Aeolian Hall on November 16, the concert had to be interrupted midway so he could regain his composure.27 Barrère, however, was not there to support his friend; he was in Houston, where the Trio de Lutèce was playing a concert with the Women’s Choral Club. The Symphony had opened its season in October, and so had the various Barrère ensembles. The Trio de Lutèce, for example, elegant in morning coats and striped pants, entertained at Ladies’ Day in the “Monastery” of the new Gothic clubhouse of the Friars Club—of which Barrère was a member—on West 48th Street. Their contribution was Salzedo’s arrangement of Fauré’s Dolly Suite. Barrère also planned an ambitious tour schedule, necessitating extended absences from the Symphony. The Trio was to be in the Northwest in October, the Southwest in November, and the Midwest in February. After the Trio returned to New York, it gave a concert at the Cort Theatre on November 28, notable for what was billed as the U.S. premiere of the Debussy Sonata for flute, viola, and harp (presumably with the viola part arranged for cello).28 The concert was also the venue for some French musical merriment, as the Trio performed the U.S. premieres of three satires: a valse in the manner of Borodin and a paraphrase on Sisbel’s flower song in Faust in the manner of Chabrier, both by Ravel; and a song without words à la Fauré, written by Casella. (Salzedo made the trio transcriptions from the piano originals.)29 “They caused actual roars of laughter among a most dignified musical audience. The impudence of them, no less than their cleverness, justified their exposition. Why shouldn’t we music lovers have a bit of fun once in a while?” asked the Evening World.30 On Barrère’s birthday, the Little Symphony played at the Cort, with Llora Hoffman as soprano soloist. The “novelty” of the program was the suite from Céphale et Procris by Grétry, one of several “archaic” numbers, in the terminology chosen by Musical America. There were also more modern works by Pierné and Louis Victor Saar, a Dutch-born and German-trained composer who had come to the United States as an accompanist for the Metropolitan Opera and had been Barrère’s colleague at the Institute of Musical Art. The programming was calculated; in a concert field overcrowded with European refugees, he chose works that were thoroughly accessible. “Mr. Barrère’s policy in programme making is to court the tastes of those who will seek their heavier matter elsewhere if anywhere. All the music was pretty, simple, and graceful. It was all in the clearest forms and never strayed into the tangled demands of the modernists,” reported the Sun approvingly.31 The Barrère Ensemble was also active that fall. On October 29 it inaugu-



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rated a series of Sunday evening chamber music concerts sponsored by the Harris Theatre, featuring the concert premiere of Barrère’s arrangement of Edward McDowell’s Woodland Sketches (a piece the Ensemble had recorded for Columbia in the spring of 1915 but never released). The December 19 concert at the Cort was classic Barrère, a program of novelty and variety ranging from classic Viennese to modern American in which he showed his talents as talent scout, mentor, and program maker extraordinaire. Opening with Mozart, he proceeded to a flute quartet by Kreutzer, which, the Times said, “may have opened the eyes of some in the audience to the variety possible to that instrument.”32 Barrère was abetted in this novelty by three of his students, William Kincaid, Edward Meyer, and George Possell. From the young Charles Tomlinson Griffes there were the premiere performances of the composer’s own arrangements of The Vale of Dreams and The Lake at Evening, two pieces from his Three Tone-Pictures, op. 5. (Griffes also arranged a third piece, Night Winds, for Barrère, but it did not appear on the program.) Written in the impressionist style, these important works were the product of more than a year of consultation between composer and flutist. One critic wrote, “It was a gracious day in music even for jaded reviewers,” and the new compositions by Griffes and Kramer “are sure to be heard again.”33 Overall, the reviews were mixed: “interesting novelties” to “Debussy unadulterated and unaltered.”34 The Griffes pieces were followed by a first performance of Two Preludes by A. Walter Kramer, a critic for Musical America and its future editor in chief. What was more interesting to some reporters was the final work, a musical joke perpetrated by Barrère at the expense of Fritz Kreisler. It was an arrangement of the violinist’s Caprice viennois, which the program billed as “Instrumentated by George Barrère. A bit of mild retaliation.” As Barrère explained to the audience (in what Herbert Peyser called “one of his now famous harangues”), he had recently heard Kreisler play the Dance of the Blessed Spirits from Gluck’s Orfeo, which the flutist called “one of my ‘battle horses.’” Mockoffended at the appropriation of “his” repertoire, he took revenge by arranging Kreisler’s own piece for winds.35 For Barrère, the musical significance of the concert may have been overshadowed by its personal ramifications. The soloist, the American soprano Helen Stanley, brought to rehearsals her companion, an attractive young Swiss woman named Cécile Allombert, who had accompanied her back from Europe in the fall of 1914. Georges’s divorce from Michelette would be finalized in February 1917, and five months later Cécile would become the second Mrs. Georges Barrère. The beginning of 1917 found Barrère again on the road, switching frantically between ensembles: playing with the Barrère Ensemble in Middletown, 149



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Connecticut; joining the New York Symphony in Dayton, Ohio; meeting the Little Symphony in Utica, New York; Birmingham, Alabama; St. Louis, Missouri; and Chambersburg, Pennsylvania; catching up with the New York Symphony for five days of its East Coast tour; then playing in Baltimore and Pittsburgh with the Trio de Lutèce. “At that time train connections were very uncertain, and it was always agony to run from one organization to another, not knowing if I would be able to join them,” he recalled.36 In February, just before a short East Coast tour, Salzedo made an announcement on behalf of the Trio de Lutèce, extending an invitation for American composers “or foreigners living in this country” to write new pieces for the Trio. The plan was to play some of those works at each of the Trio’s three concerts the following season. “The standing of the Trio de Lutèce naturally insures performances of the highest order and such meritorious works as they may not be able to undertake at once have a chance of performance by other trios, which are being formed by a number of pupils of the three artists as well as by any number of other musicians interested in this form of chamber music. Mr. Salzedo himself undertakes to arrange harp parts for piano or to make any other changes of the kind which may for one reason or another be desirable.”37 The goal was a noble one in an atmosphere of 100 percent Americanism, but there is no evidence that the Trio acquired any new repertoire as a result.38 At the same time, the French government, aided by Otto Kahn, intensified its efforts to cement ties with America, one vehicle for which was the promotion of French music and theater in the United States. To this end, Kahn, Clarence Mackay, and William K. Vanderbilt formed the Comité FrancoAmericain de l’Art Musical, or Franco-American Musical Art Association, at the end of 1916. Also on the board were Henry Clay Frick, André de Coppet, Robert Goelet, Augustus D. Juilliard, and John D. Rockefeller Jr. They worked closely with the Marquis Melchior de Polignac, the official representative of the French government, who had been dispatched to New York on a cultural mission to the United States the previous June, and Henri Casadesus, who arrived in mid-January. The goal of the organization was to sponsor tours by French musicians, including Thibaud, organist Joseph Bonnet, Monteux, and Cortot, as well as Frenchmen resident in the United States, such as Barrère and Salzedo. Musical America predicted, “A renaissance of French music is to descend upon us; French songbirds never before out of the confines of the Opéra are already pluming for a transatlantic flight; French composers whose art is not known here in its pure essence are dusting scores and batons; French ensembles of an excellence now known only by reputation outside of France may join the friendly invasion of America—in a word, the république is about to give us an artistic salute in commemoration of the cordial relations between the coun-



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tries.”39 As part of this effort, Casadesus’s own early music ensemble, the Société des Instruments Anciens, toured the country and made test recordings for Victor.40 Though he was increasingly Americanist, Barrère kept his French contacts intact. On February 23, unexpectedly freed from a concert with the Arthur Whiting ensemble in Princeton, which had been canceled, Barrère was in the audience for a concert by Casadesus’s Société des Instruments Anciens.41 When the United States entered the Great War on April 6, 1917, Good Friday, the New York Symphony was in Fargo, North Dakota. But Barrère was in New York and was probably part of the band of French musicians who dined together that night at the Brevoort as guests of de Coppet. In the meantime, Bamman’s marketing campaign for the Little Symphony was working, and a series of engagements in the New York suburbs brought in needed revenue. “Shakespearean plays and pageants are often likely to be tedious when given out of doors,” said Frank Vanderlip, president of the Sleepy Hollow Country Club in Westchester County, and so he came up with something more entertaining: he engaged the Barrère Little Symphony and the Pavley-Oukrainsky Russian Ballet for the club’s Decoration Day program. Andreas Pavley and Serge Oukrainsky, veterans of the Imperial Russian Ballet, had come to the United States with Diaghilev. Now leading dancers of the Chicago Opera Company, they had also started their own company two years previously and had first teamed with the Little Symphony in Utica in January.42 The 9:00 p.m. concert at Sleepy Hollow, held in the club’s natural amphitheater, was followed by supper and dancing, according to the Times society page, and a special 1 a.m. train ferried the partygoers back to the city. The open-air theater was decorated with Persian lanterns, and young boys in “bizarre Oriental costumes” and “usherettes, who also were attired in the most approved Bakst style,” escorted the audience to their seats. The Little Symphony opened the program, followed by flute solos and then divertissements and solo dances by the ballet.43 The same forces gave a similar program for the opening of the Sylvan Theatre in Potomac Park in Washington, D.C., in early June, along with Anna Case and Sophie Braslau of the Metropolitan Opera; an audience of more than 6,000 reached from the new theater on the Mall all the way back to the Washington Monument. The Little Symphony also participated in the pageant by Mrs. Christian Hemmick entitled “Drama Triumphant.” Barrère was keeping in touch with New York society as well, providing the potted-plant music for a dinner given by Mrs. Rodman Wanamaker at Sherry’s, for example. Along with Pavley and Oukrainsky, the Little Symphony provided the entertainment for a blue-blooded guest list of 200 drawn from old Dutch gentry and Our Crowd. A program of Mozart, Moussorgsky, Rubinstein, Saint-Saëns, Massenet, and Grieg was followed by dancing for the guests in the large ballroom. There is no indication that Barrère found these dates insulting 151



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in any way; they were simply an opportunity for revenue and a chance to be charming and to perform. The summer of 1917 also signaled increasing involvement in wartime musical advocacy, as Barrère teamed up with his old friend Monteux, then conductor of the French repertoire at the Metropolitan Opera, to organize a series of summer concerts. Having completed his tour with Diaghilev in February, Monteux was also at the end of his extended leave from the French army. To the rescue again came Otto Kahn, patron of both Diaghilev and the Metropolitan Opera, who introduced him to Gatti-Casazza at the Met. Having secured an invitation to conduct the French repertoire there, Monteux successfully appealed to his Conservatoire friend, pianist Alfred Cortot, who was then working for the undersecretary of state for fine arts, for assistance in extending the leave further.44 Freed from his military obligations, Monteux was also free to take up another Kahn project: the Civic Orchestral Society. That organization, founded the previous summer by Kahn and other guarantors, had played the summer season of 1916 under the baton of Walter Rothwell at Madison Square Garden. With the Garden now unavailable, the orchestra shifted its venue to the St. Nicholas Rink, on West 66th Street. Described by the press as a “resort,” it was in fact an armory building , transformed by a ladies’ committee into an imitation of a summer garden, with patriotic touches such as Allied flags. Indeed, said Musical Courier, the decorations “improved it almost beyond the recognition of those who are familiar with its usual barnlike fixtures.”45 In a bow to the masses, smoking was permitted in the hall, and light refreshments were available, “modified like their musical accompaniment to the spirit of a beerless but not a cheerless age,” in the words of the Times critic.46 It was not exactly Montmartre, but it was the best that wartime New York could muster. Monteux quickly recruited Barrère to be his principal flutist, then delegated to him the job of recruiting the rest of the orchestra. It was not a task he relished, as Musical America reported in an amusing interview: “A harassed look supplanted the ever ready smile, and the little black case which enshrines the ‘magic flute’ was replaced by a big, burdensome portfolio of papers.” Barrère confided to the journalist that Monteux “is my cher ami, and I wish to help him, so I say yes. But O, Mon Dieu! I did not know what I was promising. Since it became known that I am doing this, my telephone has rung day and night. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I cannot think. Ring, ring, ring, until I am almost mad. And the letters! See, here; there must be a thousand in this portfolio, and it is only part; they must weigh fifty pounds. Recruit an orchestra! Never again, unless perhaps some day—my own!”47 But recruit he did, and the orchestra of eighty men was an all-star cast. Led by concertmaster Gino Nastrucci of the Metropolitan Opera, it had Paul Kéfer



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in the cello section and quite a few men from the Philharmonic. Despite some raggedness noted in the early part of the season, the orchestra coalesced nicely.48 The soloists included soprano Maggie Teyte, pianist Robert Lortat, and soprano Claudia Muzio of the Met. The advance publicity made much of the fact that Monteux “did his bit in the war in France,” serving for twenty-five months in the Territorial Infantry entrenched around Verdun, and noted that when he came to the United States for the second Russian ballet season, he had refused to conduct Richard Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel, because to do so would bar his return to France.49 Three thousand people packed the St. Nicholas Rink for the opening concert on June 20, springing to their feet as a flag-bearer marched in and joining soprano Anna Case in the “Star-Spangled Banner.” At intermission, Otto Kahn, the orchestra’s treasurer, gave the obligatory oration. “We are all Americans,” declaimed Kahn, “whatever blood flows in our veins, and we can say, as was once said long ago that it is not for honor, glory, or interest that we fight, but for liberty alone, the most precious of those high and noble things that make life worth living. Another of those things is art, and in time of war it is our duty to see that the sacred flame of art is not extinguished. The flag of art is a neutral flag , and please God, it always will remain so.” At each concert, Kahn announced, there would be a speaker “on national issues.” First in the lineup was Colonel W. H. Chattfield of the Mayor’s National Defense Committee, whose intermission talk focused on recruitment.50 Chattfield was one of some 75,000 “four-minute men”—prominent members of their local communities deputized by the Committee on Public Information, headed by the magazine writer George Creel, to deliver patriotic speeches on set topics at movie theaters, concerts, schools, and other local venues. And then there was the music: Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No. 3; the Bach Suite in B Minor, with Barrère as soloist; Franck’s Redemption; and a set of songs with soprano Anna Case. The critics were less than impressed with the musical results. The Times critic condescended that “[t]he foreign leader was not to be expected instantly to understand his public here in the matter of programs suited to American taste, although a certain note of propaganda for French music was neither untimely nor unheralded.” Wartime anti-Germanism notwithstanding , he would have preferred the Strauss waltzes favored by Theodore Thomas or the Wagner of Anton Seidl, suggesting as well that there must be plenty of music from French light opera that would be new to this generation of New Yorkers, along with Russian ballet music, “as a leaven to lighten the mixture of much serious musical literature cloying to appetites sated by a thousand concerts through the year.” The critic appealed for “less shopworn works of early and modern France.”51 Musical Courier was equally critical: “This is not the sort of music that one 153



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wants to listen to on a hot night in summer.” Rothwell’s programs in 1916, by contrast, had had the right balance of heavy and light works. Worse, “Mr. Barrère’s solo flute in the Bach number was scarcely audible, which is more likely to have been the fault of the hall than of the player.” Indeed, the hall was a disaster: “the situation of the hall is most unfortunate, owing to the fact that in quiet passages a constant obligato of elevated trains, surface cars, busses and automobiles is audible, as well as voluntary assistance from sweet singers in a neighboring cabaret, and street whistlers; added to which the lights above the orchestra are not properly masked, and the seats are equal in discomfort to those provided at Madison Square Garden last year.”52 By the end of the Civic Symphony season — it gave only half of the twenty concerts originally announced—the musical tally was thirty-five compositions by Frenchmen, seventeen by Germans (none living ), eighteen from all other nationalities, plus various American patriotic songs.53 No one was happy with the repertoire. The critics derided Monteux’s command of Beethoven and his taste in programming—though his French repertoire was beyond reproach—and hoped that in the third season, confirmed in July, he would program more American works.54 Typical was a letter to Musical America from a listener who complained, “We have failed this season to be thrilled either by conductor, programs, or the general conduct of the enterprise; the recruiting speeches, timely as they may have been, interfered with the continuity of the programs. We were told about a new repertoire, which Mr. Monteux was to reveal to us, about his new viewpoint and some other things, none of which we have discovered.” Hoping that he would hear some interesting new French compositions new to America, instead he got “the usual”— Debussy’s Faun and Dukas’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice. The other French works that Monteux played—such as Lalo’s Norwegian Rhapsody and Bruneau’s Messidor prelude— were “unimportant things that are not played by our orchestra plainly because they are not worth it.” When Monteux programmed light works, he was criticized for being “unsymphonic”; when he shifted the balance, programming Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, the d’Indy Istar Variations, and the Bruch Concerto, he was criticized for giving “a winter symphony program.” “Braving the charge of being called Chauvinistic, I might add that M. Monteux’s lack of interest in American music this summer was particularly deplorable, especially at this time, when the sister republics are exchanging so many courtesies.”55 There were other complaints about the lack of American works: another letter in Musical America griped that it was “turned into propaganda for the music of the director’s own country, a fact veiled by a forty percent sprinkling of Wagner, Beethoven and the Russians,” a ratio “accepted good naturedly by the ever-tolerant-toward-foreign-artists New York Audience.” He deplored the “studied absence of the American composer.”56



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With uncharacteristic bitterness, Barrère sprang to the defense of his beleaguered friend, who, he said, had been “roasted.” Referring to Musical America critic Herbert Peyser as a “professional knocker,” he rebutted the charge that Monteux had not programmed a single work by an American. It was not fair, he said, to expect a man who had just arrived in the United States to be Americanized from the beginning; there was not sufficient rehearsal time. “Has any other noted foreign conductor done so in such a short time?” In his fury, Barrère accused the journal of criticizing Monteux because he had not advertised in its columns. In September, a rejoinder appeared in Musical America. Labeling Barrère an “excitable Frenchman,” the reader wrote, “Such a charge is absolutely baseless, and no one should know this better than Mr. Barrère himself, who received considerable notice in your columns—indeed, was greatly aided by them in the early parts of his independent career as a musician—long before his announcements appeared in your paper.”57 Making matters more complicated, by the end of August Monteux still had not been paid. Desperate for cash, he was forced to ask Otto Kahn to intercede with the management. Kahn responded with alacrity; while acknowledging that the financial loss was “a great deal heavier than had been anticipated (mainly owing , I believe, to the unfortunate choice of the hall) still you cannot be expected to wait indefinitely.” He concluded charitably, “I can only hope that the universal public recognition which has come to you will in some degree be compensation to you for all you have done under adverse and sometimes vexatious circumstances, and without adequate financial reward.”58 Barrère’s retreat from the controversy was a growing “musical colony” in Stamford, Connecticut, which was also home to Helen Stanley and her fiancé, manager Loudon Charlton. On July 6, in Stamford, the forty-year-old flutist married the thirty-year-old Cécile Allombert, with Justice of the Peace Justus J. Barthet officiating.59 Since the ceremony occurred on a Friday, squarely in the midst of the Civic Orchestra season, it was a low-key affair. There was no wedding trip, at least not right away, and there were no announcements in the New York papers. But the marriage would be a happy and long-lasting one, as Cécile, with no aspirations for a career of her own, devoted herself wholeheartedly to caring for her charming and enterprising husband. For the rest of their lives, they would continue to converse with each other in French.

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I

n the fall of 1917, xenophobia reached a fever pitch in the United States. Congress passed the Espionage Act and the Trading with the Enemy Act, imposing a regime of censorship and repression. Official Liberty Loan posters showed graphic scenes of German brutality against civilians, and the caption of one poster decried “the vicious guttural language of Kultur.” The California State Board of Education condemned German as “a language that disseminates the ideals of autocracy, brutality and hatred”; Nebraska forbade the teaching of the German language in its schools, as did many other localities. Many libraries removed the books of Goethe, Kant, and Nietzsche from their collections. On the streets, dachshunds were stoned.1 Concert stages, too, became testing grounds of national loyalties. The previous February, the New York Symphony had been scheduled to play in Canada, but its polyglot membership caused problems in the atmosphere of wartime aggression. Five of its members were German-born and not yet U.S. citizens, and in Canada, where the Parliament buildings had recently been bombed, the newspapers were vehemently opposed to hosting German musicians. Orchestra manager George Engles decided to cancel the trip, and Catherine Bamman booked the Barrère Ensemble to appear in the Symphony’s stead.2 The opening concert of the New York Symphony’s 1917–18 season at Carnegie Hall brought the issue to the attention of its hometown audience immediately. Walter Damrosch, in typical fashion, opened the season with a speech; said one commentator, “There are a good many . . . who say that our



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friend Walter is a better orator than he is a conductor.” Although the United States was at war with Germany, Damrosch said, and must pursue its military objectives vigorously, it could not ignore its religious and artistic needs. Thus Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms were not to be considered Prussians, but great artists; they belonged not to the country of their birth but to the entire civilized world. The audience signaled its approbation with applause, but the orchestral climate continued to be tense.3 Within a week, l’affaire Muck had begun to unfold. The Boston Symphony was scheduled to perform in Providence, Rhode Island, on the thirtieth of October. Shortly beforehand, the BSO’s manager, Charles Ellis, received a telegram from the Chaminade Club, a local ladies’ musical organization, requesting that the orchestra play the “Star-Spangled Banner” before the concert. Ellis, with the approval of Henry Lee Higginson, who single-handedly financed the BSO, declined to do so. A furor erupted in the local papers, and although conductor Karl Muck was not involved in the decision and was in fact unaware of the issue, his prior employment as kapellmeister of the Berlin Opera was held against him and he became the scapegoat. Damrosch, whose German birth and classic German repertoire made him vulnerable to similar criticism, waxed defensive, telling the Times, “Dr. Muck naturally does not care to conduct the national hymn at the present time, and I confess I should not enjoy hearing him do so. Considering his citizenship and his feelings toward our war, this would be an act of hypocrisy.” Indeed Damrosch, like Josef Stransky at the Philharmonic, had played the anthem. In November, the BSO caved in and announced that it too would play it. Yet l’affaire Muck continued. Prominent citizens convinced the military not to let servicemen accept passes to the BSO’s New York concerts, and the Carnegie Hall concert — which included Brahms — was played under police guard. Higginson appeared on stage to display Muck’s Swiss naturalization papers. More rumors flew that Muck was receiving German radio signals at his summer home in Maine. The federal government was called in to investigate Muck, and on March 25, 1918, he was arrested, with no charges specified. He resigned from the BSO five days later and was imprisoned as an enemy alien. In August 1919, long after the war had ended, he was deported on the basis of what the Justice Department called “alleged pro-German sympathies and utterances, and his close association with the State Leaders of Germany before the war.”4 On November 15, 1917, Musical Courier ran the banner headline “Agitation Continues against Enemy Music.” Damrosch continued to play the German classics, and the journal tried to reason with its readers by reprinting an article entitled “Musical Germanophobia” from the Minneapolis Bellman. Playing a Beethoven symphony, it said, was not “trading with the enemy,” and Wagner 157



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did not sink the Lusitania. “The denunciation of German music, merely on account of its origin, is cheap and childish. The cultivation of unreasoning intolerance is no part of true patriotism.”5 Nevertheless, Fritz Kreisler decided to cancel his entire American concert tour, but just as a precaution, the police chief in St. Louis forbade his appearance in that city. By early December, Musical Courier reported, under the headline “More Patriotic Agitation against Alien Musicians”: “It appears that all unnaturalized German and Austrian musicians who are members of the various Orchestral organizations in America soon will have to give up their positions voluntarily, or else be deprived thereof. A general movement on the part of the directing boards of these orchestras is being started for the replacement of such enemy aliens in all instances by American players.” The Philadelphia Orchestra was the first to do so, announcing that it had canceled the contracts of eight German and Austrian members because they were born in foreign countries and held only their first citizenship papers. Department of Justice regulations prohibited enemy aliens from leaving the state in which they lived. Five German opera singers were dismissed from the Metropolitan Opera. The attorney general ruled that Muck and German members of the Boston Symphony could not leave Massachusetts, causing the BSO to cancel its scheduled concerts in Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia.6 The French government, already deeply involved in cultural propaganda in the United States, seized the opportunities presented by this anti-German hysteria. American supporters in New York, organized as Les Amitiés Françaises, Inc., founded a magazine called the New France with the goal of gaining American support for the postwar reconstruction of France. “Valuable as America may be as an Ally in the war she has come into it late. Her part in the fight for democracy will be limited by time, but her part in rebuilding will be that of the chief artisan and the chief banker.” The parent organization in France took “a very wide view of cultural propaganda”; the American branch, by contrast, had as its object “not culture but commerce, and it is accidental that in France the two so often go together that the chief commerce of France in America has been in article[s] of culture.”7 An article by Salzedo in the first issue trumpeted the expansion of French music in the United States: “The exclusively pro-German tendency of music in the United States is by now fortunately a thing of the past. There is nothing surprising in the fact that a few Western cities have completely capitulated to the charms of German music and still seem to appreciate musical Germany alone, from Haydn to Brahms. We must consider the youth of these great industrial and commercial centres and their almost wholly Teutonic population. By their geographical location the Northern and Eastern states have been in a better position to come into touch with Mediterranean civilization.” After list-



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ing numerous French opera singers and French orchestral repertoire popular in the United States, he made his strongest argument with the case of French instrumentalists in the United States: “Although string and brass players hail from all over the world, one may say without fear of contradiction that France alone produces real flautists, oboists, clarinetists, and bassoon players. Their superiority lies not only in their intelligence and superior musical education, but also in the workmanship of their instruments. It is only in France that instrumentmakers seem to possess the skill, the eye for detail, the taste and patience to turn out these mechanical marvels. I personally remember hearing Toscanini insist that his players use only French-made instruments.”8 Salzedo provided a résumé of French involvement in the previous concert season, mentioning Barrère and Kéfer by name and giving a shameless endorsement to the Trio de Lutèce. Indeed for Barrère, the major activities of the fall of 1917 concerned not the Symphony but the Trio. The publicity drumbeat had begun in midsummer, with a facetious account in Musical America of the three players’ friendly rivalry at the Paris Conservatoire.9 In the same spirit, the same journal ran an article entitled “Barrère Applauds Chaplin.” Recalling his boyhood attempt to run away with the circus, the flutist endorsed Charlie Chaplin’s view that there was “precious little humor” in music and lamented that the comedian had not heard the Ravel and Casella parodies at the last Trio de Lutèce concert. “Why shouldn’t we music-lovers have a bit of fun once in a while? Perhaps if the gods who control High Olympus on the Pacific Coast present the Trio de Lutèce there we shall still have the honor of making Charlie Chaplin laugh.”10 And then there was a series of advertisements that included some fanciful copywriting, probably the joint invention of the vaudevillians Barrère and Bamman: “COBWEBS / have no place in the scheme of the TRIO de LUTÈCE / Dreary — stupid — pedantic music is / taboo; the bright—sparkling—piquant abounds.”11 And for readers with a literary bent: “HARK! Can you shut your eyes and hear them? / The flute of Arcady / The harp of Psalmody / The viol of Minstrelsy / TRIO de LUTÈCE.”12 Opening its season at the People’s Symphony Concerts at Washington Irving High School in New York, the Trio took its French programs out on tour in early November, including stops in Utica (for the B-Sharp Music Club), Cleveland (for the Fortnightly Musical Club), Milwaukee (sponsored by the National League for Woman’s Service), and Grinnell, Iowa (at the Grinnell School of Music). The Trio and its repertoire were much acclaimed, and by late October Bamman announced that two of the three intended tours were closed, a third was almost closed, and a fourth might be added. At the same time, she was booking the Barrère Ensemble for tours beginning in late November. A new collaborator with both ensembles would be Bamman’s latest client, the soprano Lucy Gates. A granddaughter of the Mormon leader Brigham 159



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Young, Gates had grown up in Salt Lake City and received her musical training in Germany, studying at the Berlin Conservatory and privately with Blanche Corelli. In 1909 she had been given a contract by the Royal Opera of Berlin, and two years later became prima coloratura soprano at the Kassel Royal Opera. When the war interrupted her career in Germany, she returned to the United States, singing at the Chicago Grand Opera and elsewhere.13 She also had a recording contract with Columbia, Barrère’s label at the time. For two years she had been searching for a new manager, seeking advice throughout the New York musical community. A shrewd observer of managerial politics, she rejected managers with competing singers on their rosters. For example, she wrote home with Mormon rectitude, “I am not very anxious to go with Mr. Charlton, for Mis[c]ha Elman and Sam Franco [sic] both tell me that he is so engrossed with Helen Stanley that he can’t see anyone else. They gave me to understand that she indulges in relations other than that of a business nature with him and this seems to be verified, for I see them together constantly.”14 In April 1917, on the advice of Walter Kramer and Harold Bauer, Gates finally signed a two-year contract with Bamman. “She is said to be the only person, either man or woman, in the business who has not one enemy. It is because she is honest, square and business like. She spends a good deal of time on the road putting her artists before the local managers, and also has the best advertising of any manager.” Bamman also needed a soprano to perform with the Little Symphony and the Barrère chamber groups, which would virtually guarantee numerous engagements.15 Gates’s relationship with Bamman got off to a good start, as did that with Barrère. She was optimistic: “Surrounded by the artists of the Barrère Ensemble and the Trio de Lutèce,” she told the press, “I no longer feel like Lucy Gates with a high G, but like one of the instrumental voices, each blended to fit the other, and singing with one voice of many hues and colors.” Barrère and Salzedo, meanwhile, were busy arranging accompaniments for the Barrère Ensemble and Trio de Lutèce, respectively.16 To inaugurate their partnership, on Thanksgiving evening Gates and Barrère made a joint recital appearance in Denver. Musical America reported that Gates’s success was “instantaneous.” After “Come, My Beloved” by Handel and songs of the American composers Mrs. H. H. A. Beach, MacDowell, and A. Walter Kramer, “Miss Gates and Mr. Barrère distinguished themselves in the ‘Mad Scene’ from ‘Lucia.’ This number has never been given here with a more finished ensemble and a higher regard for accurate phrasing and nicely modulated crescendos.” Flute solos by Gluck, Bach, and Chopin completed the program.17 The whirlwind nature of Barrère’s autumn travels was captured in a wellplaced piece of puffery in Musical America in December—a piece designed to



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get him even more bookings: “Barrère Appears in Five Capacities in Single Week.” Taking just the week of November 26 as an example, it listed the Barrère Ensemble in Wilkes-Barre on Monday the twenty-sixth; the recital with Lucy Gates in Detroit on Thursday the twenty-ninth; and a Little Symphony concert with Lucy Gates in Syracuse on Friday the thirtieth. On Saturday night he was “once more discovered at the first flute desk of the New York Symphony Orchestra,” and on Monday, December 3, the Trio de Lutèce appeared at Rutgers College in New Jersey. “Mr. Barrère will have two days to ‘get his wind’ before starting on a lengthy trip of the South and Middle West with the Barrère Ensemble,” the press release breathlessly reported.18 It was a pace that obviously suited him. That was a good thing, because on December 2 he would begin his longest tour yet, not returning for three months (though he intermittently rejoined the Symphony on the road). In the dance arena, too, Barrère had a challenging new partnership. He and Isadora Duncan were acquainted not only through her many appearances with the New York Symphony, but also through their many mutual friends, among them Caplet and Varèse. In November the papers announced that he would conduct the Little Symphony in five performances by “The Pupils of Isadora Duncan” at the Liberty Theatre in New York from November 15 to 24. A flyer was duly printed, announcing a program of Schubert dances and scenes from Iphigenia in Tauris by “Christopher Gluck.” As soloist, Barrère would play his trademark solo from Orfeo and the Bach Suite in B Minor. The concert would be under the direction of the theatrical producers Charles D. Coburn and Henry Neagle. There are two versions of the story. In Barrère’s autobiography, he says simply that in the fall of 1917 Duncan asked him “to take care of the seven charming girls, known then as the pupils of Isadora Duncan. We arranged a whole week of matinees at the Liberty Theatre with the Little Symphony. Isadora has been most kind in mentioning me (though not by name) in her Memoirs, but I do not think it would be irreverent to the cherished memory of the great artist to mention here a slight altercation we had at the first rehearsal.” At nine o’clock on a cold November morning, “in an equally cold theatre,” they began the rehearsal with a scene from Iphigenia in Tauris, “to which the girls were dancing, or rather miming , a chorus of priestesses of the Taurian Temple to Artemis.” Barrère worked with the orchestra on the notes before attending to the phrasing. “The dreaming Isadora could not bear hearing her preferred melody played so dryly. ‘This is pathetic music; they should cry in playing it,’ she said.” Barrère, not wanting to waste rehearsal time, answered, “Why, madame, you certainly do not expect union musicians to cry at nine A.M.!!!” This, said Barrère, “was the end of all my troubles with Isadora. After that we were very good friends, and we repeated those concerts twice in Carnegie Hall.”19 161



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In the other version, told by Duncan’s latest biographer, Peter Kurth, Duncan had gone to California that November, leaving the Isadorables in New York, chafing at the bit to dance on their own but forbidden by her to perform. Her refusal “became a constant source of friction and contention between us, and threatened to come inevitably to a head-on collision of wills,” Irma Duncan wrote in her memoir Duncan Dancer. They approached Isadora’s brother Augustin (Gus), an actor in New York, and he, in defiance of Isadora, made arrangements with his friend Charles Coburn, Isadora’s former manager, to present the series at the Liberty. A letter of appreciation from Anna Duncan to Gus appears to confirm this version. He relates that when Gus informed Isadora, she cabled back: “I FORBID IT. THE GIRLS ARE NOT YET READY FOR PERFORMANCES OF THEIR OWN.”20 The New York Herald critic’s assessment of the November 15 concert confirmed that opinion: “The youthful numbers were by all odds the best. In the more sedate pieces the girls missed the compelling presence of their preceptress, Miss Duncan.”21 According to Kurth, because the pupils’ contract with Isadora forbade them to use her name and her dances without her permission, they were therefore forced to cancel the remainder of the run. Whatever actually happened on subsequent days, Barrère did conduct the Little Symphony for the Duncan students three more times that season, in Carnegie Hall and at a Long Island fundraiser for Italian war relief. The February program supplemented the usual Gluck and Schubert with two patriotic gestures: the playing of the national anthem and, as the finale, a parade of French and American flags to the accompaniment of the Marche Lorraine by Louis Ganne. The audience applauded wildly. Once again Barrère had effectively fused his French and American loyalties to dramatic effect. In the fall of 1917 it had been officially announced that the Maison du Vieux-Colombier would soon be established in New York, providing not only a home for Jacques Copeau’s French theater, but also a center for French intellectual and artistic activity in America. It would be something between an office and a salon, “a consulate of the arts, a meeting ground for Frenchmen and Americans interested in France’s cultural products, a place where plans may be discussed, projects outlined, introductions made, useful relations cemented.”22 As Copeau described it to his superiors in France, it would be “a small colony of authentic French artists who can become the center and the nucleus of a whole organization of French influence.” He dreamed of creating an agency to manage French artists, and he hoped to sponsor lectures, children’s programs, a pension and restaurant for French artists, a library, and a bookshop.23 Part of the French propaganda campaign, as announced in November, would be a series of performances at the Théâtre du Vieux Colombier, the renamed Garrick Theatre on West 35th Street. In addition to a season of Molière



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plays, produced by Copeau himself, Henri Casadesus would lead his Société des Instruments Anciens in three concerts. On the theater’s opening night, he hurriedly recruited his old pal Barrère. The player of the quinton, the high violin, was ill, and he asked Barrère, with whom he had not performed in twenty years, to take the part.24 Casadesus was fortunate that Barrère was in town, for Bamman’s marketing campaign was working well. The engagements of the Trio de Lutèce had doubled or tripled — depending on one’s interpretation of the advertising claims—and alternated with Barrère Ensemble and Little Symphony tours. In mid-February, there was a two-week eastern tour with consistently French programs ranging from Rameau to Saint-Saëns, Debussy to Salzedo. But there were always risks, as Barrère wrote — humor intact — to his manager from Jamestown, New York, “The concert was a success. I was nearly killed and everyone seemed delighted.” Salzedo was at the piano accompanying Kéfer in his cello solo, and Barrère volunteered to turn pages. He had been reading Over the Top, the newly published memoir of Arthur Guy Empey, an American machine gunner serving in France, on the train all day, and, “although still automatically turning the pages of the piano score, I could see the ‘whizz-bangs’ and ‘Berthas’ and other kinds of shrapnel and bombs dropping all about me. I was in the forefront of an artillery attack, awaiting only the order to ‘Go up and at em’ when Bang! everything went red, white and blue and green before me and I came to with the most violent start. Kéfer and Salzedo were still playing, trying to look as if nothing had happened, and at my feet were the remains of a large green glass globe. The church where we were playing was lighted with gas, and the chandelier just overhead, probably resenting my warlike flight, start[ed] ‘strafing’ me on its own account. I was very meek for the rest of the evening.”25 When he could, Barrère again intersected with the touring New York Symphony, sometimes to particular advantage. In Toledo, he arrived at the auditorium to meet his colleagues and found a stage full of empty chairs; the orchestra had been delayed by faulty train service. Barrère saved the day by giving an impromptu solo flute recital until his colleagues arrived.26 What was evidently a rare New York appearance with the Symphony that season gave him solo billing , on March 10, in the Widor Romance and Scherzo, improbably mixed into a program of Sowerby, Beethoven, and Wagner. The audience welcomed him as if it were a “family affair,” and the critics were ecstatic: “One is beset with a great deal of shallow-brained prattle just now about colorature [sic] songsters who sing ‘like the flute.’ Mr. Barrère’s art resembles that of a supremely expressive lyric singer, apart from an agility that the most surpassing florid vocalists could hope to rival.” The New York World concurred: “his ravishing tones were heard in the full richness of their quality.”27 The two Widor movements came from the Suite, op. 34, for flute and pi163



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ano, written for Taffanel. Widor had recycled the Romance from the incidental music to a play by Auguste Dorchain called Conte d’avril, which was played in Paris at the Odéon Theatre, so the orchestration was Widor’s own. Barrère had often asked the composer to orchestrate the other movements of the Suite, “but he was always so busy that he never fulfilled the promise he gave me to do so,” Barrère explained in the program notes. So when he played the Scherzo with the Symphony several years earlier, along with the Saint-Saëns Romance, he did the orchestrations himself. Barrère pronounced himself “very much amused and pleased when I read in the criticisms the next day how cleverly these French masters (Saint-Saëns and Widor) can write orchestrations to accompany solo instruments.”28 The Symphony season ended on March 17, and Barrère was quickly off again, with the Barrère Ensemble (thanks to funding from Harry Harkness Flagler), the Little Symphony, and primarily the Trio.29 The Little Symphony, en route from a Buffalo engagement to Canada, stopped over at Niagara Falls for a photo opportunity and was briefly detained by immigration officials who wanted to check the musicians’ “antecedents.” “They were found to be one hundred percent American,” the press reported, and were permitted to enter Canada.30 On April 1, when the New York Symphony began its fourth and final tour of the season, the Trio set off simultaneously for the Midwest and South, adding to its regular schedule a children’s concert in Detroit and donating its services for concerts for soldiers. “These three artists . . . are magicians, singly or in ensemble,” raved the Detroit Journal.31 In St. Louis: “One seldom hears more beauty of tone or better balance and ensemble. These were impressions of delicate Dresden beauty.”32 “Seldom has a program been given in this city which gave such thorough satisfaction,” wrote the Montgomery, Alabama, correspondent to Musical America.33 That spring Barrère was also active on the fundraising circuit. A benefit for the American Friends of Musicians in France on March 30 gathered an all-star cast on the stage of Aeolian Hall: the Trio de Lutèce, Jacques Thibaud, and pianist Maurice Dumesnil. The featured piece was a suite of themes entitled Abergavenny by Bourgault-Ducoudray, the fabled music history professor at the Paris Conservatoire, played by Barrère and the Flonzaley Quartet. The Trio gave the Debussy Sonata; Rameau’s Pièces de concert; and the Ravel-Casella spoof; and Helen Stanley sang numerous French songs. In a somber note, the Flonzaleys added the Andantino from Debussy’s String Quartet in memory of the composer, who had died earlier in the week. This concert and the other work of the committee, of which Walter Damrosch was president, netted $10,000 for the cause.34 Barrère also took up his flute to raise funds for the United States. The Lib-



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erty Loans were a series of small-denomination bond drives designed by U.S. Treasury secretary William McAdoo as much to “sell” the war to American citizens psychologically as to support it financially. In both respects they were a great success, ultimately netting some 60 million subscriptions. The Liberty Loans frequently relied on large rallies, which typically featured stars of sports and screen, including Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Al Jolson. In 1918 Uncle Sam was actively recruiting musicians to aid the Third Liberty Loan, and Barrère and Lucy Gates agreed to participate in a Saturday afternoon concert in City Hall Park sponsored by the Women’s Committee on National Defense. Despite a drenching rain, the concert drew an audience estimated at 15,000 to 20,000. A giant Liberty Bell backdrop offered some protection from the rain, and a Canadian officer gallantly stepped forward to offer Gates his cap and cape, remarking that he had worn both at Ypres. Said Gates afterward, “How splendid! I wanted to stir everyone as I was stirred by the wearing of those regimentals.” A white-capped sailor served as a human music stand for Barrère. The performance reportedly netted the largest sale of Liberty Bonds to date — a reflection of both the personal drawing power of Barrère and Gates and the ability that classical musicians still had in that period to engage a mass public.35 The rapture of the public and critics for his first flutist notwithstanding, Walter Damrosch was forced to advise his friend and protégé that he had been absent from his New York Symphony chair too much. The Trio, so well received on tour, was already heavily booked for the next season, and Barrère felt that he had no choice but to resign. On April 29 he regretfully made it official in a letter to Flagler. The “exceptional kindness” of Damrosch and Flagler, he wrote, “has made it feasible to groove my growing personal interests with yours. Now, however, that my almost continuous absences make it really impossible to further these courtesies I truly feel that I must not even permit the extraordinary and highly flattering financial inducements you offered me to stand in the way of my devoting all m[y] time and attention to my work as a solo-artist and to my own artistic children: The Barrère Ensemble, the Trio de Lutèce and the Little Symphony.”36 It was a measure of Barrère’s standing that the letter was reprinted, nearly in its entirety, in both national music magazines. It was also a gesture of genuine remorse, as Barrère’s affection for the man who had brought him to America was deep. But, he recalled a decade later, “I could not resist the temptation of living the life of a virtuoso, though I knew even then that a solid position in a symphony orchestra was more often a much better proposition than being in the hazardous position of playing big dates now and then.”37 Barrère quit without hope of returning—and the timing was a particular gamble, for on May 23 Cécile gave birth to a son, whom they named Jean Clé165



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ment after Barrère’s old friend, tenor Edmond Clément. It did not take long for speculation about Barrère’s successor to begin; just ten days after his resignation, Musical Courier reported — correctly — that it would be his old Conservatoire classmate, Daniel Maquarre, who had been first flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra since 1910.38 Over the summer, the musical world was abuzz with speculation as to Muck’s successor at the Boston Symphony. Monteux, Mengelberg , Messager, Stokowski, Toscanini—all these names were bandied about. Moreover, the Société des Concerts, billed as the Paris Conservatoire orchestra, was due for a U.S. tour in the fall, and Charles Martin Loeffler, the composer and former Boston Symphony violinist, proposed to Henri Casadesus, then an official French propagandist in the United States, that twenty or thirty of its members stay in the United States to join the BSO.39 (It was a prescient suggestion, as the BSO announced in June that it had ousted eighteen players as enemy aliens, leaving many slots to be filled.)40 Loeffler also spoke to Henry Higginson and suggested Camille Chevillard of the Lamoureux and René Rhené-Baton, then in the Netherlands on a French propaganda mission. Barrère, at the center of French musical circles, stepped into the fray, renewing his old acquaintance with Loeffler. A few weeks after having Casadesus to dinner at his apartment, Barrère wrote to Loeffler, in French, “in place of Casadesus in his quasi-official propaganda service.” “[W]e are anxious to find posts for French artists,” Barrère began, referring to the minister of fine arts in Paris, and asked how he could find out about vacant posts in the Boston Symphony; he even offered to come to Boston to deal with the matter. He also inquired about the alleged appointment of Sir Henry Wood as conductor, which had been rumored in the newspapers, and wondered, “Is there still hope for the post of director?” the latter query perhaps on behalf of Monteux, whose candidacy had been rumored but publicly denied by Monteux.41 By the fall, the trustees of the Boston Symphony had chosen not Monteux, but another Frenchman, Henri Rabaud of the Paris Opéra, Musical Courier reported disgustedly, “after offering the post to almost every conductor of whom they could think—except an American.”42 However, Rabaud was unable to arrive for the beginning of the season, and Monteux led the opening concerts; he would come back to serve as music director in his own right from 1920 to 1924. A new French era had begun in Boston. In New York, meanwhile, the Red Cross announced its Second War Fund Drive with the goal of raising $100 million during the week of May 20. Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt donated her home at 677 Fifth Avenue to the Red Cross for the entire week; there was an exhibition of posters from the Commune and the present war, and “gala daily concerts by the foremost artists of ‘Over Here’ and ‘Over There’ ” were given each day by a rotating cast of top artists. Bar-



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rère appeared twice, as soloist and with the Trio de Lutèce. There was no admission charge; donations were at the discretion of the audience.43 Catherine Bamman, working behind the scenes, reported, “[W]e made $25,000 which I had to count and bank, and as it was mostly in nickles [sic] and quarters you can imagine that it was work.”44 The Red Cross arranged for the city’s church bells and factory whistles to sound in unison at 3:00 p.m. each day to signal the number of millions collected, and large red crosses initially set up at Broadway and Houston Street and at Fifth Avenue and Eighth Street were moved uptown one block for each million collected. At the end of the week, the Police Band of New York held a benefit concert at the Thirteenth Regiment Armory in Brooklyn, sponsored by the Second Brigade of the New York National Guard, and Barrère and David Bispham were among the artists enlisted to assist. There, they drew 5,000 to 6,000 listeners, a record for the week. A more idiosyncratic project was the committee formed by the National War Work Council of the YMCA to raise funds to provide music for servicemen in France and stateside. Frank Damrosch, Flagler, Mrs. Leopold Stokowski, Ossip Gabrilowitsch, Harold Bauer, Salzedo, and Barrère were all members of the committee. The National Music Show was held at the Grand Central Palace during the first week of June. All ticket proceeds were designated to purchase phonograph records, player-piano rolls, and musical instruments for the soldiers. Four floors of exhibits showed the latest in musical instruments, and two concerts daily featured prominent operatic artists and other musicians. The same week, Barrère’s student William Kincaid was awarded a silver medal on the completion of the artists’ course at the Institute of Musical Art.45 Already a member of the New York Symphony for four years, he was about to make his own contribution to the war effort by joining the U.S. Navy. But first, on the evening of June 3, he played the Hüe Fantaisie with the Institute orchestra at the Aeolian Hall commencement ceremony. The greatest flutist of the next generation was officially launched.

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B

y the beginning of 1918 there were already 1 million American troops serving in France, and in the spring, as the Germans moved through France, Barrère cheered as the fresh troops of his adopted country played a crucial role in defending his native land. The American troops, inexperienced but enthusiastic, were central to operations at Cantigny in May and at Château-Thierry and Belleau Wood in early June. Their effort had as much of a psychological effect as a purely military one, spurring the optimism of the Allies and ultimately convincing the Central Powers that theirs was a lost cause. Though concerned about events in France, Barrère kept up a pace that was similarly energetic, in marked contrast to the typically relaxed pace of musicians’ summer activities. These were, after all, the days of short orchestral and opera seasons. Freed from the commitments — but also the salary — of orchestra life, he used the time well. In late May and early June and briefly in October, the Trio de Lutèce made several recordings for Columbia, but only a few were released (arrangements of Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words, op. 62, no. 6, and Beethoven’s Minuet in G).1 Most of Barrère’s summer, however, was devoted to teaching. A flyer advertised a special summer course of flute instruction in Boston and New York from June 1 to September 30, with the Wm. S. Haynes Co. and Catherine Bamman handling the bookings. He offered ten one-hour lessons for $50, fifteen for $70, or twenty for $90, with special rates for men in service.2 With Loeffler’s help Barrère found a studio on Commonwealth Avenue in Watertown, a Boston suburb, and on July 7 advertised his



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apartment at 13 East 36th Street (“two spacious, artistic rooms, bath, kitchenette”), including grand piano, for a two-and-a-half-month sublet.3 One evening after teaching, Barrère gave an informal private concert at the Belmont home of L. Mont Allison, a flutemaker and codirector of the Haynes company. Before an audience of professional and amateur flutists, he played quartets and other combinations with Arthur Brooke of the Boston Symphony, Josef Nelson of the Minneapolis Symphony, and Verne Q. Powell, formerly of the Kansas City Philharmonic and then a flutemaker at Haynes. For two hours they read through a long list of duets and quartets, including two movements by Adolphe Wouters. “How many people, you may even say how many musicians, have ever heard a flute quartet, or realize that a whole evening’s concert can easily be given with no other instruments than flutes in various combinations?” marveled Musical America. “Most persons are familiar with the flute only in its upper register and consequently think that a quartet of flutes would be lacking in depth, but the lower register of the flute has such richness of timbre that when four instruments play together the listener finds it difficult to believe that no note lower than middle C is being sounded.”4 It was an event wholly in character, combining camaraderie with other flutists and the careful cultivation of a patron, in this case a commercial entity. Indeed, this summer marked a key point in Barrère’s relationship with the Haynes company. Having bought his first Haynes flute in 1913, he would later become artistic advisor to the company, and Haynes would continue to use his name long after his death. In the middle of the summer, the now-proven duo of Gates and Barrère opened the season at the Ocean Grove Auditorium, part of the Methodist camp meeting community on the New Jersey shore. Again, the superlatives flowed freely: Lucy Gates was advertised as “America’s Most Famous Soprano,” Barrère as the “World’s Greatest Flutist.” The planning of the program was intense, involving considerable correspondence between Bamman and Gates. Having attended the Ocean Grove concerts since childhood, Bamman advised, “You cannot make it too popular and I venture to suggest that you ought to open with an aria, the Rossini would be good. After that you could do a group, but it seems to me that things like ‘Come My Beloved’ are too fine. For you see you get the holiday crowd down there and they would be much more likely to fall for a Long Long Trail than for a Handel aria.” Then there were meetings in New York with Barrère before the program was finally settled.5 The concert was a triumph, culminating in the rarely heard Mozart-Adam Variations on “Ah! vous dirai-je, maman.” Bamman advised Gates never to do it with another flutist, to “work up a sort of reputation for you and Barrère together on that number” so that it would become the duo’s trademark. The au-

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dience surged around the stage, demanding repeated encores; Gates pulled out all the music she had brought, and Barrère improvised obbligatos. When the prima donna left the auditorium, she sent away the waiting automobile and took a stroll on the boardwalk, arm in arm with her gallant French partner. As Musical America reported, “Together they walked to the boardwalk and to their surprise found that the army of admirers was bringing up a somewhat lively rear. On the boardwalk the army grew by several battalions, and it was a merry and joyous throng that escorted the American soprano and her distinguished French colleague to their hotel.”6 Catherine Bamman was occupied with bookings of interlocking tours for the 1918–19 season, her purple pen of publicity always at the ready. For example, she advertised a Trio de Lutèce tour as “Scholarly but never pedantic / Colorful but never tawdry / Novel but never affected.”7 She also took advantage of the general enthusiasm for all things French: “Now that America is rising in welcome to French music and French artists the pioneer work of George Barrère and his Ensemble takes on a new light and a new significance. France as well as America owes him a debt.”8 There would be a separate three-month transcontinental tour by the Trio, with Lucy Gates, “America’s own supreme mistress of song”; an extended fall tour of the South and Midwest by the Barrère Ensemble, and another in March; a fall tour of the Little Symphony with Lucy Gates; and a tour of the Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet and the Little Symphony.9 Bamman was also expanding her own orbit; she reported to Gates that “I’ve framed up a combine with . . . that Pacific Coast bunch”— impresario L. E. Behymer of Los Angeles and the Ellison-White Musical Bureau of Portland, Oregon—“whereby I will be the Eastern representative for their concerts. This is quite aside from my own business, but will give me a big look in on Coast activities. Also it will help pay the rent.” On September 1 she took the entire third floor of 53 West 39th Street.10 When the orchestra of the Paris Conservatoire — formally the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire — arrived on October 11, a few days later than expected, Barrère was supposed to be in Lima, Ohio, with the Little Symphony and the Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet. But the Spanish flu had hit the United States hard by that point. The fall festivals — Worcester, Massachusetts; Portland and Bangor, Maine — were postponed or eventually canceled, and the Boston concert halls were closed until October 7.11 A quarantine was in effect in many American cities, closing schools, churches, theaters, and other public gathering places. In St. Louis, people complained that the music studios were closed, but the bars were open. “Sometimes the ways of our great republic are past understanding ,” observed a Musical Courier editorial.12 The infection rate and the death toll were staggering , and the disease was rapidly spreading from the East Coast, through the major cities of the South and



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Midwest, and wreaking havoc in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle. There was no question of traveling. The result was that Barrère was in town to greet his old comrades, including conductor André Messager, principal flutist and assistant conductor Philippe Gaubert; oboists Louis Bleuzet and Louis Bas; father and son bassoonists Léon and Louis Letellier (the son would later join the New York Symphony and the Barrère Ensemble); two members of the Société Moderne, clarinetist Jean Guyot and violist Albert Seitz; and Jean Pénable, father of Société Moderne hornist Emile Pénable. Also making the trip was the young second flutist, Georges Laurent, who had earned his first prize at the Conservatoire just after Barrère left in 1905. In 1919 he would be appointed principal flutist of the Boston Symphony, becoming something of a rival to Barrère in the United States.13 Barrère, along with Kéfer, Damrosch, Kneisel, and other leading musicians, was in the audience when the Conservatoire orchestra made its first American appearance on October 15 at the Metropolitan Opera House, site of so many recent patriotic events. Arrayed on a stage built out over the pit, the orchestra launched into the “Star-Spangled Banner” and the “Marseillaise” before playing a program of Berlioz, Franck, Saint-Saëns, Dukas, Debussy, and Lalo. The critics gave particularly high marks to the flutes and oboes, the pride of the Paris Conservatoire. Musical Courier noted, “[T]he wood wind soloists proved fully equal to their many colleagues who have crossed the Atlantic before them to become cornerstones of our American symphony orchestras.” Salzedo echoed the thought when he wrote about Gaubert in the New France, calling him “one of the best contemporary orchestra leaders, a composer of great charm, and an incomparable flutist. (Gaubert is a classmate of our eminent Georges Barrère.)”14 This was perhaps a bit of poetic justice for Barrère after so many years spent in Gaubert’s shadow. Catherine Bamman had solidly booked the Little Symphony and the Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet for a month-long joint tour, but the entire engagement was canceled because of the flu. This was undoubtedly a financial strain for Barrère, who had a new baby and had moved to a new and larger apartment at 316 West 97th Street, but he was able to call upon his long-time patron, Harry Harkness Flagler, for assistance in the form of a loan. Perhaps he was also keeping open the possibility of returning to the New York Symphony when he wrote to Flagler, after their meeting, “I am very pleased, not to betray the New York Symphony Society as I was afraid of and am very proud to be connected only with this organization since I am in America and most likely as long as I will be in this country wich [sic] is my Patrie d’adoption.”15 Indeed, Barrère was careful to keep his social connections with Damrosch and the Symphony Society directors. Perhaps because he was no longer his 171



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boss, Damrosch “was becoming more and more friendly with me.” On November 3, the members of the Symphony Society hosted their friends from the Société des Concerts at a dinner at Carnegie Chamber Music Hall. Barrère commented sadly on the French guests, “A few of them showed the effect of age, and many looked wearied from the privations of war-time.”16 Damrosch asked Barrère to assist with the after-supper entertainment, billed as an “antisymphonic” concert and scheduled to begin at 11:45 p.m., with “four-minute speeches by three-minute men,” a gentle dig at the patriotic speeches being made at concerts that year. The program featured Travesty on a Haydn Symphony by Barrère and a musical extravaganza called A Southern Wedding, in which the bassoon depicts the parson, the flute (Barrère, of course) the blushing bride, and the trombone the groom.17 Barrère was still in town when the Armistice was declared on November 11, but on the twenty-first, the Little Symphony was finally back on the road with Lucy Gates to open the season of the Chromatic Club in Troy, New York, where the concert was “a most welcome one to the music hungry people of that city. It was a source of great pleasure to them to have the cadenza take the place of the influenza.” The Troy Record reported that they “played themselves into the hearts of Trojans.” A prominent local musician exulted, “I used to detest the flute, but now I am delighted with it. There is and probably will be but one Barrère.” The many solo flute pieces included Gluck’s Orpheus, Widor’s Scherzo, Saint-Saëns’s Pavane, and Godard’s Allegro, and the concert went on for nearly two hours.18 The artists and their manager, impatient to perform after their long flu-induced idleness, were equally exultant.19 Because of the extensive tour schedule, none of Barrère’s ensembles had scheduled their own New York concerts for the 1918–19 season. Despite a Public Health Service warning on December 11 that the epidemic was back,20 from December 27 to February 28 Barrère was traveling almost continuously. There were a few New York bookings for the Trio before it set off on tour just after Christmas, making stops in Louisville and Milwaukee before meeting up with Lucy Gates in Victoria, British Columbia, on January 3 to begin a twenty-sixconcert tour. After negotiating all the contracts, Bamman delegated the responsibilities of traveling business manager to Barrère; he would carry the contracts, collect the fees from the local presenters, and pay his colleagues. But, Bamman complained on Christmas Eve, “I cannot get these darn managers to let me know which programs they are doing in the different places. They have all received advice sheets . . . but so far have not sent them back.”21 There were two basic programs. The first opened with the Rameau Deuxième concert, with instrumental works of Tchaikovsky, Cui, and Glazounov; next came a vocal set, including Rimsky-Korsakov’s Hymn to the Sun and a variety of French and American songs. The finale was Salzedo’s arrangement of the Fauré Dolly Suite.



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The second opened with a Couperin Concert royal, featured Gates in the “Bell Song” from Delibes’s Lakmé, then proceeded with the Saint-Saëns Pavane, Leroux’s Danse sacrée, and Fauré’s Kitty Valse for the Trio. After a set of mostly American songs, it concluded with Debussy’s Children’s Corner Suite. Given the long quarantine, audiences were particularly eager to hear these performances, and the critics gushed. In Bellingham, Washington, Walt C. Wickersham of the Evening Journal wrote, “As a musician would you care to confess you cannot differentiate between the human voice and the flute? Yet if you were at this recital you will not deny that the climax to the number in which the voice and flute sound first in dialogue then as a duet, displayed such a velvety quality, exceptional range and control of the voice that you were . . . undecided which was voice and which was flute. . . . The Trio de Lutèce is well worth all the praise that has been heaped upon it. . . . There were no musical fireworks, no grandstanding, no appeal to the sensuous—just the world’s best music by some of the world’s best performers.” At the first concert of the Ladies’ Musical Club Artists’ Course in Seattle, on January 7: “The combination of instruments for chamber music was delightful and the delicacy of the work reminded one of a beautifully cut cameo—fine, clean-cut and perfect.” At the Victory Artist Course in Tacoma the next night: “The concert offered one of the most delightful treats accorded the Far Northwest, where the demand for chamber music is increasing yearly.”22 In San Francisco, which had recorded some 24,000 cases of influenza in the fall, public officials called on citizens to resume wearing masks voluntarily. There was much resistance: they were uncomfortable and unproven. One member of the Board of Supervisors suggested that enforcement of an official edict would mean “the stilling of song in the throats of singers” and the arrest of musicians “as they blow their horns going down the street,” but the supervisors voted 15–1 in favor of remasking. In the first week of January, 2,979 new cases and 195 deaths were reported in the city; in the worst week, beginning January 18, there were 3,500 cases and 310 deaths.23 Nevertheless, Barrère gave seven concerts in the Bay Area, beginning in downtown San Francisco, where hyperbole oozed from the Concert Bulletin issued by local impresario Selby C. Oppenheimer: “With a record of two hundred engagements played and never an adverse criticism, The Trio de Lutèce comes heralded as the most unique ensemble organization in the world. Barrère is the despair not only of all wind instrument players in the superior quality of his tone, and the facility of his technique, but he is equally the despair of singers in the matter of his astounding breath control and phrasing. He is recognized the world over not alone as the flute player par excellence, but as a musical savant.”24 Chronicle critic Walter Anthony reported that the group lived up to its 173



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billing: “I do not remember when a more satisfying combination of musical sounds has been afforded needy ears than that which greeted a houseful of us last night at the Savoy Theatre.”25 There were so many encores that the intended length of the concert was effectively doubled.26 One of those encores was the aria “Thou Brilliant Bird” from La perle du Brésil by Felicien David. “This aria, which appears on the programs of many coloratura sopranos, was surely never more exquisitely sung, while the flute obbligato, provided by Mr. Barrère, gave it a final touch which made it the most beautiful number of the evening. . . . This group of artists has taken San Francisco by storm, and their stay here will be a succession of triumphs.”27 Particularly notable was the very size of the audience, because the influenza, like the musicians, had made an encore appearance. This was no trivial matter, for the epidemic would ultimately affect the lives of more than a quarter of U.S. residents and take the lives of some 675,000 Americans.28 A local law, implemented for the second time, made the wearing of gauze masks compulsory in public, and in Berkeley on January 14 no one was admitted to the Harmon Gymnasium without one.29 Photographs of the musicians at the San Francisco Ferry Terminal show them with masks securely in place. Gates herself may have had a touch of the flu, she reported to her husband, “I was out yesterday — but have not put my nose out today. It rains — my throat doesn’t seem quite natural. The Flu is raging here again. . . . We are afraid the authorities may close the theatres, that would be awful. . . . We have all been fine except Salzedo who has had a cold for two days—and I feel just a little under normal today.”30 At Stanford University on the sixteenth, Gates was “very evidently indisposed,” as one critic charitably put it. But the audiences continued to be large despite the epidemic. The press noted, “People either forgot their fear of influenza or, possessing the courage of their convictions, appeared securely masked, but neither gauze nor the germs interfered with the pleasure of the evening.”31 As Gates and the Trio moved to Sacramento and Fresno, then south to Los Angeles and San Diego, the public was equally hungry for concerts — though the Trio had to cancel five dates.32 On Sunday evening , January 26, the up-and-coming Los Angeles Flute Club, founded in 1916, honored Barrère with a “soirée and recital,” inducting him as an honorary member. Local impresario L. E. Behymer presented the club pin to Barrère, who was ever the gracious recipient. “I have traveled thirty years and have had to come all the way from Paris to find an organization of this sort,” he told his hosts—it likely provided inspiration for his own efforts to found the New York Flute Club the following year — and he told stories “which proved him as thoroughly a good fellow as he is a flutist.” The guest of honor played the Widor Suite and other solos by Debussy and Alphonse



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Catherine with pianist Olga Steeb, and local flutists Harry V. Baxter and William Hullinger joined him in a Kuhlau trio.33 While on tour, the Trio also found time for traditional tourist activities: they paid a visit to the movie lot at Universal City, where they enacted a mock two-reel thriller for the omnipresent Brownie. In the first reel, Barrère was seen in jail pleading with his captors (Salzedo, Kéfer, and Gates); Gates wanted to free him but the others were obdurate. In reel two, the door was open but Barrère remained, having decided he preferred prison to touring.34 Photos were duly taken, in accordance with Bamman’s instructions: “Please round the gang as often as you can have kodaks taken and send as many as possible to me quickly, so that I may get some stories into the musical papers before it is ancient history.” The recreation was also a cure for the forced intimacy of group travel, as Bamman warned Gates: “Take care of Salzedo as much as you can. He is getting on Barrère’s nerves and I am afraid they may come to blows.”35 Though a superb musician, Salzedo could also be caustic, superior, and disagreeable; Barrère said that every time he came back from a trip he had to sit down for an hour and write apologies to all the people to whom Salzedo had been rude.36 From California, Barrère and company moved on to Salt Lake City, Gates’s hometown. There had been difficult negotiations, in which the local manager, George D. Pyper, tried to convince Gates to take a lower-than-usual fee, and she felt awkwardly trapped between an old friend and her desire to be adequately paid. But the Musical Arts Society entertained the musicians with a luncheon, where the dignitaries included the mayor of Salt Lake City and Cecil B. Gates, Lucy’s brother, the assistant director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and cofounder of the Lucy Gates Opera Company in Salt Lake. The concert itself was an unqualified success, as one might have expected for the hometown heroine. It broke all attendance records for the Salt Lake Theater, which was completely sold out. Seats were placed on the stage, and the musicians performed in a small circle between the footlights and the listeners all around them.37 A concert in Omaha was similarly successful: “a veritable seventh heaven of musical delight,” reported the Omaha Bee.38 In March, Barrère briefly switched gears to play in Ohio and Texas with his woodwind ensemble—in Houston, they played for the Women’s Choral Club, which donated its season’s profits to the French Soldiers’ Home—then rejoined the Trio in Detroit. The Trio concerts in Detroit were models of public spirit: the Sunday afternoon concert at the Art Museum was free to the public, courtesy of the Chamber Music Society, and the Tuesday afternoon concert at Central High School was free to public school pupils. In late March and early April, the Little Symphony and the PavleyOukrainsky Ballet made a modified version of the fall tour that had been can175



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celed by the flu. Typical programs consisted of three or four French numbers by the orchestra followed by fourteen or fifteen short ballet numbers, interspersed with flute solos. The orchestra played the first part on stage, then decamped for the pit to accompany the dancers in the second half. Oukrainsky’s dancing in the Crucifixion of Christ drew particular interest. This was dancing of a sort rarely seen in the Midwest; Sioux City, for example, had hosted the Pavlova trip some years earlier, but the differences were noted appreciatively and kept the audience in the high school auditorium for a three hour-program of “something entirely new to the city, an entertainment that was a revelation from first to last.”39 For example, Andreas Pavley and Mme Ludmila danced a pastorale to Kreisler’s Caprice Viennois. For the performers, the trip was equally rewarding. “We had a lovely time,” Barrère recalled. “Russian dancers, even male ones, are just as temperamental as French conductors and the many arguments that we had in the heat of rehearsals afforded as many opportunities for prompt and happy reconciliations.”40 Back home at last in May, Barrère plunged back into the activities of the French-American community in Gotham. That spring , soprano Alys Michot organized a series of events in her studio, featuring talks by French government officials followed by musical entertainments and dramatic recitals; exhibitions of modern paintings and French tea parties were also planned. Barrère joined the Soirées Françaises on May 6, playing the Pierné Sonata with pianist E. Robert Schmitz. His old army buddy Léon Rothier contributed a few songs to the same program.41 Just at this time, the journals began to announce plans for the 1919–20 season. In Boston, Pierre Monteux had been appointed music director of the Boston Symphony, where he vowed not to be a propagandist for French music. In New York, Edgard Varèse, Arthur Bodanzky, and Willem Mengelberg were forming a New Symphony Orchestra, and Daniel Maquarre was announced as its first flutist.42 The papers had also reported the defection of six New York Symphony members to the New York Chamber Music Society, an innovative organization of winds and strings run by the pianist Carolyn Beebe. Although there was no mention of Barrère’s return to the NYSO, it seems as if he had already made up his mind to do so. In May, he had begun rehearsing a new piece for flute and orchestra by his friend Charles Griffes, written at Barrère’s request and completed the previous July. Griffes had noted in his diary, “either this year or next Georges Barrère will play with the orchestra a Poem for flute and orchestra which I wrote for him. Damrosch has it in mind.”43 There had certainly been hints that the touring life was losing its attraction, and Barrère received numerous attractive offers from other orchestras. But the ties to Damrosch were too strong , and when he decided that spring to return to the safety of orchestra life, he leveled with the conductor about those offers. Damrosch



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arranged a contract “very near the best I could have out of town,” Barrère recalled. Damrosch exulted, “Needless to say I am delighted at your returning to us like a true repentant, prodigal son. We shall slay the fatted calf in your honor.”44 On June 30, the day he was supposed to send an installment payment on his loan, Barrère confessed to Flagler, “I put my earnest efforts on the amortissement [sic] of this debt and I shall say that the prospect of doing so was an important factor in my decision to apply for the honor of reintegrate [sic] my position with the Symphony.” Indeed, Barrère had decided that the financial risks of the freelance life were too much for him. He had looked at his budget for the next three years and calculated that, by returning to the Symphony he could be even by the end of the current year: “But to attain this goal I shall work; work very hard and I am heartily ready for the struggle.” He was then in Boston, giving another summer class arranged by the Haynes company, and the results were far less satisfying than the previous summer. The young men discharged from the service were going home, not studying , and the older men were taking vacations deferred by the war. “[I]n short I am quite disapointed [sic] and I do not see my way clear to the happy date of my return to the Symphony Society. It is a long bridge to cross.” Barrère was unable to send the quarterly check that he owed Flagler, and in fact asked him for another $1,000, which would come due at the same time as the first loan — meaning double payments. Flagler made the second loan without hesitation.45 In September 1919 Barrère welcomed to his studio his next protégé after Kincaid: Arthur Lora, a sixteen-year-old Italian-born student then living in Englewood, New Jersey. His new pupil — and those who were continuing — would soon find that their course of study would be a bit bumpy, as their teacher was absent as much from the studio as he had been from the Symphony. Despite Barrère’s return to the orchestra and supposed residency there were constant negotiations by postcard to rearrange lesson schedules.46 The New York Symphony flute section now consisted of Barrère as principal, assisted by his former students George Possell (a member since 1915) as second flute and Quinto Maganini, who had joined the previous year, as third flute and piccolo. Louis Letellier, formerly an extra in the Société des Concerts (Barrère had played with his father in the Colonne Orchestra and Paris Opéra), joined the bassoon section as principal.47 The season opened on October 27 with a week of out-of-town concerts, and the Symphony opened its Carnegie Hall series on November 6. Three days later, at Aeolian Hall, it gave the U.S. premiere of Les Cathédrales by Gabriel Pierné. But the landmark event for Barrère and for American music came on Sunday, November 16, when the orchestra welcomed back its virtuoso principal flutist with a historic solo turn: the premiere of the Griffes Poem. The young 177



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composer, reduced to teaching music at a suburban private school, had been trying for some time to interest Damrosch in his works, but had been brushed off by his assistants. It was Barrère who succeeded in getting him a hearing with the Symphony.48 Barrère worked closely with Griffes in the spring and again in late September, when they both attended the Berkshire Chamber Music Festival hosted by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.49 Griffes attended the NYSO rehearsals of the Poem, paying particular attention to the sound and making revisions and cuts even during the last week before the premiere.50 A work rich in color for both flute and orchestra, the impressionist Poem employs an array of pictorial devices. But it is not a virtuoso showpiece in the traditional sense—in keeping with the flutist’s own predilections, Griffes was determined to write something more substantial than a showpiece. As Burnet Tuthill, a clarinetist colleague, recalled, “He expressed his abhorrence for writing anything containing the customary passagework made familiar by brilliant pieces.”51 While the Poem has its technical challenges, it presents the flutist with magnificent opportunities for showcasing the tonal range of the instrument. The composer’s familiarity with its possibilities no doubt resulted from working closely with Barrère over a period of several years; Kincaid recalled finding the two at work when he arrived for his lessons.52 The reaction of the critics was as much a measure of the times as of the piece, from the remarks on the work’s “oriental” character, to the clichéd comments on the flute and its small solo literature, to the implicit and explicit hopes they expressed for the development of American composers. Grenville Vernon of the New York Tribune wrote: “Compositions for the flute even when played by such a splendid musician as Georges Barrère, do not as a rule give rise to wild enthusiasm, yet, yesterday’s audience applauded the work and the soloist for several minutes. The poem is a composition of such grace and variety of expression rich in melodic ideas and written with an unusual feeling both for the solo instrument and for the orchestra. If Americans can but continue to produce such works, all talk of the unrequited native composer will be speedily set at rest. Mr. Griffes is a composer who will bear watching.”53 Sylvester Rawling in the Evening World called the Poem “a charming bit of composition, full of color, well constructed and individual. Mr. Griffes has written other things of interest, but nothing more distinguished.” The Evening Sun wrote of the Poem’s attempt at “the poetizing, one by one, of each human emotion. That seems to be Mr. Griffes’s ambition with the flute. There is a [re]current refrain, but it serves only . . . to punctuate the gamut of vastly different stanzas beginning like a simple Sunday school recitation, mounting to flame and earthquake, and sobbing down again to the elaborate but virtuous sorrows of Florence Barclay,” a reference to an obscure British inspirational



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novelist. “If no great effect is gained hereby, the fault is not so much Mr. Griffes’s, for he has worked cleverly and with knowledge of the flute’s capacity. But even from Mr. Barrère’s lips the poem could be little more than wood and wind, and there are certainly instruments more grateful and expressive in which it might be—and deserves to be—transposed.”54 Griffes was able to savor the triumph in person, but he became ill with pleurisy and pneumonia shortly thereafter and suffered a tragically early death in April 1920. It fell to Barrère to make a piano reduction of the Poem, a job commissioned by G. Schirmer, Griffes’s publisher. Barrère wrote to Emil Medicus, publisher of the Flutist magazine, “It is a work where I have to put more than music. Ch. T. Griffes, when he died 14 months ago didn’t leave any complete piano score of his Poem for flute and orch. I have his manuscripts [sic] notes of it which are not all that he used to play when rehearsing with me. I have to use my memory and it puts me back to the lovely time we used to have working with such a delightful musician. . . . I hope every flute player will welcome this beautiful work with the same enthusiasm than [sic] the audiences for which I have played it in New York—San Francisco—Los Angeles.”55 Barrère first performed his piano reduction at Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge’s home in April 1920.56 It appears that the first public performance of the piano reduction — presumably Barrère’s, but there is no hard evidence — was by Nicholas Kouloukis, the newly appointed principal flute of the New York Philharmonic, at a memorial service for Griffes in New York on November 24, 1920. Barrère is first known to have performed it publicly on February 15, 1921, with Walter Golde at Aeolian Hall.57 He continued to promote Griffes’s works for the rest of his life. In the 1930s, when Claire Reis omitted Griffes from her book on American composers, Barrère pointed out the absence of “‘a Pioneer’ of the actual School of American Music. . . . Will you accept this next point not as a criticism, but as the information of a most devoted champion of American Music of all kinds.”58 The drive to support American music had taken a notable step in April 1919 with the founding of the Society for the Publication of American Music (SPAM). Organized by Burnet Tuthill and his father, William Burnet Tuthill, the architect of Carnegie Hall, it aimed to remedy the lack of American chamber music, especially for winds. Beginning with the Clarinet Sonata of Daniel Gregory Mason, which won the first competition in 1919–20, it recognized and published six works for winds and piano, five for winds and strings, four woodwind quintets, and a sextet for piano and woodwinds between 1919 and 1966.59 In return for $5 annual dues, all members—400 the first year—received copies of the winning compositions, which were published by the commercial music publishers G. Schirmer, Oliver Ditson, and later Theodore Presser. For the first year, the music advisory committee—which served as the jury for SPAM’s an179



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nual composition competition—included Barrère; pianists Harold Bauer and Harrison Potter; violinists Hugo Kortschak and Adolfo Betti; composers George W. Chadwick, Deems Taylor, and Rubin Goldmark; and conductor Frederick Stock. In these days before tape recordings, members of the board also performed the submitted works—all 111 of them the first year—for their colleagues. The judging was blind; scores were unsigned. The organization was purposely conservative in its choices. As Burnet Tuthill said, “[W]e want to print . . . works whose availability in print will lead to amateur, as well as professional performance.” Though this attitude was not pleasing to such modernists as Wallingford Riegger, SPAM did succeed in recognizing a fair selection of compositions with long life, by such composers as Leo Sowerby, Loeffler, Frederic Jacobi, Edward Burlingame Hill, Parker Bailey, Quincy Porter, Douglas Moore, David Diamond, and Mel Powell.60 Happy as he was to be back in the cocoon of the New York Symphony, Barrère had no intention of giving up his own groups, either on the road or at home. Catherine Bamman was busy planning a long spring tour of the South and Midwest by the Little Symphony with the Adolph Bolm Ballet Intime, as well as a March tour for the Trio de Lutèce. In New York, all the groups would appear at the Little Theatre Concerts Intimes, where there would be Sunday night subscription concerts with nonalcoholic refreshments at intermission. On February 13, 1920, the Barrère Ensemble celebrated its tenth anniversary, giving its first New York concert in three years at the 1,400-seat Aeolian Hall, which was considerably larger than the Ensemble’s previous venue, the Belasco. It opened with what was billed (with uncharacteristic caution) as the probable New York premiere of the Beethoven Sextet in E-flat, op. 71. There was the definitive world premiere of John Parsons Beach’s Naive Landscapes, a typically programmatic work that showed the influence of Debussy. The composer, who had studied piano with Harold Bauer and composition with André Gedalge in Paris before the war and later with Loeffler and Malipiero, was at the keyboard. The Beach was followed by the New York premiere of Pierné’s Preludio e fughetta, op. 40, no. 1, and the second New York hearing of his Pastorale variée, op. 30.61 There was a Baroque respite with the New York premiere of Pierre Bucquet’s Suite for two flutes, and the program ended with the Enesco Dixtuor, which had received its New York premiere by the Barrère Ensemble nine years earlier and whose “oriental” tinges still intrigued the critics.62 On March 16 Barrère made his first appearance with the Beethoven Association, another newborn organization, playing the Beethoven Serenade for flute, violin, and viola with Gustave Tinlot and René Pollain. Founded by Harold Bauer as a gesture of multinational artistic fraternity in the wake of World War I and the Muck affair, the organization proposed to present a series of all-Beethoven chamber music concerts. The members were not paid for



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their services, and the proceeds were to be donated to a musical charity by vote of the membership at the close of each season.63 In the spring of 1920, the board considered using the money to fund scholarships for wind players, a move heartily endorsed by Leopold Stokowski: “There is a most tremendous need of doing something in this direction. The situation is becoming more acute. . . . the number of young talented players of wind instruments is not very great.” But for this first year, it was decided that the $6,000 surplus would be allocated to publishing Thayer’s Life of Beethoven in its first English edition.64 Thanks to Barrère and his colleagues and students, the supply of wind players would soon see a natural increase even without the Beethoven Association’s assistance. Another collaboration cemented in the spring of 1920 was with the dancer Adolph Bolm. Like Pavley and Oukrainsky, Bolm was an exemplar of the Russian Imperial Ballet tradition, but he was also a dancer with a rebellious and entrepreneurial streak that served him well in his collaboration with Barrère. The principal character dancer for Diaghilev in Paris from 1909 to 1914, he was considered second only to Nijinsky within the troupe, where he partnered Anna Pavlova. Separated after the 1914 season by the outbreak of World War I, the Ballets Russes dispersed, but Diaghilev contracted with Otto Kahn for a season at the Metropolitan Opera followed by a transcontinental American tour in the winter and spring of 1916. Diaghilev was unable to convince the Russian government to grant a leave for the ballet master, Michel Fokine, and Nijinsky was then a prisoner in Austria. Bolm thus was tapped as ballet master and premier danseur, a role he assumed with great skill.65 The Diaghilev tour was a revelation to the American public and represented a turning point in the appreciation of modernism in this country; it did for ballet what the Armory Show had done for the visual arts three years earlier. As Bolm recalled, “It was this company that created the Russian tradition all over the world in ballet; the force and freshness of the productions, the vigor and masculine qualities of the male dancers, were a revelation to a world surfeited with the Italian and French and English ballets which had little male participation in the dancing , and only routine ideas. The barbaric and exciting color, the dashing performers, the perfection of technique . . . thrilled the world.”66 A second American tour of the Ballets Russes was scheduled for 1916–17. Otto Kahn had managed to get Nijinsky freed, and with him in charge, Bolm was unenthusiastic. But Kahn recognized Bolm’s value to the company and threatened to cancel the tour unless he came. The critic and impresario Merle Armitage noted in his memoir Dance Memoranda that “the fact that America saw the Diaghileff [sic] ballet with its character unimpaired is largely due to the prodigious efforts of Bolm.” However, during that tour, Bolm sustained a se181



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rious injury that put him into a body cast. The injury proved to be an opportunity, and unlike Diaghilev, who hated America, Bolm decided that the New World suited him. Said dance critic Suzanne Carbonneau, “Bolm was fascinated by America and saw in its youth, naiveté, and mass culture the very stuff of ballets of the future.”67 Bolm started his own company, the Ballet Intime, in 1917, as a twelvemember troupe suitable for performances in relatively small halls. His associates were a polyglot bunch: the Japanese dancer-choreographer Michio Ito and his Danish wife, Tulle Lindahl, who did Japanese and Javanese dances; the Norwegian Margit Leeraas; the English-born and Indian-trained Roshanara, who danced to the Indian music of Ratan Devi; and traditionally trained ballet dancers, including Alexander Oumansky, another Diaghilev refugee, and the Americans Edwin Strawbridge and Ruth Page, a budding star from Indianapolis. Bolm himself danced character roles and pas de deux with Rita Zalmani, a veteran of the Pavlova tour.68 Bolm assembled this troupe in an era that prized exoticism rather than multiculturalism, but under a director who was nevertheless cognizant of the immigrant roots of his adopted land. Among the highlights of the varied repertoire was Margit Leeraas’s interpretation of The White Peacock by Griffes, with whom Bolm had become friendly in New York. Beginning with the 1919–20 season, the troupe was managed by Catherine Bamman, and it was Bamman who mated the ballet with the Barrère Little Symphony, though Barrère and Bolm were already well acquainted. Bolm hosted a veritable salon in his 59th Street apartment — where his guests included Prokofiev, Barrère, Salzedo, and John Alden Carpenter; the set designers Robert Edmond Jones and Nicholas Roerich; and the singer Feodor Chaliapin — and he shared with Barrère the goal of making a genuinely American contribution to his field.69 The Ballet Intime appeared at the Metropolitan Opera, in a variety of New York movie theaters, and with the New York Symphony, while Bolm also choreographed for the Met and the Chicago Grand Opera Company. On March 17, 1920, it appeared with the Little Symphony in Carnegie Hall, whose stage was transformed by a blue-green curtain, two white columns, a profusion of flowering plants, and blue and orange lighting. The multinational program of sixteen short numbers included a Rachmaninoff prelude, the Assyrian Dance by Malouf, Spanish Dance by Albéniz, and Irish Dance by Grainger in honor of the day. Works of Rameau, Perilhou, Fauré, and Chopin represented the French tradition, and the orchestra backed Barrère in a Mozart menuet and Bach’s Polonaise and Badinerie. Bolm’s interpretation of the Albéniz was repeated by acclamation: “St. Patrick himself could have asked no greater treat than that Adolph Bolm should dance for him on his feast day,” reported the New York Telegraph.70



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When the two groups — the Ballet Intime and the Little Symphony — went on the road for an eight-week tour in March and April, the programs were similar, a mixture of pantomimed dramas, character studies, ethnic dances, and more abstract pieces. For Bolm, this was a great opportunity to expand both his own horizons and those of his audiences: “I wonder how the cities of the West will respond to the art of the East. They have not as far as I know seen a real Russian ballet.” With a “spirit of high adventure,” Bolm was eager for the challenge of new audiences: “We shall come to know America and America will come to know the spirit of the new dance.” But he was also aware of the risks: “I have been warned by many wise and well meaning patroons that the smaller of the American cities are not interested in what, for lack of a better term, we call the art theatre. They tell me that the stale songs from last year’s Broadway favorite, the sentimental ballad, and the vaudeville comedian are all these people care about. I cannot believe this. I cannot conceive an intelligent group of people so lacking in taste that they will not care for delicately beautiful ballets exquisitely presented. So I put into the production of these ballets and divertissements the same scrupulous care that I should if my audiences had seen all the fine dancing in the world.” Bolm’s method worked, in his estimation: “I discover that I am correct in judging the souls of these American people who are always appreciative of sincere effort, of authentic and honest and beautiful dancing.”71 In Terre Haute, for example, the local critic thought the ballets “of such superlative excellence that each number should be mentioned in detail.”72 But some critics complained that the program was too long and the pauses between dance numbers too lengthy.73 The charming presence of Barrère no doubt eased the way. The flutist typically played a long list of flute solos — Gluck, Widor, Saint-Saëns, and Godard—in addition to the orchestra’s selections of old and new French music. Logistical glitches in the group’s travel arrangements were frequent and distressing: a flood inundated a large part of Indiana as the troupe traversed the state; when the railroads ceased operation, the troupe had to make “jumps” in buses and trucks.74 In Toledo, the late delivery of the baggage delayed the performance even more. The Toledo Blade critic could not, however, be deterred from his enthusiasm for the flutist: “In all the world there are few sounds more ingratiating than the lower octave of George Barrère’s flute. He gave five solo numbers . . . rich with silver roulade and trill.”75 The Toledo News Bee agreed: “As a flutist, Barrère has no peer.” The unusual event filled the Toledo Coliseum for what was described, in a delightful malapropism, as “the most pretentious [concert] of the year.”76 Catherine Bamman and her associate, Merle Armitage, personally accompanied the troupe. Armitage recalled, “It was indeed one of the most pleasant 183



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tours in my thirty years experience. There was a great sense of cooperation in the company. There were no quarrels, there were no explosions. While traveling , orchestra men played poker with the ballet members, and loaned each other books and games. Harmony prevailed to a remarkable degree.”77 The end of the trip was something of a disappointment to some listeners, however, as Barrère had to entrust the orchestra to Salzedo in order to join his New York Symphony colleagues on their first European tour.78 On Thursday, April 22, 1920, ninety-three members of the NYSO sailed on the French Line’s SS Rochambeau for Le Havre, the beginning of an eightweek European circuit undertaken at the invitation of the governments of France, Italy, and Belgium and a committee of distinguished English musicians. This was the first tour of Europe by any American orchestra, and it was paid for almost single-handedly by Harry Harkness Flagler.79 Among the cargo, in addition to the heavily insured Guarnerius, Amati, and Stradivarius stringed instruments, was a newfangled American device that enabled the timpani player to change the pitch by pedal instead of the usual handscrews. The American press made much of the largely positive reaction of the European press, contributing to the chauvinistic value of the endeavor. The orchestra was welcomed to France with a luncheon given by the mayor and municipal council of Fontainebleau, and the day was declared a civic holiday. The town was decked out with French and American flags, and Damrosch was awarded the cross of the Legion of Honor, followed by the first concert of the trip, a program of Lalo, Wagner, Fauré, Ravel, Dvorˇak’s New World Symphony, and the Rhapsodie nègre of the tour soloist, pianist John Powell. Barrère was among the select group of orchestra members chosen by Damrosch to lay a wreath on the grave of Berlioz.80 In Paris, the orchestra rehearsed in the concert hall of the Paris Conservatoire, then gave three concerts at the Opéra Garnier — a sentimental homecoming for its principal flutist. “What an emotion for the mature flutist to find himself rehearsing in Paris in the very hall where he was awarded his first prize twenty-five years earlier! How could I believe the reality of finding myself at the Paris Opéra that I had left fifteen years before to tempt fortune in Dollar Land? And what about my first appearance at the Grand Théâtre in Bordeaux, that very town where I was born forty-four years prior to that event?”81 There were many reunions as well. An opening reception at the Sorbonne, for instance, was hosted by Saint-Saëns and Théodore Dubois, and the chairman of the welcoming committee was Philippe Gaubert, now chief conductor of the Opéra. The first concert at the Opéra was well received by the French critics; it was “triumphal” according to Musical Courier. Damrosch took repeated bows after the Eroica and Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë. Also on the program was d’Indy’s



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Istar Variations, for which the composer was present, as were the French composers and conductors Messager, Bruneau, Vidal, Hüe, Rabaud, Pierné, Grovlez, and Nadia Boulanger. An American reporter wrote, “I heard the greatest of praise for the American wood-winds and the strings, while the brass was considered rather more explosive, not to say shrill, than that of the French orchestras.”82 Attended primarily by “Yankees” and musical celebrities, the event did not attract much public notice.83 It was regrettable, said Musical Courier, “that this was made so distinctly a social or political event, and so little a matter of the musicians of one country meeting the musicians of another country. It seems that among the rank and file of musicians here, little interest was aroused. They looked upon it as an affair for ambassadors, for social high-lights and reception committees, not for the common herd.” American reporters were also disturbed by ungrateful remarks by their French colleagues. For example, one local paper carped, “France invited the United States to send: an orchestra — and wheat. The orchestra has arrived. The wheat will not arrive. Our bread is black.”84 On the musical front, Le Ménestrel looked favorably on the anciens élèves of the Paris Conservatoire in the orchestra.85 Yet Antoine Banés wrote in Le Figaro, “The NYSO is an organization of high and incontestable value, but it cannot yet pretend—notwithstanding its serious and genuine excellences—to take the same rank as our admirable and truly national French orchestras.”86 Musical Courier editor in chief Leonard Liebling retorted, “The New York Symphony Orchestra is not of one race, for its players come from the length and breadth of Europe and America.” Banés called the performance of Beethoven’s Eroica “shocking , freakish, weak, and full of unexpected modifications of pace and accent and unbalanced sonorities. The tone of the orchestra was dry and tight.” Banés did compliment the Americans’ performances of d’Indy’s Istar, fragments of Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloë, the Prelude to Die Meistersinger, and Powell’s Rhapsodie Nègre. “Of course,” wrote Banés, “they could understand and would prefer the rude audacities of composers of the day rather than the gentle classicism of the elder masters. Such is America’s pardonable atavism.” The venerable H. T. Parker of the Boston Evening Transcript fired back, “In short, we are a fine race of semi-barbarians, useful to the French when there are wars to be fought or loans to be made, but well advised when we leave the fine arts to our Parisian betters.”87 From Paris the orchestra went on to Bordeaux, then Italy, Belgium, Holland — a trip marked by strikes, practical jokes, receptions, and generally favorable notices—and finally London, where Ernest Newman wrote: The New York Symphony Orchestra has not come up to our expectations. There is general unwillingness on the part of the press to deal 185



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very critically with it, because it is felt that its visit is prompted in part by the desire to strengthen the Anglo-American entente. . . . The New York Symphony Orchestra is excellent as regards its material, but all its playing that I have heard has given me the impression that Mr. Damrosch’s rigid discipline has turned it into a machine. As a conductor he is unimaginative; he never throws much light on the music, and sometimes manages to obscure the light that would radiate naturally from it if only it were left alone. His performance of Elgar’s first symphony on Saturday was unspeakably, irredeemably bad— coarse, clumsy, tasteless, soulless. I am told Mr. Damrosch is a great admirer and lover of the work. I do not doubt it, but am irresistibly reminded of the boy who became [a] butcher because he was so fond of animals.88 Despite reservations about the conductor, several critics, Newman among them, singled out his wind players for particular praise. Wrote Newman, “It is an excellent organization, fit to compare with the finest we have ever heard in this country; some of the wood-wind and the brass tone is particularly beautiful. Walter Damrosch strikes one as a disciplinarian rather than a conductor of temperament.” The London Times said of Daphnis, “Ravel’s brilliant orchestration gave a magnificent opportunity to the players to display their powers, and if the program had contained their names we should feel bound to mention particularly the first flute, the first trumpet and several others who specially distinguished themselves.”89 And the Musical Times wrote, “As to the high technical attainments of the Orchestra, opinion was unanimous. The wind departments, especially the flutes and horns, have drawn enthusiastic comment from even the most blasé concert goers.”90 The orchestra was feted at a reception where the guests included the lord mayor of London, conductor Adrian Boult, composer Frank Bridge, and Albert Coates, conductor of the London Symphony, who would soon be engaged as guest conductor of the New York Symphony. Barrère was the only orchestra member chosen to join violin soloist Albert Spalding and pianist/composer Arnold Bax for the musical program. With Cécile and Jean, he then detoured back to France, arriving in New York on July 5. The rest of the orchestra had arrived three days earlier—only to be quarantined on shipboard overnight in New York harbor for fear of typhus among the steerage passengers. Nevertheless, the musicians were greeted by a reception committee appointed by the mayor and were feted at City Hall. Despite the celebration, for Barrère there was a rude return to financial reality. At the end of July, a month after his loan payment was due, he was forced to write to Flagler from Boston, where he was again teaching, “It won’t surprise



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you if I tell you that the European [tour] upset my budget. Though having every kind of commodities in Paris and elsewhere,— I didn’t save any money there, from it.” He was hoping to collect on fees still owed him, and asked that he add some of the July payment to the October installment. Anticipating a prosperous season, he hoped to “see my way clear, thus clearing my mind from that everlasting money worrying.”91 During that summer in Boston, Barrère appeared at the Fifth Haynes Musicale, this one at the Oliver Ditson Company showroom on Tremont Street, an event that drew some 250 people, mostly flute players. The event was so popular that Haynes contemplated moving its now-annual summer event to a true concert hall. Joining Barrère were Pasquale Amerena of the Boston Symphony, Verne Q. Powell, and H. Wahl, a flutist from Lynn, Massachusetts. Notable on the program were quartets by Antonio Minasi and Adolphe Wouters; Barrère’s arrangement of the Beethoven Sextet, op. 71, for four C flutes and alto flute; and the first public performance of Sonata-Fantasia (The Wheatlands) by E. A. Dobson, a young man of American Indian descent who was then studying flute with Barrère. The Dobson piece, as described in the Flutist, was intended to be a piece of program music narrating the history of the wheat fields, from the Indian perspective. As the score is lost, we do not know to what extent it adopted traditional Indian characteristics, but it would have been attractive in the context of the Indianist movement then in vogue in American music. Barrère, who was similarly sympathetic to the Indianist music of Charles Sanford Skilton and Arthur Farwell, had played Dobson’s Two Idylls at a Haynes concert the previous summer, and the flutist reported to the press that he was orchestrating them for use in the coming orchestral season.92 That season began in upstate New York in early September with the Fifth National American Musical Festival in Lockport, a town just northeast of Buffalo. Founded four years earlier by Albert A. VanDeMark, the local concert presenter, this enterprise was devoted exclusively to American music and featured “All-American Artists.” Though the programs gave considerable time to vocal soloists in songs by now-obscure American composers, the Little Symphony gave three varied and interesting programs. The first, on September 9, included the premiere of Charles Sanford Skilton’s orchestral suite East and West, its two sections separated by a set of unrelated songs. The East section consists of Alla Palestrina and Alla Menuetto, both in classical style; West is made up of three Indianist pieces, a Kickapoo Social Dance, Winnebago Sunrise Song , and Rogue River Gambling Song. On a separate festival program was the piano version of Skilton’s Sioux Flute Serenade, which Barrère would later arrange for flute and piano. Skilton, then professor of music at the University of Kansas, had become interested in the Indian melodies he had heard at Haskell Institute, the nearby government Indian school, and adapted those melodies into a 187



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variety of instrumental works and operas.93 Also on the first program were works of Louis V. Saar (the Suite, op. 27), Mabel Wood Hill (Aesop’s Fables for tenor and orchestra), Griffes (The White Peacock), A. Walter Kramer, and Cecil Burleigh. The composers whose works appeared on the Friday afternoon concert were better known: Henry Hadley, Edward MacDowell, and Ethelbert Nevin. After the MacDowell, Barrère announced—no doubt with tongue in cheek— that it was not his policy to play encores, but gave MacDowell’s “The Playing of Winds” in a flute and orchestra version. On Saturday, the Little Symphony was scheduled to play works of Seth Bingham, the twenty-two-year-old Leo Sowerby, John Alden Carpenter, Dobson, and Henry de Koven. Musical Courier commented with a skepticism typical of the time, “It is remarkable that Mr. Barrère was able to obtain so many American compositions for this body of players. It is necessary to orchestrate especially for an ensemble of this kind, and when one considers the amount of labor involved in the arranging , rehearsing and presenting these programs, one feels a deep sense of gratitude to Mr. Barrère.”94 From Lockport, Barrère moved east to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, where he made his first appearance as a performer at the Berkshire Chamber Music Festival run by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. The descendant of an important Chicago family, married to a Boston Brahmin but widowed young, Coolidge would combine her wealth and love of music to become the Lady Bountiful of American chamber music for the next quarter century. The Trio de Lutèce shared the program with the Salzedo Harp Ensemble and the Berkshire String Quartet in a program of Rameau, Ravel (the Introduction and Allegro, with clarinetist Georges Grisez), Bach, Debussy, Salzedo, and others. Featured was Salzedo’s arrangement of the Debussy Children’s Corner Suite for the Trio, a project he had completed four years earlier but that they had not yet played in New York or Boston. It would become one of their signature pieces. The Berkshire festival was the mecca of chamber music musicians, held in the specially constructed Temple of Music, a rustic white-framed structure whose exposed dark wooden beams supported a V-shaped roof. Its acoustics were magnificent. With pews imported from a New Hampshire church — though Coolidge did concede to the comfort of her guests by adding cushions—the atmosphere was one of reverence for the chamber music enterprise.95 Barrère and company endured both the uncomfortably high temperatures and the competition from rival woodwind entrepreneur Georges Longy, whose Boston Symphony–based ensemble also appeared. In later years Barrère and his colleagues would continue to be a fixture of the Coolidge festivals in Pittsfield, later in their new home at the Library of Congress, and at various concerts sponsored by Coolidge around the world.



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Five days later Barrère was back in Boston on the Haynes circuit. In addition to concerts, there was a series of promotional events organized by Haynes, including conferences on the technical and scientific features of flute construction, concerts, golf matches, and dinners. It was a pattern of fellowship and music making that would define the flute community for the rest of the century. The distinguished guests included Dayton C. Miller, omnivorous flute collector, professor of physics at the Case School of Applied Science in Cleveland, and self-appointed historian and archivist of all things flute; Arthur Brooke of the Boston Symphony; Charles K. North of the Boston Opera Company; J. O. Brockenshire, inspector of musical instruments for the U.S. government; and Sidney Lanier, son of the flutist/poet of the same name. At the Sixth Haynes Musicale, held in Perkins Hall on Boylston Street, a bit of Bach and Barrère’s own Nocturne were interspersed with chamber music. With his usual Boston collaborators, he played flute quartets of Gianella; his own arrangement, for four C flutes and alto flute, of a Mozart Divertissement; and the Grand Quartet of Friedrich Kuhlau, the work that would inaugurate an organization that was one of Barrère’s greatest legacies to American flutists.96 On December 5, 1920, Barrère invited sixteen flutists to his Upper West Side apartment to play that quartet, and it was decided on that occasion to form the New York Flute Club, the sixth such organization in the country (and the only one still in existence).97 Incorporated by the state of New York on December 31, the new organization had lofty goals: “To promote the art of flute playing, particularly in the City of New York and its vicinity; To encourage the composition and dissemination of music for the flute; To foster the association of professional and amateur flutists and all music lovers; To spread news of interest to persons playing the flute by means of a publication or otherwise.”98 At its first regular meeting, the club elected the inaugural slate of officers: as the founder, Barrère was, of course, president; Mary (Mrs. Eliot) Henderson was first vice president; William Kincaid, second vice president; Milton Wittgenstein, recording secretary; and Lamar Stringfield, treasurer. Meetings were scheduled for the first Sunday afternoon of each month.99 The New York Flute Club held its first concert on February 6, 1921, in the Rose Room of the Ansonia Hotel, an exuberantly ornate, thick-walled Renaissance revival structure on Broadway between 73rd and 74th Streets. Fittingly, the Ansonia was home to many musicians over the years, among them Toscanini, Lili Pons, Sol Hurok, and Igor Stravinsky. Most of the program was performed by Barrère students, and Barrère joined three of them for the Kuhlau finale. The second concert, in April, was almost completely American: Lamar Stringfield, who would receive his artist diploma from the Institute of Musical Art in 1924, played his own Mountain Echoes for flute and piano. Stringfield would go on to play with the Chamber Music Art Society and New 189



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York Chamber Music Society and to win the Pulitzer Prize in composition in 1928. Barrère and several colleagues from the New York Symphony played Mrs. H. H. A. Beach’s Theme and Variations for flute and string quartet; and the socalled Princess Watahwaso, “Indian mezzo-soprano,” sang Indianist songs by Charles Cadman, Thurlow Lieurance, and Carlos Troyer. The program concluded with the Rondo Capriccioso for four flutes of Robert Russell Bennett, then the next-door neighbor at the West Side YMCA of Brown Schoenheit, a Barrère student who would become principal flute of the Kansas City Philharmonic.100 The flute club would publish this buoyant, tuneful work in 1922, and it would become a regular item on flute club programs. These programs set an important precedent, establishing the flute club as a venue for works and genres not ordinarily heard in major concert halls as well as performances of more standard repertoire by leading players. The founding of the New York Flute Club was echoed by the establishment of the Boston Flute Players Club by Georges Laurent in April 1921. The crucial difference was that the New York organization became a venue for Barrère to give his students and other local professionals invaluable performance experience and exposure and to feature visiting artists. The Boston concerts, by contrast, always included the founder on the program, along with his Boston Symphony colleagues. Only rarely, and only in the very early years, did Laurent’s students appear. There were no visiting artists, and other BSO flutists made only cameo appearances as assisting artists. The flute club idea took off quickly, spurred by publicity in the Flutist and by the prominence of Barrère and Laurent; by January 1922 the magazine listed eleven in the United States and one in Europe. Two years later there were seventeen in the United States, two in Europe, one in Australia, and one in Canada. Most of these organizations were designed to showcase local talent, though distinguished visitors were welcome. In January 1921, with the flute club on its feet, Barrère began raising money for a winter concert by the Barrère Ensemble, though presumably Flagler followed through on the three years of support for the Ensemble he had promised in the spring of 1918. For his February 15 concert at Aeolian Hall he hoped to recruit twelve guarantors of $100 each, among them Otto Kahn. Alluding to Kahn’s previous generosity to him—details of which are not recorded—he wrote, “You know how expensif [sic] and unproductive is chamber music. Every season I have to find a scheme to float. . . . Is it very much indiscret [sic] to ask you if you are to help me.”101 Kahn responded the next day in the affirmative, regretting only that previously scheduled travel would not permit him to attend.102 The concert was a success—“very much better than the preceedings [sic] as the quality of the audience is improving as much as its size.” The receipts were slightly better than anticipated, resulting in a bottom-line deficit



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of $1,072.92, rather than the $1,200 Barrère had budgeted, which allowed him to return $10.59 to each of his backers. As persuasive with the critics and audiences as with his sponsors, Barrère had successfully carved his niche. Musical America defined that territory well: “Persuasive George Barrère led an Aeolian Hall audience off the broad highway of music into a by-path of woodwind[s] Tuesday afternoon, Feb. 15, when the Barrère Ensemble presented another of those occasional programs that delight searchers after the exotic and the novel, whether it be futuristic or archaic.” After welcoming the audience with the relatively familiar Mozart Serenade in C Minor, there were “two novelties and a feminine conductor,” as another critic put it — the latter phrase a reference to the composer Poldowski, who conducted the U.S. premiere of her Suite Miniature for eight winds.103 The scoring , which included oboe d’amore, English horn, and basset horn, was an archaic touch echoed in the use of old dance forms for the suite of movements. It was sufficiently archaic—or at least impractical—that Barrère later arranged the piece for the more customary woodwind quintet, and it was published by Galaxy Music in 1934. Poldowski was born Irene Régine Wieniawska, daughter of the Polish violinist and composer Henryk Wieniawski. She had studied at the Brussels Conservatory; then in Paris, probably with André Gedalge and Vincent d’Indy (beginning in 1904, when Barrère was still in Paris); and in London. Married to a British baronet, she became known as Lady Dean Paul and took the pen name Poldowski to avoid trading on the reputations of her father and husband. Known principally for her songs, she also wrote successfully for instruments; the Suite Miniature was first performed in manuscript in Queen’s Hall, London, in January 1912. Poldowski toured the United States in 1921 and 1922, and the links to Barrère were potentially numerous—she summered in Bar Harbor, which was also the vacation home of Harold Bauer, Damrosch, and many other musicians — and performed with Murray Davey, with whom the Trio de Lutèce had appeared in London in 1914. The English composer Cyril Scott was in the audience to hear the American premiere of his Scotch Pastoral, a harmonization of “Bonnie Doon” with a variety of dissonances, scored for flute and piano.104 American works on the program were the Griffes Poem and a flute-and-piano arrangement of the Intermezzo from the opera Cleopatra’s Night by Henry Hadley. The concert concluded with the colorful, if somewhat repetitive, Suite persane of Caplet, a Barrère favorite, for as Musical America pointed out, “Its Orientalism is the Orientalism of France.”105 Barrère, however, was not done for the day; in the evening, he brought in extra revenue by conducting the Little Symphony in a concert at the Metropolitan Opera House with Father Finn and the Paulist Choristers. February 1921 also saw the publication of the first installment of Barrère’s 191



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autobiography, written with the assistance of Lola Allison, the secretary and future wife of William S. Haynes, thus further cementing his links to Haynes. The article was serialized in three issues of the Flutist, a relatively new journal put out by Emil Medicus, a flutist and teacher in Asheville, North Carolina. A somewhat pompous, sometimes racist, often self-promoting man, Medicus was essentially a well-meaning flute “booster.” For the next decade, the Flutist would be another cog in the Barrère publicity machine. Barrère would contribute articles, news of his far-flung travels, and recommendations of foreign correspondents. Much of his lively correspondence with Medicus made it into the pages of the magazine for the edification of flutists across the country. In the meantime, Barrère was fulfilling his civic obligations. On February 19 he participated in the reading session for the second annual competition of SPAM; we do not know which pieces for flute were in the running , since only the winners — string quartets by Henry Holden Huss and Leo Sowerby —were announced.106 SPAM promoted its efforts with advertising: “It is your patriotic duty to join the SOCIETY FOR THE PUBLICATION OF AMERICAN MUSIC John Alden Carpenter, Pres.”107 Barrère felt it his own patriotic duty to include at least one American work on every program, a task that he did not find the least bit onerous. At the same time, he was now contributing to a particularly American form of music education, the settlement house, serving on the auxiliary council of the Music School Settlement on East Third Street. The major initiative for the spring of 1921 was a long tour with the Ballet Intime. Adolph Bolm created several new ballets for the tour, including two Prokofiev pieces; Howard Brockway’s arrangement of Armenian folksongs; Raoul Laparra’s Spanish Rhythm; a Fantaisie chinois by Seeling; a Torch Dance of Debussy; and the reprise of Mexican Episode to a folksong setting by Ignacio Fernández Esperón. The White Peacock, the Albéniz Seguidilla, Fauré’s Pavane, and Liszt’s Bal masque were repeated from previous programs. The tour began in Springfield, Massachusetts, on February 28 and was scheduled to end in late May, but as of mid-March not all of the dates had been booked. Therein lay a problem: as early as March 25, Bolm’s protégée Ruth Page was writing home to her parents in Indianapolis: “I don’t know exactly what to do about next year—the prospect doesn’t look very good. Barrère & Bolm so far haven’t made a cent on this tour; in fact they have lost quite a lot. Barrère thinks it’s Bamman’s fault, and will not stay with her another year. Certainly with the railroad as expensive as it always is and having to work all the time with [these] union people, it is very hard to do anything.” Bolm, too, was discouraged financially, she reported, “although certainly everybody seems to like the performance & we always have splendid success everywhere.”108 Indeed, Bolm was responsible for shaping what became a very successful ballet career for Page in



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Chicago — and while on tour she also enjoyed a flirtation-by-correspondence with Carlos Salzedo. Among the stops on the first part of the itinerary was Lawrence, Kansas, home of composer Charles Sanford Skilton. The Little Symphony repeated his East and West suite, which it had premiered in Lockport the previous September. Earlier in the day, Skilton had escorted the dancers and musicians to Haskell Indian Institute, the government Indian school, where the Indian students performed a program of authentically native songs and dances. Naturally, the visitors seized the photo opportunity: Adolph Bolm wore a Sioux war bonnet.109 The troupe contended with a blizzard in Colorado, which knocked down the electric wires and stranded their train, before arriving in California in early May. There, too, there were challenges from the weather. Ruth Page wrote home, “I’ve just come home from our performance at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley — it certainly is a marvelous theatre, but I cannot understand why people want an open air theatre in such a climate—we nearly froze to death.”110 There was ample time for sightseeing and other activities: a minstrel show in Galveston, the Chicago Opera, a play starring Ruth St. Denis, San Francisco’s Chinatown, and Charlie Chaplin’s studio in Los Angeles. In Los Angeles, large audiences attended the performances on three consecutive nights.111 The Los Angeles Times waxed enthusiastic about the dancers: “Adolph Bolm not only is master of a very fine technique, but when he steps out of the Russian dances into the warmer element of Spanish or oriental numbers, he is equally at home. Indeed, last night perhaps his best work was in the spirited character number, ‘Mexican Episode,’ in which he was assisted by Ruth Page and Margit Leeraas. This was beautifully costumed, mounted and lighted, and in it Mr. Bolm became the veritable gallant Spaniard, mercurial, amorous, perfectly graceful as well as dominatingly masculine.” The review continued, “Ruth Page is dainty and light as thistledown, her work showing that characteristic of willowy flexibility which means grace from head to foot. Her personality is warmly radiant and charming.” But the opening orchestral set was too long for that critic’s taste, however well played.112 In the Bay Area, where the audiences were perhaps more discriminating than elsewhere in the provinces, according to local critic Marie Healy, “San Francisco is rather ‘fed up’ with interpretive dancing,” having hosted Pavlova, Lada, and Ruth St. Denis during the previous season. “Barrère’s work, however, was received with whole-hearted enthusiasm. Bolm is better than his ballet. . . . his solo work . . . was more appreciated than the ensemble dancing.”113 On their return to the East Coast, the ballet and symphony made one last appearance together, at a Fiesta Mexicana held for the benefit of a local hospital in the amphitheater of the Sleepy Hollow Club, in New York City’s north193



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ern suburbs. To the orchestra’s basically standard program—Rameau, Hadley, Pierné, flute solos by Gluck and Widor — Barrère added two novelties: his arrangements of two Mexican folk tunes transcribed by the ethnomusicologist Natalie Curtis. As Ruth Page’s letter intimated, however, the tour had been a financial disaster, and by mid-June Barrère had severed his connection with Catherine Bamman. Or, as Bamman put it succinctly, “We are through.” Bamman claimed that Barrère owed her more than $5,000, which she had advanced to him en route. As she explained to her client Lucy Gates, “[M]atters got so bad on the road, they ran up such frightful and unnecessary expenses, that they got into a bad way, what with the Horner Witte defection on top of things, it certainly looked as if they would have to cancel.” After that last-minute cancellation by the Kansas City manager, Barrère and Bolm had wired her for an additional $2,000 advance in order for the tour to proceed, an unprecedented request in her experience. For the sake of her own reputation—“I knew what a howl it would raise of our being ‘unreliable’”—and for the sake of the other artists on her roster, she felt she had no choice. “Barrère signed an agreement for re-imbursement [sic] which gave me his personal share of the intake on his attractions, over and above his expenses, until his share of the deficit would be made up. . . . But apparently once he was on the safe side, and the Union could no longer make it hot for him for ditching his players in the middle of a tour, his scruples once more went to the winds.”114 Barrère agreed with Bamman on one thing: “This is the black page of my life.” But his version of the story was a bit different: “My intrepid but inexperienced manager sent us across the continent with more hope of dates than with actual contracts. It was a disaster. A company of twenty-four artists playing thirty-seven concerts in eleven weeks with straight jumps like Spokane to New York is certain to be a fiasco. Only prima donnas can afford such extravagance.” He returned to a large stack of bills that “were a bad blow to my financial ambition. But they did not discourage me long, although for a few days I felt quite downhearted.”115 “Were it not for that unfortunate tour I would now be almost afloat financially,” he wrote to André Caplet. Barrère, clearly unable to repay Bamman, delayed responding to her demands. She called him “naive” and threatened legal action, predicting “there will be fireworks,” but in the end, Barrère told Caplet, “I shook her off like a bad dream.”116 He did write to Gates — in care of Bamman, who opened the letter—protesting the use of the Little Symphony name in the advertising for the forthcoming tour of her Opéra-Comique that she and Bamman were organizing. Bamman claimed that because of her financial investment, she owned the rights to the Little Symphony name (which was in any case—sans the Barrère prefix — used by various other groups around the country). With a great



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deal of bravado, Bamman asserted that if she did not succeed in claiming the rights to the name she would form another small orchestra with Salzedo at the helm.117 And so she did: the organization of the Little Art Orchestra was announced in July. As a side effect, the incident seems to have damaged Barrère’s relationship with Salzedo in the short term: they apparently did not perform together again until 1925. Though there was no enmity between Gates and Barrère, their professional partnership came to an end, as the awkwardness with Bamman made it impossible. His friendship with Bolm, however, was unbroken. The solution to the financial situation lay, as always, in cultivating society. “I have solid friends among rich people,” he reported with great relief, and one of them advanced him enough to reconstruct his business. There was no interest on the loan. “It’s marvelous,” he exulted.118

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I

t did not take Barrère long to recover financially or psychologically from his disastrous western tour. His mood lifted quite a bit in early June when he learned that his first true protégé, William Kincaid, had been appointed principal flute of the Philadelphia Orchestra, replacing his former Conservatoire classmate André Maquarre. He wrote to Emil Medicus of the Flutist, “We, of N.Y., are very sorry to loose [sic] such a good friend; but I, his teacher, am very proud of his promotion.”1 Perhaps he chuckled, too, at his inclusion in the spoof of Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” perpetrated by the graduating students of the Institute of Musical Art for their commencement show, which concluded: “He took his NAIMSKA sword in hand / And long the BARRÈRE foe he sought / So rested he by the KNEISEL tree / And stood awhile in thought.”2 Mostly, Barrère looked forward to a restful summer at Chautauqua, the Victorian resort in upstate New York where the New York Symphony was scheduled for a six-week engagement. Albert Stoessel would conduct the first three weeks, René Pollain the second three. Barrère had been there only once before, for a single concert in 1909, and had not participated in the orchestra’s summer appearances there in 1919 and 1920. His only concern was housing. “Everybody is full house!” he wrote to Medicus. “I think I will have to buy a Tent.”3 That was not an inappropriate strategy for living in what started out as a campsite for the education of Methodist Sunday school teachers. By the 1920s Chautauqua was a combination arts festival, religious retreat, and lakeside resort, a mecca for adult education. It was a gated town of Victorian gingerbread



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cottages and classical meeting halls, centered around the imposing Hotel Athenaeum and an amphitheater that hosted daily lectures and concerts. Barrère made one solo appearance, in the Widor Suite, and was orchestral soloist in standard repertoire (Bizet’s L’Arlésienne and Carmen Suite). He was particularly pleased to work with Stoessel, who had studied with Caplet at the school for American bandmasters established in France by Walter Damrosch during the war and who was just beginning his American conducting career. Barrère had just played the Verdi Requiem with him in New York, with only one short rehearsal, and was impressed. “Here you must move fast and Stoessel showed real skill in this respect,” he wrote Caplet. “He rehearses quickly and only the essential things. Although very young he has a lot of practice.”4 Barrère also taught at the Chautauqua Summer School, which announced his participation with a brochure grandly titled “World’s Greatest Flutist at Chautauqua, N.Y.” Citing the many orchestral positions held by his former students, the school announced that Barrère would offer six weeks of lessons to “a limited number of pupils.” The fees were $70 for twelve one-hour lessons, $60 for ten; $45 for twelve half-hour lessons, $40 for ten, or $25 for six—slightly more than he had charged in Boston, but somewhat less than the $10 an hour he typically charged in New York, a fee twice the going rate of his colleagues.5 Another cure for the disappointment of the spring tour was to begin immediately on the planning of his next venture, the Berkshire Festival concert on September 30. On June 11 he wrote to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge regarding possible repertoire — continuing a correspondence that had begun in March — and noted that he was already looking for a new manager. (In the meantime, he was running booking advertisements for the Barrère Ensemble and Little Symphony in which he invited queries to his home address.) He had hoped to include Naive Landscapes by John Parsons Beach, with the composer at the keyboard, but because Beach would be in Europe he had written to the young Chicago composer Leo Sowerby about playing his Quintet.6 The program that he organized for Pittsfield was vintage Barrère. The Barrère Ensemble, with the assistance of Alfredo Oswald, performed the Mozart Quintet for piano and winds, representing the classic repertoire; Sowerby’s 1916 woodwind quintet, which they were playing for the first time; and the world premiere of the Dithyrambic Suite for woodwind quintet by the San Francisco–based Domenico Brescia, making good on Barrère’s promise to program at least one American work on every program. Barrère then played the Bach E Major Flute Sonata, one of his favorite pieces, and there were two works for woodwind quintet and piano: d’Indy’s Sarabande et menuet, op. 24 bis (the composer’s own arrangement from his Suite in Olden Style for string quartet,

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two flutes, and trumpet, which Barrère played often in Paris), and Roussel’s Divertissement, which the Société Moderne had premiered in 1906. Both A. Walter Kramer of Musical America and his colleague from Musical Courier applauded the Sowerby Quintet; Kramer called it “imaginative, fresh, unlabored, and [it] reveals an unusual dexterity in the handling of the instruments.” Times critic Richard Aldrich, however, compared it unfavorably to the composer’s piano concerto. The Brescia, on the other hand, Aldrich found to have “considerable charm and individuality, but somewhat overweighed by the descriptive titles of the movements which the music hardly lives up to”— an observation with which Musical Courier agreed.7 Barrère — and the Bach sonata in particular—won the acclaim of the critics. Kramer’s comments were emblematic: Mr. Barrère was in every sense the hero of the morning. . . . Throughout the intermission, which followed his performance of the Bach, expressions of superlative nature were made by members of the audience. There were some present who had never heard Mr. Barrère before. And they realized, as I have for many years, that there are two kinds of flute players, George Barrère—and all the others. Some years ago, Arthur Farwell, reviewing a performance of this artist, said that Mr. Barrère was distinguished from other performers on his instrument in that he breathed into it; the others blew into it. This came back to me yesterday, as I listened to his superbly limpid tone, his masterly phrasing.8 The following morning , the composers Henry Eichheim, Selim Palmgren, Percy Grainger, Cyril Scott, and Sowerby performed a concert of their own works. It was a program of originality and variety. Barrère and oboist Pierre Mathieu participated in Eichheim’s Oriental Impressions, a work for piano, strings, winds, and percussion. A friend of Loeffler, also a former Boston Symphony violinist, and an early champion of French music in the United States, Eichheim had made several trips to the Far East (some financed by Coolidge) to study the music and instruments of the region. Barrère played his works often, and the two would become close friends. As it always did, the Berkshire Festival had an invited audience of high stature, primarily from the musical world, notable among them this particular year the composers Rebecca Clarke, George W. Chadwick, Frederick Jacobi, Charles Martin Loeffler, and Daniel Gregory Mason; pianists Harold Bauer, Ernest Schelling , and Arthur Whiting; violinists David Mannes and Efrem Zimbalist; and conductor Frederick Stock. It was a disappointment to all that Cécile Barrère, having caught a painful case of whooping cough from Jean, was not able to join her husband for the occasion.9 Coolidge’s Pittsfield festivals



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were intimate affairs, played by the elite for the elite; any benefit to the broad music-loving public was a trickle-down effect from the publication of new works, the writing of the critics, and the hoped-for expansion of the chamber music repertory. Meanwhile the orchestral situation in New York had stabilized. Early in the summer, the American Federation of Musicians had withdrawn the charter of the Musical Mutual Protective Union, Local 310, which had made it impossible for the musicians to conclude negotiations with the Metropolitan Opera, the New York Symphony, or the Philharmonic. As of September 2, the local had referred to the agreement it had hammered out with Flagler of the Symphony and Clarence Mackay of the Philharmonic to the national federation, headed by Joseph Weber. Walter Damrosch was pleased and relieved, considering Weber, with whom he had tangled and eventually settled over the five Frenchmen in 1905, to be reasonable. More than 2,500 members of the old union had joined the new union, which Weber had just formed, Damrosch reported to Flagler.10 By the end of September, it was settled: the musicians acquiesced to the rehearsal schedule required by the management, and the Symphony agreed to continue the minimum weekly salaries paid the previous season.11 The Philharmonic, meanwhile, had merged in the spring with the National Symphony, a short-lived orchestra founded in 1919 by Varèse to promote new music, then converted to a more traditional repertoire under Artur Bodanzky and Willem Mengelberg. The Philharmonic now had two principal flutists: Nicholas Kouloukis, former principal of the Cincinnati Symphony, and Daniel Maquarre, late of the National.12 In December, the Symphony welcomed Vincent d’Indy as guest conductor for two concerts; he would also conduct the Cincinnati, Boston, and Philadelphia orchestras and give piano recitals during a seven-week tour. D’Indy’s visit was an opportunity for a reunion of the French fraternity in New York, under the auspices of the Franco-American Music Society (FAMS), which hosted a Park Avenue reception for their visitor. The guest list included the old camarades Barrère, Monteux, Salzedo, Kéfer, Rothier, Tinlot, Pollain, and FAMS president E. Robert Schmitz. Like many Europeans, Schmitz, a protégé and proponent of Debussy, had seen in the prosperous postwar United States the opportunity to pursue his artistic ventures. With the assistance of the French Ministry of Fine Arts he founded the FAMS in 1920 with the unabashed goal “to make zee propaganda for French music.”13 Although the organization’s literature proclaimed, “Internationalization of music is the ideal,” the emphasis was clearly French, an objective reflected in the membership of its boards. Barrère, Salzedo, Thibaud, Monteux, Longy, and Rothier all served on the advisory board, along with the requisite American patrons; Varèse served on the technical board. The repertoire of its early concerts also reflected this 199



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emphasis; in January, for instance, Salzedo and Barrère gave the American premiere of D.-E. Inghelbrecht’s Sonatine en trois parties at a concert in the home of Mrs. Oliver Gould Jennings. Mozart, Grainger, and Sowerby were also represented on the program, played by the French-American String Quartet.14 Schmitz’s plan for the FAMS (known by 1925 as Pro Musica) was to form chapters in various American and European cities, a goal in which he succeeded; to establish an American library in Paris so that French musicians could afford to perform works of American composers, whose scores were otherwise too expensive; to assist with French artists’ concert tours; to present a nationwide concert series; and to publish a quarterly bulletin. He succeeded in all of this, though Barrère, with perhaps a tinge of jealousy, had his doubts about Schmitz’s endeavors, sensing a whiff of opportunism in his efforts and terming his organization “the American Society for all things French.” “He is very active. Too much almost. He is young and that is possibly why I don’t always approve of his methods of action. However, we make common cause. . . . above all here where the German propaganda is very aggressive, one must above all unite to expand the French qualities.” Barrère noted that, for sixteen years, “I have, in my humble sphere, worked at that propaganda in a fashion that I believe more diplomatic.” The Germans, he explained, operated as if in a conquered country (musically); to him it seemed more in keeping with French dignity to operate calmly and quietly: “This method is a little like that employed by Damrosch, who has done more for French music and musicians these last years than many of our compatriots.” This newcomer, Schmitz, by contrast, worked with a choking intensity. Barrère protested, “I know the changing spirit in all these New Yorkers. They suddenly like French music, but it is more because of Foch, Nivelle, Clemenceau than because of Debussy, Ravel or Caplet. It is the eternal history of the hare and the tortoise. Schmitz is apparently the hare.” However, “far from putting an obstacle in front of those efforts, I do everything possible to second them.”15 He remained on the board for several years, but played only once more at a Pro Musica concert, in 1940. French culture was very much in evidence when Barrère gave the premiere of a new work written for him by David Stanley Smith, the dean of the Yale School of Music, who was present for the performance on December 11. As described in the program note, the ten-minute Fête galante “seeks to reproduce the atmosphere of grace and elegance of aristocratic France of the eighteenth century.” Musical Courier was not impressed: “Perhaps it succeeded in doing so. Not having known ‘aristocratic France’ of the eighteenth century, this reviewer is at a loss to know. It is hard for the average mind to understand the raison d’être for such a work.” Modern readings bear out that analysis. But, wrote the critic, “Mr. Barrère played the solo flute part with undoubted accuracy.”16 The relatively unscripted autumn gave Barrère time to prepare for a ma-



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jor project in January, another joint undertaking with Adolph Bolm and his ballet. The centerpiece of the program was the first jazz ballet, John Alden Carpenter’s Krazy Kat, subtitled by the composer A Jazz Pantomime. In a memoir, Bolm wrote, “It is good to be back in the fresh, lively atmosphere of an American city. I am thrilled by the chewing gum signs on Broadway. . . . It is exciting to stand on the street corners waiting for a safe crossing and to read over someone’s shoulder the startling headlines of tomorrow’s newspaper. I am anxious to express in the ballet some of the real spirit of America, some of the naive idealism of its busy life. Where can I find a subject? What phase of living is peculiarly and wholly American?”17 Bolm found the answer in the Krazy Kat comic strip of George Herriman published by the Hearst newspaper chain. Carpenter described Krazy Kat operatically, as “the world’s greatest optimist— Don Quixote and Parsifal rolled into one.” The costumes were enlargements of the comic-strip drawings, so that it appeared that the cartoons literally came to life. Bolm did the choreography and danced the role of Krazy Kat. Herriman himself designed the set, in which black-and-white cartoons were displayed on rollers at the back of the stage; as the action progressed, the actors rolled up the scenery.18 Carpenter—a Harvard graduate, former student of John Knowles Paine, and successful Chicago businessman—wrote the score in 1921, and it received its concert premiere in December of that year, with Frederick Stock and the Chicago Symphony. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Carpenter was a great fan of jazz. He told Musical America, “I have always felt keenly for jazz. . . . It is the first really spontaneous American musical expression.”19 His biographer Howard Pollack suggests that, although Carpenter was familiar with the “hot jazz” scene on Chicago’s South Side, Krazy Kat derived rather from the white dance bands in the city, “a satirical, vaudevillian jazz that featured slapstick humor,” a humor that was perfectly suited to Bolm’s talents. But the ballet also has French roots, not unlike those of Satie, Ravel, Prokofiev, and Les Six, as Pollack points out.20 The opening , for example, is entitled “The Afternoon Nap of a Faun,” and Bolm’s characterization was a parody of Nijinsky’s faun—a reference that Barrère surely appreciated. And although Barrère himself was no jazz fan, he surely understood the humor of the ballet’s curious orchestration, which included piano, saxophone, slide trombone, and wa-wa trumpet.21 Much of the press berated Carpenter for a dilettantish view of jazz. Henry Osgood found it “too polished,” and Times critic Richard Aldrich complained that Carpenter was using it to ensure greater success than his more significant Birthday of the Infanta had received.22 What did impress the critics was the ballet’s Americanism. Wrote Deems Taylor in Vanity Fair, “Perhaps some of us, that afternoon, realized a little more clearly just what ‘American’ means. No composer of any other nationality would have chosen just that subject.” Hen201



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rietta Straus of the Nation related “a certain thrill, a certain sense of emancipation in the realization that here at last was a representative work by a representative musician that was neither sectional nor racial in its inspirational sources, yet so purely American that it required a strong national consciousness on the part of its interpreters.” That consciousness of the music’s “peculiarly native flavor,” in her judgment, neither Bolm nor Barrère could supply. “Their failure was due to no lack of artistry, but merely to the fact that one was a Russian and the other a Frenchman.”23 Musical Courier did approve of Carpenter’s score —“He wrote some real good ‘jazz’”—but declared that the humor of the comic strip had been lost in translation. Carpenter, the reviewer said, was wasting his time. “He might be a real element of good in the present struggle of American music for recognition. But he will not accomplish this by cleverness, nor even by humor, although that is not out of place once in a way.”24 Krazy Kat was actually the last work on an overly long program — it did not start for more than two hours after the 3:00 p.m. curtain — and the New York Sun critic complained, “Cats may have nine crazy lives to fling away. But men only one.”25 The program featured works of various Polish composers in addition to a set of songs by Carpenter in which the composer accompanied soprano Povla Frisch. It began with a celebration of the 300th birthday of the French playwright Molière, the world premiere of Karol Szymanowski’s Divertissement Grotesque pour une comédie de Molière. There were two other ballets, Prokofiev’s Suggestion diabolique, danced by Bolm, and Griffes’s The White Peacock, with Margit Leeraas in the Bolm-Barrère signature piece. Songs and chamber works by Poldowski and songs by Szymanowski completed the program. The Musical Courier critic was not amused; he reported that he had “sat through hours and hours of the most awful modern slush that was ever put before the long suffering public.” Barrère was still prone to overprogramming. Excepting the Griffes and Carpenter works, “The rest of it was a trial of patience that amounted to an unmerited penitence [sic].” The distinguished audience, which included the actor John Barrymore, was enthusiastic about Krazy Kat, but less so about the rest. Said Richard Aldrich, “[A]s the music was all of the most ultra-modern type or types, without relief or contrast, many beautiful women and strong men emerged staggering from the hall at 5:40 o’clock, with bruised and battered ears, and there were heard appeals for somebody to play the chord of C-major plain. But nobody did, either during the concert or after it.”26 Ever in need of revenue, Barrère also played a variety of choral society and vocal engagements that winter, but managed at the same time to find some interest in the repertoire. A concert with the Saint Cecilia Society under Victor



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Harris included the New York premiere of Pan’s Flute, for baritone, chorus, and flute obbligato, by Carl Busch, a former conductor of the Kansas City Symphony and a well-respected composition teacher. With his New York Symphony colleagues, Barrère was a soloist in the Bach B Minor Mass performed by the Schola Cantorum under Kurt Schindler, billed as the first integral New York performance since 1901. One concert, however, was unlike all the others. In March, he and cellist Paul Kéfer accompanied Robert Murray, the “phenomenal boy soprano” from Tacoma, Washington, in his New York debut recital, which was held at the Hippodrome, considered the largest theater venue in the world. The advertising promised that Murray “Sings the Highest Note Ever Reached and the Range of His Voice Is Greater than That of Any Other in Musical History,” and the Times review duly noted that “the boy with a bird voice” astonished his audience with his imitation of bird calls. “His good musical memory and quiet behavior won the lad much favor.” Barrère, mentioned in the last sentence as an assisting artist, must truly have needed the money to take on such an engagement.27 As a colleague explained, “He would play anything for the love of music, he would [also] play anything that had a dollar sign involved.”28 There was also the dinner and reception circuit, of which two items stand out. On February 9, with soprano Nina Koshetz of the Chicago Opera and Sergei Prokofiev as pianist, Barrère played at the New York Musicians’ Club dinner for conductor Albert Coates on February 9. Two days later, he attended the reception that the Franco-American Music Society gave in honor of Prokofiev, Coates, and Carpenter. This event followed a Little Symphony concert that morning that included “modern novelties” by Prokofiev, Casella, Florent Schmitt, and Eichheim. It was one of the Concerts Internationaux de la Libre Esthétique organized by Poldowski, who took its title from a series of the same name organized by Octave Maus in Brussels. The series had begun in January with a piano recital by Arthur Rubinstein, its purpose to promote new music by unfamiliar composers of all eras. It was a goal Barrère clearly endorsed, though the events were covered on the society pages as much as in the music columns. Like many such events, these concerts and receptions were not significant in themselves, but they had long-range implications: they were opportunities for Prokofiev to become intimately familiar with what the composer called the “heavenly sound” of Barrère, and it is commonly thought that Prokofiev’s Flute Sonata, written in 1942–43, was inspired by that sound.29 The New York Flute Club, meanwhile, was off to a fitful start. It “has been working very slow,” Barrère reported to Emil Medicus in December. Barrère himself was so busy he could not even attend all the meetings. But “steps are going to be taken to give a new impulse to our organization,” and the programs reflected that objective.30 At the November concert, flutemaker George W. 203



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Haynes gave a talk on the care of the flute; students such as Milton Wittgenstein and Lamar Stringfield appeared in a variety of chamber music groups. In February, Georges Laurent was the guest of honor. It was the only time that Barrère would host his younger colleague—and a favor that Laurent never returned. In March the club held its first banquet, with a 5:00 p.m. recital by Barrère, who raced to the Park Avenue Hotel from the Aeolian Hall on 42nd Street, where he had played in the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto with the New York Symphony two hours earlier. The April concert featured a manuscript composition by Quinto Maganini, a suite of “three little pieces for four large flutes” called The Realm of the Dolls, a musical joke at the expense of Indians and “Negroes” that was typical for the period. In July, there was a club outing to Long Island. Cécile’s picnic basket was impressive and readily shared with an out-of-town guest who remembered, “The pièce de résistance was a boned chicken, so artfully prepared that as it lay on the platter it looked like a fowl just plucked, and I did not realize its condition till the knife was inserted and the meat sliced as one would a loaf of bread.” As always, chez Barrère, “It was a repast of esculent dainties, appealing to the appetite and seasoned by wit, story and anecdote which rendered it the most enjoyable.” The musical menu featured a variety of ensembles and several solos played by Verne Powell on an alto flute recently completed by Haynes, who attended with his wife and brother. Barrère played his signature Gluck, in the Taffanel arrangement — and announced that he was about to make his own arrangement for publication by Schirmer. The gathering concluded with a group reading of the Kuhlau Grand Quartet, which was now becoming a flute club tradition.31 As Barrère reported to Medicus, running a flute club in a large city such as New York was a tricky business: “The difference of interest and point of view between amateurs and Professionals is almost alarming. The Amateur sees in the club mainly the Entertainments for which the Professionals are in demand. This is some time[s] very interesting for a young and ambitious man but some others feel that they are giving more than they receive. Established Artists do not care to appear in such a way that they have the feeling of giving free public lessons.” It is a problem that still plagues such instrument-oriented organizations more than eighty years later. Then there was the issue of repertoire, which set Barrère off on one of his charming tirades: “Playing duets, then trios, then Quartets will never develop the true musical taste of the Masses. I even heard once a very brilliant Amateur saying that he considered that the Flute Quartett [sic] should have the same place than the String Quartett on the Musical World!!! I love too much my instrument to misguide its reputation by seconding such a fanatical utterance. Flute is a charming instrument but trying to boost it too far is a dangerous boomerang. We have a French saying about ‘qui



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n’entend qu’une Cloche n’entend qu’un son’ that I can clumsily translate thus ‘Who listens to only one Bell hears only one Tone.’ . . . Too much Flute is perhaps worse than not enough.”32 Barrère’s next major undertaking was another Griffes project, the production of Salut au monde in April. Based on Walt Whitman’s poem of that name, it was advertised as a “festival”; a more accurate description might be drama or pageant. At his death in April 1920, Griffes had left the score incomplete; it fell to Edmond Rickett, accompanist to Yvette Guilbert, to edit and complete the piece, which was scored for chorus, an assortment of wind instruments, two harps, piano, and percussion. For the first act, Rickett worked from Griffes’s sketchbooks; the second act used ritual music from Islamic, Hebrew, Greek, Hindu, and Christian traditions. Indeed, the proportion that was actually Griffes was relatively small, a fact that did not go unremarked by the critics. The setting was the Neighborhood Playhouse on Grand Street, on the Lower East Side, an offshoot of the Henry Street Settlement House founded by Alice and Irene Lewisohn, leading members of the city’s German Jewish aristocracy. Working with reformer Lillian Wald, they had devised an arts program for the community that would not condescendingly bring in art from on high, but would elicit it from the community itself. The sisters organized informal pageants centering on the traditions of the Lower East Side, later adding existing dramatic texts.33 Among the teachers was Yvette Guilbert, herself a promoter of the French vernacular tradition. The 400-seat Neighborhood Playhouse gave its first public performances in 1915, after a decade of grassroots organizing , and continued through the 1926–27 season. The dramatic productions were in the experimental vein of the Provincetown Theatre and Washington Square Players. It was an exotic locale for mainstream musicians and actors, a fact that critic Joseph Wood Krutch noted in his introduction to a history of the Playhouse. “Nothing ‘Off-Broadway’ could have been further ‘off,’ either physically in miles or in atmosphere. The journey to Grand Street in the heart of the great isolated, self-contained, exotic and teeming East Side took one into a world most of us seldom visited on any other occasion and one which was, in many respects, as ‘foreign’ as though it had been located on a different continent. Grand Street was an adventure in itself.”34 Salut au monde itself was motivated, Alice Lewisohn later wrote, “by a feeling of at-oneness that swept from land to land at the end of World War I. . . . Our hope was to convey the vision which Whitman expressed at the end of the Civil War in a form adapted to presentation on the stage. The appeal of the poem lay in his concept of America not only as a harbor but as a unifying influence for peoples of the world. In it Whitman saluted the new spirit of enfranchisement for all nationalities composing America, a burning problem at that time. . . . Salut au Monde, salutation to the world, demands awareness of 205



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the cultures of the world and the possibility of their enrichment to the individual and through him, in Whitman’s spirit, to a feeling of brotherhood.”35 Griffes, who had written The Kairn of Koridwen for the Neighborhood Playhouse in 1917, was entrusted with the score. All the members of the production were invited to a series of lectures at the Playhouse to learn more about the religious backgrounds it embodied; among the lecturers was the Syrian poet Kahlil Gibran. The logistics were daunting. Thomas Wilfred used a “color organ” to design an ever-changing play of light and color on the stage. Ian Maclaren, as the poet, read the Whitman verse; choristers moved in and out of the small orchestra pit as the score dictated. Barrère, happy to contribute to this tribute to his friend Griffes, accepted the Lewisohns’ invitation to conduct the production, with members of his Little Symphony in the pit.36 Lewisohn recalled, “I shall never lose the memory of that hushed moment on the opening night when Georges Barrère raised his baton; for we realized that the Salut would either release the spirit we felt contained in it, or prove a complete failure. . . . As the indefinable chords sounded the first notes of awakening from chaos, every head behind the scenes was bowed, each player involuntarily breathless.”37 At the conclusion of every performance—the piece was given eight times over four weekends—the immediate response of the audience was “an unbroken silence”; it was “received as a religious experience” by audience and performers alike.38 The critics, however, were not silent, and fortunately, they approved. Said the Times, “The listener with a feeling for Walt Whitman’s verse and vision cannot but be moved by the heightened effect of musical and scenic accompaniment. . . . Poets rarely have their lines so simply and sincerely treated.” Musical Courier voiced disappointment only that there was so little to the Griffes score. “The music, modern and forceful, is among the very finest things that have ever been composed by any American.”39 It was a fitting tribute—but alas, the work was not performed again except at Grand Street. After such a busy season, Barrère took time to regroup. He signed George Engles to manage the Little Symphony and Barrère Ensemble as well as his solo career and retreated to a clapboard house on Perry Avenue in then-rural Norwalk, Connecticut, with Cécile and Jean. “My wife is charming and completely understands my impossible character. She doesn’t spoil me too much, just enough to make me appreciate that she does it intelligently.” His two older sons lived with Michelette. Claude, then sixteen and a champion swimmer, was interested in business, not music, and “knows piles of things that I certainly never learned. What a vocation for the son of a flutist!!” Gabriel, twelve, was a little more interested in music, but only in a general way; Barrère had some hope for the youngest, Jean, but as he wrote to André Caplet, “There are so many musicians on the Earth who should not be, that I have no remorse about neglect-



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ing to make my sons great musicians.”40 The only publicity to emerge that summer was a photograph of a “Domestic Little Symphony”—the Barrère family on their porch—in Musical America and, in August, a preview of his repertoire for the coming season. He would continue to champion the works of American performers, among them Domenico Brescia. And, he announced, he had completed woodwind quintet arrangements of a trio for flute, cello, and piano by Haydn and the Suite Basque of his Schola Cantorum associate Charles Bordes, originally scored for flute and string quartet.41 He declined, however, to participate in the 1923 Berkshire Festival. This time, Coolidge had asked clarinetist Georges Grisez, formerly a member of the Boston and New York symphonies and the Longy Club and now a member of the Chamber Music Art Society of New York, to organize the woodwind ensemble. Perhaps Barrère was miffed that he was not asked to organize the event, but he made his excuse a matter of principle. He did not want to participate in a pickup group, he explained to Coolidge, because he wanted the woodwind quintet to be considered “as serious a proposition, if not more, as a String quartett [sic]. The balance of tone is not acquired in a short succession of rehearsals, but in a kind of musical life together which make our leading quartets so wonderful.” Besides “being untrue to my [Barrère Ensemble] collaborators, it would be illogical for me to appear before such [a] critical audience as provided in Pittsfield, in an impromptu quintett [sic], even of leading musicians as Grisez is planning.” Coolidge was entirely sympathetic, noting that as “an artist of such conscience and integrity” he could not do otherwise. “Your theory is absolutely correct and I hope you will preach that gospel to other organizations.” Most important, she assured him that “you are the one and only flautist for me.”42 On the first of November, having turned forty-six, Barrère was finally, definitively released from French military service. Officially over the hill as a soldier, he was nonetheless in his prime as a performer. There were a number of performances of the Bach B Minor Suite with the Symphony in November, then a program of Bach sonatas at Aeolian Hall. In fact, there were several allBach concerts that season, and Bach was becoming an increasing presence on programs of all kinds.43 But there was enough novelty that Oscar Thompson wrote in Musical America, “so vital did the sonatas seem, hoary as they are, that there was scarcely a trace of tedium in listening to four of them in an afternoon.”44 A March symphony performance of the Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun was a triumph. “Pan himself seemed to be blowing through George Barrère’s flute,” wrote the Musical America critic. “In such round tones did the wood god sound his tune that this essay in green intangibility, breathing of rushes and shadowed streams, seemed more marvelous than ever. . . . The orchestra did 207



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some exquisite playing on this occasion, but Mr. Damrosch was truly a representative of the audience when he stepped through the ranks of his men and congratulated the flautist.”45 In the spring , the propaganda wars between the New York orchestras heated up once more, and this time the pawn was education. In early May, Clarence Mackay, chairman of the Philharmonic, announced a three-way partnership among the Philharmonic, the American Orchestral Society (a training orchestra conducted by Chalmers Clifton), and the New York City Board of Education. Privately raised funds, he announced, would support a scholarship program to provide free instruction to future orchestra players. A week or so later, the New York Symphony Society board announced an expansion of its educational activities: it would move its four Saturday morning children’s concerts to Carnegie Hall, which was larger than Aeolian, and a special subscription by the directors would reserve the entire balcony of 800 seats for public school children. The tickets would go to the best music students in the five boroughs. In addition, the Symphony would provide eight of its principal players — including Barrère — to give weekly instruction to public school students.46 In November, the Symphony would hold auditions to select the six most promising students on each instrument from the city’s high school orchestras. As the Times reported, “six young hearts beat high” when they realized that they were to study with Barrère.47 A publicity photo shows Barrère, perched on his trademark high stool in his home studio, a painting of the French coast on the wall behind him, eye to eye with Marjorie Klugherz, a talented young flutist from Bay Ridge High School in Brooklyn. The following year Barrère’s schedule would include a student from Stuyvesant High School, Carmine Coppola. He would go on to the Institute of Musical Art and then would become principal flutist of the NBC Symphony and a film composer of note.48 By the end of the summer Barrère was able to supply Emil Medicus with a statistical wrap-up of the year ending August 31, 1923, which included significant attention to teaching: 148 rehearsals for orchestra and chamber music, totaling 370 hours; 167 concerts, totaling 334 hours; and 704 lessons to 50 pupils, totaling 704 hours, for a grand total of 1,408 hours.49 It was a tally designed to impress—and it covered a year in which he did relatively little touring and in which his own organizations were relatively inactive. Barrère the teacher was rather startled at this time by the long-anticipated publication of the Taffanel-Gaubert Complete Method for Flute, issued by Leduc in Paris. It did not, in his opinion, reflect the pedagogy of his master at all. “I studied with Taffanel and I daresay that next to Gaubert I was his second favorite pupil. I knew all his views about a Method as he talks to me about it very often. Many of the things he told us at the class are absolutely missing in this



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book. . . . As usual the thing deviated from the subject and became commercial. It was only with a condescending smile that the name of Gariboldi would have been pronounced among his pupils and by himself; nevertheless the name of this more than popular arranger (or rather de-ranger) is recommended in this Method for the very obvious reason that the publisher is the same. With Taffanel I . . . have studied the eight books of studies by Joachim Andersen which form a real monument in our literature and no mention of the name of this composer is to be found in this Method.” All this he wrote to Medicus “absolutely confidentially,” surmising that the work was put together hurriedly.50 His own publishing activities, by contrast, were quite satisfactory to him and also provided repertoire for his students. G. Schirmer, which had recently published two of his flute-and-piano arrangements, a Mozart Menuet and a Bach Arioso, was about to put out his arrangement of the scene from Gluck’s Orpheus. In December he gave a program at the flute club of music for flute he had edited or composed: a lecture on the Altès études, a publication with ironic overtones, considering his dislike of Altès’s strictness; the Griffes Poem; the Gluck and Mozart arrangements; and his own Nocturne for flute and piano and Two Pieces for Three Flutes, the last a pleasant but unremarkable work published by Carl Fischer. His own teaching now achieved recognition on an international scale, for in the spring, the French government had awarded him the honorific Officer of Public Instruction, the second rung on the list of decorations. Notwithstanding the recent appointment of the Dutchman John Amans as principal flute of the Philharmonic, an October article in Musical America lauded the overwhelming success of Barrère’s pupils, a record which “make[s] it possible for American orchestras to recruit their flute players from native talent.” Among his products: William Kincaid, solo flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra; John Fabrizio and J. Henry Bové of the New York Philharmonic; Pasquale Amerena of the Boston Symphony; John H. Kiburz, solo flutist of the St. Louis Symphony; John Wummer, principal of the Detroit Symphony; George Possell and Quinto Maganini of the New York Symphony; and Meredith Willson, Maurice Sackett, Arthur Schwanner, and Carl Hutchings, all members of the Sousa Band.51 Willson would join the New York Philharmonic as second flutist in the fall of 1924 and would be catapulted into the first chair when principal John Amans got appendicitis shortly before the opening of the summer Stadium Concerts series.52 “I ended up hearing the first symphony concert I’d ever gone to (not counting the matinee the Minneapolis Symphony once played in Mason City High School, to break the jump to Des Moines) from the chair of the first flute,” Willson recalled. There was a perfunctory rehearsal at which the orchestra played the Beethoven Leonore Overture. When it concluded, the or209



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chestra applauded and conductor Willem Van Hoogstraten gestured to someone in the orchestra to rise. Willson started to applaud, too, he remembered, “and looked around to see what I was missing” until Ernest Wagner, the piccolo player, prodded him to get up and bow. The next morning , Willson rushed to Barrère to ask if that was how they always treated a new member. When Barrère heard that the overture was the Leonore, Willson recounted, “he started to laugh and rocked back and forth so furiously that his favorite chair, with him in it, turned a complete somersault and ended up upside down in the corner, his famous Parisian beard waving helplessly at the ceiling. He finally managed to say, ‘That overture has in it one of the most celebrated flute solos in the whole symphonic repertoire.’”53 Even granting Willson a bit of license in the telling , the anecdote does not say much about the state of orchestral training at the Institute of Musical Art in those days. There was a student orchestra, conducted at that time by Frank Damrosch, but the incident suggests that Barrère did not teach him orchestral excerpts, which were not then available in study anthologies, an omission many other Barrère students confirm. Barrère himself had little or no formal orchestral training and evidently saw more need for coaching in the solo repertoire. In the fall of 1923, the New York Symphony announced its forty-sixth season, including a Beethoven cycle: nine symphonies would be given in chronological order during the regular Carnegie Hall subscription concerts, with smaller Beethoven compositions presented in twenty-minute postludes. Another notable piece of programming was the New York premiere of the orchestral version of Stravinsky’s Le Chant du rossignol on November 1— a “naughty” item on an otherwise “decorous” concert, in the words of Musical Courier.54 In November, Barrère was soloist in the Bach B Minor Suite, both in New York and on tour, and in December, he and Gustave Tinlot joined Wanda Landowska, one of the most influential proponents of the harpsichord revival—in the Bach Brandenburg Concerto No. 5.55 On January 22, 1924, Barrère added yet another harpsichordist, Lewis Richards, to his stable. Just two and a half months earlier, Richards had become the first musician to perform a harpsichord concerto with a major American orchestra — the Haydn D Major Concerto with the Minneapolis Symphony. Trained at the Brussels Conservatory, he had played with Henri Casadesus’s Société des Instruments Anciens in Paris — quite possibly his route to the partnership with Barrère. The January concert, billed as a harpsichord recital with Barrère as assisting artist (though he played in five of ten pieces), was Richards’s New York debut.56 The program — Handel, Quantz, Rameau, Leclair, and Bach — was well received. Musical Courier wrote approvingly, “All ancient music, all classical, all genuine — this is the sort of program that is proper for such recitals, and it



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must be added, it was played in a way that is proper for such music. That is to say, there was no pomp and circumstance attached to it, no affectation, no fancy costumes, no attempt to play to the gallery. This recital was in no sense of the word a vaudeville stunt given with the object of disguising technical limitations and of gaining cheap notoriety. Mr. Barrère is already known as a great musician and a great artist, and Mr. Richards lacks none of the essentials of his art and might very well succeed as a pianist were his passion not for the harpsichord. His work is of historical and educational significance, and is entertaining as well.”57 The Sun, noting that this was the third harpsichord concert in New York that week, following Landowska and Frances Pelton-Jones, put Richards in that perspective: “His technique lacks the crisp brilliance of a Landowska, but he achieves plaintive romance when he wills, persuading rather than convincing his audience as to the merits of his instrument.”58 Two weeks later, Barrère was in Washington for the inauguration of Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge’s chamber music festival in that city. Carl Engel, the enterprising head of the Library of Congress Music Division, had asked Coolidge to donate the manuscripts from the Berkshire Festival chamber music competition to the library. She did that and more, offering the library a concert series as well. The dilemma was that the library had no suitable auditorium. However, thanks to the assistance of Washington composer Mary Howe, a friend of Engel, the library was able to use the auditorium of the Frick Collection, the government-owned museum of Asian art on the national Mall, for three chamber music recitals in February. Barrère, with cellist Willem Willeke and violinist Hugo Kortschak, both members of Coolidge’s Berkshire Quartet, helped to organize the event. Seven of the nine works were repetitions from the Pittsfield festival — either prize works, commissions, or honorable mentions. Henry Eichheim traveled from California to conduct his Oriental Impressions in their original chamber music form on the Friday, February 8, program. Barrère was joined in the Eichheim by many of his New York colleagues, including oboist Pierre Mathieu. An invited audience of Washington dignitaries—not necessarily musical sophisticates—received black-bordered invitation cards befitting the somber mood in Washington following the death of President Warren G. Harding. The announcement assured the audience that “these Recitals—involving only the rendition of serious music, under grave and dignified conditions—will be in no sense social entertainments.”59 As was customary at Coolidge festivals, the concerts were complemented by a rugged schedule of receptions which, as Coolidge biographer Cyrilla Barr points out, the tired musicians did not always appreciate. Regardless of whether he enjoyed them, Barrère was savvy enough to understand their value in currying favor with an important patron. Coolidge held court at the New Willard 211



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Hotel, where she lodged twenty or thirty musicians as her guests, including Georges and Cécile Barrère. Barrère was one of the select few invited to join Coolidge and Librarian of Congress Herbert Putnam for a luncheon at the Round Table, the regular lunch venue of the library’s department heads.60 In March, the New York Symphony was once again on tour, this time in the Midwest and East. A Chicago critic singled out Barrère for particular acclaim: “The first flautist is a great artist, for rarely has such pure and mellow tone been heard here as he produced.” (The principal flutist of the Chicago Symphony at the time was the German-trained Alfred Quensel.) On its return to New York, the orchestra again featured him as soloist: on March 30, with oboist Pierre Mathieu, he played the U.S. premiere of the Fugal Concerto by Gustav Holst. The rest of the program was not a bad showcase for him, either: the Brahms Third Symphony and Afternoon of a Faun. Olin Downes wrote of the Holst, “The fugal concerto is smoothly written, and if a certain middleof-the-road and eminently respectable manner is really typical of English music, then it is evident that this music is English.” Musical America concurred in its low opinion of the composer: “Mr. Holst is reputed to be one of England’s foremost contemporary composers. The two examples from his pen heard on Sunday would scarcely explain the great renown he enjoys.”61 Immediately following the Holst performance, Barrère walked around the corner to Henry Miller’s Theatre on 43rd Street to conduct a Little Symphony concert, the first of three Sunday evening concerts that spring — and his first Little Symphony “season” in New York. The group had, of course, played many individual concerts in New York, but had never had a series of its own. The season was a bit less ambitious than Barrère had originally envisioned, however. When he wrote to Otto Kahn in early January to request financial backing, he projected six weekly concerts beginning in February. “My plan,” he explained to Kahn, “is to give good Music that the Sunday night Public is seeking , not too aggressively ultra-Modern but never common place.” Estimating a cost of $5,000, he sought ten guarantors at $500 each. Kahn complied with the request, but ultimately Barrère required only $350.62 In the publicity for the series, Barrère wrote, “I feel it is time to begin a new movement among music lovers and concert givers for a well balanced conception of what could be called PLEASURABLE MUSIC. The majority of concert givers have a reason for their enterprises; sometimes it is publicity for themselves, publicity for an idea, a composer, a school, a group or a committee. To my candid mind, however, the first object of a concert should be to please the concert goer. . . . My programs will not be crowded with announcements of first performances,” though there would be some. “I do not want to be called a pioneer of new works, but if I could only be considered as a pioneer of true enjoyment through music, I would consider myself highly gratified.”63 It was



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a strange pronouncement from a musician who had made a career of supporting new works, but it no doubt had its practical motivation. Nevertheless, as he noted in a later letter to Kahn, he would not play a single number that had been on any of the hundreds of symphonic concerts that season.64 The programs were indeed varied. At the first concert, on March 30, Henry Eichheim again conducted his Oriental Sketches (an earlier version of Oriental Impressions), following the Haydn Schoolmaster Symphony, Skilton’s East and West (no longer a novelty), Casella’s Pupazzetti, and the Griffes White Peacock. Soprano Loraine Wyman was soloist in a Rameau cantata and a variety of French folksong arrangements. The second concert featured violinist Paul Kochanski as soloist in the Mozart Concerto in E-flat. The audience, which braved a terrific downpour to attend, also heard orchestral works of Rameau and Lalo, Carpenter’s Little Indian, Little Dancer (arranged for orchestra by Barrère), the Royal Fandango ballet suite by the Cuban composer Gustavo Morales, and after the regular concert, Tame Animal Tunes by organist Seth Bingham, then a music professor at Columbia; movements such as “Puppy Song,” “Pig in Slumber,” and “Love Sick Rooster” give some indication of its ephemeral quality.65 Barrère introduced each number from the stage with his carefully preserved French accent, which he recognized as a highly marketable commodity, “money in the bank,” he said.66 His English, he explained, “became broken when I first came to thees countree, and has remain’ broken ever since.” Audiences loved it, recalled Winthrop Sargeant: they “found in his Mephistophelean appearance and Gallic aplomb a sophisticated charm comparable to that of Adolphe Menjou and Maurice Chevalier.”67 The final concert, on April 13, had the most interesting program: a Haydnesque symphony by the eighteenth-century Bohemian composer Adalbert Gyrowetz and works of Laparra, Debussy, Albéniz, Pierné, and the American ethnomusicologist Natalie Curtis (Two Lenten Chants, arranged by Barrère). The pièce de résistance was the finale, Barrère’s own Symphony Digest. Introduced in March at the New York Symphony’s dinner for visiting conductor Bruno Walter, it now received its public premiere. Described as a “condensation of a great city’s symphony life,” it was made up of quotations from some forty works of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Dvorˇak, Brahms, Schubert, Liszt, and Johann Strauss played in New York that season; in just the first few bars there were fragments of the Blue Danube Waltz and snatches of the Beethoven Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. “Such a digest,” Barrère suggested, “could be issued periodically throughout the season from the orchestral platform, saving much time and trouble for the concert goer.”68 Though the series could not by any means be termed a financial success, its organizer was jubilant about “the most responsive audience I ever played before in my carrer [sic],” and even the critics were pleased, he told Kahn.69 213



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In early May, the Barrères hosted a midnight supper at their spacious West 93rd Street apartment for Billy and Lola Allison Haynes, then embarking on a cross-country promotional tour for their flutes. Cécile prepared a meal “as only Cécile Barrère knows how to do it,” Lola Haynes reported.70 By this time, Barrère was listed as artistic advisor on the letterhead of Haynes’s New York shop, and in this era Haynes sold what was known as a Barrère model. Although no catalogs with that designation survive, it is likely that it was a low-pitch, openhole, closed-G-sharp silver flute with C footjoint, modeled on Barrère’s Louis Lot. Barrère had by this time purchased thirteen Haynes flutes, many for resale to his students, a deed for which (at least in later years) he received a commission.71 The festivities did not keep him from a strenuous reading session the following day for the jury of the Coolidge Competition, chaired by Hugo Kortschak. Coolidge had begun what was originally called the Berkshire Competition in 1917 to foster the composition of new chamber music, and the contest attracted entries from major composers of the day as well as the up-and-coming. Barrère and three of his woodwind colleagues, cellist Horace Britt, and a host of other musicians read through seventy-eight works. “The jury meeting was quite a strenuous one and required heroic deeds from all those taking part,” Kortschak reported to Coolidge. Ultimately the prize went to a work based on Keats’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Wallingford Riegger, a 1907 graduate of the Institute of Musical Art who was then teaching composition in New York. Kortschak assured Coolidge, “[I]t appears to be a work of sincere and deep feelings; it is not in the most advanced modern idiom.” Honorable mention went to Two Assyrian Prayers for soprano and chamber orchestra by Frederick Jacobi, a Rubin Goldmark student who had conducted at the Metropolitan Opera and was at that time pursuing an interest in American Indian themes.72 For the summer, Barrère followed a number of his French musical confreres to the nascent artists’ colony in Woodstock, New York, known as The Maverick. The Catskills town had, for many years, been home to a thriving colony of visual artists. In the mid-1910s, the novelist and poet Hervey White, very much a maverick himself, had the idea of founding a similar summer colony of musicians. Among his recruits were the cellists (and brothers-in-law) Paul Kéfer and Horace Britt, Metropolitan Opera concertmaster Pierre Henrotte, and violist/conductor Leon Barzin. Outdoor concerts of serious classical music, costumed pageants, and dramatic skits were all part of the self-generated entertainments. White took it upon himself to build cottages for the musicians’ families, and the concert series was run on a cooperative basis, with admission proceeds—always modest by definition—divided among the participants.73 Barrère played twice at The Maverick that summer: a program of trios with



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Kéfer and pianist Inez Carroll on July 6 and, on August 24, a program of solos and trios in which violinist Gustave Tinlot joined the group.74 It was an exceedingly happy experience for the Barrères, and in September they purchased a cabin set on fifteen acres on what is now Maverick Road, adjacent to the properties of White, Kéfer, and Henrotte in the town of West Hurley, just south of Woodstock proper. It was still very much a rural setting; in the deed the land was defined, in part, by “a heap of stones” and “a pine tree cornered with stones.” The cost of the land was $4,500, payable in monthly installments of $75.75 In midsummer Barrère decamped to Chautauqua, where the New York Symphony played a five-week series of twenty-four concerts under Albert Stoessel and where he also played in three chamber recitals. It was a relaxed period in which he was able to begin preparing for another ambitious New York season. The chief project was a series of six Sunday evening concerts by the Little Symphony under the management of George Engles. Soloists would include harpsichordist Lewis Richards (in a Haydn concerto) and duo pianists Guy Maier and Lee Pattison in a two-keyboard concerto by C. P. E. Bach. Repertoire included “rare classics,” as Barrère put it, by Mozart, Schubert, and Neubauer; true classics by Rameau, Grétry, and Gluck; and a generous number of works by Americans. Among the true novelties was From the Life of an Ant by Hiugoli-Chisarn, whose name was the anagrammatic pseudonym of the multitalented cartoonist, composer, and violist of the Little Symphony, Giulio Harnisch. Arthur Whiting guest conducted the orchestra in his own dance music —“quite the kind of piece Mr. Barrère would include in his fascinating programs,” said the Times.76 Barrère reminded the audience that it was always his practice to play an American composition on each of his programs — just as the Société Moderne always played a French one. On the December 7 concert, the Little Symphony premiered Flowers by David Stanley Smith, whose Fête galante Barrère had debuted with the New York Symphony three years earlier. Also on the program were a variety of flute solos, including the first performance of Barrère’s own Nocturne in its orchestral version (now lost). At the November 23 concert, Barrère gave the first American performance of a Haydn Sinfonie concertante only recently discovered by a German musicologist. But he served up his history with charm; Musical America explained, “George Barrère’s programs for the Little Symphony concerts, he always insists, are not educational. He calls them ‘vacational.’” In his oral program notes, Barrère told his audience the history of the first work, a symphony by Franz Christoph Neubauer, a contemporary of Mozart. “Mr. Barrère and his men gave it an old-world, powdered-hair grace and a naive appeal.”77 The method was deliberate, as Barrère explained in his autobiography: “In spite of all its seriousness

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and of the hard study it entailed, music should be considered as an entertainment and should therefore entertain. Not necessarily should it be constant fun or smiling, but should be enjoyed with an eagerness to obtain communion between all those concerned in the performance: composers, players and listeners. A conductor, even when talking to his audiences, does not need to act like a professor. His duty is to convince the audience, also his musicians.”78 The November 30 program also featured the fourteen-year-old prodigy Jerome Rappaport, who played a Mozart piano concerto and joined his elders Albert Stoessel and concertmaster Reber Johnson in Stoessel’s Suite Antique for two violins and piano. A protégé of Coolidge, who paid for his early musical education, Rappaport had made his Aeolian Hall debut several years earlier and was steadily maturing. Barrère had heard him play a Mozart duo with Miriam Kerr at Chautauqua the previous summer — he called them “the cadenza twins”—and had invited him to appear with the Little Symphony on the basis of that performance.79 Rappaport would go on to become a trusted chamber music partner toward the end of Barrère’s career. French roots were represented by Alfred Bruneau’s Chansons à danser, a set of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century dances orchestrated (from the voice and piano original) for small orchestra by Francis Casadesus. The final concert closed with an “After the Concert” segment, a Haydn serenade for strings, played as written and then with “improvements” by the conductor, who interwove “Auld Lang Syne” with the Haydn original. Barrère was a master of these musical jokes and pastiches, which were regular features of musicians’ private events and public performances. In the Vegetable Garden, whose score credits “Georges Barrère in collaboration with Mendelssohn, St Saens [sic], Massenet, Haydn, Bizet, Rossini, and others,” is perhaps the funniest of them all, subtitled Trio for Nine Instruments (Perhaps Ten) and designed to be performed by three players, the flutist doubling on piano right hand. Its movements include such delicacies as “String Beans (Fileuse),” based on Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words; “Lettuce (My Heart at Thy Dear Voice),” based on the aria from Saint-Saëns’s Samson and Delilah; “Onion (O Dry Thy Tears)”; “Tomato (La Surprise),” based on Haydn’s Surprise Symphony; “Cauliflower (Flower Song),” based on the “Flower Song” from Bizet’s Carmen; and “Garlic (The Last Rose),” based on “O sole mio,” a Tarantelle by Rossini, and “The Last Rose of Summer.”80 Reviewing the first concert, Olin Downes noted that Barrère’s “running fire of comment on music and musicians was not an inconsiderable part of the success of the evening ,” and predicted that the concerts “should have a valuable place in the musical life of the city.”81 At the end of the series, Barrère dutifully reported the results to guarantor Otto Kahn. There had been improvement at the box office, but the financial results were still problematic: he had



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been able to secure only four guarantors, versus seven the previous year, and at the end of the series was $1,000 short. So he asked Kahn to loan him the $150 that he had not used from the previous year’s guarantee. With characteristic self-deprecation and good humor he wrote, “I feel encouraged in making this most unbusinesslike request, as I plan an altogether different policy for the next season,” when he planned to form a membership association to support the venture. Kahn, however, declined to contribute the additional sum.82 Fortunately Barrère still had his day (and night) job with the New York Symphony, which was giving its usual quotient of concerts in and around New York. In the 1924–25 season, Walter Damrosch’s fortieth with the orchestra, it gave twelve pairs of Thursday afternoon and Friday evening concerts at Carnegie Hall, sixteen Sunday afternoons in Aeolian Hall, and six Saturday afternoons at the Brooklyn Academy of Music; series in Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia; and a variety of children’s concerts and outside engagements with the Oratorio Society. It also played the Worcester Festival. There were two dinners given in Damrosch’s honor—by the Bohemians and by the Flaglers, at both of which Barrère conducted the orchestra. The most historic event of the season took place on January 11, when Nadia Boulanger, the French organist-pedagogue who would be responsible for the musical education of two generations of American composers, made her American debut with the orchestra. In addition to playing a Handel concerto and music by her late sister, Lili, she premiered the Symphony for organ and orchestra by her student Aaron Copland. Walter Damrosch, always supportive of American music, used the occasion to both needle and reassure his audience: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure you will agree that if a gifted young man can write a symphony like this at twenty-three, within five years he will be ready to commit murder!” It was a telling comment, as Copland realized; it was “Damrosch’s way of smoothing the ruffled feathers of his conservative Sunday afternoon ladies faced with modern American music.”83 The other highlight of the orchestral season was the January 1925 tour to Cuba. Just as the orchestra had blazed its way through Europe, so it conquered Havana, where its appearance was the first by any foreign orchestra in that country. The country that only seven years earlier had drawn only 200 people to hear Paderewski and 28 to hear pianist Teresa Carreño was now hungry for serious music, its own Havana Symphony having been reorganized only three years earlier. At the invitation of Cuban president Alfredo Zayas, the NYSO gave four concerts at the Payret Theater in that city under the auspices of the Sociedad ProArte Musical, the first two open only to members of the society, the latter two open to the public. They drew a combined audience of some 50,000, moving President Zayas to personally contribute $5,000 to the Sociedad ProArte Musical.84 217



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At home, however, the times were challenging for American orchestras. In an era of increasingly restrictive immigration, the Education Committee of the House of Representatives held hearings about the establishment of a national conservatory. One of the issues it considered was the citizenship status of American orchestral musicians. In testimony before the committee, George H. Gartlan, representing the National Council of Music Supervisors (he was director of music for the New York City schools), alleged that “90 per cent, . . . very close to 100 per cent” of players in U.S. orchestras were foreign-born.85 Arthur Judson, manager of the Philharmonic, responded in the press, correcting several misconceptions. For example, Gartlan had testified that only 5 of 86 Philharmonic musicians were U.S. citizens; in fact, said Judson, 87 of 104 were citizens, 45 were native-born, and the other 17 held first citizenship papers; half of the men in the New York Symphony were American-born. (Barrère was still a French citizen.) Another witness alleged that only 7 percent of New York Symphony men could speak English; Judson pointed out that both the Symphony and the Philharmonic conducted rehearsals in English. He also noted that more than 50 percent of the Philadelphia and Cincinnati orchestra musicians were native-born, more than 25 percent were fully naturalized, and all the rest had taken out first papers.86 That sort of xenophobia contributed, along with postwar economic inflation, to the growing strength of the musicians’ union. The relative scarcity of musicians, thanks to restrictive immigration laws and the increased demand for skilled players created by the growth of orchestras in the Midwest and West, gave the union a considerable advantage in negotiating higher payment scales and more generous conditions. Orchestra members were clearly dissatisfied and ready to take action. The matter was of sufficient concern that Clarence Mackay, chairman of the Philharmonic, convened a conference of leading philanthropists and managers in February 1924 to consider a joint strategy.87 Harry Harkness Flagler attended on behalf of the New York Symphony. In New York, especially, the situation became more critical with the appearance of a new and stronger union, Local 802 of the American Federation of Musicians. Formed in 1921 after a failed strike against New York theaters by AFM Local 301 (the successor to the Musical Mutual Protective Union), it boasted some 10,000 members, three times the size of the MMPU.88 In midJanuary 1925, Local 802 requested that the men of the Philharmonic and the Symphony each select two player representatives to consult with management about a wage increase for the 1925–26 season. At the time, the minimum in both orchestras was $60 for four rehearsals and four concerts a week, but the average, the union claimed, was $85, because some solo players got as much as $200. It asked for an increase of $15 to $25 a week, as well as a longer season.89 Negotiations went on hiatus during the NYSO’s Cuban tour, but by the end of



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March the union announced a new two-year agreement that would increase the minimum to $75 for five rehearsals and four concerts, with a guarantee of twenty-four weeks’ work.90 The previous agreement had specified only eight “services,” and the union, attempting to limit the number of concerts, now required that additional concerts be paid at the rate of $15 each. It also specified a per diem payment of $7.50 for tours.91 As the NYSO’s “great aristocrat” (in Winthrop Sargeant’s phrase), Barrère was not concerned with the precise minimums — presumably his salary rose in proportion to that of the rank and file—but the longer season would certainly have been attractive, and as a onetime union activist he would have championed the principle of equitable rewards. It was a fairly quiet season for Barrère’s other ventures—a flute club recital in March, a few local engagements for the Little Symphony, and a southern and midwestern tour in the spring. There must have been great sadness for him when André Caplet died on April 23, of the lingering effects of being gassed during the war. But much of the musical world’s attention focused on Washington, where Coolidge’s chamber music enterprise was building momentum. In January, Congress accepted her gift of $60,000 (later increased to $90,000) to build a chamber music auditorium in the Library of Congress; she also established an endowment to support composition competitions and concerts. Her Berkshire Music Festivals would be permanently transferred to the library, the first to be held in October 1925 (though there would be a final farewell festival in Pittsfield in 1926).92 Coolidge spent much of 1925 in Europe and delegated the responsibility for planning the festival’s program and logistics to the trusted Carl Engel. He in turn assigned the organization of the chamber orchestra to Barrère while he wrestled with the details of programming and budget, coordinating with the composers writing works for the occasion, supervising the construction of the auditorium itself — and, of course, reporting in detail to Coolidge. Barrère’s projections for the costs floored Engel; he had not counted on paying for such items as rehearsal space in New York. The total, Barrère predicted, would be $2,600 for musicians’ fees, railroad fares, and rehearsals. The opening program was to consist of three new pieces—Loeffler’s Hymn to the Sun for soprano and chamber orchestra, Frederick Stock’s Rhapsodic Fantasy for chamber orchestra, and Frederick Jacobi’s Two Assyrian Prayers for soprano and chamber orchestra — and a Handel organ concerto. The second concert would be somewhat simpler — all chamber works of Beethoven, with Barrère himself participating in the Serenade, op. 25. On Thursday, the English Singers of London would give a program of old English vocal music; and two Friday concerts would present a generous mixture of chamber music, old and new, European and American. 219



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Stock, then the conductor of the Chicago Symphony, was to conduct the opening concert, but “[t]he conductor of some of the rehearsals [is] to be a celebrated flutist with a celebrated beard,” as Engel wryly put it. Barrère met with Engel in Washington when the orchestra played there in April en route home from Cuba; he met again with Engel and Stock in New York in June.93 Because of the obvious unfamiliarity and difficulty of the new works, Stock wanted two long rehearsals in New York in late September, when he returned from summer engagements in Europe. By the end of the summer, Engel was growing anxious about the rehearsal arrangements, as Barrère, in Woodstock and Chautauqua for the better part of the summer, had further subcontracted the orchestral arrangements to his “right-hand man” and had not been in touch. Several firm letters and telegrams from Engel in late August and early September — carefully leavened with a brand of dry humor not unlike Barrère’s own and the sort that Coolidge appreciated—moved things along.94 In any event, Engel managed to secure Steinway Hall for the late-September rehearsals, when he, Coolidge, and Stock were all scheduled to be in town. The audience for the festival was a mixture of musical aristocracy — including Franz Kneisel, Gustav Strube, Mrs. H. H. A. Beach, H. T. Parker, Samuel Chotzinoff, Hans Kindler, Mary Howe, Harold Bauer, John Beach, Ernest Hutcheson, and Carlos Salzedo—and the Washington power structure, including the First Lady, Grace Coolidge (whom Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge called “the other Mrs. Coolidge”). Barrère’s own performance, though brief in the context of the whole, drew raves. Said the Washington Post, “His trill was something to be cherished in musical memory.”95 Out of character for a Washington event was the simplicity upon which Coolidge insisted: no speeches, no invocation from the congressional chaplain. Instead, Bach’s chorale prelude “To God on High All Glory Be” was played by Lynwood Farnam on the auditorium’s new E. M. Skinner organ. Writing in the Woman Citizen the following month, critic Emilie Frances Bauer observed, “If it were not that Mrs. Frederick Shurtleff Coolidge would so strongly protest the phrase, one would be tempted to call her a fairy godmother to American music. . . . No one shuns publicity more than Mrs. Coolidge. . . . She is a woman of imposing personality, a manner and bearing in which dignity and kindliness vie, and which proclaim her the grande dame of the most exclusive social circles.”96 Barrère’s participation in the Library of Congress festival — the first of many appearances in that venue — came in the middle of a busy New York Symphony schedule: the Worcester Festival in early October, at which he was soloist in movements from the Bach B Minor Suite; a ten-day tour; and the Carnegie Hall season opener on October 30. On November 1 the NYSO gave its first concert at Mecca Auditorium (the future City Center), the 3,600-seat



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Shriners’ building on West 55th Street that replaced the 1,200-seat Aeolian Hall on the orchestra schedule. There was also a Barrère Ensemble concert at Columbia University (October 26) and a Beethoven Association chamber concert on October 27 (the Debussy Sonata for flute, viola, and harp). Later in the fall, there were more out-of-town concerts with the Little Symphony — so many that the Institute of Musical Art decided Barrère needed an assistant to teach his students during his constant absences. The choice was Arthur Lora, who had completed the regular flute course in 1923 and earned his artist diploma from the Institute in 1924; he was then first flute of the State Symphony of New York, under Erno˝ Dohnányi, and a member of the New York Chamber Music Society. There seem to have been several possibilities for the appointment, but Lora’s pedigree was the deciding factor. The Institute’s director, Frank Damrosch, wrote to Barrère, “I think I would prefer Arthur Lora to be your assistant because he holds our graduating certificate.”97 The next major event in the Symphony’s calendar came on December 3, 1925, when it gave the premiere of the Piano Concerto by George Gershwin, commissioned by Damrosch. The editorial page of Musical Courier summed up the reaction of the New York press: There is a homely German dialect saying . . . that the yokel will not eat any kind of food he’s not acquainted with. That was the situation most of the New York critics were up against last week. [Those critics] wrote ponderously about something that had more genuine humor and joy, expressed through the medium of music, than any other work we can recall and more real ideas and originality than any new American work played here in years — except his own Rhapsody in Blue. We are not proclaiming this concerto as the long-awaited American masterpiece. It has, from the technical standpoint, many faults. . . . But what is really important is that the work is full of meat. Of the performance itself, wrote Musical Courier, “The composer played the piano part magnificently, with a spirit and dash that swept things along — almost, indeed, swept Walter Damrosch along, though, to be frank, he is not the ideal conductor for a work that depends upon sharp accents and the bringing out of new and strange timbres.”98 Despite his absences, Barrère remained a valued member of the orchestra, and it was an important point of reference for him in every way. That fall, he moved from 93rd Street down to 57 West 58th Street, just a block from Carnegie Hall and three blocks from Mecca Temple. “Let us hope I will have more leisure time,” he wrote to Emil Medicus of the Flutist with more optimism than realism.99 The orchestra was also a valuable publicity vehicle. That same month, for example, an anecdote appeared in the “Personalities” column 221



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of Musical America: “At a recent rehearsal of the New York Symphony, Walter Damrosch excused all of the string players and kept the winds for a little intensive work. ‘Ordinarily when members of the orchestra are dismissed there is a wild clamor to see who can reach the door first,’ said Mr. Barrère. ‘But not so on this day! I began my flute solo and all of the players became hushed spellbound, it seemed, and one by one they seated themselves in the front row. I played on, putting my best efforts into each phrase. My solo ended. There was no applause — only a mad rush toward the left aisle, and there I saw the treasurer handing out envelopes. I had forgotten it was pay day!’”100 Indeed, Barrère did not take his Symphony position too seriously. When asked how long it took him to do one of his beloved crossword puzzles, he often replied, “About one rehearsal.” In January 1926 Barrère again teamed up with harpsichordist Lewis Richards, this time for a three-concert series in the new Steinway Hall on 57th Street, featuring the Bach flute sonatas, the first time the complete cycle had been performed in New York. Each program had two Bach sonatas at its core, and the critics appreciated their rarity and what they perceived as his authentic performance. The recitals were part of what Richard Aldrich termed “Bach Mania.” “In the year of grace 1926 the music of Bach seems in a fair way to become really popular,” with the public flocking to harpsichord recitals by Landowska, piano recitals by Harold Samuel, Myra Hess’s traversal of the preludes and fugues, and Lynwood Farnam’s organ recitals—not to mention the overblown but popular transcriptions of organ works for piano and for orchestra. Even in that time, Aldrich recognized the outsized and inappropriate nature of those transcriptions and applauded the public’s appreciation for Bach’s genuine harpsichord music.101 The critics were challenged in different ways by the four new works receiving their first New York performances at the Steinway Hall recitals: Jacques Ibert’s Jeux; Philipp Jarnach’s Sonatine, op. 12; the Milhaud Sonatine; and Roussel’s Joueurs de flûte. The Ibert, wrote Musical America, was “really polished and clever salon music in Debussyan dress — a brilliant trifle, engagingly played. Jarnach, who has probably not been represented before in New York lists, is a young Catalonian composer whose works have created interest in European festival lists.” The Jarnach it termed “an aggressively dissonant work of considerable originality, including a variety of Scherzo in triple time which gives way to a waltz theme.”102 The Milhaud was less successful, according to a different Musical America critic: “It is a rather aimless thing , though not unlovely, now in major mode, now in minor, never especially distinctive.”103 The Roussel, which Louis Fleury had premiered in Paris on January 17, 1925, had four movements, each dedicated to a leading flutist of the day: “Pan” to



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Marcel Moyse, “Tityre” to Gaston Blanquart, “Krishna” to Fleury, and “Mr. de la Péjaudie” to Philippe Gaubert. None, curiously, was dedicated to Barrère. For the remainder of the season, Barrère’s attention was focused primarily on his Little Symphony: a seven-concert radio engagement, several freelance engagements, a set of three winter concerts in Henry Miller’s Theatre, and, from the end of March, nearly ten weeks on the road. Although this year his goal was to give the concerts without external financial support, he took a more subtle approach, carefully notifying his usual backers, among them Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, and asking them to let their friends know about the concerts.104 The three Sunday night programs were linked by a common endeavor: each would have a work by an American woman composer — and, the press noted, “American male composers will also be represented,” among them Giulio Harnisch and Quinto Maganini. In an article in the Musician published that same year, Barrère noted that fully half of his pupils were women and that they were as talented as the men — but as yet confined to ensemble and solo work: “Not many of the larger orchestras have yet let down the bars to them, but probably it is only a matter of time before this happens.” He particularly lauded women’s roles in organizing salons and other chamber music events in order to raise musical standards in local communities, a role from which he had benefited greatly when on tour.105 All of the programs demonstrated Barrère’s singular skills as program maker, affording pleasure and novelty, and as raconteur, providing informal commentary that lent an air of intimacy and friendliness to the proceedings. The first program, on February 21, featured Mary Howe’s Poema for two voices and chamber orchestra. Howe, a highly placed member of Washington society and a good friend of Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, was present for the performance. Oscar Thompson, writing in Musical America, called it “wellscored,” with “a moonlit, nocturnal atmosphere, breathing of gentle amorousness and emotions not too profoundly stirred,” and the audience responded favorably to this very listenable work. Numbers by Haydn, Gluck, Pierné, Vuillermoz, and Samazeuilh completed the “regular” program, and the one listener-challenging item, Hindemith’s woodwind quintet, was reserved until “After the Concert.” Thompson reported, “The Hindemith Kammermusik was preceded by a plea from Mr. Barrère for ‘a new ear’ in listening to modern music, and for a recognition of Hindemith’s humor, even when the joke of it was not made plain. The Barrère Ensemble evidently enjoyed playing its ultraist conceits and the audience politely acceded to the conductor’s request not to laugh before the end.”106 On the second program, on March 7, Mabel Wood Hill was the featured female composer, with the premiere of her Reactions to Prose Rhythms of Fiona

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MacLeod performed from manuscript. These were settings of texts by the nineteenth-century Scottish romantic poet William Sharp, who wrote under the pseudonym Fiona MacLeod: “impressionistic pieces, conservative in harmony and emotionally effective,” reported Musical America.107 Also receiving first performances were the melodious, folk-based Suite russe of Arcady Dubensky, a Russian-born violinist in the New York Symphony, and Grandfather’s Clock by New York Symphony and Little Symphony violist Giulio Harnisch. All three composers were present. In addition, as Musical America pointed out, the more classic works of C. P. E. Bach, Boccherini, and d’Indy were in all likelihood also receiving New York premieres; the Boccherini Flute Concerto, for instance, had only recently been discovered in the Library of Congress.108 The final Little Symphony concert, on March 21, featured the Outlandish Suite of Susan Dyer, as well as the premiere of La Rumba (Impressions from Cuba) by Quinto Maganini. Lewis Richards again joined Barrère as soloist, this time in a Handel harpsichord concerto. Mozart, Lalo, a Waldteufel waltz, and a Bach flute sonata filled out the program. The Dyer Suite was a typical Negroist pastiche of the period, consisting of a Negro song (as it was billed), “Ain’t It a Sin to Steal on a Sunday?” a Florida “Night Song,” and a Hawaiian “HulaHula.” Barrère explained to the audience that the treatment of the melodies was “strictly authentic” because Dyer had “made an intimate study of native rhythms and feeling.” She set her own original melodies with characteristic harmonies, including, at times, dissonances “that had a decidedly modernistic effect,” and used a gourd to produce the underlying rhythm. “[T]he entire Suite,” said Musical America, “was an illuminating example of how the intrinsic feeling of primitive music can be intensified by the application of a scholar’s culture and the exercise of an actively sympathetic mind.”109 La Rumba was a similar exercise in “local color,” also utilizing a gourd — which, Maganini noted, had cost him a $35 taxi ride in Cuba, during the New York Symphony’s tour there the previous January.110 If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, the Little Symphony was very flattered. In Los Angeles, Adolf Tandler had started a Little Symphony; there were others in Kansas City, St. Louis, Rochester, Youngstown, and elsewhere. That did not intimidate the Barrère group, which made its longest tour yet, a nine-week jaunt that began on March 29. From the Midwest to the South, up and down the coast of California, thence to Washington state and Denver, the Little Symphony soldiered across the country with two alternating programs in its concert portfolio. Many of these concerts, as in other years, were sponsored by local women’s organizations: in Seattle by the Woman’s Federation; in Toledo presented by Zonta, a businesswomen’s organization, and managed by Grace Denton; in San Francisco by Alice Seckels Matinee Musicales; and in



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Oakland by the Z. W. Potter Artists Concert Series. These organizations represented the progression of women’s patronage in America, from Gilded Age clubwomen to local impresarios, from well-meaning amateurs to professional managers.111 In the middle of the California leg, the Little Symphony appeared at the Ojai Festival sponsored by Coolidge. The original intent had been a chamber concert, and Coolidge had offered Barrère the opportunity to play the world premiere of the Trio for flute, harp, and clarinet by Georges Migot. But because he was not traveling with a harpist, that was not to be.112 The Little Symphony gave a program very much like those in New York earlier in the season, but with the addition of the Gluck Orpheus (“for my own satisfaction to play it in the open,” Barrère explained to Coolidge).113 Notably, he included not only the Griffes White Peacock, in keeping with his practice of always including American music, but also the Kleine Kammermusik of Hindemith, who in coming years would become a major beneficiary of Coolidge’s largesse. Isabel Morse Jones of the Los Angeles Times was not entranced: “the Hindemith piece can be quickly forgotten. Snatches of ideas, suggestions left in suspension, with humorous inferences here and there were its fleeting impressions.”114 The Barrères spent a quiet summer in Woodstock, just the remedy after the rigorous spring schedule. A few small recitals at The Maverick and another at Lake Placid with Clarence Adler were the only engagements, and they were more pleasure than work. From Woodstock, Barrère wrote to Mary Howe, acknowledging receipt of her Chain Gang Song for the next season’s Little Symphony concerts, “I am still in the mountains loafing terribly, with very little eagerness to go back to work. My only work here is to sit for Bob Chanler who is painting my portrait between cocktails then he complains that I do not sit still enough.” Robert Chanler, the well-known society artist, did complete the oil portrait—but it is a rather stilted and unrealistic rendering.115 The summer was marred only by the sad news of the death of Louis Fleury, in whose capable hands Barrère had left the Société Moderne. Under Fleury’s leadership, the organization had presented 69 new works, making a total of 130 since the society’s founding. Its thirtieth-anniversary brochure proclaimed three cardinal principles: “No concert in Paris without a first hearing , No tours without modern music, No concerts abroad without French music.” All three fulfilled the objectives of its founder. Alas, the Société Moderne would not survive the loss of its second leader. Coolidge, also saddened by his loss, commissioned Gabriel Pierné to write a trio for piano, flute, and cello in his memory; when Salzedo heard of this in November, he asked her to shift the commission to the instrumentation of the Trio de Lutèce—harp instead of piano—hoping that the Trio, all old friends and classmates of Fleury, would be best suited

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to present the new work.116 But Coolidge held to the original commission, and the premiere was ultimately given by Kincaid, Willem Willeke, and Aurelio Giorni at the Coolidge festival in Pittsfield the following August.117 Passing the premiere to the star of the next generation was perhaps appropriate. Just as Barrère had passed the Société Moderne to his younger French colleague, Fleury, he ceded the Pierné premiere to his American protégé, Kincaid, who in his own style would forge a distinctive American style of flute playing. Kincaid and his students would do much to perpetuate the rich woodwind chamber literature that Barrère and Fleury had inspired.



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I

n Paris, in October 1926, the Danish flutist Holger Gilbert Jespersen gave the world premiere of a new concerto by Carl Nielsen at a special all-Nielsen concert of the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire. It was an unorthodox work for its time, beginning and ending in different keys, juxtaposing the flute with a raucous trombone, and including a variety of dissonance in the orchestra. It also became a landmark of twentieth-century flute literature. In Cleveland, Ohio, where Barrère had given two recitals the previous week, the novelty was of a much tamer sort. With its German-immigrant population, the city had long had an active musical life, and under the leadership of the impresario Adella Prentiss Hughes, herself a trained musician, the city had heard many important visiting musicians for a quarter of a century. The Cleveland Orchestra, founded in 1918, was still in its infancy under Vladimir Sokoloff; its chamber music society was eight years old; and the Cleveland Institute of Music, founded in 1920, was only beginning to become a major educational institution under the direction of Ernest Bloch. A flute recital by an artist of Barrère’s stature was, however, something unique for Cleveland. At his Thursday evening recital, at the Cleveland Institute of Music —“a place where one may confidently expect to hear music of unhackneyed sort,” James H. Rogers reported in the Plain Dealer—he and pianist Arthur Loesser gave what was considered “the first concert of the kind ever given in this city, beyond much doubt.” Yet the program appears fairly benign: a Bach sonata, Debussy’s Little Shepherd, Brahms piano pieces, and the Griffes Poem (which the critic somehow attributed to Indian sources). Rogers 227



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was in awe of Barrère’s reputation: “He is to the flute what Casals is to the cello. That is to say, the foremost exponent of his instrument.” At the Friday evening recital, at the Cleveland Museum of Art, the program was equally unexceptional, the sort of thing Barrère had played countless times in concerts private and public — the Bach B Minor Sonata; four short works by Gluck, SaintSaëns, Debussy, and Widor; four Chopin pieces; the Griffes Poem; and the Hüe Fantaisie. But at the museum, too, the flute recital broke the mold, in keeping with the museum’s aim of presenting programs not available elsewhere in the city; though it had previously had organ recitals, string quartets, and a Brahms chamber music sequence, it had never offered a woodwind recital.1 Shortly after his return, Barrère celebrated his fiftieth birthday, and it must have been some celebration. Clearly moved, but never at a loss for words or a wry joke, Barrère penned a thank-you note to Walter Damrosch in the form of a thirty-eight-item numbered list. This was not, wrote the ardent puzzle solver, “a cross word puzzle definitions list.” Rather, it was “the Resumé of a Week from the life of a 50-year old Flute player who cannot find words to express his gratitude,—and how much he loves you for your wonderful consideration of his humble services and Friendship. Yours for ever (without Contract), Georges Barrère.” Among the items on the list: “emotion, joy, flowers, presents, cakes, congratulations, speech, more presents, wonderful dinner, more presents, champagne, charming speech, no answer, recovery from emotions, more embarrassment, more emotion, more joy, trying to recover again from emotions, everlasting gratitude . . . Devotion and Friendship, love to all good people.”2 It was surely an emotional blow to both men when Damrosch resigned in November as head of the New York Symphony after forty-three years at its helm. He would become honorary and guest conductor, continuing to direct the children’s and young people’s concerts and expanding his audience through the new medium of radio, but his term as “dean of American conductors” was approaching its denouement.3 On December 17, diva Ernestine Schumann-Heink appeared with the Symphony at the end of a “farewell” golden jubilee tour of the United States. Barrère, as one of the senior members of the orchestra, made an impromptu address. “We are all your pupils,” he said, presenting her with a parchment scroll that enrolled her as an honorary life member of the orchestra. Its text read, “Mme. Schumann Heink, having received them at first hand, has faithfully preserved and inspiringly transmitted to the present generation the purest Wagnerian traditions.” Though presented by a Frenchman, it was a fitting tribute from an orchestra that had championed Wagner’s music for so many years.4 Two days later, Barrère made his last solo appearance under Damrosch’s baton on the regular concert series, in the Second Brandenburg Concerto of Bach. That same month, Barrère turned to a collaboration with another New



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York colleague, Daniel Gregory Mason, professor of music at Columbia University — a man whose musical tastes were seemingly quite in contrast to his own, despite a shared link with d’Indy. But the anti-impressionist Mason was devoted to the German romanticists, notably Schumann and Brahms. A composition student of John Knowles Paine and George Whitefield Chadwick, he was “frankly romantic, in the vanguard of the right wing of American composers,” wrote historian David Ewen with a touch of irony.5 But he shared with Barrère a devotion to the cause of American music; as a Harvard graduate with an impeccable American musical pedigree — grandson of hymnodist Lowell Mason, nephew of pianist and pedagogue William Mason, son of Henry Mason, a founder of the Mason and Hamlin piano firm—he was one of the most eloquent advocates of a distinctively American music. Barrère and Mason had known each other for at least a decade, working together in the Society for the Publication of American Music; indeed Barrère had been on the advisory board, the panel of judges that awarded the honor of publication by SPAM to Mason’s Clarinet Sonata in 1919–20 and his Three Pieces for flute, harp, and strings, op. 13 (dedicated, ironically, to Georges Laurent and the Boston Flute Players Club) in 1922–23. In December 1926 Barrère gave the premiere of Mason’s Three Country Pictures for flute solo with strings and horn. These three genre pieces, “At Sunset,” “Chimney Swallows,” and “The Quiet Hour,” were Mason’s own arrangement of three of his Six Country Pictures for piano. Mason’s journals made frequent reference to Barrère in the preceding month, a good indication of the close manner in which he worked with composers. The reviews were decidedly mixed. The Herald Tribune was the only paper to heap praise on the work: “In their orchestral form they are poetic and delicately colored pastels. . . . It need scarcely be said that Mr. Barrère played them with exquisite tone and his customary flawless skill.” Olin Downes of the Times condescended, “The pieces are harmless, and there was some good flute playing” (to which Mason retorted, in the privacy of his scrapbook, “Olin Downes, Times—usual thing”). Samuel Chotzinoff, writing in the World, observed, “There is not much choice in the music a flautist can trot out for a solo occasion, so Mr. Barrère wisely chose to feature ‘Three country dances,’” while the acerbic W. J. Henderson of the Sun concluded, “The three numbers proved to be graceful trifles unkindly forced into grand company.” Mason himself recalled, “Barrère played beautifully, but Damrosch did the orchestral part very badly. Things went definitely wrong at the end of the third piece.”6 Barrère played the three pieces again the following March in two concerts with the New Jersey Orchestra conducted by Philip James. The Barrère Ensemble played the premiere of Mason’s Divertimento, op. 26b, for wind quintet at Columbia University on February 9, 1927. The com229



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poser attended the dress rehearsal the day before at Barrère’s home and heard the Divertimento for the first time: “The March presented some difficulties, especially in the changes of tempo (it was hard to get them to get the Trio slow enough for me—it is a moderate 4/4, not alla Breve at all); but the Fugue simply ‘zipped’ off with no trouble at all. It almost played itself, and left us all smiling and in good humor.”7 In April, the New York Flute Club held a dinnerdance at the Hotel Pennsylvania, where the musical menu consisted of three works by Mason: Three Country Pictures (arranged for flute, cello, and piano, with the composer at the keyboard); Pastorale for flute, clarinet, and piano; and Three Pieces, op. 13, for flute and strings, a lush Brahmsian work. The culinary menu was equally bland: grapefruit, tomato soup, sea bass, chicken, ice cream, and cake. In the midst of his preparations with Mason, a staunch Americanist, it is perhaps appropriate that Barrère signed his declaration of intention to become a U.S. citizen, and the papers were duly filed in the Ulster County court. Then, in January, Barrère participated in an event completely in keeping with his own dry wit: as a benefit for the MacDowell Colony, the artists’ colony in Peterborough, New Hampshire, a group of critics and musicians decided to publicly swap roles. Olin Downes of the New York Times, John Erskine of Columbia University, and Ernest Urchs, an executive of the Steinway firm, all accomplished, nonprofessional pianists, gave a concert in Steinway Hall. The performers invited Barrère, George Gershwin, and pianists Josef Hofmann and Ernest Hutcheson to be the critics for the day, not bad company for a flutist to keep. An unsigned news article in the Times reported, “Never did virtuosi appear more nervous, never was there such a brilliant audience and never before in all the history of music were the newspapers so well represented as by the real musicians who were the guest critics of the occasion.”8 Gershwin was assigned to the World, where he wrote, “Although the program consisted of Brahms, Mozart, and Bach, the concert was not altogether devoid of jazz. On several occasions I heard ‘blue’ notes.” Hofmann, in the Times, had kind words for the performance, but indulged in some sly humor: “I am drifting away from actual ‘criticizing,’ which only too often is mistaken for systematically finding the negative in a work of art or its interpretation.” Barrère, deputized to the Telegram, discoursed on the definition of amateur: “In sport an amateur is a performer without fee. In music the word has so many different meanings that it is almost taboo in polite society. I would like to inform you that there can be polite and musical societies combined.”9 This observation was perhaps a reflection of his experience in running the New York Flute Club, where, he had earlier observed, the needs of professionals and amateurs were sometimes at odds. Downes’s profession as critic implied that he was a good musician, wrote



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Barrère, who knew so firsthand from their frequent collaborations on lecturerecitals. Urchs did not need to play his pianos in order to sell them, and Erskine, he said, could be excused for his mistakes because he made his living teaching English literature at Columbia. They were, Barrère believed, “amateurs in the better sense of the word. If their performance was not altogether perfect we should thank them for it. How deceiving would it be to hear laymen better than professionals! But their playing was highly inspired and most natural. Genuine music played with non-professional art. . . . art should always be. . . . But where is it nowadays? . . . [E]vents of this kind should be an inspiration to professionals who play for the highest fee they can reach and never for less, and also for the shy amateur, who is as much awed by the virtuosity of the professional as he is impressed by his carefully advertised fee.” Sermon complete, he then good-naturedly summarized the evening as one of “[d]elicious excitement for the performers, great and quiet entertainment for the audience of blasé artists, professional critics out of their jobs and amateur critics more nervous about their new mission than the amateur performers.”10 The next month, Barrère turned the power of the press to his own purposes when he became the proud owner of Haynes flute no. 9540, made of fourteen-karat gold, for which he paid $450. In part, the purchase was funded by commissions on sales of three other Haynes flutes. Appropriately, the first piece he played on it in public was the Purcell Golden Sonata. “He is no longer George Barrère of the Silver Flute,” the New York Sun reported; that instrument had been replaced by “a golden flute as imposing as a king’s scepter. . . . now from the depths of Barrère’s black beard spring forth golden notes instead of silver.”11 “I have turned into a capitalist,” Barrère told the press. “It’s all the fault of the working classes. They said they couldn’t make me a silver flute like my old one because they couldn’t get the proper alloy. So I said, ‘Make me a gold one.’”12 In fact, Barrère had lusted after a gold flute for some time. Two years earlier he had written to the young Harry Moskovitz, his future student and eventual successor as president of the New York Flute Club, “The only disadvantage of the Gold Flute is its cost. The advantages are many. The durability of the instrument. . . . the tone seems to be more mellow and slightly easier to manage.” The difficulty was, in 1925, that most flutemakers, Haynes excepted, were inexperienced at working with gold. Barrère reported that he had played almost every one of Haynes’s gold instruments before delivery and hoped to have one himself soon.13 New flute notwithstanding, Musical America reported that when the Little Symphony played for the Beethoven Association at Town Hall on January 10, 1927, “George Barrère was the cicerone at a view of antiques.” Lewis Richards was the harpsichord soloist in the first New York performance of a concerto by Luigi Borghi and was also at the keyboard for what was billed as 231



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the first New York performance of the 1803 flute and piano version of the Beethoven Serenade for flute, violin, and viola. A set of English suites arranged by Henri Rabaud, a Concert royal by Couperin, and Rameau’s Fêtes de l’hymen et de l’amour, a Little Symphony standard, completed the program. With prescient intimations of the concerns that would inform Baroque performance practice a half-century later, Musical America commented, “Museum compositions of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries constituted the bulk of the entertainment, which the audience enjoyed without any apparent resentment of the restorations inflicted upon two of the instrumental suites by those well-meaning upholsterers, Henri Rabaud and Reynaldo Hahn.”14 Barrère had already begun planning for his spring Little Symphony concerts, and he was determined that they would be self-supporting.15 The first concert, on March 6, included premieres of works by his New York Symphony colleagues Dubensky and Harnisch, a four-movement Suite russe and Ichabod, respectively, along with classic works of Rousseau, Michael Haydn, and Beethoven. Ichabod was a miniature symphonic poem based on Washington Irving’s Ichabod Crane. Paul Leyssac, an actor from the Civic Repertory Theatre, a pet project of Otto Kahn, narrated three pieces in both French and English — including the New York premiere of Castles in Spain by Boston composer Dwight Fiske, who was present. At the second concert, on March 20, Barrère proudly presented the premiere of Sketches from a Dreamer’s Notebook by Quinto Maganini, who had just won the Pulitzer Prize for music for his last two years’ worth of compositions; the symphonic works Tuolumne and La Rumba (the latter premiered by the Barrère Little Symphony in 1926), a Suite for flute and piano, the Phantasy Japonaise (whose second part was dedicated to Barrère), and three songs for women’s chorus. His new piece, Sketches from a Dreamer’s Notebook, consisted of three programmatic movements: “Humming Birds,” “A Nigger Doll’s Lullaby,” and “A Street Fair in Paris,” the first and third of which grew out of his experiences as a student of Boulanger in Paris. The Sun wrote that the works “contained some tenderly sardonic humor and a mock-serious dignity which made them effective and amusing.”16 The pianist was none other than the young John Kirkpatrick Jr. At Barrère’s request, Mary Howe, whose Poema had premiered the previous year, supplied three new orchestrations, Chain Gang Song, Stars, and Scherzo. The invitation to the composer came in the form of a tongue-in-cheek formal resolution that read in part: WHEREAS Mary Howe submitted to Georges Barrère several charming compositions to be arranged suitably for his celebrated and only one Little Symphony . . .



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RESOLVED That said Mary Howe shall go to work immediately upon being served with these papers in order to orchestrate, have copied parts, etc the following numbers which in the appreciation of poor little Flautist heretofore too often mentioned will (the numbers) compose as a beautiful set highly fit for aforesaid programs and will highly honor the unimportant Conductor whose name appear[s] above more often than necessary: The STARS . . . SCHERZO . . . CHAIN GANG SONG.17 But the greatest innovation of the evening was the first collaboration of Barrère and the African-American composer William Grant Still, whose miniature orchestral suite From the Black Belt received its world premiere. The link in the personal chain was Edgard Varèse, with whom Still had studied from 1923 to 1925. At first, Still had gotten a classic musical education: a short period of study at the Oberlin Conservatory in composition, theory, and violin, followed by private composition study with the Boston classicist George Whitefield Chadwick at the New England Conservatory. Varèse had met Colonel Charles Young , an African-American army officer, on a transatlantic voyage and was so impressed by the gentleman that he decided to offer a scholarship in composing avant-garde music to an American Negro composer. He sent queries to a number of people in Harlem, among them Harry Pace, the owner of the Black Swan Phonograph Company. Back in New York after his studies with Chadwick, Still had taken a position as recording director for Black Swan. He happened to be chatting with the office stenographer and noticed that Pace was replying to the query from Varèse, saying that he knew no one appropriate. Still himself replied to Varèse in the affirmative, and shortly thereafter began his studies with that quintessential avant-gardist. The Frenchman’s influence was profound, not only in moving Still away from a style Varèse considered “sugary” and “too conventional,” but in making contacts for him in the musical world.18 In 1925, Varèse had played Still’s From the Land of Dreams, a work the composer termed “ultra-modern,” at the International Composers’ Guild.19 Varèse and Salzedo had founded the ICG four years earlier with the aim of allowing composers to present their works directly to the public, without the intervention of the established presenting organizations. Varèse went further, introducing Still not only to New York avant-garde circles but to musicians in a position to champion his work in more mainstream venues: Leopold Stokowski, Barrère, Maganini, Eugene Goossens, New York Times critic Olin Downes, and Howard Hanson, whose advocacy of American music, particularly through the annual Festivals of American Music at the Eastman School of Music, made a major contribution to both Still’s career and American music in general.20 Still, 233



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a gracious man, remained forever grateful to Varèse for giving him the musical and social tools he needed: “The period of study with Mr. Varèse helped me wonderfully. It taught me to be independent; to break away from the barriers that had repressed [me]. He was my friend in the true sense of the word.”21 By the late 1920s Still had moved into the second period of his musical output, which he termed the “racial idiom.” His goal was a particular brand of musical nationalism, using Negro folksong , as it was then called, as the basis for classical music. It was one of his early efforts in this area, From the Black Belt, that made its debut on Barrère’s March 20 program. In order to have his music performed before elite white audiences of any size, Still realized, he needed to abandon the dissonance of Varèse’s ultramodernism and to move into a more accessible mode. He realized that the ultramodern style of his mentor was incompatible with communicating the African-American idiom to his white audiences. The works that Barrère would play—both on the March 20 concert and later—all fall into this category. Varèse was not upset by this development and maintained confidence in his former student. He wrote to a colleague of Still’s “lyrical nature, typical of his race. I handle him with care, not wishing that he should lose these qualities, but not wishing that he should keep the banalities of the whites that was [sic] inculcated through the course he followed at the New England Conservatory. These [Colin McPhee, Still, and others] are the students who do themselves credit and for whom we await with confidence and hope what the future will allow them to achieve.”22 From the Black Belt, written in 1924, was a humorous work in six short sections with dialect titles such as “Mah Bones Is Creakin.” Still wrote later, “This group was conceived with a view to amusing the audience. It has done that, for the audience did laugh each time it was performed in New York. Mr. Barrère told me that the same thing occurred when he performed it in Washington.”23 Indeed, Barrère repeated the work several times, and it was published by Carl Fischer in 1946. Barrère, with no mean sense of humor himself, warned his audience in Henry Miller’s Theatre that Still was a pupil of Varèse. His scare tactics failed, though, as F. D. Perkins pointed out in the Herald Tribune: “his music, after starting with a suggestion of jazz, seemed unlikely to shock conservative ears. The ensuing music proved tuneful and showed skill in the use of instrumental sonorities while not seeming, itself, of the highest importance.”24 The Sun critic wrote in a similar vein: “W. G. Still’s ‘Black Belt’ music suffered a bit from melodic anemia, but the scoring was clever, the tone-color effects and shading skillfully applied. These little pieces, in fact, sounded more like tentative sketches for more ambitious projects.”25 Despite the news value of the new works, some quarters of the musical press demonstrated their inherent conservatism in their coverage of the March 20 concert: Musical America reserved its greatest praise for Barrère’s short flute



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solos, the Aubert Air and two pieces by Leclair: “Anything more beautiful . . . could not be conceived this side of Paradise.”26 These were precisely the sorts of numbers that worked so well at private recitals for the upper crust. In the late spring, Barrère had several such society engagements in and around New York, and it must have been an embarrassment for him when the New York Times broke the news, in early July, that his middle son, Gabriel, then seventeen, had been returned to New York on the Holland-America liner Volendam after having stowed away on it a month earlier. The young man claimed to have read at school about stowaways who, when they came on deck, had been given a cabin by the captain and a purse of gold for European travel by generous fellow passengers. This captain, however, saw things differently and assigned him to peel potatoes all the way to Rotterdam, where he was jailed before the ship returned to New York. Oblivious to the entire incident was Gabriel’s elder brother, Claude, a passenger on the Volendam.27 Always eager to embrace a new audience, in November Barrère and the Little Symphony began a series of six Sunday evening radio concerts on WABC, then an affiliate of the Columbia Broadcasting System. Barrère’s slot was on the “Grebe Synchrophase Hour,” sponsored by the radio manufacturer A. H. Grebe. Damrosch and the New York Symphony had first broadcast in 1923 and now were making regular appearances on the “RCA Hour” on Saturday evenings on WJZ and the Blue Network, the more educationally oriented of the National Broadcasting Company’s two networks. Comparison between the programs of Barrère and Damrosch—who became the quintessential classical-music promoter on the radio, with a long-running series of educational concerts for children—was inevitable, but Barrère had a style all his own. He introduced Debussy’s Petite suite, with its opening “En Bateau” movement, by explaining that his listeners “would easily find in Debussy’s music the inevitable boy and girl both in the same boat.” Damrosch loved to lecture his audiences, but it is safe to say that he would never have made such a pronouncement.28 Barrère’s good humor was much in evidence at a benefit performance in mid-December. Papa Haydn, a “musical comedy in two acts” by Walter Damrosch’s daughter, Gretchen Damrosch Finletter, and “music specially composed for this occasion by Joseph Haydn,” was presented by the Thursday Evening Club at the American Art Galleries on East 57th Street. Damrosch himself starred as Haydn, and members of the New York Symphony formed Prince Esterhazy’s orchestra. Noted musicians and various members of the Damrosch family and New York society, among them Theodore Steinway, Alma Gluck Zimbalist, and Mrs. J. West Roosevelt, made up the cast; Barrère played Amir Abdul Aziz.29 The same passion for costume dramas played out at The Maverick and at Chautauqua and proved to be a highly effective fundraising tool. There was more fun to come in January, when Barrère was in Cincinnati 235



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on tour with the New York Symphony. Ary van Leeuwen, then principal flutist of the Cincinnati Symphony, was the jovial host, and the report of the evening they sent to Flutist editor Emil Medicus gives an idea of the place each man held: Barrère called van Leeuwen “one of the best in the world,” and van Leeuwen drew an arrow from that phrase to Barrère’s name with the note “the other.” Also present were fellow flutists George Possell and Quinto Maganini of the New York Symphony, freelancer Louis Fritze, and Alfred Fenboque and Amedeo Ghignatti of the Cincinnati Symphony. Yet not a note was played, Barrère’s rendition of Afternoon of a Faun earlier in the day having silenced them all. None of the flutists, they reported, was “perfectly sober” by the end of the evening.30 On his return to New York, Barrère continued his involvement in the Bach revival, playing in the second concert of the Bach Cantata Club established by the American branch of Oxford University Press. The conductor was his longtime Institute of Musical Art and Chautauqua colleague Albert Stoessel. This was an offshoot of the London Bach Cantata Club founded two years earlier by the president of OUP with the goal of reviving the cantatas and instrumental works of Bach and performing them in settings approximating their original venues. Barrère served on the advisory board and played in the second concert. The New York concerts were held at St. Thomas Church, the soaring Gothic edifice on Fifth Avenue designed by Ralph Adams Cram (“God is Gothic”), not the most grateful acoustical setting for flute sonatas or even Brandenburg concerti. There was a brief reunion of the long-dormant Trio de Lutèce in March 1928, but Barrère’s main activity in the early spring was preparation for another pair of Little Symphony concerts at the Booth Theatre, “that gracious harbinger of spring ,” as Pitts Sanborn called them.31 While slightly less ambitious than the previous year’s programs, they had their novelties nonetheless. On March 18, Maganini’s La Rumba was played for the second time, by request, and “After the Concert” was the second New York performance of Offrandes by Varèse, with the Russian soprano Nina Koshetz, who had sung the premiere in 1922, as soloist. It was perhaps Barrère’s most adventurous offering ever. He told the audience, “You must listen to the music your sons and grandsons will like.” Varèse’s own organization, the International Composers’ Guild, had collapsed the year before after six years of existence. But his old friend Barrère stepped into the breach. Musical America reported, “Whether the audience accepted this music because of Mr. Barrère’s preliminary and plausible recommendation, or for the score itself, it might be impossible to state with the fullest accuracy,” but Barrère had nothing to worry about: the first movement, “La Chanson de là-haut,” was repeated.32 A week later, in a curious amalgam of a program that included works of



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Mozart, Chabrier, Brahms, Waldteufel, and Griffes, there were two premieres: Log Cabin Ballads by William Grant Still and Debussy’s now-classic work for flute alone, Syrinx. Billed as “new, first time,” this piece was in fact receiving its American premiere; Louis Fleury had played the world premiere in Paris in December 1913. Barrère would by this point have been playing from the printed edition, which had only recently been published by Jobert. The Still work was not one of the composer’s major efforts. Composed the previous year, while Still had a grant from the Harmon Foundation, Log Cabin Ballads was another “racial” piece with dialect movement titles. Though it was well received, Still himself apparently thought little of it and discarded the manuscript.33 The New York Symphony, meanwhile, was observing its fiftieth-anniversary season with a typically busy schedule: twelve pairs of Thursday afternoon/ Friday evening concerts at Carnegie Hall and twenty Sunday afternoons at Mecca Temple, with a variety of guest conductors scheduled; five concerts for children and six for young people; and twenty live Saturday evening radio broadcasts on the NBC Blue Network, conducted by Damrosch. When the orchestra season opened in October 1927, under Fritz Busch, Oscar Thompson noted approvingly, “[T]here were George Barrère and René Pollain with other notables of past years to give the various choirs the distinction of their individual attainments.”34 But behind the scenes, it was far from business as usual—and it had not been so for several years. Rumors had been circulating for some years—even as early as 1921—that the New York Symphony and New York Philharmonic might merge.35 In December 1926, Damrosch, who was about to turn sixty-five, publicly announced his resignation. He was tired, lacking in enthusiasm for the newest generation of composers, and threatened by the recent resurgence taking place at the Philharmonic.36 At the beginning of the decade, the Symphony had been the better of New York’s two major orchestras; its conductor, Damrosch, though often belittled as little more than a heavy-handed “time beater” lacking in stick technique, had been a master program maker and a far superior musician to the Philharmonic’s plodding Josef Stransky, whom Daniel Gregory Mason derogated as “a total musical incompetent.” As Mason explained, “It would be hard to exaggerate the indebtedness of us all, in those days, to [Damrosch’s] curiosity and initiative.” Noting Damrosch’s American premieres of Elgar’s First and Second Symphonies, Ravel’s Mother Goose, and Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony, among others, he branded as stale “the Wagnerian, Lisztian, and Tschaikowskian pap ladled out to us by . . . Stransky of the Philharmonic Society!”37 The Philharmonic gained strength, however, when it merged with the National Symphony Orchestra in 1926. Founded by the avant-gardist Varèse in 1919 as the New Symphony Orchestra, the National was a failure as a vehicle for modern music, but it had some excellent players. (It is one of the great 237



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ironies of the whole situation that the orchestra founded by Barrère’s old friend Varèse would, at least indirectly, play a role in putting him out of a job.) The National’s backers, Clarence Mackay and Adolph Lewisohn, recreated it as a traditional orchestra under the Dutch conductor Willem Mengelberg, who was extremely popular with New York audiences. Mengelberg was the epitome of the “interpretive” conductor who made himself the focus of attention. In comparison with a new generation of star conductors — Mengelberg , the Philharmonic’s fiery guest conductor Arturo Toscanini, and the handsome, charismatic Leopold Stokowski, a frequent visitor to New York at the helm of the Philadelphia Orchestra—Damrosch could no longer compete in the personality and publicity departments. This point was noted by the music press as early as January 1927 when the rumors of merger surfaced once again. This time the rumors were true. As early as July 1926, Damrosch and Flagler had met with Mackay and worked out the terms of a merger between the NYSO and the Philharmonic. It was a solution to problems on both sides of the table: attendance was down at both; union salary demands were increasing; and they had a combined deficit of $400,000.38 The difficulty was in achieving a merger that would preserve “the financial support, goodwill, subscribers and audiences of the two existing orchestras.”39 In the compromise they worked out, Damrosch would become guest conductor and retain the children’s concerts he loved; and the chief conductor would be Toscanini (Mackay’s favorite), not the popular Mengelberg. Clarence Mackay became chairman of the board and Flagler its president. In late February 1928, the NYSO musicians began to suspect that all was not well when George Engles, the manager, did not issue their contracts for the following season. The merger documents did not specify how the members of the new orchestra would be selected. On February 20, Paul Cravath, vice president of the Symphony Society and a leading corporate lawyer, reported to Mackay that Flagler insisted that thirty Symphony players be included in the new orchestra, leaving the exact choices to Toscanini or his designee, and Cravath revised the draft merger accordingly. Cravath did not anticipate a problem. Some Symphony men were superior; there would be naturally occurring vacancies in the Philharmonic; and the new orchestra would be bigger than either of its predecessors. If those conditions did not occur, wrote the practical Cravath, “it would mean that the necessary number of routine members of the Philharmonic Orchestra would be dropped and their places filled by a corresponding number of men from the Symphony Orchestra who would be at least as good. Indeed, I think they would probably be better, inasmuch as naturally the least efficient men would be dropped from the Philharmonic Orchestra and the most efficient men chosen from the Symphony Orchestra.”40 In practice, of course, it was not so simple. When the merger became of-



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ficial, on March 16, there was still no decision on the personnel. The Symphony men unleashed their fury at Damrosch, who they felt had betrayed them. How they were told is a matter of some dispute: Winthrop Sargeant, then a second violinist in the Symphony, claimed they read it in the newspapers.41 In fact, special delivery letters were mailed to the musicians on March 26, the day before the announcement appeared in the papers.42 Toscanini did not immediately seize the opportunity to make the personnel decisions, and at the end of March Damrosch wrote him an obsequious letter in which he offered to advise him as to which Symphony players “could, with artistic profit, be made a part of the orchestra of the new society.” Toscanini rebuffed him rudely: “I cannot imagine how . . . you could have gained the impression that I wanted to speak to you regarding the orchestra.”43 Still, Toscanini did nothing. Arthur Judson and Maurice Van Praag , the manager and assistant manager of the Philharmonic, approached Damrosch for help. In a meeting at the conductor’s home on March 30, they had a frank and, according to Damrosch’s report, agreeable discussion of the relative merits of the two orchestras’ players. But then they dropped a bombshell, as Damrosch reported to Flagler: “we would have arrived speedily at the formation of a well nigh ideal ensemble if they had not suddenly informed me that nearly all of their first instruments had been reengaged for next year over three months ago.”44 This was contrary to the agreement as Damrosch had understood it — he claimed that twenty NYSO players, including Barrère; Michel Nazzi, the English horn player; and René Pollain, principal violist, whom he termed “preeminent,” would be invited to join the merged orchestra, and “their accession to the ranks would be hailed with joy not only by the old Symphony Society subscribers who would see in them a real token of harmony but by the musical world in general.” Nazzi, as it turned out, was safe, because his Philharmonic counterpart had not been rehired, but Barrère was not. It is curious, however, that on March 26, four days before the DamroschJudson meeting, the Symphony Society board had voted to distribute its pension fund to “members of our Orchestra as may not be re-engaged,” and Damrosch himself had made a motion that Barrère and Hans Goettich, the baggage master and librarian, who had been members for more than twenty years, would receive an additional payment of $500 each. So Damrosch must already have concluded—or at least thought it likely—that Barrère would leave.45 Barrère and the other Symphony principals had been offered only alternate principal positions, sharing the first desks with the Philharmonic incumbents. Oboist Pierre Mathieu, bassoonist Louis Letellier, and violist René Pollain accepted this compromise. Barrère, though, would not. Offended by the coprincipal offer, Barrère began making plans to organize the Little Symphony as a full-time permanent organization. As was his wont, he consulted 239



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Flagler with regard to the financing. Flagler shared this information with Damrosch, who wrote him back, “I should deplore this both for his sake as the financial results of such a venture are uncertain, and for ours. He is unique, the audience loves him, and I think Toscanini would in a very short time, find him invaluable.”46 The matter had not been settled by April 1, when the New York Symphony played its last regular concert, under the Spanish guest conductor Enrique Fernández Arbós. As Damrosch mounted the podium of Mecca Temple to conduct the final piece, the Adagio from the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, the audience spontaneously rose to greet him. According to Winthrop Sargeant, the angry players sabotaged the performance with clunkers and lethargy, but Damrosch nevertheless earned a tearful ovation and a wreath of flowers. It was, reported Musical America, “an event during which enthusiasm and solemnity were mingled.”47 Three days later, Flagler wrote to Barrère, warning that his plans for the Little Symphony “would entail a great deal of financial responsibility and consequent worry, without therein any real certainty of a return commensurate to the time and energy which you would have to put into the enterprise. It would entail constant traveling, of which I need not tell you the disadvantages, for I do not believe New York would adequately support any long series of concerts of the nature you propose, highly artistic though they would be.” Flagler twisted the knife when he told Barrère that his new “loyalty to the new Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York precludes my having a part in outside orchestral enterprises,” so that Barrère would be unable to rely on his largesse in setting up his guarantee fund. His associates on the Symphony board, Flagler warned almost menacingly, would have similar restrictions on their charitable commitments. Flagler clarified the nature of the offer to Barrère: “the position discussed with you was that of alternate first flute, but it was distinctly stated that you would not be expected to be on the stage at the times your alternate would be playing first, while he would when you were playing first, and it seems to me this is not only a tribute to your musicianship and reputation but would leave you a good deal of free time to attend to your other activities.”48 The Philharmonic’s principal flutist since 1923 had been John Amans, a Dutchman educated at the Brussels and Hague conservatories. A veteran of the Helsinki Philharmonic and the Vienna and Dresden operas, he was of the German school of woodwind playing , more in the tradition of Wehner than of Taffanel or Barrère. Amans was a solid and experienced player, but completely unlike Barrère in personality, an introverted man who had few students. On May 17, Damrosch queried Judson from Germany whether Barrère “and the other French players have signed up.”49 They had not. On the twenty-



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third, Mackay received a letter from Flagler raising the matter yet again, and Arthur Judson responded: Mr. Amans, our first flute, is willing to play first flute alternate weeks and second or third flute during the time that Mr. Barrère is playing. Mr. Toscanini consented to this but not with any great enthusiasm. Mr. Barrère wants to play first flute half the season and to be away the rest of the season. This would mean that Mr. Amans would either play under Mr. Barrère during the time Mr. Barrère was playing or we would be compelled to allow Mr. Amans to sit idle for half of the season. Furthermore, to release Mr. Barrère for fourteen weeks to pursue his own musical enterprises would create a situation in the orchestra which, I am confident, would cause us untold trouble in the future. In addition to this, an orchestra consists of an ensemble which either rehearses or plays every day. It is my opinion that the proper spirit cannot be maintained in the orchestra, nor can a proper ensemble be developed if we change men during the season in accordance with Mr. Barrère’s suggestions. I may be wrong in this opinion but I do not think so.50 On June 6 Judson reported that Flagler had given up the battle. Indeed, on May 27, the New York Times had run an announcement that the Little Symphony and the Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments would become permanent organizations, fulfilling engagements during the entire season, October through May.51 Barrère had made his choice. There was one final irony. In March 1927, Arthur Judson had written to Clarence Mackay, reviewing the state of the flute section: “[Meredith] WILLSON will, I think, within a year be first flute. We can no longer hold him at the price we pay. [Ernest] WAGNER is the best piccolo player in the United States and this and his length of service should be recognized. AMANS, the Solo Flute, we should hold for another year with a slight increase because we do not wish to change the Orchestra at all for the coming season. At the expiration of that time, I think we can do well without him.”52 The press in general supported the merger on both artistic and economic grounds, Olin Downes doing so in extremely warm tones.53 But some critics were scathing. Samuel Chotzinoff, writing in the World, deplored the personnel choices: “Mr. Barrère of the New York Symphony is the finest flutist alive,” one of many fine woodwind and brass players who should have been absorbed into the new ensemble.54 The Times editorial page made light of the fact that ninety men would be out of work, but Jascha Heifetz, soloist for the Symphony’s last concert, rebuked the citizens of New York for their “almost disinterested calm” at the merger announcement. “Imagine a sudden announcement 241



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to the effect that the New York Giants and the Yankees were to be made into one team next season. The baseball fans would be up in arms. . . . But let a symphony orchestra which has been heard by 8,000,000 persons be swallowed up and there is no evident distress,” he wrote.55 Flagler, who genuinely cared for the Symphony players, saw to it that the remaining $24,000 in the Pension and Sick Fund was distributed to the departing members. But he felt that amount was inadequate to represent his personal appreciation for their service, and thus he, his wife, and his daughter, Mary Flagler Cary, contributed an additional $50,000. As a result, each departing musician would receive $100 for his first year of service and $150 for each successive year; for Barrère, having served twenty-three years, that would come to $3,400.56 But the musicians were not appeased. They agreed with the angry subscriber who wrote to the Times that the consolidation was not a merger but a murder.57 In a final gesture to the men of the New York Symphony, Harry Harkness Flagler ordered gold cufflinks, engraved with each man’s initials and his dates of service. At the farewell reception, Barrère spoke on behalf of the orchestra. “You give us cufflinks,” he said, “but you take the shirts off our backs.”



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T

he last regular concert of the New York Symphony concluded at five o’clock on Sunday, April 1, 1928. Long before the orchestra’s demise became known, Barrère had planned to be on a train to Detroit at 8:30, beginning a sixweek transcontinental tour with the Little Symphony. “This appearing in public is like a disease with me,” Barrère told an interviewer at the beginning of the season. “It crops out every so often and the only cure for it is another public performance.”1 The trip took the little troupe the length of California, Oregon, and Washington, through Salt Lake City and St. Louis to Texas, and concluded at the Spartanburg Festival in South Carolina, where the New York Symphony had appeared for so many years. (Its billing as the New York Festival Orchestra may indicate that it was a late-hour substitute for the defunct New York Symphony.) At the last concert, the guest soloist was the great Australian flutist John Amadio — perhaps the only time Barrère conducted for a flutist other than one of his own students. A standard Little Symphony program might consist of Schubert’s Symphony No. 5; arias by Handel and Gluck; John Alden Carpenter’s Little Indian, Little Dancer; Griffes’s White Peacock; Massenet and Rossini arias; and Pierné’s For My Little Friends. Another offered the Yellow Princess Overture of SaintSaëns; Boccherini’s Symphony in C; the same Carpenter piece; Arcady Dubensky’s Suite russe; Rameau’s Les Fêtes de l’amour; and two Hungarian Dances by Brahms. The reduced instrumentation — six strings, a woodwind quintet, trumpet, and percussion — required ingenious arrangements or adaptations, which Barrère made himself. Leonard B. Smith, a trumpeter with the Little 243



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Symphony and himself a distinguished band director, recalled, “He was not only a fine arranger but, in my estimation, a brilliant one. I recall there were instances where he would have me place my hand in the bell of my cornet (not trumpet; he preferred the cornet) à la French horn to create the sound of two horns. Conversely, he would have the horn play open horn (without hand in bell), to simulate two cornets. In some instances, he would use the French horn, cornet and bassoon to create the sound of three horns. It was amazing!”2 The Little Symphony’s reception in Los Angeles was typical: “A well balanced program gave wide scope for the refined abilities of the small band, which played aristocratic music in an aristocratic manner.” Isabel Morse Jones of the Los Angeles Times wrote, “This unique ensemble . . . performs precious music with a punctiliousness seldom equaled. Every gesture of Monsieur Barrère is translated into action by his players and the knowledge and authority back of those gestures is unquestionable.” She did, however, find the concert somewhat lacking in French “élan” and spontaneity, perhaps an inevitable result of the constant repetition of repertoire on the road.3 The hours freed up by the demise of the New York Symphony not only allowed Barrère greater freedom to tour, but also provided an opportunity for him to expand his teaching activities. At the end of May, he met with Ernest Hutcheson and John Erskine, dean of music and president, respectively, of the Juilliard Graduate School, possibly to suggest expanding his teaching to the graduate school, but nothing came of it immediately.4 When he returned to New York in the fall, he welcomed a new student, sixteen-year-old Frances Blaisdell, to his Institute of Musical Art class. For five years, Blaisdell had been commuting from New Jersey to study with Ernest Wagner of the Philharmonic and had played in the children’s orchestra sponsored by the Heckscher Foundation, so she was musically well prepared for her audition for Barrère. But she had not counted on Prisca von Hornbostel, the recording secretary. When she arrived for her audition, von Hornbostel informed her that there had been a mistake. Thinking she referred to the date, Blaisdell presented the letter confirming her audition. “No,” said von Hornbostel, “we had expected a boy.” (The schedule listed Francis, not Frances.) Informed that the school would not accept a female wind player because it would “lose its investment” (it had long accepted female pianists, singers, and violinists), Blaisdell insisted on taking the audition—and Barrère was sufficiently impressed with her rendition of the Chaminade Concertino that he accepted her with a full scholarship. “It is a great mistake—a great mistake,” von Hornbostel declared, but Blaisdell turned out to be one of his most successful students, going on to become principal flutist of the New York City Ballet orchestra and an influential teacher at the Manhattan School of Music and Stanford University.5 Two years earlier Barrère had claimed in an article in the Musician and the



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Flutist that fully half his students were women (he had a large private studio), a fact he attributed to economic factors—there was an excess of string players. “The time has passed,” he wrote, “when women were expected to confine themselves to maidenly instruments, such as the violin and piano. I find that women make quite as good flute-players as men.” Already they were succeeding professionally, if not yet in the major orchestras, in small ensembles, solo work, and even sacred music, and he viewed women musicians as particularly suited to promoting the social benefits of music in their communities. “How far-reaching and beneficial all this [is]!”6 Of course, Barrère was every inch the ladies’ man, who no doubt enjoyed teaching young women, but his instruction to them was every bit as rigorous as for his male students. The demands on Barrère’s students were steep: four hours of practice a day. Études were to be flawless: scales and arpeggios played at various metronome markings, long tones, chromatic sequences of intervals, diminished triads and seventh chords, all from memory. Barrère did not customarily listen to these in lessons, but they had to be prepared just in case. Though he was a master of two languages, his pedagogy was not particularly verbal; much was achieved by demonstration and imitation. Blaisdell remembered, “Barrère was a natural, and I don’t believe he had any idea how he produced his especially beautiful tone or just how he played such perfectly articulated staccato . . . and the vibrato!!! ‘You just sing on the flute, n’est-ce pas?’ To analyze any of these techniques would have been of no interest whatsoever to him.”7 Establishing the Little Symphony on a permanent, potentially full-time basis took money, and despite Flagler’s warning that his customary sponsors would not be available, Barrère appealed to some of the usual suspects: Mrs. Coolidge and Mary Flagler Cary. He knew just what to do: paraphrasing Berlioz, who once wrote that to conduct an orchestra all you needed was an orchestra, Barrère said that all you needed was a committee. He had prominent musicians such as organist T. Tertius Noble and critic Richard Aldrich and wealthy patrons such as Mary Hoyt Wiborg (also an art critic), lawyer Hartwell Cabell, and Theodore Wagner, who served as the financial advisors, on the letterhead. After considerable correspondence and several meetings, Cary agreed to be president.8 His next step was to gather endorsements from eighteen New York music critics, an indication not only of his own stature but also of the healthy size and state of music journalism in the city. Barrère also updated his 1921 autobiography and published it in pamphlet form, omitting much of the Paris era—not to mention his first wife and two older sons—and concentrating on his American concert ventures. Letters went out to potential contributors in early February 1929, projecting a budget of $53,000 for a twenty-week season. His immediate goal was to raise $40,000, with a minimum pledge of $500. Coolidge deliberated, but de245



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termined that her other commitments would permit only the minimum contribution of $500.9 None of the subscriptions was to be binding until the total pledges reached $25,000. By May 1929 contributions were behind schedule. A scaled-back plan dated May 2, 1929, now aimed for a sixteen-week season, with expenses of $35,000, requiring a guarantee of $25,000 to cover 70 percent of the expenses. At that time, he reported to Cary, the situation was as follows:10 Amount signed up id. formally promised id. reasonably expected id. nebulously expected id. to secure balance

$5,000 $6,000 6,000 5,000 3,000

The programs for the spring 1930 New York concerts credit eight benefactors, including Harry Harkness Flagler (despite his warnings), Connecticut senator F. C. Walcott, the banker Felix Warburg, and Mrs. Christian R. Holmes, heir to the Fleischmann’s yeast fortune.11 There is no indication of the size of their contributions, but Barrère was able to tour extensively during the 1929–30 season. Meanwhile there was still the spring 1929 season to plan and execute. There was a concert at Princeton University in January and one with the British pianists and Bach specialists Harold Samuel and Myra Hess in February, a program of Bach and Mozart two-piano concerti, framed by Rameau and C. P. E. Bach. Olin Downes was particularly taken with the Rameau: “A Frenchman conducted it, understood it as a Frenchman, played it with Gallic wit, polish and laughter, and the finest appreciation for its style.”12 Then there was a series of seven educational concerts in Kansas City, attended by more than 14,000 schoolchildren. In the late spring, there was the Harrisburg Mozart Festival in Pennsylvania and the Spartanburg Festival. And there were a host of charity concerts: the Little Symphony provided interludes for a pantheon of leading actors, among them Beatrice Lillie, Ethel Barrymore, Katherine Cornell, Eva La Gallienne, Lynn Fontanne, and Alfred Lunt, in a benefit for the Eleonora Duse Fellowship of the Italy-America Society; Barrère played the sonata of Jacques Pillois at a benefit at the National Arts Club for the Fontainebleau School of Music outside Paris, founded by Walter Damrosch just after the war; and with the monologuist Ruth Draper, he gave a benefit recital for the New York Women’s League for Animals at the home of banker James Speyer. It may be hard to imagine the distinguished Frenchman raising money for free watering stations for working horses, but he had the right social connections to get the invitation, and such was the life of a revenue-needy freelancer. His programs were nevertheless of the highest order, classic and modern French flute



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solos — he did not slum in that regard. There were no airs and variations, no Doppler or Tulou or Demersseman. Beginning in the spring of 1929, Barrère’s artistic needs were largely satisfied by the chamber music projects of Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. (They also satisfied financial needs, as Coolidge paid him a total of $3,500 in the fall of 1929.)13 In April, Barrère, Boston critic Philip Hale, pianist Ernest Schelling , Leopold Stokowski, and Carl Engel formed the jury for the Coolidge Foundation prize, to be given that year to a work for winds and piano. The Barrère Ensemble served as the “guinea pigs” for the competition, and the winner was the Divertissement grotesque by the thirty-one-year-old Czech composer Josef Hüttel, who was then living in Egypt. There were great expectations for the composer: Wallingford Riegger, also a young hopeful, wrote to Coolidge that he had heard one of the rehearsals in New York and found the piece “exceptionally convincing. I think it marks the discovery of a composer of great ability.”14 The Hüttel received its premiere at the Library of Congress on October 7, with the Barrère Ensemble and pianist Arthur Loesser. Olin Downes wrote in the Times, “Mr. Hüttel would have done well to have cut his divertissement in half. If this had been done all that he had to say would have been said, at plentiful length, and the clearness and exuberance, if not the marked originality of his writing, would have the more commended him. . . . the idiom Mr. Hüttel uses is employed with a clear and ready technic [sic], with brilliant instrumental effects, and with a general gayety and youthfulness of spirit which may some day evolve into individual expression.”15 In the meantime, Coolidge had been planning furiously for a series of private concerts in Europe — in Prague, Paris, and Cambridge. In the middle of August, she signed Barrère to perform, and at the same time she commissioned Albert Roussel to write a chamber work for flute. Roussel wrote to writer and composer Arthur Hoérée, who had served as intermediary for Coolidge, on August 17 that he had just accepted the commission, “even though the time is very short for a composition of that nature.” Coolidge specified no instrumentation except that it feature the flute prominently—an assignment he relished. “I am firmly devoted to writing for that instrument.”16 Roussel had known Barrère at the Schola Cantorum and had written the Divertissement for the Société Moderne in 1906. Whether he knew that his new work would be played by Barrère, a fact that certainly would have made the offer even more attractive, is not clear, but it is likely. Roussel initially thought of writing for flute and piano; flute and string quartet; or flute, violin, and cello, perhaps with piano. By August 23 he had settled on flute, viola, and cello, and the happy result was the Trio, op. 40, which he completed by September 22, taking only two weeks to write a work that would become a cornerstone of the flute chamber repertoire. Three days later Roussel dispatched the score directly to Coolidge in Lon247



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don—she would have to have parts copied, and there was no time to get them to Barrère so he could prepare before he sailed for Europe on October 9.17 The first Coolidge concerts, held at the U Novaku˚ Palace in Prague, were organized by the Czech section of the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM). On October 22, Barrère, along with violist Lionel Tertis of London and cellist Hans Kindler, then of Paris, gave the premiere of the Roussel Trio. Also on the program was the Hüttel Divertissement grotesque, in which Barrère was joined by four members of the Prague Woodwind Quintet and pianist Alfredo Casella of Rome; Bohuslav Martinu’s String Quintet; and Casella’s Second Sonata for cello. The next day, Tertis wrote to Coolidge, “The concert all considered was very fine. Barrère is the greatest flautist I should think that has ever lived. . . . The Hüttel is clear & a good joke, but,” echoing Olin Downes’s opinion, “spoilt by its great length. I thought this work went extremely well. I wish I could listen to the Roussel—everybody was raving about it. . . . Elizabeth, you are just a good fairy, and I & all my brother musicians are indeed fortunate to come within the radius of your wand.”18 For her two Paris concerts, Coolidge relied heavily on Henry Prunières, musicologist, publisher of Revue Musicale, and chairman of the French section of ISCM, who was able to secure the Institut International de Coopération Intellectuelle, which was housed in the Palais Royal. She also counted upon him to hire the musicians. Among the woodwind players Prunières engaged were two members of the Société Moderne, bassoonist Gustave Dhérin and clarinetist Louis Cahuzac, the latter having joined in 1904, while Barrère was still in Paris. Moreover, Louis Fleury’s widow was very much involved in making up the invitation list, using the 1,500 names to whom she customarily had mailed notices of her husband’s concerts (presumably including the Société Moderne). Priority was given “to the people who count, whether from a social or artistic point of view,” Prunières assured Coolidge, who cared very much about such things. Included were Florent Schmitt, Darius Milhaud, and Louis Aubert, the cofounder of the Société Moderne. It must have been a sweet homecoming for Barrère, who had not been in Paris for nine years and had not played there as a chamber musician for twenty-four.19 The two programs included eight works never before heard in Paris. Carlos Salzedo’s Préambule et jeux, completed only in September, received its world premiere at the first concert, on October 28. Salzedo mailed the harp part to Lily Laskine but sent the remainder of the parts, along with instructions on “interpretive details” with Barrère, who had agreed to conduct it.20 In his ensemble Barrère would be conducting flutist Marcel Moyse, a man for whom he had mixed feelings, admiring his musicianship but not his personality. This was probably the only occasion on which the two flutists shared a program. After that difficult assignment Barrère plunged directly into the Paris premiere of the



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Roussel Trio. The following evening , the Hüttel — with four English players, including the incomparable oboist Leon Goossens—ended a program that also included works of Arthur Bliss, Ildebrand Pizzetti, and Leo Ornstein. Prunières served as master of ceremonies, but apparently saw no conflict of interest in covering the concerts for the New York Times. His review ranged from ecstatic to highly critical, though he acclaimed Coolidge: “we are envious of the United States in having in Mrs. Coolidge so enlightened a Maecenas.” He wrote rapturously of the Roussel, which, he reported, caused the greatest sensation. Barrère, he wrote, “is undoubtedly without a peer in his field. . . . it was a veritable feast for the auditors. Every one present agreed that it would be impossible to hear a work interpreted better.” He thought less of the Salzedo piece, which “despite the gifts of Lily Laskine [and] Moyse . . . left an impression simply of an experience of combinations of tone-colors.” Of the Hüttel he wrote, “I was somewhat disappointed. . . . It is cleverly written and well orchestrated, but is not indicative of a virile temperament. Furthermore [it] has nothing of the grotesque in it, or for that matter, of the humorous.”21 Herbert Hughes, critic of London’s Daily Telegraph, deemed the Roussel “eloquent and lovely music. . . . Here was an ensemble the perfection of which left most of us breathless.” But Hughes seemed most impressed with the setting and the typically elite company that Coolidge had convened: “in the gilded and historic room where the music is to take place you meet men as unlike as Roussel—serious, kind, middle-aged—and Darius Milhaud—young, debonair, portly, pale of face; Arthur Bliss, also young , also debonair, but more vivacious—a bon camarade as Bohuslav Martinu calls him; Casella, dark, tallish, grave, somewhat shy; Malipiero (with a charming English wife), whimsical, unconventional, a little depressed at having been unable to bring his traveling menagerie of owls and eagles and serpents; Leon Goossens, who plays the oboe like no other oboist; the shy, soft-voiced Tertis, who has made the viola an instrument to be considered.” Unrecognized by many in the audience was James Joyce, a chamber music devotee.22 For Barrère, the return to Paris was both nostalgic and professionally gratifying. Despite the rigorous rehearsal schedule, he was able to visit the house where he had lived at the age of five, and he heard the Colonne Orchestra, in which he had played principal flute, conducted by Pierné, who had written several works for him. Reflecting on the changes in his hometown, he noted particularly the plethora of concert offerings; radio and talking movies were not yet as popular in France as in the United States, he found. “Nine years ago, when I visited Paris it was suffering the reaction of the war. Everything was gloomy. Today it is bright and cheerful. Paris is like a person who has been convalescing a long time and now she is well.” He admitted to some trepidation at how Parisians would receive him and was relieved by their reaction. “I thought,” 249



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he said, “that perhaps the American public praised me out of prejudice and habit. It was something new to have this city, where I have not played for 24 years, like me.”23 The French establishment was sufficiently pleased that the French Association for the Dissemination and Exchange of Information of Interest to Artists, sponsored by the French Ministry of Fine Arts, named him American chairman, with the goal of promoting contacts between musicians of France and those abroad. It was a mission Barrère had been carrying out unofficially for the previous quarter century. Alas, there was no time to savor the victory in situ or to extend the nostalgia trip, for Coolidge had scheduled one more concert for October 31 at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where he repeated the Hüttel but not the Roussel. Nor, perhaps, were the musicians and their patron in a particularly celebratory mood, for in the week between the Prague and Paris concerts, the stock exchange had collapsed in New York, leaving an entire country staggered and ushering in the Great Depression. Following the Cambridge concert, Barrère was not able to bid Coolidge farewell in person; rather, he left her a note at her London hotel, a missive that indicates she was suffering from some sort of physical or mental collapse. “Black Tuesday” had occurred just three days before, and she no doubt recognized that the stock market crash would decrease her income; indeed she would be forced to cut expenditures by some 25 percent.24 (Economy is relative, however; she continued her generous support of music and musicians throughout the 1930s.) American musicians, whose livelihoods were already threatened by the advent of talking pictures, suffered more immediately over the next few years. In 1929, more than 19,000 musicians worked in American movie theaters, earning nearly $1 million a week. By 1930, with more theaters wired for sound pictures, fewer than 14,000 were working in the theaters, and cumulative weekly wages fell to less than $700,000; soon thereafter the number of theater jobs dipped to 5,000.25 Barrère arrived back in New York on November 7, and three days later was in Kenilworth, Illinois, to begin a two-week Little Symphony tour. He returned to New York for the holidays and indulged his comic instincts—and perhaps tried to ignore the dismal economic news—by participating in the Musicians’ Gambol, a benefit for the MacDowell Colony held in Carnegie Hall on December 30. The musicians, the Times reported, “laid aside the serious business of edifying the public”— though there were several serious numbers to begin the program — but the highlight was a spoof of Strauss’s Sinfonia Domestica, conducted by John Philip Sousa, which was described as “a work of ultra-modern realism” in which pianists Ernest Schelling and Harold Bauer manned lawnmowers, Barrère and soprano Lucrezia Bori tooted tin whistles, and a typewriter took center stage.26



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For the next several months Barrère would continue to devote himself to American causes. First, on February 2, there was the premiere of Wallingford Riegger’s Suite for Flute Alone at a concert of the League of Composers, which shared the program with works of Nicolai Berezowsky, Carlos Chávez, Dane Rudhyar, and Jerzy Fitelberg. Wrote Musical Courier, “All this is, of course, modernism of various degrees, designs and influences. There seems to be a good deal of influence from modern France, particularly Debussy, and a general tendency of protestation against classic forms and classic harmonies. All the pieces had their interesting moments, and likewise their dull and empty moments, which seems to be the characteristic of almost all modernism, with a few exceptions.”27 The League, now seven years old, was the creation of Claire Raphael Reis, the result of a schism within the International Composers’ Guild. After the American premiere of Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire at the ICG in 1923, the members gave a second performance—a violation of the Guild’s bylaws, which specified that it would offer only first performances, no repetitions. By March, Reis, previously executive secretary of the ICG, along with composers Louis Gruenberg , Lazare Saminsky, Leo Ornstein, Emerson Whithorne, Frederick Jacobi, and Stephen Bourgeois; philanthropist Alma Wertheim; and publicist Minna Lederman, had formed the League. “The new League preferred to repeat good works rather than to present compositions too immature for public performance,” Reis later wrote, and it is often argued that second performances are more important than first hearings. The League also had an open-minded view of what modern music should be. As Reis and Marion Bauer explained some years later, “The success in attaining this goal is perhaps best illustrated by the reaction at times of a conservative wing of contemporary musicians who have considered the League far too much to the ‘left’ and too experimental; and that of a very radical group which has berated the organization for being ‘so reactionary’!”28 Reis, a pianist trained at the Institute of Musical Art and a formidable organizer who had also run the People’s Music League, worked tirelessly on behalf of composers: “Today, music is generally heard under conditions which have almost obliterated the composer as the raison d’être of a program. The interpreter is the object of attention, the magnet for the audience.” The marquee performers, Barrère included, lent their prestige to the organization, but it was the composers whom she really cared about.29 It is a nice twist that the first League program included Roussel’s Divertissement for piano and woodwinds, which the Société Moderne had premiered in 1906. Riegger, a cellist who had been a member of the first graduating class at the Institute of Musical Art in 1907, had a traditional composition education with Percy Goetschius at the Institute, followed by a year at the Hochschule 251



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in Berlin. He had been back in New York since the fall of 1928 after a conducting stint in Germany and appointments at Drake University and the Ithaca Conservatory (where he met the visiting Henry Cowell). There was some irony in the venue for the Riegger premiere, for Riegger was more aligned with the radical avant-garde of the time, and his institutional affiliations were the International Composers’ Guild (1921–27), Pro Musica, Henry Cowell’s New Music Society, and the Pan American Association of Composers (PAAC), founded in 1928, for which he served as treasurer.30 In a gesture of musical ecumenism, the Suite for Flute Alone was premiered at the League but published in Cowell’s journal New Music; his Canons for Woodwinds, op. 9, was premiered at the PAAC the following year and also published by Cowell. These two pieces, along with the Divertissement for flute, harp, and cello, op. 15 (which Barrère would premiere at a PAAC concert in 1933), cemented his reputation with his fellow avant-garde composers.31 The League represented a more moderate wing of the new music movement, sometimes called the “Boulangerie” after the neoclassical students of the French pedagogue Nadia Boulanger. Nevertheless, Riegger was grateful for the League’s efforts. He wrote to Reis, “In stressing the more progressive side of creative music (in such a way as not to offend the more conservative minded) you have done a valuable service to music in America.”32 Unlike Walter Piston’s Flute Sonata, which also made its debut in 1930, the Riegger Suite indicates the composer’s interest in twelve-tone technique, though he did not follow it at all strictly.33 Riegger gave his own explanation: “In this work, aside from the ever present problems of design, the chief difficulty has lain in the avoidance of diatonic tonality without the aid of other instruments. So-called tonal centers, however, may be felt in various places. This cannot be said of the concluding six measures, in which each of the semitones of three octaves of flute range is represented once.”34 The Suite had its formal roots in the Baroque church sonata, and as one modern critic has written, “Riegger may have tried to write forbiddingly atonal music here, but what shines through is a gift for contrast, balance, wit, and melody.”35 In March, Barrère played it again at a Little Symphony concert in New York, and in June, at The Maverick in Woodstock; a year after its premiere, it was repeated by Georges Laurent in Boston. The spring of 1930 marked Barrère’s twenty-fifth year in the United States, and he set out to celebrate his jubilee with a trio of Sunday night Little Symphony concerts at the Guild Theatre, a hall slightly larger than the Booth. In his prospectus he wrote, “I shall try to justify this bold extravaganza by some ultra-interesting programs. Dear old antiques will be programmed alongside of composers scarcely out of their teens. . . . out of 20 names of composers, eight are American and out of these eight, two are women!!!” Otto Kahn, Mary



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Flagler Cary, and Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge were among the nine guarantors who absorbed the $3,500 deficit, a fact of musical life despite the conductor’s popularity.36 As always, Barrère provided witty commentary from the stage — indeed, wrote Samuel Chotzinoff in the World, his “quaint and amusing remarks . . . were sometimes vastly more entertaining than the music which followed.” The first program, on March 23, presented two new works by Mary Howe, Mists and Sand, both in the impressionist mode. Musical Courier called them “well constructed and smartly original. She carries her melody in a dissonant form, always on two instruments and each a half tone apart. The effect is at once humorous and serious.” Chotzinoff demurred: “It is not unlikely that Mrs. Howe’s ‘Mists’ and ‘Sand’ will be embraced as classics in 1962. Yesterday they sounded to me like any two impressions of any very juvenile modernist.” Pitts Sanborn, in the New York Telegram, discounted their novelty: “Mrs. Howe’s pleasant little sketches were marked by a modernism that was quite innocuous and by no means so very modern.”37 More interesting was the appearance of Colin McPhee as pianist in his own Concerto for piano and wind octet. McPhee, who also worked with both Salzedo and Varèse, represented a Woodstock connection; he had written the Concerto there in the summer and fall of 1928. The crisply constructed neoclassical Concerto has been compared in texture and timbre to the Stravinsky Octet and the Roy Harris Concerto for piano, clarinet, and string quartet, and it has similarities, too, to Roussel and Poulenc.38 Premiered by the Rochester Little Symphony in 1929 under the direction of Howard Hanson, perhaps the most enterprising promoter of American music, it was published in Henry Cowell’s New Music quarterly in January 1931. Musical America found it “excessively new music, the volume of whose dissonances many present hearers are willing to leave to posterity.”39 The orchestral works were leavened by smallerscale pieces for woodwinds: a repetition of the Riegger Suite for Flute Alone; the U.S. premiere of Villa Lobos’s Chôros No. 2 for flute and clarinet; and Barrère’s own Two Pieces for three flutes, which he aptly introduced as “a musical work of no importance” in which he was assisted by his former and current students Gerald Rudy and Paul Siebeneichen. Barrère declared himself pleased: “The audience was one of the best I ever had and the performance was marked with an enthusiasm that I attribute to the young blood I infused in my organization. No more star players, just good Musicians who have all confidence in me and respond to the smallest sign. Hard workers, enthusiastic. I am happy.”40 The second concert, on March 30, was classically oriented, with works of Rameau, Honegger, Hadley, and the American composer Swan Hennessy and the premiere of an arrangement of five Tunes from the Eighteenth Century by Harold Bauer, orchestrated by Barrère and concertmaster George Raudenbush. 253



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For “After the Concert,” Barrère had scheduled the Choreographic Poem by the Cincinnati-born composer/pianist Ethel Glenn Hier. But it was postponed because of insufficient rehearsal time, and instead the orchestra played the “Foreboding” and “Caprice” movements from her sextet.41 For the third and final concert, there were three new works dedicated to the conductor. Most significant was Africa by William Grant Still, a work dedicated “To Mr. Georges Barrère as an expression of gratitude for his kindness and encouragement.” Still had sent him an early version of the score in December 1928, but was forced to wait for the premiere until Barrère had gotten the Little Symphony permanently established; the conductor assured him in December 1928 that once that happened “your composition will be the first one to be considered.” But at that time, even before the stock market crash, financial concerns were at the top of his list: “Excuse me for not going any deeper in the consideration of your composition now as I have changed myself into a business man for the time being. When the artist will come back in me we shall have a grand time devoting our energy and knowledge to the production of worthwhile music as yours and forget all that has to be thought or written with a dollar sign.” As Still explained it, the thirty-minute work represented his concept of Africa based on its folklore and his contact with American civilization; it was divided into three movements, “Land of Peace,” “Land of Romance,” and “Land of Superstitions.”42 The other two premieres were Variations on Dies Irae by Arthur Fickenscher, professor of music at the University of Virginia, and Josef Hüttel’s L’Arlequinade for chamber orchestra, which the composer sent Barrère in appreciation for performances of his Divertissement grotesque the previous year. The Times wrote of the Fickenscher that it “betrayed that the composer was a professor of music besides essaying creative composition.” The Hüttel, composed of an overture, tango, and rag, did not impress either: “it was a poor imitation of poor models originally conceived and written in New York and Buenos Aires.”43 In the classic vein, there were Italian Baroque and rococo works of Pasquini and Galuppi. To complete the celebration, Barrère summoned Walter Damrosch from the audience to accompany him in the two solos with which he had made his American debut on May 20, 1905: the Madrigal from Wormser’s L’Enfant prodigue and Widor’s Scherzo. Damrosch could not, of course, resist giving a speech on behalf of his former first flutist or conducting the orchestra in Gluck’s Orpheus. The jubilee continued on April 30 when 150 luminaries of musical and social New York gathered at the Park Avenue home of Harry Harkness Flagler, summoned by a formal engraved invitation. The guests—among them Ernestine Schumann-Heink, who threatened to steal some of the attention from the



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guest of honor—enjoyed a silver-trimmed birthday cake with twenty-five candles. Walter Damrosch had solicited donations for a gift, and a four-page list of notables contributed a total of $2,480, which Damrosch used to purchase an inscribed pocket book from Mark Cross and thirty shares of Standard Oil of New Jersey. Barrère, never at a loss for words, pronounced himself “stunned.”44 Within a week he was back on the festival circuit — Harrisburg , Chautauqua, and Worcester. He was associate conductor of the Chautauqua Symphony (founded after the demise of the New York Symphony, with many of the same players) and on October 3, soloist in the Griffes Poem in Worcester. After that performance, Barrère made an overnight drive of 200 miles to Kingston, New York (near his Woodstock cabin), to appear in the Ulster County court at 10:00 a.m. for the examination of his second citizenship papers. His witnesses were Hervey White, proprietor of The Maverick, and Thomas Comerford, publisher of the Kingston Daily Leader. The biggest festival of all started the following week, when Coolidge returned to her native city to sponsor the long-planned five-day Chicago Festival of Chamber Music at the Field Museum of Natural History. Of the twentyfour scheduled works, fifteen had been composed at her behest. Barrère had a starring role in four of the five concerts, but the formidable Coolidge herself was the darling of the press, lionized as a hometown heroine. “She’s a distinguished figure wherever she goes, is this descendant of one of Chicago’s best known pioneer philanthropists, being tall and amply proportioned—a heritage from the Spragues — with a fine carriage and red brown hair,” reported the Chicago Daily Tribune.45 She reserved nearly a floor of the Stevens Hotel, the city’s grandest, for her thirty-three distinguished musical guests — including the Barrères, Salzedos, Roussels, Charles Martin Loeffler, Frank Bridge, David Stanley Smith, H. T. Parker, and Eugene Goossens—whom she entertained in style. Another 1,100 of her closest friends comprised the invited audience. At the first concert, on October 12, Coolidge reigned over the opening reception and concert in a black net gown, embroidered in gold, with a short white ermine coat. The program was a brilliant juxtaposition of two German masters of contrapuntal form, Bach and Hindemith. With his former pupil Ernest Liegl, who was now principal flutist of the Chicago Symphony, Barrère offered a whimsical reading of the Sonatine in Canon Style for two flutes, op. 31, no. 3. The critics, not particularly disposed to like the work of the academic Hindemith, were captivated by this work. The New York Herald Tribune called it a “delectable bit of humor,” and Herman Devries of the Chicago Evening American wrote, “I literally rubbed my ears. Hindemith? Was this Hindemith? . . . This sonatina is delicious, the two flutes flouting and pouting and playing each other, freshness, naivete, modernity, and all of it charming. Smiles ran around the auditorium, an inescapable current of pleasure.”46 Karleton Hack255



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ett of the Chicago Post praised Barrère’s reading of the Bach E Major Sonata as “sheer delight . . . the elegance of the eighteenth century with the technical skill of the twentieth.”47 Hindemith’s new Concerto for piano and chamber orchestra, commissioned at great expense, was less well received. The composer had declined to attend, which disappointed Barrère. “I hope Hindemith will come. I have a great admiration for this Composer whom I never met,” Barrère had written to their mutual patron, Coolidge, in February, noting that he often played Hindemith’s Kleine Kammermusik. On March 25 he wrote her again, “I am anxious to hear if you have finally secure[d] Hindemith for Chicago, I am so eager to know him personally.”48 On the Tuesday evening program, Barrère gave the American premiere of a flute sonata by Mario Pilati, a protégé of Malipiero, one of Coolidge’s favored composers and winner of a prize she had sponsored under the auspices of the Scarlatti Association of Naples. Critical reaction to this Debussy-like work was mixed, ranging from “a work in the salon style . . . [that] contained nothing that was especially new” and “choicely couched banalities” to “[t]his had considerable to say in a reasonably ingenious melodic manner.” All of them gave particular credit to the execution of Barrère and pianist Rudolph Reuter. On Wednesday, Barrère, with violist Josef Vieland and cellist Iwan d’Archambeau, represented the true French school with the American premiere of the Roussel Trio. Musical America predicted, correctly, that the work “was of far more than casual importance, coming from one of the leading French masters of the time. Roussel’s sharp, Gallic sense of style, and his aristocratic reserve may well outlast the work of more venturesome contemporaries.”49 Massive correspondence and negotiation had gone into organizing the event — eighteen letters and telegrams just between Barrère and Coolidge — and nowhere was this more evident than in the arrangements for the American premiere of Salzedo’s Préambule et jeux, played at the last concert. Demonstrating “the arcana of modern technic [sic],” wrote Prunières in the New York Times, the work “has an extraordinary refinement, delicate explorations in sonority, and nice balancing in timbre. A real poetic savor emanates from this bit.” Herman Devries of the Chicago American, by contrast, termed it “just another of those modern things, with all the cliches going full blast, dissonances, and all that,” and Musical America likewise found it “a work savoring too strongly of the experimental to be taken readily to heart.”50 But the performance of the Salzedo piece illustrates Coolidge’s skill in mediating between her temperamental performer friends and also reveals the tensions between Barrère and his old comrade that were apparently never too far from the surface. On March 22, she had told Barrère that she was considering repeating the Salzedo work in Chicago, in which case she wanted him to conduct, but asked him to say nothing to Salzedo until it was definitively decided.



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Assembling the jigsaw puzzle of performers and repertoire was at too-preliminary a stage. Barrère agreed with the strategy: “I shall not say a word to Carlos about the possibility of his piece being played. He will jump at conclusions immediat[e]ly.”51 In April, Salzedo reminded Coolidge that he had declined giving the American premiere for the Pro Musica Society and the League of Composers, reserving it for her, and asked that he and his wife, the harpist Lucile Lawrence, contribute their services for the Chicago festival. He preferred to conduct and have his wife as soloist. “Besides, may I confidentially tell you that Barrère is not conductorially equipped to adequately prepare a modern work. Modern works of that type need the impulse of a very precise conductor or of the composer himself. The chief quality of Préambule et Jeux is in the detail. May I again confidentially tell you that the Pro Arte confirmed my opinion as regards Barrère’s conductorship (which of course has nothing to do with his superlative art of playing the flute).” Coolidge then wrote to Barrère that she would indeed present the Salzedo, but with the composer conducting, at his request, “which I am sure you will understand and which will probably be a relief to you. His wife will play the principal harp part and I hope you will consent to do the flute part.” Simultaneously she reassured Salzedo of the plan. Barrère agreed without further discussion, telegraphing, “ACCEPT EVERYTHING.” But on May 7, she wrote Salzedo again to question the expense of bringing Salzedo and Lawrence, when she had Frederick Stock and the Chicago harpist already on the program. A week later, Salzedo retorted, “[T]here is positively no harpist in the middle or far west who can play any of my work.” The alternative he then suggested was to play the harp part himself and to have Stock, not Barrère, “who is not sufficiently precise for a work like mine,” conduct.52 Salzedo won: Barrère played flute, Lawrence harp, and the composer conducted. But the heroine was Mrs. Coolidge. Wrote Prunières, “I do not believe that any one since the war has furthered the cause of chamber music, both materially and morally, in a manner comparable to Mrs. Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge.”53

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O

n Monday, February 9, 1931, standing before James A. Simpson, clerk of the Supreme Court of Ulster County in Kingston, New York, Georges Barrère took the oath to become a U.S. citizen.1 Was it symbolic that musical America’s quintessential professional Frenchman could now be upstaged? In April, two months after he officially became an American, Barrère and the Little Symphony served as the backup band for the Parisian chansonnier Maurice Chevalier in a Franco-American mélange of a program. One might question whether Carnegie Hall could simultaneously accommodate those two Gallic wits, but Chevalier, the Times reported, “turned the evening into a one-man show.” Chevalier was simply in a class by himself, but in no way was Barrère’s essential French nature diminished by his official change in status. He managed to merge his dual loyalties in ways large and small, and when he wrote to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge to congratulate her on being named to the Legion of Honor, he said, “I feel proud again to have been French once, though being now a full American Citizen.”2 The spring of 1931 was an economically challenging time for musicians and public alike—by the end of the year the Musicians’ Foundation would exhaust its relief funds—but Barrère enjoyed a particularly busy schedule in the New York area. There were recitals at Hunter College and the French Institute, a quintet concert in Westchester, a private musicale in Connecticut, an all-Bach concert at the Beethoven Association, a children’s concert for the Walden School, and the many individual bookings that are the daily bread of the urban freelancer. Most unusual were six concerto appearances in the space of two



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and a half months — with the New Haven Symphony, the Baltimore Symphony, the Beethoven Association, the National Orchestral Association, and the Easton (Pennsylvania) Symphony — a schedule unusual even today for a freelance flutist.3 When he played the Mozart D Major Concerto with the National Orchestral Association, a training orchestra for young professionals conducted by his Woodstock neighbor Leon Barzin, Musical America commented, “It is not often that one hears a flute concerto. Would that one might, provided this great artist is soloist. His performance was one of the most inspiring events of the concert season — in fact, of many concert seasons, and was on a plane which only the greatest artists reach. Tonally and technically he is a master and his phrasing is among the most exquisite we know. His own cadenzas of bewildering difficulty were a musical delight. He was acclaimed and called out seven or eight times at the close, all the more notable when one realizes that the flute as a solo instrument is not as popular as the violin or piano.”4 On March 16, Carnegie Hall had standing room only for a performance of Bach’s Art of the Fugue in an arrangement by Wolfgang Graeser, performed by the Juilliard Graduate School Orchestra. Some professionals joined the students: Barrère on flute, Carlos Mullenix and Angel Del Busto, members of the Barrère Ensemble, on oboe and bassoon. Barrère also coached the woodwind students, even though he taught only at the undergraduate Institute of Musical Art, not at the Juilliard Graduate School ( JGS). (The JGS, founded in 1924 with funds from the estate of textile magnate Augustus Juilliard and housed in the former Vanderbilt guest house at 49 East 52nd Street, had merged with the Institute in 1926 to form the Juilliard School of Music; they shared a board of directors but remained distinct.) The seemingly minor Art of the Fugue assignment had long-term results, however: Ernest Hutcheson, dean of the Juilliard Graduate School, was so impressed that he invited Barrère to join the Juilliard faculty. “I should love to see a selected group of wind-instrument-playing students under your special care for ensemble work.” The physical combination of the graduate school with the Institute in the Claremont Avenue building, scheduled for October 1931, provided the perfect opportunity, and within a week of the initial query Hutcheson had extended a formal invitation to Barrère to teach a two-hour wind instrument class for twenty-eight weeks at a salary of $1,400 a year.5 The students would take their private lessons at the Institute, but the ensemble would be part of the graduate school orchestral program, and in fact would draw both Institute and JGS students. Barrère immediately set about ordering music—some available only in Europe — including the Enesco Dixtuor and Hahn’s Bal de Béatrice d’Este.6 It was a tremendous opportunity to extend the Société Moderne/Barrère Ensemble franchise, and he would eventually train some of the leading orchestral woodwind players in the country, among them three future 259



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principal bassoonists: Leonard Sharrow (of the NBC, Chicago, and Pittsburgh symphonies), Sol Schoenbach (Philadelphia Orchestra), and Stephen Maxym (Metropolitan Opera). He also took the occasion to pen something of a manifesto about woodwind instruction for the Juilliard administration: It is . . . well recognized in Music Schools that Wind Instruments Classes are of an altogether different Standard than the Strings, that no experienced Musician expects from any wind Instrument player not even 50% of the Musical equipment required from a first class Violinist or Cellist. Style, Repertoire, Ensemble and Orchestra experience come to the Wind Instrument Player mostly out of his own curiosity. The repertoire of these Instruments is more extended than generally believed, but is pitifully neglected by Teachers, Students and Schools. There is an op[p]ortunity of a survey of that complete Repertoire, which might be a source of surprise for many Musicians of note. In addition, he suggested that the existing wind repertoire “could be easily augmented by careful transcriptions of classic works, such transcriptions being written by competent authorities or graduated [sic] composition students. Owing to the slow development of the wind instruments systems classic composers were not inclined for these instruments [which were] quite unperfect in their time.” Noting that most orchestra conductors were string players, with the result that “the wood wind and brasses have a proportional limited chance to be heard, criticized and advised,” particularly given the soloistic nature of their parts, he suggested instituting wind-section rehearsals as part of the orchestral class. “The pronounced interest marked lately for wind instruments is noticeable even in High Schools, wind instruments quintets are organised and the ambitious young players find themselves handicapped by their ignorance of choice of repertoire.”7 That spring , Barrère himself completed a series of twelve transcriptions for woodwind quintet, commissioned by G. Schirmer. The publisher wanted to caption them the Juilliard Series, in line with a similar string series edited by Albert Stoessel, and Juilliard president John Erskine happily gave his permission.8 The source material was varied, ranging from Bach, Rameau, Schubert, Mozart, and Beethoven to Stravinsky, to the Indianist idiom of Harvey Worthington Loomis (“Around the Wigwam”), to the folksong Americanism of Barrère’s Juilliard colleague David Guion (“The Harmonica Player”). Emboldened by his ascent to the graduate school faculty, Barrère now tried to put his Institute appointment on a more financially reliable basis. As he ex-



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plained to John Erskine, the president of the combined schools, he was under contract at the Institute to teach flute at the “low rate” of $10 an hour, which amounted to $300 a year per student if the student did not resign—something that happened often because many students could not afford the tuition. His assistant at the Institute, Arthur Lora, was taking many of the students he wanted to have, leaving him with only three full-time students and one for two terms, giving him a total income of $1,100 for the academic year. Barrère therefore requested a guarantee of $2,400 a year, the equivalent of fees for eight students at the current rate. Much correspondence ensued among Oscar Wagner, assistant dean; Frank Damrosch, now dean of the Institute; and Erskine, but apparently no contract was ever signed regarding the lessons.9 Very soon, Barrère seized another concert-giving opportunity. The winter concert season typically ended in April, and “[i]t seems that many people do not realise that there is a public here who is starving for Music.” And so he organized three concerts, “something in the way of the Boston Pops,” in Town Hall. Rental costs were half price at that time of the year, so he was able to keep ticket prices very low, just 50 cents to $1.50 (winter Little Symphony concerts typically cost twice that). “I had to impose myself as soloist on each program ‘by request,’ ” he reported with typical self-deprecation.10 The advertisements were populist to a fault, promising “Georges Barrère Conducting—Playing— Talking” and “Musical Entertainment Appealing to All.” Despite the intention to offer programs lighter in substance than his usual winter concerts, Barrère included a number of premieres: the extremely accessible tone poem Deep Forest by the Boston classicist Mabel Wheeler Daniels; a Valse by Princess Armande de Polignac; and the Phantasy for piano and orchestra by Robert Braine, an NBC staff musician who appeared as soloist in his own work. The businessman/composer Charles Maduro was also present to hear his Scherzo espagnol, which Barrère had asked him to orchestrate from the piano version after he had heard the piece on a record.11 Daniels, a Radcliffe graduate, had studied composition and orchestration with George Chadwick in Boston and Ludwig Thuille in Munich; a choral specialist, she had been director of music at Simmons College in Boston. At the Worcester Festival, Barrère had invited her to bring her new work for small ensemble to a reading session that spring—but first she had to reorchestrate the work, because the Little Symphony had no harp. In a somewhat overdramatized unpublished memoir she described how she won the respect of the male composers in the hall when she challenged the horn player who failed to play a phrase con sordino, as scored. His response indicated that he did not think she had done the orchestration herself, but she prevailed. Barrère, however, was sufficiently impressed to program the work not only for Town Hall but also later,

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in a version for full orchestra, for the Chautauqua Symphony. He also premiered her orchestral piece Pirates’ Island the following summer.12 Deep Forest had a healthy performance history and was recorded in 1961. In the summer of 1931, Chautauqua moved into radio with a series of broadcasts over WJZ New York and the NBC Red Network. There were five concerts and five talks; Barrère, as one of the most important musicians in residence, gave the last, practically an ode to the Chautauqua ideal. As a member of the New York Symphony when it played the first orchestral concert at Chautauqua in 1909, a historical link that the tradition-conscious institution cherished, he was uniquely suited to trace the development of music there. In 1909, he recalled, “our polite audience was more trained for soberer kind of entertainment than symphonic music offers. I was told that their chief object in meeting there every summer was to follow a course of lectures on literary and scientific, but above all, philosophical, economical, and theological subjects.” “To a frivolous French musician the conclusion was easily taken that Chautauqua as it was then was a plain religious settlement of some sort where secular music had very little chance to be taken in any kind of consideration.” But more orchestras visited, and by 1921 Chautauqua had decided to engage the NYSO on a long-term basis; the music school was expanded considerably; and opera and chamber music began. “There is no wonder,” he concluded, “if some overzealous enthusiast has named Chautauqua the American Bayreuth.” Although that was a misnomer, he said, it now ranked as the first summer music center in the United States, “first in quality as well as quantity. America is rising very fast musically and I think this educational colony is one of the most important factors in the development of one of the most inspiring parts of the culture of any nation.”13 As conductor, he made special efforts in his Chautauqua programming to include American music and American performers. In New York in the fall, Barrère continued his involvement with radio, a medium whose communicative (and financial) possibilities he surely appreciated, taking part in a series of half-hour Sunday afternoon radio broadcasts on the WJZ network called “Mélodies de France,” for which he conducted an orchestra of thirty-five in works of the modern French school. Beginning in January, the Library of Congress sponsored a series of chamber music broadcasts, and the Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments played the second one, on January 11, performing a Mozart serenade and the U.S. premiere of Jacques Ibert’s Trois pièces brèves. In late January, the Barrère Little Symphony returned to Havana, by request, to give a three-concert series, and Cécile went along. “This makes all the difference in the World to a profes[s]ional Tour,” he wrote appreciatively.14 He also made an early spring tour of the Midwest, pleasantly punctuated by a candlelight Baroque concert with harpsichordist Lewis Richards in East Lansing,



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Michigan, where Richards headed the music department of Michigan State College. Also on the faculty was the composer Arthur Farwell. A lengthy correspondence ensued, resulting in Barrère’s performance of Farwell’s Gods of the Mountain, op. 52, at Chautauqua the following summer.15 In addition to his ten-week tour, Barrère pieced together a king-sized patchwork quilt of freelance engagements in the New York area for the winter of 1932: the American premiere of Jean Cartan’s Sonatine for flute and clarinet at the League of Composers; recitals at the Scarsdale Women’s Club and the New York Flute Club; benefits for the Association of French Speaking Societies, the Federation of French War Veterans, and the United Parents Association (at the home of Adolph Lewisohn); children’s concerts for the Walden School in New York; a concert at Columbia University; the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto at the Beethoven Association; a Little Symphony concert with Grace Moore at the New York Junior League; a requiem mass for the assassinated president of France; and the Bach B Minor Mass with the Oratorio Society. The children’s concerts were a perfect fit for the playful Barrère — something he had done repeatedly with Damrosch and continued at Chautauqua, too. Musical Courier recognized this affinity in a perceptive review of the Intimate Concert for Young People at New York’s Barbizon-Plaza Hotel in January: “Perhaps a few of the restless, impressionable youngsters who trooped into the Barbizon-Plaza, spick and span on Saturday morning will say one day, ‘I heard the great Barrère when I was young — quite young ,’ in the proud fashion of those who announce in the grand manner that they heard Patti or Liszt when cushions had to be fetched to prop up their Victorian chairs so they could see the gods and goddesses as well as hear them. . . . Barrère played like a veritable Pan, that free and clever friend of children, weaving his spell with all possible skill, good nature and joy.”16 Barrère relished his new assignment at Juilliard. He held the first class of his wind instrument ensemble class on Tuesday morning , October 13, with twenty-eight students. He was also to take on graduate flute students and by December 1931 had recruited four — John Petrie, Paul Siebeneichen, Harry Moskovitz, and Kathlyn Wolff. But, as he explained to Oscar Wagner, “[M]ay I tell how nervous I am about that proposed flute class. I have lined up four interesting students who are anxiously awaiting their notice.” Two were from New York City, one from Long Island, and Kathlyn Wolff was waiting official acceptance before making the move from San Francisco. The nerves were, as always, at their root financial; if the students were not accepted, he would not get paid. His twenty-eight-week contract was for two hours per week of wind ensemble at $25 an hour ($1,400) and five hours of private flute instruction weekly at $15 an hour ($2,100), a total of $3,500.17 In February, he acknowledged that he had given only four of the eighteen hours he owed each student, 263



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but anticipated that his travel would soon diminish and he would make up the lessons.18 There were challenges in running the woodwind ensemble, too. In April he advised Hutcheson, “I am trying my best to make this Wind instrument Class a success, though I have been often handicapped by the absence of students claiming to be busy in classes or rehearsals. For different small items concerning possible improvements I will apply to Mr Wagner who knows the situation thoroughly.”19 A perennial problem was that of hard-to-find bassoon players. Barrère used his influence with Wagner to have Leonard Sharrow, son of Saul Sharrow, former concertmaster of the Little Symphony and assistant concertmaster of the New York Symphony, admitted as a student of Léon Letellier. “I told you often how much we need Bassoon players. Here is a young man of very exceptional disposition. The matter seems to me so trifling that I hope you will use your influence to have him gain his point. Thank you in advance, because very soon young Sharrow shall be in my Ensemble Class.”20 He also had to battle Hutcheson for the money to hire two professional harpists for the first concert, in February, for which he had programmed Hahn’s Bal de Béatrice d’Este. “I want to make that program of mine as good as possible for a first year showing,” and the Institute had no adequate harpists, he explained.21 After much correspondence, he got his professional harpists — and put on an extremely ambitious program, which also included the Raff Sinfonietta; a Beethoven Rondino; his own transcriptions of Bach, Delibes, Stravinsky, and Guion; Florent Schmitt’s Lied et scherzo, which the Société Moderne had premiered in 1911; and Hindemith’s Sonatine in Canon Style for two flutes. It was an “impressive performance of a highly musical and exacting list,” said Musical Courier. “Mr. Barrère’s well defined and propulsive conducting was responsible for a large share of the afternoon’s success.”22 But times were difficult for Juilliard itself; in June 1932 the faculty suggested to the directors that they would accept a reduction in salary rather than see the opportunities for the students curtailed.23 Barrère, too, was feeling financial distress, as his salary negotiations indicated. The previous year, he had been elected to the elite Century Club but was unable to afford the dues; he stalled on activating his membership until Walter Damrosch offered to pay it for him, and his pleasure at acceptance was tempered by the financial embarrassment.24 There were also casual allusions in his correspondence to health problems. “The Dr told me to avoid nervous troubles on account of my last Summer ones.”25 Increased time in New York also gave Barrère more time to attend to his duties as a board member of the Beethoven Association, and he concerned himself with expanding the membership. In particular, he made the daring proposal that the association invite music critics to become members. The



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irony was that dues-paying members got free tickets to the concerts; thus, he told the board to great laughter, “it will be a great dream if we can have all critics pay for their tickets.”26 In February, it was announced that Barrère, Salzedo, and cellist Horace Britt would form a trio—the same instrumentation as the Trio de Lutèce, but with the Belgian-born Britt replacing his brother-in-law Paul Kéfer as cellist— and would tour extensively on the Community Concerts circuit the following season. Like Barrère, the Belgian-born Britt was an 1895 graduate of the Paris Conservatoire, where he had studied with Jules Delsart, Albert Lavignac, and André Caplet; he had come to the United States in 1905 and was a former member of the Letz and Elman quartets. Salzedo immediately wrote to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, suggesting that she might use this instrumentation in a composition contest, because “an entirely new class of composers” would be attracted by the novelty of the combination.27 Before leaving for his summer engagements, Barrère gave one last concert, at Town Hall on June 9, an informal affair at “summer prices.” It was a threein-one bill: the Little Symphony in a program of standard Barrère repertoire (including the “annual performance” of The White Peacock); an intermède by the intermittently revived Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments, playing the Ibert Trois pièces brèves and three of Barrère’s Juilliard arrangements; and in the section of the program called “After the Concert” (which he sometimes reserved for more challenging works), flute concertos by Grétry and Vivaldi. The “choice moment of the evening,” the Times reported, was “the wagging of Mr. Barrère’s august head in best ‘blues’ rhythm above his famous flute in David Guion’s The Harmonica Player.”28 Then it was on to Woodstock, where his only obligation was a recital of Bach sonatas with pianist Germaine Schnitzer and preparation for an arduous summer at Chautauqua. Albert Stoessel had chosen to take the summer off, and Barrère, as associate conductor of the Chautauqua Symphony, would be leading thirty-five concerts in six weeks. (When he appeared as soloist, in the premiere of violinist Sandor Harmati’s Elysian Idylls, the composer conducted.) He also gave his usual quotient of flute lessons, to Ruth Freeman, John Wummer, and many others who then went on to Juilliard. Freeman, who studied with him over a fourteen-year period, remembered, “Whoever they were, he told them the same things about whatever they were playing , and everybody came out different.”29 Chautauqua, in contrast to the economic conditions plaguing the rest of the country, enlarged its programming; both the orchestra and the opera gave more concerts, a decision that would land the Chautauqua Institution in receivership in 1933.30 In the fall, he was back at Juilliard, with three new scholarship students: Robert Bolles, Victor Harris, and Frederick Wilkins. Correspondence with the 265



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Juilliard administration reveals that he had formalized his pedagogical goal, which was nothing less than to recreate the Paris Conservatoire tradition on this side of the Atlantic. In a letter to Juilliard president John Erskine, Barrère stated, “In the Paris Conservatoire which I take as Model, not because I was a Graduate from this National Institution; but because of its reputation of providing the World with first class wood wind players, the flute, Oboe, Clarinet and Bassoon classes are on an average basis of ten students each. . . . The Examinations are based on the same Standard of work [as for strings]: Execution of a Concerto in Public and also first sight reading. The obscure bassoonist is expected to show the same knowledge and demonstrate the same command of his instrument than [sic] the Violinist performing Vieuxtemps, Bruch or St. Saëns Concertos.” Barrère suggested providing entering students with first-class instruments, to be paid for in small monthly installments. He also called for “more practical reading” (sight reading ), including solfège, and guaranteed teaching loads for teachers (who were then paid on an hourly basis) to ensure their loyalty to the school. He also proposed instruction by the class system, “every student being present at every class while taking lessons only by turn. The class system is most desirable as it forms good teachers as well as players. The Emulation is keener and every player acquires the habit to play for an audience. Students always benefit by hearing other Student’s [sic] lessons even if of a higher or lower grade than their own.” (Barrère gave individual lessons at the Institute and in private teaching; his graduate classes at Juilliard were class lessons, which some students recall as intimidating, others as boring.)31 In a different sort of educational endeavor, Barrère and the Little Symphony joined Times critic Olin Downes for a lecture recital in his “Enjoyment of Music” series at the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences. All summer, he and Downes had corresponded about the program, finalizing it only days before the rehearsal. The correspondence demonstrates Barrère’s deep knowledge of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century repertoire and of his ability to arrange these works quickly for the forces at hand; fidelity to the original scoring was never an issue. In December, the Little Symphony gave its sole New York concert of the season. Held in the Civic Repertory Theatre on West 14th Street, either “an intimate setting which could scarcely be improved upon” or “forbiddingly grim,” depending on your choice of critic, it represented a departure for Barrère in a business sense.32 There was no guarantee, no underwriting from his patrons, just “trust in good luck and true Friends,” as he explained to the president of his board, Mary Flagler Cary. “It is terrific that a group of Musicians, more or less unemployed, have decided to take a chance on such an enterprise for the sake of keeping the name of the organization alive. . . . If any profit they will



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divide it, . . . the deficit will have to be on my only head.” And with a look backward at their New York Symphony origins, he concluded, “Don’t you think this is a fine artistic attitude in the part of my good players. . . . the spirit of these men is the first expression of this kind since the old days before: April 1, 1928.”33 The concert opened with a musical pun, the “Barriera” from the dance manual Le Gratie d’amore (1602) by Cesare Negri. The concert featured the first performance of the Fifth Avenue Suite by Ruth Coleman Caldor, a local schoolteacher; Pupazzi, op. 36, by Florent Schmitt, who was visiting New York at the time; and a repeat performance of William Grant Still’s From the Black Belt. Musical America reported, “Mrs. Caldor’s suite is an imaginative piece of writing along conventional lines, and obviously sincere. . . . The score is the first work of this American composer, and if not startling is of sufficient promise to quicken the hope that it will not be her last.”34 After the concert, in place of the usual flute concertos, was “A Talk and Debate on General Musical Subjects.” Barrère pulled a chair up to the footlights and told his listeners a bit disingenuously, “There are no critics here, so let us speak frankly.” (But they were there, of course, and they took notes.) We do not know what the audience told him, but we do know what he told them: that they must support modern music and young composers. “Don’t dislike music only because it is in the new idiom,” he said, “because sooner or later you will be accustomed to that method of writing, and will get to suspect new compositions done in the conservative manner.”35 Barrère made good on this commitment with a series of performances in the following season for several of the city’s new music groups.36 At the League of Composers he played the premiere of the Small Suite by Suzanne Bloch, with the composer at the keyboard. An impressionistic work in the French style, it demonstrated the results of her training with Nadia Boulanger. The Times critic could not resist the admittedly “low temptation to say that it was a chip of[f ] the old Bloch”— for the composer was the youngest daughter of Ernest Bloch.37 The Suite drew essentially positive reviews. Theodore Chanler, for instance, writing in the league’s own journal, Modern Music, found it “charming in its spontaneous and naive musicality, . . . written with an unusual sense of the color and scope of the instrument,” but criticized its monotonous bass line and abrupt ending.38 It was never published and probably was not performed again. The following evening , Barrère gave his time to the Pan American Association of Composers (PAAC), a group founded in 1928 by Varèse, Henry Cowell, Carlos Chávez, Carl Ruggles, and Emerson Whithorne. With a membership that included composers from throughout the Americas, among them Howard Hanson, Roy Harris, Charles Ives, Colin McPhee, Silvestre Revueltas, Dane Rudhyar, Carl Ruggles, Carlos Salzedo, William Grant Still, and Adolph 267



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Weiss, it was a group determined to make American, not European, musical history. At the February 6 concert, Barrère was soloist in the premiere of Henry Brant’s Concerto for Flute with Orchestra of Ten Flutes (three piccolos, five C flutes, and two alto flutes), with ten of his Juilliard students serving as the “orchestra.” Having built a collection of various sorts of flutes — flutes, fifes, flageolets, whistles, ocarinas, recorders, and the like39— Brant had arrived in New York in 1929 to study composition at Juilliard. “I heard about Barrère and I heard him play and right away I thought, Now what could be grander than if some day so great a player would play a piece that I would write? And it seemed to me that he wasn’t just playing the flute, what he was doing competed easily with the best players on any instrument. In fact it seemed to me that he did things that no violinist I’d ever heard or cellist was able to. . . . Tone quality, of which he had more than most string players had, and ability to phrase and ability to change tempo slightly or not very slightly the way few people can do it. And all in so subtle a way that you wouldn’t be able exactly to say.” Around 1931 Brant heard one of the early performances of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, in Carnegie Hall, and was struck by a passage in the second movement scored for five flutes, and “that’s when I got the idea that I wanted an all-flute sound.” He also decided that he wanted to have low notes, despite the fact that alto flutes were scarce in those days. (In November 1931, Juilliard had turned down Barrère’s request to buy a Haynes alto flute for the school.)40 With the help of his former teacher Wallingford Riegger, Brant contacted Barrère, who encouraged him. Barrère conducted a reading session of the piece at the Institute, with Frances Blaisdell as soloist, and then arranged for the PanAmerican performance. He also advised Brant on the structure of the piece, encouraging him to write—and rewrite—a second movement, which in the first version had what Brant described as “attempts at burlesque and parody.” (“Barrère himself said, well, the parody is perhaps in the audience seeing an ancient flute player play these unexpected things,” Brant later recalled.) Even given the age of the composer, Barrère never failed to be deferential in rehearsals—Brant remembered him asking , “Is this what you want?” Brant invited his Institute teacher, Rubin Goldmark, to come hear what Goldmark called “some of that awful discordant music you like so much.” As Brant recalled, “He said, ‘I’d like to hear Barrère but I hate to think of what you’d do with those other flutes once you get out of this room.’ . . . So he came and sat down, and for about five minutes, and he took out his ear trumpet, not that it wasn’t loud enough. Then he came close and he listened a little, took his ear trumpet out and just left the room.”41 Like the League of Composers, the PAAC permitted, even encouraged, multiple performances of new works. Thus it was on course when it reprogrammed the Brant Concerto in December 1933, along with Carl Ruggles’s An-



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gels and the Divertissement for flute, cello, and harp by Wallingford Riegger, which was written for Barrère-Salzedo-Britt. Fritz Reiner was unable to conduct as scheduled, so Barrère and Horace Britt filled in. Angels, originally written for six trumpets, was rescored by the composer for the occasion, and this was the premiere of the flute version. To twenty-first-century ears it seems a tame succession of major thirds, but the Herald Tribune concluded, “Its greatest merit is its brevity.”42 The criticism of the concert said as much about the reviewers as it did about the music. The World-Telegram began, “A bunch of the musical boys whipped it up over at the New School for Social Research last evening before a gathering of some of New York’s alertest watchers of the tonal horizon.” The Riegger, it continued, was “a Pandora’s box of surprises that included the buzzing device of inserting a strip of paper among the strings of the harp.” But it gave the performers their due: “The masterly playing of the new ensemble transmuted Mr. Riegger’s coiling atonalities into a glittery chain of sound.” Nor did the Herald Tribune appreciate the Riegger: “The first movement often sounded like an attempt to bring parts of Strauss’s ‘Till Eulenspiegel’ up to the minute, harmonically.”43 Leonard Liebling of the New York American was more supportive of the entire endeavor: “Lest we forget our American composer[s], special concerts of their works are arranged from time to time by various producing centers and groups. Some of them feel prompted by patriotism, others by motives of propaganda and a few are influenced purely by musical conviction. However, no matter what the impulse, such concerts give continued ambition and courage to our native tonal creators.” Noting that the program was “strongly flutish,” he wrote, “one suspects that Georges Barrère’s kindly assistance has something to do with its character.” Liebling’s specific commentary continued in this constructive vein. Of the Brant, he wrote, “This work is of remarkable nature and pattern, with clear design, modern idiom and amazingly skillful combinations employing all varieties of flute from the piccolo to the bass order of the class” (an incorrect observation; the piece used two alto flutes, no basses).44 The partisan audience demanded a repetition of the last movement. The Pan American Association fought the good fight through 1934, but it lacked both the financial backing of the high-society types who had supported the European-oriented ICG and permanent, consistent management (Varèse had returned to Paris; Cowell was an informal businessman at best). Despite the cooperation of such prestigious names as Barrère and Reiner, it could not survive. It died, essentially, of neglect.45 Much of the repertoire played at the PAAC did survive, however. The Brant Concerto endures in a revised version known as Angels and Devils, which has become a staple of twentieth-century flute choirs. The Riegger, though sel269



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dom performed today, was published in manuscript facsimile by the American Composers Alliance, later in edited form by Peters, and also survives on record. In November 1933, Henry Cowell proposed to Charles Ives, the principal backer of the nascent New Music Quarterly label, that they record the Ruggles, Brant, and Riegger, since they were already in rehearsal for the PAAC concert and would lend the fledgling label the prestigious names of Barrère and Salzedo.46 Ives was unsympathetic to the Brant, which he knew nothing about.47 Cowell responded with a curious lack of confidence, “I agree with you that Brant had better wait, although his work for 11 flutes is interesting, and it may never be in rehearsal again.”48 The Ruggles was ultimately rejected as well. Barrère-Salzedo-Britt recorded the Riegger on December 31, 1933, and it was issued on NMQ’s second disc in April 1934, along with Chávez’s Sonatina for violin and piano.49 Again the piece was misunderstood; Marshall Kernochan wrote in Musical America, “The music here presented is, in our opinion, the offspring of the midnight oil and of the wanderings of the intellectual nomad, who, having abjured human feelings, is now without a tangible goal. Not even the high art of such men as Messrs. Barrère, Salzedo and Britt . . . can save it.” The Finale, he wrote, “is apparently devised to explore the gamut of sounds obtainable by these instruments when playing in various unnatural manners. No other conceivable musical purpose of any kind could be detected by the reviewer; but, no doubt, the peculiar thumpings in the harp, the sudden clucks and squeals of the flute, and the wild leaps indulged in by the ‘cello, were of absorbing technical interest to Mr. Riegger.”50 Cowell, however, was not inhibited at all by such criticism. He wrote to Ives in March 1934, “I think the NMQR is doing wonders. The reviews of it have been very much better than I had been able to hope, and it has received attention and space in all leading periodicals, including many from England. One reviewer said of the first record that at first it meant nothing to him, but that after many repetitions, it became very interesting and enjoyable to him. This is the crux of the whole thing, and I think we may rejoice.” Cowell perceived a threat to his project not from the critics, but from his fellow musicians. He was determined to continue the recording series under NMQR auspices, and to steer clear of the infighting plaguing the Pan American Association. “Varèse is trying to undermine any activity that I am the prime mover in, and he and Salzedo, who work together, must be watched for moves that will place them in charge of all activities, which is what they are angling for. This might be okay if they could be relied on to do a good job, but while they are very active and get some very fine results, their work is marred by constant intrigue, politics, and a very narrow and cliquish range of likes and dislikes. So I think that it is better to be careful not to permit them to take over everything! I also



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admit that it seems a bit too Frenchy to have all our American new music activities under their domination.”51 Critics or not, musical ventures without angels like Ives were financially challenged, as the depression took its toll on many musicians, in New York and elsewhere. By 1933, 12,000 of the 15,000 members of the musicians’ union were unemployed.52 In the short term, it meant that Barrère canceled his postseason concerts, but relatively speaking he was holding his own financially; in March 1932, he wrote to Walter Damrosch, offering his services for a benefit concert, “I am a Musician, poor as they all are; but not in need (temporarily).”53 For others, the situation was more dire. In April, the Beethoven Association held a benefit for Musicians Emergency Aid, an organization headed by Walter Damrosch. The concert closed with a spirited rendition of Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals; the flutists included Barrère, Frances Blaisdell, and Frederick Wilkins. With five additional benefit concerts scheduled in Madison Square Garden, Damrosch hoped to net more than $30,000, with the intention of setting up a permanent endowment fund to aid needy musicians; in the event that economic conditions did not improve, he left open the option of using the money immediately. As of April 1933, the committee had already helped some 600 musicians with direct financial aid or subsidized engagements.54 Damrosch invited Barrère and Frances Blaisdell to join Albert Spalding in Bach’s Fourth Brandenburg Concerto at a Bach-Wagner concert to be held in November. Blaisdell’s performance of the Mozart D Major Concerto at the Institute commencement in June had prompted the invitation: “It was so beautiful and it makes me happy to think I happened to have been instrumental in bringing you to America,” Damrosch wrote to her teacher. Barrère responded with equal generosity: “I am glad you liked Frances Blaisdell’s playing. She is a good worker and has developed into a charming artist. Thank you for your kind congratulations on her behalf; but as I told her a few days ago, I don’t think that teachers make any more good students than students make good Teachers.”55 With an orchestra of 150 and a capacity audience of 12,000 filling Madison Square Garden, the November 18 concert was probably not exactly what Bach intended, but as a fundraiser Barrère was again effective, just as he was the following night in Brooklyn, playing with the trio for the Brooklyn Bureau of Charities. Barrère’s name gave publicity, too, to the American Museum of Natural History, for the April opening of a fourth-floor wing displaying 1,500 pieces of jade, amber, ivory, and lacquer collected by the late Isaac Wyman Drummond, a wealthy paint manufacturer. Barrère played a piece by his old friend Henry Eichheim, himself a prodigious collector of Far Eastern instruments, on a green jade flute dating from the Ming dynasty. His performance was arranged by Herbert T. Whitlock, curator of minerals and gems, and in the audience 271



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were the president of the museum and dinosaur hunter Roy Chapman Andrews.56 Even in the midst of the depression the Barrère-Salzedo-Britt trio had success as a touring group, its miniature size—economical for traveling—and the outsize personalities of Barrère and Salzedo making the perfect formula. Each man had his role: Barrère was the aristocrat, Salzedo the temperamental artist, and Britt the absent-minded dreamer. “Barrère would take care of the music, Salzedo would take care of music and the travel arrangements, and both of them would take care of Horace,” Britt’s niece recalls.57 Pianist Jerome Rappaport confirmed that observation: “Mr. Britt was something of a baby, and Mr. Barrère really loved him, and took care of him as you would a child.”58 The trio was a hit on the Community Concerts and Civic Concert Course circuits. The Civic Music Association, begun in 1921 by Dema E. Harshbarger, a Chicago businesswoman and arts patron, was a network of independent, notfor-profit membership organizations that sponsored concerts in their localities. An annual week-long membership drive recruited members, who were entitled to attend all of the concerts in their locality or affiliated cities. Each city engaged artists for the season based on the amount of funds collected, minimizing financial risk. Harshbarger hoped to change the psychology of music promotion from that of selling tickets for particular artists to promoting music as a civic good. By 1932 the plan was operating in 257 cities and towns; for the 1932–33 season, it trumpeted significant increases in membership: up 46 percent in Akron, Ohio; 30 percent in Tucson, Arizona; 21 percent in Galesburg, Illinois.59 A similar organization, Community Concerts Corporation, was founded by a consortium of music managers and initially guided by managing director Sigmund Spaeth. Trumpeting the motto “A Carnegie Hall in Every Town,” its press releases noted that it kept advertising and publicity expenses to a minimum, since local newspapers would be “pleased to aid such a civic enterprise.”60 After a Florida road trip in January 1934, the trio returned to New York for a concert of Rameau, Riegger, and Debussy at the Bohemians. And they had finally seized the imagination of Mrs. Coolidge. Back in June, Salzedo had written again to that indefatigable chamber music patron, reporting on the trio’s first season—in a strategically clever move, he phrased it from the point of view of composers. “Composers go positively wild over the unlimited musical resources of our instrumental combination!” he wrote with just a bit of hyperbole. Already, he reported, Wallingford Riegger, Aurelio Giorni, Bernard Wagenaar, and Evelyn Berckman had written new works for the trio, and a whole laundry list of other composers, both French and American, were interested. (Salzedo later confessed that they had discarded the Giorni, which proved “too sentimental and badly written.”)61 Though Coolidge ignored his



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repeated suggestions for a competition for their unique instrumental combination, she did invite the trio to play a private concert at her Washington apartment, and her foundation paid for a radio broadcast as part of the Library of Congress–sponsored series on the Columbia system. On May 8, the trio gave what it billed, with utter disregard for accuracy, as its first joint recital in New York. In fact it was now a seasoned group, having given some fifty concerts together, including three in New York.62 The bill was a mix of periods and instruments—trios alternating with solos, works Baroque (Lotti and Bach), French (Debussy), and American (Riegger and Koutzen). The new piece was a Trio by Boris Koutzen, a violinist and resident of the Woodstock colony — and Britt’s nephew by marriage — written especially for the group. There was also a repeat of the Riegger Divertissement, likewise dedicated to the trio. The Herald Tribune pronounced, “Both indulged mildly in atonality and the subacid fugal writing favored by composers of our day; . . . both occasionally tended to ramble.”63 The audience demanded both individual and group encores. Almost simultaneously, it was announced that Barrère had been named a chevalier of the Legion of Honor in recognition of his service on behalf of French music in America. Charles de Ferry de Fontnouvelle, the French consul general in New York, made the presentation at a dinner at the Hotel Lafayette, a center for the French émigré community, in Greenwich Village. The Barrère inner circle was in full attendance — Walter Damrosch, Harold Bauer, the designer Jules Bouy, composer/pianist Maurice Jacquet (officially representing the French Society of Composers and Publishers), Germaine Schnitzer, Stoessel, Salzedo, and Varèse. Damrosch recalled that his aim in bringing Barrère to the United States had been to improve the woodwind choir of the New York Symphony, but that he believed he had done even better, since the first flutist in nearly every major orchestra was a Barrère student (a claim that would later be made for Barrère’s own student William Kincaid). Rubin Goldmark turned to Plutarch for his text, telling the story of Alcibiades’ refusal to learn the flute because it was disfiguring. Had Barrère been alive then, he said, Alcibiades would not have been so foolish. Baritone Francis Rogers composed a sonnet in which he compared Barrère to Orpheus, and duo pianists Salzedo and Schnitzer played a contrapuntal medley of the French and American national anthems. The Cross itself was purchased by a subscription of Barrère’s pupils and was formally presented by Mary Henderson, one of his early private pupils and one of the original incorporators of the New York Flute Club.64 All this should have been cause for celebration, but Barrère was experiencing an uncharacteristic bout of depression. He described this time to Carl Engel (in French, which was also unusual) as “a more or less hypochondriac pe273



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riod; I think more and more about myself and to the future end of my career. I fear that my popularity is becoming little by little a polite way of recalling my past acts of service.” He seemed to see the award as a sign that his career was ending. But, he did raise the possibility of a recital at the Library of Congress of the complete sonatas of Bach. However, Barrère cautioned, “Don’t conclude that I’ve closed my flutistic door on modern music. I’ve lost [too] much time and money during my entire career to change the attitude during the Coda of my existence. Without doubt you know that Albert Roussel wrote four pieces entitled Joueurs de Flûte. . . . I asked him for a fifth piece with the name of an American Flutist (George Washington or Sidney Lanier). I received a nice letter from Roussel announcing that he had put the finishing touches on an Andante and Scherzo that he dedicated to me. You say that my good compatriots do not forget me. . . . And all my excuses for my melancholy, which is only passing.” Engel was quick to commiserate with his friend: “even in a mind as brilliant, and a nature as happy, as yours” the “blues” were a natural reflection that time does not pause. He slathered on the praise, offered a concert the next season, and promised to meet for dinner in New York.65 Barrère’s mood should have improved in the fall, when he moved one block east, from the back door of Carnegie Hall to an apartment in the new headquarters of the Beethoven Association at 30 West 56th Street. As a vice president of the association, he perhaps had priority to rent this elegant space in the mansion formerly owned by the banker and musical philanthropist Henry Seligman. Arthur Lora and his wife had the apartment below, and the New York Flute Club soon began giving its regular Sunday afternoon concerts there. But the new apartment was apparently a financial stretch, and in September, he took a $1,300 second mortgage on his Woodstock property.66 Fall bookings were relatively skimpy, and Barrère was in acute financial distress. In December, he wrote to Juilliard president John Erskine at his home address, explaining with some embarrassment that he was “partly and momentarily broke” and requesting his May paycheck in advance. He assured Erskine that he had engagements booked all spring and would not feel the missing check in May. Erskine readily assented — a kindness Barrère acknowledged with a learned quotation from La Fontaine.67 But in fact, he was doing better than many of his fellow musicians: by the end of September, the Musicians Emergency Fund had exhausted its funds, having paid out $330,000 in emergency relief since the beginning of the year and more than $150,000 to secure 1,200 engagements for musicians.68 Despite financial concerns, Barrère participated in several recording projects that were more rewarding artistically than financially. At the end of November, the Barrère Woodwind Ensemble, with the assistance of clarinetist James Collis, trumpeter William Vacchiano, and harpist Lucile Lawrence,



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recorded Salzedo’s Concerto for harp and seven wind instruments, with the composer conducting.69 Columbia released the disc in May 1935 in its Modern Music series. Early in 1935, the Barrère Ensemble was back in the studio to make several more discs for the New Music Quarterly label: Henry Cowell’s new Suite for woodwind quintet; two movements of Nicolai Berezowsky’s Suite for woodwind quintet, op. 11 (1930); and two of Walter Piston’s Three Pieces for flute, clarinet, and bassoon (1926); all were issued in October. Cowell wrote the Quintet around 1933–34 at Barrère’s request, adapting it from four of his Six Casual Developments for clarinet and piano (1930).70 The Cowell did not receive its concert premiere, however, until 1948; after Barrère’s death, Richard Franko Goldman found the parts among Barrère’s papers (probably in Woodstock) and arranged for it to be played at Columbia University.71 The Berezowsky recording was replete with irony: the quintet had been written, apparently with Barrère and his group in mind, in 1928. But the privilege of performing the premiere went to none other than John Amans and four of his New York Philharmonic colleagues, at the December 1928 concert of the League of Composers. Barrère was wounded, and in October 1932 he wrote testily to the composer, who had asked for his parts back, “It was at the time we were reading and planning work on your SUITE for woodwind Quintet that I read about its performance in New York. I shall avow that I was rather humiliated that the news had to come to me through the papers instead of directly from you. That you have elected another group to perform the work for the first time was perhaps an embarrassing position for you to come around with. I am very well known for my championship of Modern compositions and I am proud of my record on this line, which I think is much higher than any other individual of some standing. But you didnt [sic] choose to ask me.”72 Barrère continued, with some asperity, that he had been planning a concert of modern music and would thus have to delete the Berezowsky from the tentative program. “As this plan is not yet in solid form you might not like the idea and being now fully Americanized, as we all are, you perhaps require a certainty. Let me know soon. We want to work only on possibilities.” Apparently the rift was mended, because the Barrère Ensemble played the piece on radio and in concert in early 1934, and in November Berezowsky asked Barrère’s permission to dedicate the work to him.73 In his notes for a later performance, a contrite Berezowsky wrote that it “is dedicated to Mr. Georges Barrère, whose efforts in the promotion of this work I would like to acknowledge.”74 When the Cowell/Berezowsky disc was released, the labels were reversed as a result of a manufacturing error. According to Cowell’s wife, Sidney, both composers received letters with the comment, “How your music has improved!”75 Salzedo was working with Cowell to make further recordings, but they 275



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were interrupted by the spring tour of Barrère-Salzedo-Britt. Salzedo wrote to Cowell, “This season has been organized very late and bookings are growing like mushrooms, which means that I must keep in playing shape more that [sic] I expected.”76 Indeed, from February 12 to the end of April, Barrère was almost constantly on the road, as he had warned Erskine; it would be a boon to his financial status but a blow to his teaching schedule. Barrère-Salzedo-Britt brought their unusual combination to the West — California, Arizona, Idaho, Utah, Montana—and intermediate points in the Midwest, Ontario, and Pennsylvania. The musicians delighted in opportunities to be tourists: they donned miners’ helmets and descended 2,800 feet into the Anaconda copper mine in Butte, Montana — camera at the ready, of course. Barrère sent back to the editor of Musical America a clipping from the Butte Standard that indicated that city’s increasing interest in music. “When the Montana attorney-general’s office delivers an official opinion on ‘Should a music teacher be required to pass examinations in psychology and pedagogy, or are musicians born and not made?’ I think we are getting somewhere, don’t you,” Barrère wrote. At least according to the advertisements that appeared at its conclusion, the tour was “triumphal” —“10 to 14 encores every night,” they said.77 On May 27, the Little Symphony gave one concert for the hometown crowd: a program featuring Anita Zahn and her dancers and dedicated to the memory of Isadora Duncan, whose birthday was that day. Zahn, a disciple in Germany of Elizabeth Duncan, Isadora’s sister, had begun teaching at the Isadora Duncan School of Dance in 1924. She and four students interpreted music from Gluck’s Iphigenia in Aulis and Orpheus; Mary Shambaugh’s Children and Age and Wisdom; Debussy’s Syrinx; and David Guion’s Sheep and Goat. Barrère introduced the Gluck numbers by reading the passage from Duncan’s autobiography in which she described their performance of the same pieces with the New York Symphony.78 Immediately after the graduation of his seventeen-year-old son, Jean, from the Peekskill Military Academy, Barrère went up to his cabin in Woodstock, where he plunged energetically into life at The Maverick. Within a week he wrote back to pianist John Erskine in the city, inviting him to give a joint recital at The Maverick and enclosing four potential programs. “I would love to have you coming [sic] here and we shall do our best to make you like our log cabin in spite of these inconveniences that you always expect in these camping [sic]. The country is beautiful just now, and even if they sing mostly out of tune, the birds are loquacious (though the whip-er-will is making too many repeats in his eve[r]lasting Nocturne).”79 Erskine never did come, but Barrère gave five Maverick recitals that summer with Britt, violinist William Kroll, pianist Inez Carroll, and violinist Pierre Henrotte. Barrère spent six weeks of the summer at Chautauqua, where he was again



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conductor of the Little Symphony and associate conductor of the Chautauqua Symphony, as well as soloist. At the end of July, there was a Festival of Women Composers, attended by Mabel Daniels, among others. During that week, Barrère appeared as soloist in excerpts from Bach’s Suite in B Minor, the Air de Ballet from Saint-Saëns’s Ascanio, and Chopin’s Nocturne in F-sharp and Minute Waltz, pieces he had played there many times. The difference, however, was that he now had a platinum flute—arguably the single best-known flute made in the twentieth century. Barrère purchased Haynes flute no. 14,000, made of a platinum-iridium alloy, on July 23, 1935, for $2,600, an all-time record for a flute, receiving a credit of $650 for his gold Haynes, which he had purchased in 1927 for $450. The new flute weighed 17.5 ounces and had a footjoint to low B. Despite the ballyhoo that it would receive, this was not the first platinum flute; that distinction went to the London firm of Rudall, Carte, which had made the first one in November 1933 and two more as of summer 1935. The body of that flute was pure platinum, with no alloy, but the keys were silver to minimize the weight — since that model would already weigh more than a thick wooden flute.80 In July, the International Nickel Company, which had earlier been in touch with flutist/physicist Dayton C. Miller, got wind of the Haynes instrument. W. H. Baldwin of its public relations department was dispatched to Woodstock to meet with Barrère and arrange to have it tested at the Bell Telephone Laboratories. International Nickel used Barrère and his platinum flute to their full advantage. In November, it sponsored a private concert at Sherry’s restaurant in New York, where Barrère demonstrated the new instrument amid the potted palms. Following the music there was a scientific discussion by E. C. Wente of Bell Telephone Laboratories; Frederick E. Carter, research metallurgist of Baker & Co., a precious-metals refinery in Newark, New Jersey; and A. J. Wadhams, vice president in charge of research at the International Nickel Company. In the audience was a cross-section of New York’s musical and social elite. One lady was heard to say to the flutist, “Oh, Mr. Barrère, I think your aluminum flute is marvelous.” He smiled and said with his usual grace, “Thank you.”81 Baldwin prepared a booklet entitled The Platinum Flute and Georges Barrère, which began with the following poetic bluster: “It is a far cry from the day when Pan listened to the wind singing over the reeds on a river bank and plucked a few stalks to fashion for himself the first flute. Now, in the year 1935, Pan’s idea has been embodied in platinum, a metal outstanding among the noble metals.” Dayton Miller had long been experimenting with various metals for flutemaking and had himself planned to make a platinum flute, but had not completed it. In the Bell Labs tests, G in the low and middle registers were 277



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played on fourteen-karat gold, sterling silver, and platinum flutes, and the sound was analyzed by a machine. The scientists concluded that “with the platinum flute in the lower register the odd harmonics were richer, and in the middle register, although there was not so marked a difference, the same tendency toward richness was observed in the even harmonics.”82 In less-technical terms, Barrère wrote that “the platinum flute had greater brilliancy in the high register, a beautiful mellowness in the medium range and a rich fullness in the lower notes. . . . In each register there is a somewhat higher ‘speaking quality,’ which enables the player better to legato and to obtain prompter response in long intervals.” He also discovered that this flute seemed to maintain an even warmth through long concerts, even out of doors. “But perhaps the most important factor . . . is that both the volume and the quality of the tone are better.”83 News of the platinum flute made both Time and Newsweek.84 Time, impressed primarily by its price tag, inserted a note of caution: “Mr. Barrère plays any flute so expertly, transmits so much personal charm to his audience, that those who heard him last week . . . wondered whether they were being impressed by the player or the instrument,” and noted with true scientific precision that he would have made his case more strongly if he had let his listeners judge silver versus platinum, rather than taking the word of the scientists. In the fullness of time, however, Barrère became less enamored of his expensive new instrument. “Platinum is not any better than silver,” he wrote to his student Everett Timm in 1941. “This is confidential of course.” Former students and members of the Little Symphony confirm this opinion, recalling that Barrère would switch back to a silver flute when no one could tell.85 A significant presence at the Sherry’s demonstration was Edgard Varèse, whom Barrère then invited to write a piece to officially inaugurate the platinum flute. The result was itself a landmark: Density 21.5, named for the density of pure platinum (leaving aside the fact that the platinum-iridium alloy of Barrère’s flute had a density of 21.6). It would be premiered at a benefit for the Lycée Français of New York at Carnegie Hall on February 16, 1936. Varèse’s piece, which he dedicated to Barrère, was the first in the literature to employ audible key slaps, and it has become a veritable cornerstone of the twentieth-century flute literature. But at its debut it was incongruously sandwiched between the Hüe Serenade and the Godard Allegretto on a program that also featured Lily Pons, Léon Rothier, and pianists Gaby and Robert Casadesus, and it was all but ignored. The Herald Tribune, for example, reported, “This pleasant rhapsody took three minutes to play in the latter part of the program.” Pitts Sanborn wrote unhelpfully in the World-Telegram, “This brief monody . . . might be a half-remembered fragment of ‘Tristan’ heard through the pensive pipe of an Anatolian shepherd.” Varèse reported acerbically to his friend André Jolivet of



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the unappreciative audience: “Public of Ambassadors — millionaires — and other important mealy vegetables of Phynance [sic] and high society.”86 Density went on to a quarter century of obscurity—it did not have the instant, revolutionary effect on the flute repertoire that legend would indicate. It was not published until 1946 (after revisions), and even Barrère himself played it only rarely, perhaps only three more times. He apparently neither mentioned nor taught it to his students. It was not played publicly in New York until November 1946, when it appeared on the Town Hall recital of Ruth Freeman, a former Barrère student. Density was first recorded in 1948 by René LeRoy, the last release on the New Music Quarterly label, which had limited distribution; he rerecorded it on LP two years later. It remained virtually unheard until scattered performances began in the 1950s, but only in the 1960s did Density begin to appear on concert programs with any frequency.87 Yet of the more than 180 works that Barrère premiered, it remains the one most commonly associated with him.

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I

n the mid-1930s, as Hitler’s government was gaining strength and threatening the fragile equilibrium of Europe, the French government found it prudent to rebuild its propaganda machine. As in the Great War, much of that effort took the form of cultural propaganda, and one of the organizations it supported was the French Theatre Guild in New York, which performed French plays in their original language at the Barbizon-Plaza Theatre. Barrère’s former wife, who had reverted to the name Michelette Burani, and his oldest son, performing as Gaby Barrère, were both members of the company, which was run by Catherine Bamman, Barrère’s former manager. Barrère, a loyal member of the French-American colony in New York, could sometimes be found in the audience, his face hidden by his program. He and Cécile were listed on the sponsors’ committee, and their son, Jean, an aspiring actor, was cast in one play as Michelette’s son. More often, of course, Barrère was on stage, earning his own living. The premiere of Density 21.5 was one of the few new-music efforts during the 1935–36 season, however. Most of his activities that season were of a far more conservative nature, aimed at a mass market of musical consumers. He embarked on a busy schedule of radio concerts: he was the soloist with Alfred Wallenstein’s orchestra on WOR in October 1935, and the Coolidge Foundation sponsored broadcasts of both Barrère-Salzedo-Britt and the Barrère Woodwind Ensemble. Most of his public performances were with the more economical resources of the trio, and the repertoire was tame: a concert for the People’s Music



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League, for example, included works of Lotti, Saint-Saëns, Beethoven, and Salzedo and Ravel’s Pièce en forme de habanera. Another featured Rameau, Boccherini, and Beethoven, a brace of French flute solos, and Debussy’s Children’s Corner Suite, a staple number. On the radio, the Barrère Woodwind Ensemble played Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven; on tour, the Little Symphony played a predictable mix of a Rossini overture, a Haydn symphony, Albéniz’s Three Spanish Pieces, and of course the Griffes White Peacock and the Gluck Orpheus. Other than the Density premiere, the single Little Symphony performance in New York, on March 7, 1936, was the only programmatically interesting concert of the season. Opening with what may have been the American premiere of one of Mozart’s teenage efforts, the overture to Lucio Silla, it had a chamber music entr’acte: the Milhaud Sonatine for flute and piano and New York premieres of two piano works: Paul Nordoff ’s Variations on a Bavarian Dance and Marion Bauer’s Fairy Tale. The item of most interest was the New York premiere of William Grant Still’s suite from his ballet Sahdji, described by Musical Courier as “a skillfully scored series of aboriginal pictures.”1 The full ballet, which tells the legend of an African tribe using the organizing principle of the Greek chorus, had received its premiere, conducted by Howard Hanson, at the Festival of American Music in Rochester in May 1931. At that time, Olin Downes of the Times had termed it “fully as racial in content as [Africa]. But this is real music, music of a composer of exotic talent and temperament.” This time, another Times critic found it “cleverly scored but rather conventional.”2 At the flute club, Barrère’s focus was on his students. On January 26, he joined eight of them — Frances Blaisdell, Julia Drumm, James Hosmer, John Kiburz, Paul Siebeneichen, Fred Wilkins, Milton Wittgenstein, and Lorna Wren—in a program of ensembles for escalating numbers of flutes. Beginning with the Bach unaccompanied sonata, he proceeded to a Beethoven duet, a Kuhlau trio, Robert Russell Bennett’s Rondo Capriccioso for flute quartet, Leonardo De Lorenzo’s Divertimento Flautistico for five flutes, and finally the premiere of Arcady Dubensky’s clever and tuneful Suite for nine flutes, whose final movement was entitled “Barrèrissimo!” The spring 1936 season—a double helix of Little Symphony and BarrèreSalzedo-Britt concerts—was greatly affected by Mother Nature. A Little Symphony concert in Reading, Pennsylvania, started late because the orchestra was delayed by floods, and three programs in Vermont and Virginia had to be postponed from March until May because of the floods. In between, the trio took to the rails for a tour of California and other intermediate points. Unfortunately, the California segment was not booked nightly, as it had been the previous year, and Salzedo dropped a hint to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, then in residence at the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles, that the trio was available. She 281



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obligingly booked the trio into a recital at Mills College in Oakland, one of her favorite institutions. The concert turned out to be a high point of the tour: Luther Marchant, head of the music department, reported to Coolidge: “The hall was packed and such enthusiasm I have never seen. Each number was encored at least four times and they were all very generous with responses. . . . I had them for dinner and we had a reception for them afterwards. People are still calling up and talking about the concert.” Barrère himself wrote to Coolidge, “Mills College was a revelation. The best audience on this tour,— and perhaps all around the best we ever had.”3 The patron extracted a small tribute for her efforts: she summoned Barrère to a private home in Pasadena to play the obbligatos to some songs she had written. The trio’s next trip was far more exotic. At the end of May they left for Mexico City, where they were hosted by the Sociedad Filarmónica and the Superior School of Music of the National University of Mexico. They gave six joint recitals and two concerts with the university orchestra in which they appeared both as soloists and conductors—a novelty that delighted the audience. Barrère conducted for Britt’s solo turn in the Saint-Saëns A Minor Cello Concerto and for Salzedo’s in Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro; Salzedo conducted for Barrère’s performance of the Mozart D Major Concerto. The local correspondent for Musical Courier sent this dispatch: “The cultured Mexican deeply respects genius but only when an artist strike[s] him as being in addition simpático, does he stand up in the aisle and cheer. In all their concerts, the visiting trio proved that they had altogether captured their listeners.”4 The local critics were in ecstasy, hailing the trio as “conquistadors in the dominion of art,” their playing together “exquisite.”5 But Barrère clearly trumped the others in garnering critical praise. Excelsior explained that the Mexicans were “eager to hear him because of his fame and because here, in truth, a flutist of his caliber had never been heard.”6 Said one paper, “[T]he flutist . . . produces an incredibly beautiful sound from his instrument, an unimaginable variety of [sounds] to express infinite possibilities of spiritual and psychological reflection.” It concluded, “And Barrère? when all the superlatives are exhausted, even then they pale.” It called him “a new Pan”—no matter what he played, “the only thing that absorbs, captivates and enchants us is how he plays.”7 On June 22, the university bestowed honorary professorships on the trio, and they were photographed amid a host of dignitaries, including composer Manuel Ponce, a professor at the university and editor of the conservatory’s journal; Carlos Chávez, director of the Mexico Symphony Orchestra and former director of the conservatory; and Aaron Copland, who was then living in Mexico. On their return, Salzedo reported on the trip in the journal of the Curtis Institute, where he was on the faculty. Crediting Chávez for the grow-



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ing sophistication of the Mexican public, he wrote, “Mexican tradesmen are very much interested in music. Employees of department stores, restaurants, haberdasheries not only were aware of our concerts but patronized them. It was quite an amusing experience to be unable to shop without being recognized.” (With the fashionable Cécile along , no doubt shopping was high on the agenda.) Salzedo was gratified by the Mexicans’ deep appreciation of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century music. “The Mexican public is as refined as it is eclectic,” he concluded. “As to contemporary music, Mexicans are not afraid of it,” and Density 21.5 thus received an enthusiastic reception.8 Such was the acclaim they received that the trio had a group portrait painted by Maltby Sykes, a young American artist then assisting Diego Rivera with his frescoes for the Hotel de la Reforma.9 Immediately on their return from Mexico, Barrère left for Chautauqua, where he was again fully in charge of the orchestra while Albert Stoessel was on leave. Now, in the Nazi era, Chautauqua dropped the previous analogy to Bayreuth, dubbing itself “The Salzburg of America.”10 He led both the Chautauqua Symphony and the Little Symphony for the six-week season, and the Institution again hosted a conference of women composers. At one concert, Howard Hanson was guest conductor so that Barrère could appear as soloist in Arthur Foote’s Night Piece and the Hüe Fantaisie; Gregory Ashman conducted for the Widor Suite later in the summer. Barrère’s rehearsals were short, to the point, and not particularly meticulous. His part-time secretary, Georgina Anderson, recalled, “I don’t think he ever did finish out a whole rehearsal period. He didn’t go through the whole thing. He was very quick, very funny.” The same was true when she took dictation: “We’d zip through in nothing flat.” The Barrères were, as always, regarded warmly by the denizens of Chautauqua, yet they stood somewhat apart, living off the grounds (for one thing, alcohol was forbidden on the grounds). They “pretty much kept to themselves” but, on the grounds, were “always dressed to the nines, always dressed as if they were going somewhere,” Cécile always formally made-up. City folk through and through, they were very French and very charming, “but they didn’t mix an awful lot.”11 The informality of Chautauqua provided a ready forum for Barrère’s abundant wit, which was much enjoyed by his colleagues. “I recall him as a delightful character, witty, a great story teller, almost never serious and always enjoying himself,” said violinist Nathan Gottschalk. Violist Nathan Gordon overheard a typical conversation backstage. A woman came up to Barrère after a concert and asked him, “What is the fastest note played in music?” He replied, “A 128th note.” She asked him to play one, and he inquired obligingly, “Do you want it fast or slow?” His own performances were very fast indeed. On one occasion he played an arrangement of Chopin’s Minute Waltz very fast, and 283



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started to walk or even run off the stage while playing the last run. “It was very funny and everyone loved it,” Gottschalk remembered.12 Bach was no different. “I still recall the prestissimo of the Badinerie of the Bach B Minor Suite,” said bassist Martin Bernstein, later a distinguished musicologist. “Barrère had a clear field here. Bach gave no tempo indication.”13 In the fall, despite the busy tours and full Chautauqua schedule, Barrère was once more short of funds, and he appealed to John Erskine for an advance on his Juilliard salary. This time, the school turned him down; Erskine replied that the trustees now had a policy forbidding faculty advances, and the only recourse was for Barrère to write directly to the board—an action he did not recommend.14 The financial situation did not improve in October when, “always up to something new,” as the Herald Tribune put it, he conducted the Little Symphony in a Sunday afternoon “pop concert.”15 The site was the American Music Hall on East 55th Street, where a thriller called Murder in the Old Red Barn was playing the rest of the week, on a set that included a farmyard and a thatched peasant cottage, not inappropriate for Haydn’s Hen Symphony.16 It was a beer-garden atmosphere in which “platinum-blond[e] barmaids shuffled about with beer trays and cigaret[te] girls mutely sold their wares” while the orchestra played a standard program of Rossini, Haydn, Griffes (White Peacock), Pierné, Debussy, and Albéniz. The audience, fortified by alcohol and tobacco, was enthusiastic but small. Within five days it was announced that the rest of the series was “postponed indefinitely.”17 This was perhaps not the way Barrère wished to celebrate his sixtieth birthday on October 31, but he kept his perspective. Writing to his old friend Henry Eichheim, whom he had visited in California in April, he mused, “Insomuch that we cannot command Fate it is so much better to use resignation and philosophy. This with a little of that bonhomie which has always been the attraction of your personality make a very successful ensemble where your Friends are very glad to see you. You might wonder why all that cumbersome dissertation. Henry, I must start to be a bore, I passed the Gate yesterday. Yessir last night I promoted myself among the Sexagenarian Sect. Truly I feel the same that [sic] the day before, even the year before and without bluffing at all very easily ten years before too.” The reason, Barrère noted candidly, was that “I have a well managed life,” a task to which Cécile was completely devoted. And although there were hints of health problems, “I manage to keep the blood pressure almost at the normal mark. Just lately it comes up more than it should, but a careful watch has already lowered it.”18 The blues that had afflicted him eighteen months earlier had proved to be only a momentary blip. Barrère’s itineraries had always included colleges and conservatories, and that fall he visited two of the best. Barrère-Salzedo-Britt played a recital at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia in November, and William Kincaid insisted



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that his students — Julius Baker, Britton Johnson, George Morey, and Albert Tipton—attend. They sat in the front row, a situation that Baker recalled discomfited Barrère. According to Baker’s account, their teacher arrived only after the concert. That was the only time, Baker said, that Kincaid ever spoke of Barrère to him. Baker suspected that Kincaid disapproved of Barrère’s jocular behavior in concerts and on the radio, because it made him seem like he was not a serious musician.19 This program, however, was serious—and although it did not appear on the printed program or in the reviews, Baker recalled that he played Density for this knowledgeable and impressionable audience. The next month, the trio played at the Eastman School of Music, where the audience demanded numerous encores that extended the concert by half an hour.20 In another form of outreach to students, Barrère continued his publishing activities. In the fall of 1935 G. Schirmer had published a set of pieces by Nicolai Tcherepnin, which Barrère edited. Entitled the Juilliard Intermediate Series of Solo Music of Wind Instruments, it included one piece each for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, trumpet or cornet, and trombone, with piano accompaniment. The oddly phrased credits read, “Nicolai Tcherepnin in collaboration with Georges Barrère,” and “selected and edited by Georges Barrère.” His exact role remains unclear. That year, Schirmer also published his Flutist’s Formulae, a set of challenging technical exercises. At the end of 1936, Galaxy Music, a relatively new firm directed by A. Walter Kramer, formerly editor in chief of Musical America, published four more flute-and-piano arrangements that were popular recital and encore pieces for Barrère: a Bach Polonaise, a Passepied by Grétry, a Sarabande by Rameau, and the Air de Ballet from Ascanio by SaintSaëns. Barrère was fortunate in that he was still a steadily working musician, but he was certainly conscious of the effects of the depression on his colleagues and often participated in concerts in support of his fellow musicians. In November, under the baton of Horace Britt, he joined John Kirkpatrick in an all-Bach concert sponsored by the Federal Music Project (a division of the Works Progress Administration), which provided employment to 13,000 musicians.21 One critic remarked—decades before Peter Schickele’s “discovery” of P. D. Q. Bach — that “C. P. E. Bach, J. C. F. Bach, J. S. Bach, and many other Bachs were old friends of his, but . . . this W. P. A. Bach would bear investigation as a possible member of the clan who has been hiding under the bed these many years.”22 In January he took part in a benefit dinner-cum-entertainment for the Musicians Emergency Fund at which the guest of honor, soprano Lucrezia Bori, employed a huge baton and a tambourine to lead an unorthodox orchestra in Ravel’s Bolero. One Met conductor played a typewriter, another shook a watering can full of buckshot, tenor Giovanni Martinelli banged on a bass 285



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drum, and conductor Alexander Smallens beat an anvil. “In this confusion,” reported the Times, “the melody was carried by Georges Barrère with his flute.” During the dinner, the 1,200 guests were serenaded by a distinguished roster of musicians; Barrère, dressed as a Spanish caballero (the theme being Carmen, in Bori’s honor), was accompanied by Ernest Schelling on a small portable piano. The event netted some $12,000 for the fund.23 Throughout the winter of 1937, Barrère was in and out of New York with the Little Symphony and Barrère-Salzedo-Britt, hitting the Community Concerts trail. As always, he took great pleasure in mentoring the younger members of the ensemble. Trumpeter Leonard Smith was still a student at the Ernest Williams School, where Pierre Henrotte was his solfège teacher. Henrotte asked Barrère — well known for his own mastery of that technique — to work with Smith during the tour: “Mr. Barrère would have me sit alongside of him on the bus and he would monitor my lessons.” But some of the mentoring was a bit less serious. Bassist David Walter, a Juilliard student, recalled, “At Durgin Park, Boston’s historic seafood restaurant, he introduced me to the gustatorial magic of steamer clams and instructed me in the technique of shucking , stripping , dipping, and swallowing them.”24 Barrère returned periodically to New York to touch base with the Century Club, the Bohemians, the Beethoven Association, the Young Chautauqua Society, the Oratorio Society, and the flute club, where he played a recital with Alice Nichols in April. On March 19 he proudly conducted the Federal Music Project Chamber Orchestra to accompany his protégée Frances Blaisdell in the Mozart Flute and Harp Concerto. There was an unusual concerto appearance, on April 6, with an established orchestra: with the Trenton Symphony under Max Jacobs he played the Mozart D Major Concerto, described by one critic as a “seldom heard solo work for flute [that] contains pleasing melodic themes”—a description indicative of the general state of ignorance about flute repertoire that persisted at the time.25 Barrère was home long enough to see his youngest son, Jean, graduate from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts; Jean would go on to a successful career as an actor, stage manager, and director.26 But even for Jean, the son to whom he was closest, such a major occasion hardly grazed Barrère’s professional calendar. The celebration that evening was devoted not to a graduation party but to a dinner for Georges Enesco at the Beethoven Association where Barrère-Salzedo-Britt, all classmates of Enesco at the Paris Conservatoire, played an all-French program. Barrère, naturally, was the toastmaster, and the other guests included Edgard and Louise Varèse, Germaine Schnitzer, Walter and Margaret Damrosch, Lillie Sang-Collins, and Adella Prentiss Hughes, founder of the Cleveland Orchestra.



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All of this was mere prelude to Coolidge’s next major venture: the eighth festival of chamber music at the Library of Congress, featuring the first American appearance of Paul Hindemith. The second concert of the festival was devoted entirely to Hindemith, who was heard in his own Viola Sonata. Barrère and pianist Jesús María Sanromá gave the world premiere of the Flute Sonata composed the previous year for Gustav Scheck, professor at the Hochschule in Berlin, who had been scheduled to premiere it in Berlin with Walter Gieseking. The Nazi regime, which had branded Hindemith a “cultural bolshevist,” a “dud,” a “charlatan,” and an “atonal noise-maker,” had forbidden that performance.27 The composer was well satisfied, however, with the substitutes. After the rehearsals in New York, he wrote to his wife, “Sanromá . . . is a Puerto Rican; his playing is first-class. Arrived fully practised and played, apart from a few bars, fully in the spirit of the composer. The two are a wonderful duo; they make the piece more beautiful than it really is. . . . To add to that, Barrère is a very nice Frenchman and a quite magnificent musician.”28 After the Washington performance, he recorded in his journal, “Sanromá and Barrère did a first-class performance of the flute sonata. It made a very good impression and the large audience received it warmly.”29 Olin Downes rated Barrère’s performance “one of the finest of his entire career.” He questioned whether the “contagious spirit” of the performance was in the performer or the composition, but in any event termed it an “auspicious” opening to the program. He summed up, “We did not find the great Hindemith in these works, or discover a movement equaling in depth or in a strange modern beauty certain slow movements of Hindemith quartets. . . . Mr. Hindemith writes a great deal, and he has often written unequally, but he has a great past, and, if he will, future.” Henry Pleasants of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin agreed (“Mr. Barrère fairly outdid himself ”), as did Cecil Michener Smith in Modern Music (“a matchless performance”).30 The concert was followed by a festive lunch hosted by Agnes Meyer, wife of the publisher of the Washington Post, which Hindemith suffered through. He recalled, “I had to take the place of honour beside Minerva [his sarcastic epithet for Coolidge] and I had a long conversation with her. Like all the others she tried to persuade me to move here permanently, saying that any arrangement that would suit me could be made.” Hindemith’s reaction: “I made polite noises.” Nevertheless, the conversation was the pivotal first step in convincing him to immigrate in 1940. The next day, he was positively caustic in his description of Coolidge: “She sat booted and spurred at the table like a robber knight in armour and presided. She obviously takes her heavy office very seriously and is tireless in attending concerts, lunchs [sic], and receptions. Even after the present lunch had ended, she sat down again on a little chair by the

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door, eyes and ears primed, to receive the salutes of the dissolving company. It reminded me very much of Polyphemus’s cave, in which all the departing sheep had their bellies examined.”31 A week later, the League of Composers feted Hindemith in New York with a concert of his works and a reception at the Cosmopolitan Club. Barrère again played the Flute Sonata, this time with Lydia Hoffman Behrend. Though the performance was billed on the program as the New York premiere, a brilliant young former Juilliard student of Arthur Lora, Lambros Demetrios Callimahos, had beaten Barrère to that distinction by a week, playing it on his Town Hall debut recital just a day after the Washington premiere.32 Barrère played the sonata several more times that year and kept it in his recital repertoire for the remainder of his career. One of those recitals was at the Beethoven Association in December. This time, perhaps without the need to be polite to Coolidge, Olin Downes was more forthright in his evaluation of the performance by “that dapper and insinuating monarch of the flute.” He wrote, “Mr. Barrère fixed a wicked eye upon its ultra-modern pages of music and performed it so felicitously, with such esprit and sparkle, especially in the sonata’s final movement, that his listeners may well have been deceived into thinking that they had heard better music! For this sonata is little more than agile, and Hindemith’s harmonic soil is rather overworked, like much that is composed in Europe today. Years of erosion have taken the top earth from the creative field, and left pretty barren soil.” Downes attempted to put the sonata in context: “It could be said that Hindemith’s recently produced piece is new in the sense of its contemporaneousness of style. It is of the age of the automobile at full speed, the airplane, the typewriter. The last movement is funny. The virtuosity of Mr. Barrère and the glint of his eye as he performed with the utmost nonchalance flutist feats of derring-do did not make it less amusing.”33 Whatever the perceived merits or demerits of the sonata, and despite Hindemith’s jaundiced view of his patron (at least in private), New York paid its respects to the lady bountiful of chamber music; in April the Chamber Music Society of America recognized Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge’s contributions by dedicating its first New York Spring Festival to her. For his part, Barrère played his piano reduction of the Griffes Poem on a program that also included works of Piston, Loeffler, and Sessions, a program designed to show off a variety of American compositional styles and an altogether appropriate way to honor Coolidge. Barrère had recently begun working with a new harpsichordist, Yella Pessl, a woman almost as strong-minded as Coolidge, and together they played a Bach sonata at the Beethoven Association in April. Pessl, born and educated in Vienna, was stylistically an unlikely match for Barrère. In contrast to his



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light, French flute, her harpsichord was made by Karl Maendler in Munich, and it was heavy by any measure. “These harpsichords were built to withstand total war,” says harpsichord historian Larry Palmer. “In fact, a subsequent owner of the firm described the metal frame as a Panzerplatte [armor plate].”34 Yet Musical Courier called the Beethoven Association performance “delicate and delightful,” and Musical America suggested that “Miss Pessl . . . remained a little more in the background than was necessary.”35 They would play several more concerts together and late that spring recorded three Bach sonatas for Victor.36 According to the New York Times, only the first and third sonatas had been previously recorded — with piano — so “the present [recording] may be regarded practically as a first recording.”37 Barrère’s playing is gorgeous, fluid, and largely unornamented, but with a much faster vibrato than modern listeners might expect. The summer of 1937 began, essentially, in late May, when Barrère was the guest conductor of a band concert in Town Hall sponsored by the Ernest Williams School of Music; he also judged the student composition contest along with Percy Grainger, Edwin Franko Goldman, Pierre Henrotte, and Erik Leidzen. Williams, former first trumpet of the Philadelphia Orchestra, ran a music school in Brooklyn that specialized in training brass players—it almost single-handedly staffed the Sousa and Goldman bands and produced a generation of top brass players — but it also had a full complement of string and woodwind students. Williams also ran a summer camp in Saugerties, New York, just a few miles from Woodstock, where Henrotte conducted the orchestra. Barrère taught flute to both Brooklyn and Saugerties students — among them Doriot Anthony, future principal flutist of the Boston Symphony. Other summer festival concerts included Music Mountain in Falls Village, Connecticut, with the Gordon Quartet; a Barrère-Salzedo-Britt concert at the Building of Arts in Bar Harbor, Maine; two Maverick concerts; and a musicale in the nearby Byrdcliff art colony. He spent most of the summer at Chautauqua, where he lived at the formal Victorian Hotel Athenaeum—a situation in which he could surely enjoy his celebrity on the Chautauqua grounds; his former secretary described it as a “fishbowl.”38 He appeared several times as soloist with the orchestra; on one occasion he was memorably described as a “tonal amphibian,” descending from the podium to be the flute soloist in the Fauré Fantaisie and Gluck’s Orpheus under the baton of Albert Stoessel.39 Musical America reported that it was Chautauqua’s most successful season since the crash in 1929, with symphony attendance averaging 2,000 more per concert than in 1936 (the amphitheater could seat 5,000).40 Back in New York in September, Juilliard was a somewhat different place. John Erskine had retired as president of Juilliard in May, and was succeeded by Ernest Hutcheson, previously dean; Hutcheson’s right-hand man, Oscar Wagner, 289



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now became dean of both the Institute of Musical Art and the Juilliard Graduate School. Frank Damrosch, founder of the Institute, died in late October, and Barrère was an honorary pallbearer at the funeral, held at the school on October 24. That was just one of three funerals—those of violinist/conductor Sam Franko and composer/conductor Henry Hadley were the others—at which Barrère performed that sad duty. In the space of nine months, he experienced the deaths of many colleagues and friends: composers Charles-Marie Widor, Louis Vierne, Gabriel Pierné, Albert Roussel, and Maurice Ravel and critics W. J. Henderson and Richard Aldrich. He could not help but feel his age. (His students, after all, had for some time affectionately referred to him as “the old man.”) He was cheered, however, by the recent accomplishments of several of his students. James Hosmer had been named principal flutist in the Indianapolis Symphony, Arthur Lora as principal of the Metropolitan Opera, and Carmine Coppola as principal in Detroit. And by all reports Barrère himself was still playing beautifully at sixty-one. At the Worcester Festival in October, where he was a perennial favorite, he “dispensed the Mozart flute concerto in D Major with grace, vivacity, and—awe was here required—agility.”41 Nor did his pace decrease; during the week of November 17 he had seven concerts, he reported to an old friend. He played with the Johnstown orchestra—at the insistence of Hosmer, a native of Johnstown — the day before Thanksgiving , then caught the 11:49 train home immediately after the concert because, he wrote, “I love to spend Thanksgiving Day at home.” A good American he was. His latest chamber music invention, the Barrère-Britt Concertino, was “handsomely booked.”42 In addition to its namesakes, this group was composed of violinist Mischa Elzon, violist Frank L. Clawson (replaced in 1940 by William Carboni and in 1941 by Gerald Kunz), and pianist Jerome Rappaport. First advertised in February 1937, the Barrère-Britt Concertino had made its debut rather informally, in June, at Woodstock. The Concertino soon would replace Barrère-Salzedo-Britt as a touring group; that trio gave its last tour at the end of 1937. Because of the long and close friendship with Salzedo, Barrère hated to give it up—and that is perhaps the only reason it lasted as long as it did — but it simply became completely impractical to travel with the harp. Manager Arthur Judson took a mathematical approach to the Concertino publicity: “more than a quartet, less than a small orchestra,” offering “31 different instrumental combinations—Soli, Duets, Trios, Quartets, Quintets.” In sum, it was “The Last Word in Chamber Music.” Or as Rappaport later put it, it was a “three-ring circus,” willing to play anything for anybody. The Concertino made its out-of-town debut at the First Methodist Church in Duluth, Minnesota, on November 30, thirteen years to the day after Rappaport’s debut with the Barrère Little Symphony—and was rewarded with many encore requests. It would play some twenty-four concerts over the next three months.



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The Concertino rehearsals were macaronic—Barrère spoke in French to Elzon and Britt, in English to Rappaport and Kunz. There was no hierarchy on the road, other than the fact that Barrère preferred the front right seat of the bus. He carried his own heavy suitcase. “We really suffered some times, many inconveniences,” Rappaport recalled, but “he [was] a trouper.” There were compensations, of course. Before a concert at Newcomb College in New Orleans, the group was warned not to eat beforehand, and one of the city’s famous French chefs treated them to late-night steaks with his own special sauce. “Nothing was French,” said Rappaport, but “we had the grandest time in that city, because Mr. Barrère . . . ate like you never saw. He loved food. We would eat breakfast, and he would squeeze a grapefruit until not a drop of juice came out of it.”43 Like the Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments, and just as Judson advertised, the Concertino varied its programs by constantly changing the size of the instrumental forces, from solo flute up to quintet. Much of the midsize repertoire came from the earlier groups, but the Concertino was now able to include Baroque sonatas by Handel; Mozart quartets for flute and strings; and quintets by Jean Cras, a French naval officer who composed on a shipboard piano (the “pièce de résistance,” Rappaport recalled), Percy Grainger (a setting of Shepherd’s Hey), David Diamond, and Rimsky-Korsakov. There were also new trio combinations, such as the Roussel for flute, viola, and cello and the Terzettino for flute, violin, and viola of Henri Marteau. As always, Barrère was eager to acquire new — or even almost-new — repertoire. In February, in the midst of the tour, he wrote to William Grant Still, asking if he might arrange one of his older works, perhaps a suite, for this new quintet —“We are most interested in bringing new music out”— and noted that they would soon play a new work by David Diamond commissioned by the League of Composers for $100—a sum that was much appreciated by the impecunious Diamond, still studying with Nadia Boulanger at the American Conservatory at Fontainebleau. Diamond’s Quintet for flute, string trio, and piano received its premiere on March 8 at a concert of the Chamber Music Society of America at the Fifth Avenue Galleries. Musical America reported, “It has the composer’s characteristic wide-spread chords, propulsive dissonances and nervous drive, and particularly in the opening Allegro makes the listener sit up and take notice with its peppery musical witticisms.”44 In the League’s own journal, Modern Music, Elliott Carter was more critical: “The work is characteristic for its excellent and strong harmonic pattern, and its nervous excitement, with the slow movement the clearest and most beautiful of the three. There is a tendency to overwriting and confusion in its very free contrapuntal texture.”45 Barrère would no doubt have been gratified that a young composer whose music he helped to promote would go on to win many major composition prizes and to join the Juilliard faculty. 291



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Ten days later, Barrère-Salzedo-Britt, accompanied by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra, played the world premiere of a Triple Concerto by the Dutch composer Bernard Wagenaar. Brought to the United States by Willem Mengelberg to play violin and keyboards with the New York Philharmonic, Wagenaar had taught composition at the Institute of Musical Art since 1925. He wrote the Concerto at Salzedo’s suggestion, but it also grew out of a long friendship with all three players, and after frequently attending their concerts he had their unusual timbre in his ear. Wagenaar requested that each of the soloists write his own cadenza, based on the composer’s themes. The relatively unchallenging work was a retrograde step for Wagenaar, whose most recent writing had tended toward atonality. The performance began inauspiciously when Britt found that his music was not on his stand; Barrère retrieved it offstage, then placed it on Britt’s stand upside down — a stunt that the Philadelphia Inquirer critic noted “might or might not have held some significance about the modernistic music.” The piece was most successful, he wrote, when the orchestra was silent.46 Henry Pleasants, in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, concurred: “The rediscovery of the notes was undoubtedly a relief to the players, but it was a blessing of questionable value to the audience. . . . passages of [Wagenaar’s] score have a pleasant lyric quality and show ingenuity and insight in orchestration. But there is little body to the work and less sustained movement. It is obviously a piece of convenience, made to order for the Barrère-Salzedo-Britt trio, rather than a work in which the instrumental combination was dictated by a musical conception.”47 But Wagenaar’s composer colleagues felt otherwise. Arthur Cohn, writing in Modern Music, applauded the Philadelphia Orchestra, where “[r]epression seems to be the slogan” and overblown transcriptions of Bach were the norm, for one of its rare performances of contemporary music.48 In the same journal, Elliott Carter wrote, “This work is uncompromisingly in Wagenaar’s individual and rather dissonant manner and its success bodes well for all the other contemporary composers. To begin with it is an excellent integration of a brilliant cadenza-like style for the solo instruments into a symphonic whole. It is in the general period of Wagenaar’s excellent Third Symphony of last year but it is more adventurous formally. The work is strong and clear intentioned, with a definite personality behind it. Its only fault seemed to me to be that a few of the cadenzas were a little long.”49 Barrère-Salzedo-Britt and the Philadelphia repeated the Wagenaar in Carnegie Hall on March 22. The reviews were mixed: Irving Kolodin of the Sun applauded the “ingenious” cadenzas; Lawrence Gilman of the Herald Tribune wrote: “Sometimes it appeared as though Mr. Wagenaar were amusing himself with experiments, or even spoofing Euterpe — though one should



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probably reject that notion, for Mr. Wagenaar has long been known as a composer of unassailable artistic sobriety, and it is hard to imagine him teasing Euterpe . . . or otherwise assailing her immortal dignity.”50 Olin Downes spoke for all when he wrote, “The concerto’s defect is that it is twice too long. This is regrettable, since its merits are so pronounced.” But, he continued, “It would seem that Mr. Wagenaar . . . had decided not to write a heaven-storming symphony but to produce some simple, entertaining music. He was inspired to do so for soloists whose skills he greatly admired and he has set off the passages with adroit and ingeniously balanced instrumentation. For much of the time, in this field, one brilliant idea follows another. . . . The writing for the soloists sounds idiomatic as well as difficult and effective.”51 Then, in a column the next week entitled “Composing to Please the Public,” Downes called the work “the musical success of the week,” a success “as pleasant as it was astonishing.” Referring to Wagenaar’s “previously chosen paths of extreme atonality,” he observed that the composer “was no longer an ego in a tower of ivory. He was writing for the public! He appeared to be writing a concerto that aimed, in a modern and artistic way, to please.”52 Barrère-Salzedo-Britt would repeat the work in New York in May 1941, at the first American festival held by the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM), a performance that was broadcast on NBC and recorded. This time Musical America, which in 1938 had dismissed it as a “showpiece,” judged it to be “one of the most substantial and satisfying works of the entire festival.”53 A revised version was played by flutist René Le Roy, Salzedo, and cellist Janos Scholz in Town Hall in 1942. Barrère’s next venture took him sharply backward in time, to another phase of the Bach revival. Along with Marion Bauer, David Mannes, and composer Douglas Moore of Columbia University, he served on the committee of the Bach Circle of New York, an organization dedicated to presenting Bach’s works in their original instrumentation. In its first-season brochure, the Bach Circle announced, “While smaller communities have organized Bach Societies, and Bach Festivals, intimate performances of Bach have not yet found a place in the New York season. It was this constellation which has prompted us to found the Bach Circle.” In the past, the brochure explained, “this music has mostly been served to the public in a romantic disguise, in arrangements and transcription.” But now the American public wanted to hear Bach in its original instrumentation, an effort aided enormously by radio and phonograph recordings. Barrère was not available for the first concert, which coincided with the second Wagenaar concert in Philadelphia, but he did play in the second, on April 22, 1938, joining soprano Ethel Luening, oboist Mitchell Miller, and Yella Pessl in a program of J. S. and J. C. Bach. His next Bach performance was decidedly inauthentic, the St. Matthew 293



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Passion at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, with Stoessel conducting the Oratorio Society of New York in the sort of large-scale performance then the norm. He gave more authentic performances, at least for that time, in a recital of Bach, Handel, and Couperin with harpsichordist Alice Ehlers on WQXR radio, and in the Bach B Minor Suite and Fifth Brandenburg at the Dunrovin Festival in Ridgefield, Connecticut, sponsored by the Chamber Music Society of America. Amid all this serious advocacy for music old and new, Barrère was ready for a break, and in late April he went to Hollywood to make a guest appearance on NBC’s “Kraft Music Hall,” hosted by Bing Crosby. As one of the classical artists whom Crosby was in the habit of hiring, he was paid the munificent and welcome sum of $650, for which he gladly swallowed his pride, if not the processed cheese marketed on the show. Introduced by Crosby as “undoubtedly top-man in the flute-tootling trade today, commanding the respect and admiration of press and public on both sides of the Atlantic,” Barrère began with his “theme song,” as Crosby called it, the Gluck Orpheus. Referring to the homemade instrument of his sidekick Bob Burns, Crosby acknowledged the performance: “if that don’t beat the baleful blurting of Bob’s bazooka, I gotta pass.” “Thank you, Bing,” replied Barrère. “Having heard the bazooka myself, I pass too. But I’m used to doubtful compliments. The people wherever I come to play on my flute always they tell me that they wish I’d talked more during my concerts.” Crosby then asked Barrère to teach him French, and inquired about his academic degree. An M.B.E., he responded — Master of Broken English. (Crosby counterclaimed a D.G.G., Doctor of Gramophone Gravel.) He concluded the segment on a more serious note with Syrinx and the SaintSaëns Pavane.54 Truly serious music resumed in September 1938, when Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge held another Berkshire Festival of Chamber Music, marking the twentieth anniversary of these events. The Barrère Ensemble, with the assistance of Salzedo and Sylvia Meyer on harp and the Coolidge String Quartet, gave a concert the first afternoon, a program that included works by Mozart, Telemann, and Caplet; Piston’s Three Pieces for flute, clarinet, and bassoon; Berezowsky’s Suite, op. 11; and Ravel’s Introduction and Allegro. Part of the concert was broadcast on WABC. The second program featured the Bach Fourth Brandenburg , for which Coolidge and music director Hugo Kortschak had hoped to engage Barrère and Laurent. Not surprisingly, there must have been a backstage battle of egos between “all those conceited soloists,” as Coolidge wrote to Kortschak. “From the way that violinist Feri Roth spoke to me the other day, I gather that he is not wholly in accord with Barrère, and I want to say to you, confidentially, that I



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imagine you will have to be quite firm and authoritative, as the conductor, in order to settle, peacefully, any such difference of opinion. If you find this is too severe a task, I should be willing to engage some other man, such as Burgin or Fiedler, to control and direct this performance.” Kortschak reassured her: “Do not have any worries over the fusion of temperaments in the Bach Ensemble— the last few years have added enormously to my experience as a conductor and pacifier so that I have no hesitation in facing the various problems.” In any event, what might have been the only joint appearance of these two cordial rivals did not occur, and Barrère suggested Frances Blaisdell, with whom he had previously played the piece, as second flutist. Ralph Kirkpatrick took the harpsichord part.55 The result was not the most artistic performance in Coolidge festival history; Barrère rushed the Telemann sonata’s fast movements, and the Brandenburg was “a jamboree rather than a poised presentation,” Musical America complained. “There was hardly a ‘piano’ nuance throughout the entire concerto and even the solo violin of Mr. Roth was barely audible. The flutes of Miss Blaisdell and Mr. Barrère did not fare so badly, but Mr. Kirkpatrick’s harpsichord was overwhelmed by the flood of sounds from the small orchestra, acting no doubt in sympathy with the excited elements. The vigorous exaggerated tempi, however, seemed to amuse the audience and the old adage, ‘it’s hard to spoil Bach’ was once more apparent.”56 The Temple of Music, buffeted by the Great New England Hurricane of 1938, endured howling winds of more than a hundred miles per hour, beating rain, and electrical failure, but the music went on. The storm, which resulted in 564 deaths, more than 1,700 injuries, and the destruction of 8,900 homes, also prevented Jesús María Sanromá, coming from Puerto Rico, from getting any farther than Boston; Salzedo stepped in to take the piano parts.57 But the audience was more distracted by the political storms brewing in Europe, and the music lovers clustered grim-faced around the radio to listen to news reports after each concert. Some wept, dreading the inevitable interruptions in lives and careers. “The beauty of music and its peaceful influence seemed to have failed in their mission,” the Washington Star critic commented.58 That did not, however, diminish the effects of Coolidge’s philanthropy on chamber music, as critic Jay Rosenfeld noted. “Certain it is that no one, Esterházys, Rasoumoffskys or Von Mecks, ever devoted so much time so intelligently and so consistently to a cause with so definite a goal in view.”59 Later that fall, Barrère made two more concerto appearances, still unusual for the time: on November 7, works of Debussy, Mozart, and Griffes with the New Haven Symphony under Kortschak, and on December 6, the Mozart D Major Concerto with the National Symphony under Hans Kindler in a concert in Providence sponsored by Community Concerts. Barrère was essentially 295



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the only American flutist making such concerto appearances, but a threat loomed from the other side of the Atlantic. The threat’s name was Marcel Moyse, who had been invited to the United States that summer by Toscanini and Koussevitzky; he appeared in a radio broadcast of a Mozart concerto with the NBC Symphony and substituted for Laurent, who was on vacation in France, in the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood. The latter engagement was not a success, from all reports, but his son Louis walked away with the offer of the second flute chair in the Boston Symphony for the 1939–40 season.60 Over the summer, Olin Downes, who was in charge of the music programs for the world’s fair to be held in New York the following summer, telegraphed Barrère for information on Moyse. Barrère responded waspishly, “His playing is near perfect, inasmuch that he is gifted with a perfect technic [sic] and thorough musicianship. However all those who know him well are convinced that he will never come in line with his celebrated predecessors Paul Taffanel (my own Master) A. Hennebains and Ph. Gaubert. . . . One of the worst drawbacks of my colleague is his personality and that now I require Confidence about this information. Moyse beheaves [sic], thinks and even dresses as the reddest of all undesirable Bocheviks [sic], including the constant use of a juicy and aromatic old pipe. . . . Needless to say this has nothing to do with his artistry and cannot, I am sure, influence the impartial Critic that you always have been.”61 Then, in the fall of 1938, Barrère wrote to James Hosmer about another former student, Victor Harris, “Not so long ago I had a Franco-German battle in his honor with the over-Straussian Fritz Reiner who insists that every Candidate for the flute section of his Orchestra should be able to blast the flute part from the Sinfonia Domestica; even without any expectancy to ever play it. . . . I was provoked to hear that KousSevitzky [sic] (the real one) has selected a French Man as his second flute player as if America has nothing to offer him for such a post. . . . I understand that Marcel Moyse’s Son got the job, and most likely will watch the opportunity for his Dad to invade this Country where Flute playing was unknown up to the arrival of the Greek.”62 The comment was right in character, reflecting both Barrère’s typical solicitousness for his alumni and a soupçon of paranoia about what he perceived as threats to his own reputation. Still in top form, however, in December he played a recital of Handel, Bach, and Telemann with Yella Pessl at the Eastman School, described in Musical Courier as “a program of infinite pleasure.”63 There he renewed his acquaintance with Joseph Mariano, a former Kincaid student who was now the flute professor at Eastman, and he graciously took Mariano along to the party in his honor at the home of a local socialite, inquiring solicitously about Mariano’s career.64 Five days later, on December 18, 1938, Barrère gave an ambitious



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recital of “New Music for Flute” at the New York Flute Club. Opening the program was Philippe Gaubert’s Sonatine, dedicated to Barrère. Completed late in 1936 and published by Heugel in 1937, it was billed as “new first time.”65 Also dedicated to Barrère and receiving its world premiere was Marion Bauer’s Five Greek Lyrics (also known as Forgotten Modes) for flute alone, a work based on Greek modes. Yoritsune Matsudaira’s Sonatine was next, followed by the New York premiere of Eugene Goossens’s Three Pictures for flute and piano and the world premiere of Richard Franko Goldman’s Divertimento, with the composer at the piano. Not listed on the program, but mentioned in the Musical Leader review, was the Hindemith Sonata.66 For the twenty-eight-year-old Goldman, recently named associate conductor of the Goldman Band founded by his father, this concert was cause for great excitement, because it was the first public performance of his music. Like Barrère, Goldman was associated with the Ernest Williams camp. The Divertimento, dedicated to his wife, Alexandra Rienzi, an amateur flutist, was well received by Musical Leader, which said it showed “musicianship, imagination, and charm.” Musical Leader described the first two movements as “somewhat austerely dissonant and angular of line, but the more spontaneous third, with its choice of two florid cadenzas, makes a brilliant concert piece.”67 Barrère played the third movement, Tempo di Fado, on a national radio broadcast in late 1939; so grateful was Goldman to Barrère that he dedicated his next flute work, Two Monochromes for Solo Flute, to him. Immediately after the flute club concert, Barrère was back on the road. The advertisement for the Barrère-Britt Concertino that ran in Musical America’s seasonal forecast in February 1939 trumpeted the slogan “Equally successful in small towns and big cities”— a fact borne out by thirty-two engagements in two months on the road, from January 8 to March 7. The venues ranged from Alabama to the maritime provinces of Canada, with stops in the South, Midwest, and mid-Atlantic. The schedule took a toll on Barrère’s teaching schedule, and he relied heavily on Arthur Lora to teach his students. When he was in New York, much of Barrère’s time went to his organizational obligations, chief among them the Beethoven Association. A fixture of its concert programs since its founding in 1919, he had been on the executive committee since 1925 and a vice president since 1936. Now in its twentieth year, the association was ready to celebrate, and Mayor Fiorello H. La Guardia and Bruno Walter were the guests of honor at an April dinner-dance at the clubhouse, where Barrère played the Beethoven Serenade. On November 21, Barrère announced at the first members’ luncheon that Harold Bauer, its founder and president, had resigned, citing the pressure of his other activities. Until a successor could be named the following year, Barrère, as first vice president, would serve as acting head of the organization. Ironically, Barrère no longer 297



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lived in the Beethoven Association clubhouse on West 56th Street; in June he had rented a six-room apartment at 365 West End Avenue—and was a celebrity tenant so desirable that the Kempner Realty Corp. later used his picture in its advertisements for the building.68 Barrère also remained on the music advisory committee of the Society for the Publication of American Music, which in 1938 awarded its prize to Edward Burlingame Hill’s Sextet, op. 39, for piano and winds, a d’Indy-esque work. Commissioned by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, it had received its premiere at the 1934 Berkshire Festival, played by Georges Laurent’s woodwind quintet. Now Barrère voted to give it the 1938 SPAM award, and it was published by Galaxy the following year. But the financial status of SPAM was questionable, and at the November 1939 meeting, there was heated debate over the respective merits of David Holden’s Music for Piano and Strings and Bernard Wagenaar’s String Quartet No. 3, since there were insufficient funds to publish both. Barrère engineered a compromise: to publish the more listenable Holden immediately and the Wagenaar, whose “idiom would not bring the society any friends at this critical time,” the next year.69 In the meantime, Barrère had been somewhat neglectful of his own institutional child, the New York Flute Club. Explaining to the membership chair, Dr. William S. Thomas, that he would be late for the board meeting on October 18, he wrote guiltily that he had been “seemingly indifferent” to the club. This was due, he said, to his many commitments. In the coming year he would be booked for a nationwide tour, which would mean that before he left in January he would need to get three-fourths of the year’s teaching done at Juilliard and at the Institute—some eight to ten hours of teaching a day. He would be out of town continuously from January to May, except for a few weekends at home if he was able to fly in. “Many times I have tendered my resignation as President but always met it [sic] with a flattering refusal. This time I have to ask the Board to take a decision. In order to keep my name you may decide about a special title for my name, but truly this year I will be less ‘active’ than ever. Please discuss the matter in my absence and when I reach your residence I shall hear the verdict.” His resignation was refused, and he continued as president until his death.70



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I

n September 1939, as Hitler was marching into Poland, Barrère was relaxing in his rustic Woodstock cabin, hoping to stay in the country as late into the fall as possible. He wrote to Helen Frank, secretary of the Institute of Musical Art, to arrange his teaching schedule: “Don’t forget that I am starting my 35th year at the Institute. As far as I know I am the last survivor, now, having been present every season.” She replied, “Hail to the last survivor! May he be with us indefinitely, for what would we do without him!”1 Indeed, his value to the Institute and to Juilliard was great, and he was one of the faculty members featured in an Artists’ Concerto Course that season, playing the Mozart D Major Concerto in December 1939. Barrère anticipated a studio of ten students; though he would have preferred more, teaching on a “fare schedule” (that is, paid by the lesson, rather than an annual salary) made that difficult, especially given the many out-oftown concerts that he anticipated. “I might even ask Mr Lora to take care of my entire Class once in a while; but it is useless to look too far ahead for trouble.”2 But he did have to depend on Lora, and in February he wrote to him, “Here is the catalogue of the products I am sending you for repair, and overhauling.” What followed was an uncharacteristically acerbic accounting of the merits and demerits of four students, “Not very brilliant except one.” Of the first, who went on to a successful orchestral career, he wrote, “Think[s] a lot about himself. Very poor musically; but most ambitious. Works diligently and accomplishes more than it could be expected of his ignorance of musical principles.” Of another, “Slightly greasy. Industrious. Mind not much opened to 299



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Music. Does his best. There is still hope as he is well disciplined.” And another: “Nonchalant as a Murrad smoker. Every wrong note, and they are galore, seem to him to be unavoidable Fate. . . . Very bad at his best. The genuine type of rich amateur. No hopes. Though he has a very nice motor boat on the Lake Chautauqua. Do not get excited. Make the half hours of 29 minutes to the most and go to bed for the balance if you are still awake.”3 Just after Christmas, he flew to California for a second appearance on the “Kraft Music Hall,” where he again commanded a princely fee of $650— though it paled in comparison with that of his fellow guest, Claude Rains, who got $1,375.4 Perhaps the money somewhat compensated for the eighteen-hour weather delay en route, as did a reunion with Varèse, whose advice he sought on hiring a pianist for the show. (Whether Varèse was responsible, we do not know, but Barrère ended up with the talented Richard Tetley-Kardos, then twenty-five, who would later head the piano department at Ohio State University.) Even for a variety show, quality counted: “At the station they force on you beginners who can’t hit a carpet tack and one pays dearly for it.”5 The friendship with Varèse was still close. Barrère bantered, “I embrace Louise, but not you. Cécile, however, embraces you both. Answer, answer, answer quickly, as Marguerite sings about the tenor. . . . Respectfully (but not too much), Georges.”6 After Barrère began with the Little Shepherd, Crosby riffed on Barrère’s 1876 birth date for a “spirit of seventy-six” number, a lively version of “Yankee Doodle” with Crosby, Bob Burns, and the Kidoodlers. It was a song Barrère knew well. “It was the first American number I knew by heart. I learned it when I was first flute in the Folies-Bergère orchestra.” Crosby replied, “Nice to be sitting in the pit of the Folies-Bergère and have nothing bigger to obstruct your view than a flute. And first flute too . . . that’s about as good as you can do.” Barrère did not miss a beat. “It certainly was. There was only one flute.” On a semi-serious note, Crosby introduced the Tempo di Fado (the third movement of the Divertimento) of Richard Franko Goldman by noting that “we’ve learned to respect our American musicians more in the past 35 years.”7 Barrère flew back to New York for New Year’s, but was on the road again in a week, beginning a five-week, eighteen-concert tour of the South with the Concertino. The reviews — quickly reprinted in the group’s advertising — indicate the source of the group’s popularity: “It was the sort of music the nonmusical public can enjoy and many had the urge to tap their feet to the rhythm of the serenades, ronda [sic] and other music. . . . This is no formal criticism of a concert by a musician. It is the outspoken feeling of one who has only a meager musical training” (Petersburg [Va.] Progress-Index). It left “more than 2,200 Civic Music Association patrons, imbued with a sense of quiet peacefulness, of restfulness and content at the end of the evening” (Miami Herald).



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“Five great musical personalities . . . held the audience enraptured from the sound of the first exquisitely blended note until the final encores had been thunderously applauded” (St. Augustine Record).8 Accessibility, ensemble, personality, and intimacy—these were the factors that had propelled Barrère and all of his ensembles to fame, and they did not fail him now. His managers did fail him, though. For his next tour, spanning some eleven weeks, the Little Symphony celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary by working its way from Virginia to Florida, to Maine, to Canada, and across the country to the West and Southwest. “We are booked beautifully everywhere, except, as usual, on dear Behymer’s territory,” Barrère wrote to Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. The little giant of California concert presenters, L. E. Behymer, had promised a full week of bookings, and Barrère’s New York management had organized the trip around it, but in fact there was an entire empty week. In desperation, Barrère appealed to Coolidge to fill in at least one date— a request she was unable to grant.9 Eventually, he did manage to book at least some concerts in the Golden State. The geographical variety no doubt kept the group going on those grueling journeys, and Barrère sent his youngest son, Jean, a running travelogue with astute observations of local customs. From Petersburg , Virginia, he reported, “There isn’t much to be said, except that everything is historical! All buildings (genuine or replicas) with not much indication of special period style, but with a story attached to each of them. There General Lee had breakfast, here [he] came to Mass; etc. The Virginians are very proud of the chapter they illustrate in the history of the U.S. The food is quite passable. They serve you that famous ham cut with a regular Knife and not with a razor! We shall try the same practice next Christmas Day!” One postconcert reception was hosted by Dr. Romaine, the vice president of the local Community Concerts organization and a friend of the old-line Virginia family the Cabells (Hartwell Cabell, a lawyer in New York, sat on the Little Symphony board). “We had Egg Noggs [sic]— this was as much a meal as Drink. . . . one and a half of that stuff is enough for one evening. I didn’t see a glass of beer [his preferred postconcert libation] since I left N.Y. Sunday night. It might be just as well, because I want to loose [sic] weight. I stay in bed till noon and go back to it after lunch. This won’t make me reduce very quick.”10 From Laramie, Wyoming, he wrote, “We are in the land of Hi-Ho Silver. Large plains, high mountains in the far away — windy and sandy atmosphere,— but pretty quiet people all around.” He exulted over a trip through the Black Hills. “We saw the left over of the Gold Rush—in a funny Railroad,” a combination passenger-baggage car that was the last in a long train. “Every stop or starting was strongly felt in that rear Car. The scenery is beautiful, many tracks from deer, bear, etc. Most interesting.”11 Then from Casper, Wyoming: 301



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“After a pleasant week-end in Denver we have resumed our trek. These Western mining or oil towns are all made on the same pattern and it is a hard job to make a mental difference. Large streets, at the end of each you can see the snow capped mountains at a distance of 10 or more miles. Two or three movie houses and the same number of Hotels, which were started with the boom, some still making business. The High School with the Barrère Little Symphony Tonight.” The orchestra hoped that an early morning departure would allow them to see antelope on the way. “Perhaps one of those will be waiting for us and we will be able to shoot him . . . with our Cameras.”12 Many of the Concertino and Little Symphony concerts were sponsored by the local affiliates of the Community Concerts Association and the Civic Concert Service — a form of grassroots musical democracy for which Barrère’s groups were ideally suited. Their musical missionary effort was working , and Barrère was a major force in that effort. A letter from a listener in Newark, Ohio, reprinted by Leonard Liebling in his Musical Courier column in May 1940, told the story of Dr. Fleek Miller, “an ex-saxophone player and now a successful dentist. He was enchanted by the Barrère flute, as all hearers are. However he didn’t stop with admiration and enjoyment of the one evening. He decided he must learn to play a flute.” He bought an instrument and took lessons from a sixteen-year-old girl. Within a few months Miller started playing in ensembles with a few friends. The small group grew, “[t]he wives became interested, and finally when eighteen musicians had joined Dr. Miller a leader was enlisted.” The group became the Licking County Philharmonic Society, and the president of the Newark Cooperative Concert Association crowed, “[T]he CCA is very proud of this musical development coming from the Barrère-Britt Concertino.”13 The letter writer was Charlotte S. Morris — who went on to compile a book entitled Favorite Recipes of Famous Musicians that included Barrère’s own recipe for “macaroni au gratin.” This dish, he explained, was his answer to the monotony of road food, “many weeks of shrimp cocktails (preserved in glass), consommé Madrilène, planked steak à la . . . Anybody, Apple Pie and Coffee.” Barrère wrote that his wife always greeted him from a tour with this, his favorite dish, which should be made only with Swiss gruyere. “My macaroni au gratin, I am told, is very simply cooked, but not very economically. It is so simple that I think some day I shall try to cook it myself! However, I shall be sure to have no Guest that day.” To accompany the macaroni, he recommended a groaning board of alligator pears vinaigrette, fresh asparagus with hollandaise sauce, grilled chicken with French fried potatoes, green salad, an international selection of cheese, fraises au vin, and demitasse, all washed down by an Alsatian wine followed by red Burgundy or Bordeaux. “Such [a] menu is not especially recommended before the performance of a Concert!”14



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Throughout the tour, Barrère kept up a solicitous correspondence with Jean about his attempts to begin an acting career. “Do you still go to those ‘No casting today’ loosing [sic] time institutions or did you have an inkling with hope?” he wrote from Petersburg , Virginia, in January. “I hope you devote some of your spare time to your mother. I am sure you are doing your duty in this line.” He also provided fatherly advice to Jean on entertaining his girlfriend; inviting her home for dinner, he suggested, would be more economical than taking her to the Plaza or Larré for dinner. “It is just as good — and costs you nothing”—and it would also make his mother happy.15 He assured a frustrated Jean, “The fact that you didn’t get any job this winter (so far) must not denote that your calling is outside of the stage. You are studying—your work with Rothier is good” ( Jean was getting vocal coaching from his father’s old friend, bass Léon Rothier). “If you have been to college you would have to wait until you are 25 or more to appear in Life, just as a Green horn. You already have acquired experience and self-confidence. The business ability will come after you get a good break.” He regretted his lack of success in helping Jean make the necessary connections: “Unfortunately the best person I had in my sleeve was that poor Sidney Howard.” But in the spring , “I shall go and see old Papa Damrosch who knows so many people. Naturally people I can approach are from the last generation I can offer you Margaret Anglin, Wm. FAVERSHAM, Daniel FROHMAN. You certainly would prefer younger people.”16 By February 26, when he wrote from Laramie, Wyoming , Jean had apparently had some success and was managing a movie theater: “How is business, how is Art? Now that you combine the two; we can talk to you.” On March 1, he wrote again, “I like your judgments of different phases of life, as well as on the different kinds of people we have to elbow every day—It takes working a little philosophy to get through all of that without experiencing any influence on yourself. You cannot be indifferent; but you must have enough judgment to not spare time, interest, sometimes affection, often money, on some individual whose standard of life or ideals have nothing in common with your own. Well, that is my turn about Philosophy. EXIT . . . THE PHILOSOPHER.” In his next letter, Barrère continued to encourage his son’s dreams: “I hope your Theater is running well under your supervision, but I hope you will have to jump on the stage at any minute. Everything happens and that is what I wish you more than anything else for the time present.”17 Father also connected with son via a series of movie reviews. After seeing the newly released Grapes of Wrath, he wrote to Jean, “Now don’t have any yourself (grapes of WRATH) about my judgement [sic] of it. The best part of it is the playing of it. The actors are all good. The Mother, who very strangely resembles your friend Michelette” (perhaps a dig at the joint performances of 303



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Jean and Barrère’s ex-wife in the French theater) “is exceedingly good — so is FONDA (though not starring). The scenario becomes lengthy when that funny jalopy comes in view so often—and when all important scenes except the first one, are in very dark light. The story, naturally gloomy, seems to be exaggeratedly so on account of that insistence. Some scenes, especially of Camps, are very good. The beauty of the acting is the naturalness of the characters.” Barrère revealed his critical sensibility and enthusiasm for reading: “Some good scenes of the book have been omitted—and to my own liking—the last curtain line—is not as strong as such a story deserves. This in order to eliminate the Climax in the Book, which has been judged improper for films. After all I am not Mr. M or Mr. G or Mr. M. . . . This is the 2nd picture of some best sellers book that I see within a few weeks. In both cases, I shall say that while the films are good illustrations of the original text, in neither case they are no improvement . . . rather the opposite.” He made a musical analogy—when seeing Wagner’s Ring, it is best “to hear the music with closed eyes and figure your own sceneries. . . . the scenic reproduction is always far below what the music wants to depict. I am inclined to think that even in very realistic books like Gone with the Wind and Grapes of Wrath, and because of their realism their visual reproductions on the screen are inferior to what an intelligent reader could visualize through the original text.” He confessed, however, “Perhaps my judgement [sic] on Grapes of Wrath is influenced [by] the fact that my first daughter in Law ‘Hortense’ is a regular OKIE, whom Gaby found in California!”18 Three weeks into the tour, Barrère made a hurried trip home for a benefit for the Musicians Emergency Fund, though when he had left New York he still lacked specific instructions for his performance. In order to rejoin the Concertino in West Virginia the following night, he had to catch a 12:15 a.m. train, and as always he worried about the timing. “I cannot see myself rushing to the Penn. Station dressed (or undressed) as a Farmer or a Satyr,” he wrote to Jean, alluding to the costumes that were de rigueur at such events.19 The Little Symphony tour continued until late April, but despite the strenuous schedule, the tour was not a financial success, a problem that was magnified by a growing rift with the Juilliard administration. In May, Dean Wagner had called him in for a talk, apparently chastising him for his continual absences, and Hutcheson had reduced his class size for the year.20 In early June, Barrère wrote to Wagner: From the look of things on paper it appeared like a real little fortune for me, and I knew what I was risking with the Schools by doing so; but it was too tempting. The result was most disappointing. After so much work and jeopardizing my position with the Schools, the result is that I am worse off than any preceeding [sic] seasons. This is my



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medicine and I shall swallow it stoically, without blaming any one. I realized that it was unethical to be so deliberated [sic] about taking so many leaves of absence and I was most determined to never do it again, at least not in such a large scale. To tell the truth I was slightly panicky when I was notified of the cut in my flute class last year, especially because it fell on me only [a] few days after signing a lease for an apartment more expensive than the one we had before. For the following season, he promised, he would return to New York between shorter tours; he would fly if necessary. Moreover, he suspected that the Judson management was edging toward replacing his groups with newer, younger ensembles, which would reduce his travel. But apology gave way to defense as he continued, “My flute Classes in the Juilliard has [sic] always been brilliant and results like Blaisdell, Wilkins, Hosmer, Freeman are a proof. . . . My pupils get from me more than their regular weekly hour to which they are entitled as I am ‘taking care of them’ in the preparation of their career in every possible ways.” And of course, he added, if the school would furnish him a sufficient income, he would not have to travel so much.21 Recognizing the stature of his errant flutist, Wagner quickly backpedaled: “I hope you did not think from the short talk on examination day that I thought you had given an insufficient number of hours in teaching or in ensemble. What I meant to convey was the irregularity of the lessons and not the number of them was the thing that was a little difficult for the students and for me. Most students feel, and quite rightly I think, that there is an advantage connected to lessons at regularly spaced intervals as compared with the value of lessons packed in closely and followed by an interval of some weeks without lessons. . . . I am sure we can arrange the necessary absences next winter, but as I indicated, I think we shall have to put in a substitute for two or three lessons if the absences are prolonged.”22 When Barrère did return to New York, one of his duties was to preside over the Beethoven Association, of which he was acting president. Between tours, on February 17, he hosted a dinner at the Hotel Brevoort in honor of Serge Koussevitzky; present for the occasion were many American composers whose works Koussevitzky had presented with the Boston Symphony, among them Nicolai Berezowsky. Now, however, the association had fallen on hard times. Without the guiding spirit of Harold Bauer and with its acting president constantly out of town, its audiences were dwindling, and it had suspended its concert season for 1939–40. A few months earlier, it had given up the West 56th Street clubhouse. The Beethoven Association had had a distinguished and successful history; in the early years, its concerts had made money, and they were in addition of 305



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unquestionably high musical interest, presenting nearly every eminent musician of the era who either lived in or visited the United States. The timing of its decline was ironic. It had been founded in the aftermath of the First World War as a means of combating postwar prejudice against German music. Bauer had seized upon Beethoven as a composer of international stature who stood for the brotherhood of man. Now, as Germany’s aggression appeared likely to escalate into another world war, the board of the Beethoven Association voted in May 1940 to dissolve. Barrère’s summer was a quiet one: he taught at his Woodstock cabin and at the Ernest Williams camp; gave a single concert in Woodstock; and had a light schedule at Chautauqua. He actually spent little time at the Williams camp; instead, the students were driven by the faculty to his cabin in Woodstock. Conductor George Howard, who was one of the volunteer chauffeurs, recalled that he learned as much as the students, sitting in a corner of the converted ice house—a sign labeled it Chez Barrère—that Barrère used as a studio. Barrère performed only a few times at Chautauqua, once as conductor, reprising works of Mary Howe and Mabel Daniels, and once as soloist, in Daniels’s Pastoral Ode and the Widor Suite.23 The latter concert, on August 18, was broadcast on the NBC Blue Network, and despite the poor technical quality of the surviving acetate recording, it gives a thrilling representation of his limpid French-school tone. That concert also made its way to France via live shortwave broadcast. The previous day, Barrère’s son Claude, who then worked for the international division of NBC, announced the broadcast in fluent French and explained the history of Chautauqua to French listeners. In keeping with his promises to the Juilliard administration, Barrère paid considerable attention to his teaching. In the fall of 1940, he participated in a new program at the 1,600-student High School of Music & Art, founded five years earlier by Mayor Fiorello La Guardia. The program was designed to forge links between promising high school students and practicing artists, to give the students a realistic view of the arts professions. The program was supposed to be funded to the tune of $10,000, but the item was struck from the budget, and the principal convinced the artists to volunteer their time. Violinist David Mannes worked with advanced string players; composer Marion Bauer talked about music history; Aaron Copland met with advanced composition students; Walter Damrosch gave general music lectures; and Times critic Howard Taubman, musicologist Carleton Sprague Smith, and Carlos Salzedo all participated.24 Barrère’s turn came on November 13. He began by critiquing a student woodwind quartet that included flutist Murray Panitz (future principal flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra) and Bernard Garfinkle (as Bernard Garfield, future principal bassoonist in Philadelphia), then offered a short, humorous, but apparently memorable demonstration of the flute. More than sixty years later,



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Garfield remembered Barrère’s demonstration of double tonguing as “the impetus for my achieving that articulation.” Barrère also spoke from experience as he warned the students that they should expect to find “great joy” in their instruments, “not great material wealth.”25 By December, wartime fundraising was beginning to be an issue: a lecturerecital with Olin Downes and the B-BC at the Junior League was a benefit for its war relief fund. Barrère also was a member of the newly formed artists’ committee for the Foster Parents Plan for War Children. In late December he volunteered his services, and those of Jerome Rappaport, for a benefit concert for Darius Milhaud, who had fled Nazi-occupied France. Organized by Coolidge and held at the Colony Club on Park Avenue, the concert included recitations by Madeleine Milhaud and the Sonatine, which Barrère played with Jerome Rappaport. Milhaud had not been in the United States since 1927; no longer the enfant terrible, he was now described by Musical Courier as “France’s no. 1 composer.” He was headed for Mills College in California, which had created a teaching position for him at Coolidge’s behest and expense.26 Paradoxically, the war had some positive effects on the American concert scene. By February 1941, Arthur Judson reported that the business was 10 percent ahead of the previous year. The New York managers and their clients, faced with the effective closing of the European market, were concentrating on the United States and Latin America, and the Good Will policy of the State Department, which sent cultural delegations to the latter, was also a boon to business. The thriving war industries were creating a new prosperity and increasing ticket sales, though the threat of the draft hung over some musical organizations as they planned their schedules.27 The Barrère-Britt Concertino lasted only four seasons; it gave its last concert in January 1941. Now it was time for something smaller and even more portable. The solution was the Barrère Trio—with Britt and Rappaport—that had already “spun off ” once from the Concertino, playing in Pittsburgh in January 1939. It would not, Barrère was proud to say, be dependent on transcriptions for its repertoire.28 The trio made its New York debut on April 7 at a benefit concert for the Institute of Musical Art student aid fund, with a program of Haydn, Pierné, and Goossens. The Little Symphony made a three-week tour in March, with a typical mix of veterans — to whom Barrère was unfailingly loyal, despite some decline in their skills — and virtuoso youngsters.29 It took to the road after only one rehearsal. Barrère instructed the newcomers: “There are two pockets in your folders, the A program is in the left pocket, and the B program is in the right pocket. They have been there for twenty-five years, so please don’t mix them up now.” His men adored him. “He seemed to feel it was his duty to entertain us while we entertained the audience. Sometimes it was a problem to keep playing while we 307



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were laughing,” percussionist Robert Stuart recalled. One morning at breakfast, they picked up the local paper and read the review of the previous night’s performance. The hit of the evening , it said, was Barrère’s commentary in (shrewdly) broken English. Barrère rose to his feet and announced, “Let’s go, boys, we must leave town right now; they’re on to us here.”30 Carnegie Hall, meanwhile, was celebrating its fiftieth anniversary in 1941, and to commemorate the event it sponsored a series of twelve Saturday morning lectures entitled “Be Your Own Music Critic.” Supported in part by a grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York, it was directed by Olin Downes, music critic of the Times, and overseen as well by Carnegie Hall’s twenty-sixyear-old president, Robert E. Simon Jr. After an opening lecture by Downes, noted artists spoke about their instruments — Albert Spalding on the violin, Albert Stoessel on the other strings, Leon Barzin on conducting, Modest Alloo on the brass and percussion. Barrère’s lecture on the woodwinds was held on February 8 and was illustrated by several colleagues and former students, including Frances Blaisdell on flute and Anabel Hulme on piccolo. The idea was for the lectures to be not just another music appreciation course, but an opportunity for leading performers to “talk shop,” to cover representative literature, and to describe some of the practical challenges of playing their instruments. The lectures were published later that year by Doubleday, Doran.31 Also published that year was Barrère’s transcription of the Badinerie from Bach’s Suite in B Minor (“Galaxy”). He was working as well on a pedagogical work called Berbiguierana, a set of studies in the keys neglected by Berbiguier (whose studies he had edited in 1918), including the whole-tone scale. “As soon as [they are] finished,” he wrote to James Hosmer in January, “I shall give them to some publisher who will carefully keep them out of circulation.”32 Barrère was briefly back in the recording studio that spring , this time to record Music from Bali with Colin McPhee for Schirmer Records. Inspired by the earliest gamelan recordings, released in the late 1920s, McPhee had spent the better part of the 1930s in Bali, conducting research that ultimately resulted in the classic 1966 book Music of Bali. His many transcriptions of gamelan works for Western instruments include two for flute and piano: Lagu Ardji, a melody from a dance-drama and Kambing slem (Black Goat)— which were, properly, literal transcriptions of the flute part accompanied by McPhee’s own compositional material for piano. McPhee explained, “I had already made a collection of little melodies which boys delighted in playing on the suling [bamboo flute]. . . . Out in the ricefield or under a tree, they would spend hours improvising on these little tunes. As these had no accompaniment, I tried composing light, percussive accompaniments for the piano, choosing tones that would suggest gongs and other Balinese percussion instruments.”33 Although the variety of Balinese tunings, with their unequal intervals, are “lost in trans-



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lation” on the Western flute, and the transcriptions do not use the circular breathing and microtonal inflection characteristic of the real thing, the McPhee pieces are nonetheless effective. And the flute transcriptions were surely closer to the Balinese originals than the two-piano transcriptions performed on the reverse of the same disc by McPhee and Benjamin Britten.34 At the end of May, Barrère had his first and only chance to solo with the New York Philharmonic—albeit not at Carnegie Hall, but at its summer series in Lewisohn Stadium. On August 4, he appeared with assistant concertmaster John Corigliano and pianist Harold Bauer, under conductor Hans Wilhelm Steinberg in the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto of Bach. The program suffered from insufficient rehearsal and ungrateful acoustics. “Attacks were ragged, ensembles muddy and uncertain,” carped New York Post critic John Briggs. “They were all playing , of course, but who could hear them? That is either carrying subtlety too far or Bach truly wrote music for immaterial ears,” wrote Robert Bagar in the World-Telegram. The soloists could be heard when alone in the second movement, but in the third, “Rarely were soloist[s] and orchestra together.” In sum, said Miles Kastendieck of the Brooklyn Eagle, “It should have been a better performance.”35 How ironic it was that when he finally played with the Philharmonic, Barrère got some of the few bad reviews of his career. Things were not going well in other respects, either. In early July, Barrère wrote to Oscar Wagner requesting a raise and a salary advance “on account of the emergency position where I find myself.” The request was denied.36 He was saddened by the death of Philippe Gaubert on July 8, following the loss of Paul Kéfer in February, Charles Sanford Skilton in March, and Lewis Richards and René Pollain the previous year. Then, on August 17, Barrère played the Mozart G Major Concerto in a concert broadcast from Chautauqua. It was a rushed and agitated performance, so in retrospect it is no surprise that five days later, in Woodstock, he suffered a stroke that paralyzed his right arm. After three weeks in Benedictine Hospital in Kingston, he went home accompanied by a private nurse. “[A f ]ew weeks later,” Barrère wrote a student, Everett Timm, in a typed but unsigned letter, “we discard[ed] the Nurse and my Wife took the job of nursing and massaging me.”37 In September, Cécile wrote to Oscar Wagner: “I am much relieved witnessing Georges progress every day. He is now walking easily all around and I think a few more weeks of rest will save him completely. Of course, he his [sic] very much worried about his work and will certainly take the first chance to go at it. So he giving [sic] you the following message . . . ‘My flute class is Oct 10 at 3 pm. Saturday 11 class at 10 am. ensemble class if not Friday 17 Sat. 18 making me one week late on my schedule. Do not worry about this lateness in so much than [sic] last year I managed to give twenty lessons or more on my schedule on flute and five or six hours on the ensemble.’ . . . I have [a] lot to 309



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do to keep him from planning his work and from worrying. . . . Thanking you also for the privileges you will kindly grant Georges in this unfortunate happening.” Arthur Lora stepped in to take Barrère’s examinations, and Albert Stoessel took care of the wind ensemble.38 Barrère, determined to stay in touch, wrote several letters to Wagner and Hutcheson, typing with his left hand: “I am not as good as these pianist[s] who can play studies for left hand alone. My right hand is getting moves but not sufficiently yet to even sign my name; it will come soon I suppose.”39 On October 27 he returned to New York, to a new apartment at 54 Riverside Drive, and in the second week of November welcomed back his seven returning pupils, among them Bernard Goldberg. His plan was to add seven new pupils — including Albert Weatherly, Edith Sagul, and Sidney Zeitlin — very shortly. By late November he reported to one of his students, “I am doing very well but it will be three more months before I can play a little flute.”40 He was forced to cancel a January engagement with the Sioux City (Iowa) Symphony. It must have distressed him further when Musical Courier announced a five-week tour of the Barrère Trio beginning in February, dates that he could not fulfill. Ultimately, he designated Frances Blaisdell to take his place, and for that season the tour went on. Barrère continued to see improvement, and in March he thanked John Alden Carpenter for a letter of encouragement: “Following your impulse I try every day to triumph against illness. . . . I am much better though far to be myself physically. Any way the morale is perfect and after a restful Summer I hope to advertise in the music papers a new product which I will call The NEW Georges Barrère.” The letter was painstakingly signed with his left hand, in the manner of a penmanship exercise. Clearly visible was the final s on “Georges” that had been lost in a flourish for so many years.41 The next day, he sent Oscar Wagner a formal proposal to increase his teaching load “in order to realise a small improvement in my financial status, . . . a supplentary [sic] amount of work which I could very well control next year as my health is rapidly coming back to normal and also because my Concerts activity will [be] confine[d] to almost nothing.” He proposed an additional hour per week of ensemble, for a total of two hour-and-a-half classes, or a new class of small orchestra work, in the style of the Little Symphony, for two hours a week. Wagner did not address this request directly, responding only that there would be no change in work or salary reflected in the next year’s contract. On a somewhat more personal note, he reported, “[T]he day you made your first joke again was almost declared a School holiday for celebration!”42 At about the same time Barrère wrote to Coolidge, reporting, “Everything seems to be all right now, except that to recover all my former faculties will take still [a] few more months. I wont [sic] be able to play flute before next Winter.



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I teach 2 or 3 lessons a day. Naturally Cécile has been wonderful to me nursing, massaging, taking care of everything. We will move again as soon as she will be able to cancel our lease. . . . Next winter we shall have smaller quarters and live, like so many others, on War portions.”43 In fact, the Barrères stayed at 54 Riverside Drive until the following May, when they took a six-room apartment at 229 West 78th Street, “at the more temperate corner of Broadway”—the wind had been so strong that the now-frail Barrère had felt trapped inside the Riverside Drive apartment in the winter.44 He was greatly distressed by the premature death of the forty-eight-year-old Albert Stoessel, felled by a heart attack while conducting an orchestra at the American Academy of Arts and Letters on May 12. “Barrère was so fond of Stoessel that actually he was weeping ,” Samuel Baron recalled. At sixty-six, Barrère was particularly sobered to serve as an honorary pallbearer at the funeral, which drew more than a thousand mourners to St. Thomas Episcopal Church on Fifth Avenue.45 Barrère tried to hide the effects of his stroke from the younger students. No longer able to demonstrate, he nevertheless had his flute at lessons. His mind remained sharp. Although he sat by a desk and usually exercised his hand by squeezing a ball throughout her lessons, Lesley Oakes recalled, “The wrong notes never escaped him, . . . and he would call out the correct ones from across the room.”46 But the veterans were shocked by the difference in the lessons. “He’d try to blow on the flute without touching it, because he couldn’t do it. It was very sad,” Ruth Freeman observed.47 Bernard Goldberg, then in his second year with Barrère, told Samuel Baron, a first-year student, “[I]t’s too bad you didn’t study with Barrère before, because when you were playing it wrong, and he was too impatient to explain it, he’d pick up the flute and play it. And if you had your ears open you could hear wonderful stuff. But [now] he had to verbalize it. Sometimes he betrayed an irritation”— either with himself, or with the student. “You are so STUPIDE, if I could play you would understand what I mean, but I will tell you.” Baron recalled that once he arrived for a lesson and was about to knock, when he heard somebody playing the flute, and he hesitated, thinking that another student was finishing a lesson. Barrère came to the door, carrying his flute. “He had been playing,” said Baron. “He seemed embarrassed. ‘I suppose you didn’t think that was me.’ He said, ‘well, I have to be like a student, I want to come back in. They think I’m finished. My enemies, they say I will never play again. But I will be back.’ ” In fact, he had asked Arthur Lora to help him to relearn his right-hand fingering, plugging the holes as a beginner would. “How far he got I don’t know,” said Baron.48 The Barrères spent another restful summer at Woodstock —“Not many peoples [sic] around and no visitors, on account of the scarcity of Gas”—where he taught a few students, among them Joyce Thompson, to whom he sent detailed bus, train, and ferry instructions in a letter that showed marked im311



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provement in typing, signature, and diction, and he offered to pick her up in his car at the West Hurley railroad station.49 In August he wrote Jean a twopage handwritten letter—its carefully sculpted words far more legible than his right-handed scrawl in healthier days. He seems to indicate that he was writing an autobiography (“I have finished all the first part of my book and have already entered the Famous Swiss Tour. . . . that will take me out of my daily ten lines to a full page of hand writting [sic]. I already copy Music, much better than last year.”50 He had a standard routine: after breakfast, “Le Tour du Bloc,” then he read two pages of Hitler m’a dit by Hermann Rauschning. Indeed, Barrère spent most of his time reading — he had just completed Young Man of Caracas, the autobiography of the Venezuelan journalist Thomas Russell Ybarra, and was now in the midst of Arthur Koestler’s 1941 novel, Darkness at Noon. Each night Cécile read to him in French — currently the 500-page Le Désastre, an account by Paul and Victor Margueritte of the capitulation of Bazaine and the city of Metz in 1870. There was also the daily Herald Tribune, where he enjoyed Steinbeck’s war dispatches and the crossword puzzle. These activities were interspersed with lessons, lunches, and naps. Cécile served him well: though the pickings from their garden were sparse, a typical lunch was fried chicken, fried potatoes, cheese, and peach tart. At the beginning of September, however, he again became ill and was unable to return as scheduled to New York. By early October Cécile reported to Wagner that the doctor ordered several additional weeks of complete rest before he could start teaching,51 but he began again around the twentieth.52 On October 29, writing punctually to Coolidge with his annual birthday greetings, he described himself as “half way in bed yet after six weeks but getting up progressively.”53 He was carefully following the progress of the war and in particular that of his sons in the armed forces. His youngest, Jean, was now a lieutenant at Camp Crowder, Missouri, in charge of basic signal training ,54 and Gabriel, the middle son, was a corporal at Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky. In January 1944, the New York Flute Club was profiled in Time magazine, which credited the profusion of flute players in the United States to “the untiring evangelism of the Flute Club’s founder and president, 67-year-old Georges Barrère, . . . one of the few surviving devotees of the gaiter, the Prince Albert and the imperial beard.”55 His health was shaky, however, and unsure whether he could attend the February 1 examinations at Juilliard, he suggested that one of his alumni, Frances Blaisdell, Anabel Hulme, or Fred Wilkins, sit in for him. But he reassured the Institute that “I am taking good care of my pupils the same way and the final results will be as usual even with an invisible flute teacher.”56 He was able to attend the meeting of the advisory board of the Society for the Publication of American Music on April 15 and the graduate flute exams on May 9.57



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The summer of 1944 went much as the previous one, as loyal students trooped to Woodstock for intensive instruction at a fee of $15 an hour. Among them were Joyce Thompson of Ashtabula, Ohio, and Gwen (Gwyneth) Duane, from Panama City, Florida. The young women practiced four to six hours a day for their twice-weekly lessons. “The results,” Thompson reported, “were amazing. He turned stricter than during school term but was more fun after our lessons were over.” The informality of Woodstock allowed them an intimacy with the Barrères not customary in the winter. The students visited them in the early evenings, and “it was almost a four ring circus we had so much fun talking and fooling together.” Barrère and Pierre Henrotte drove to the railroad station to pick them up; Cécile lent them a teakettle, silverware, and plates because their rental cottage was poorly equipped and helped them to order milk and arrange for laundry service. She even shared some of her vaunted recipes, while Barrère lent them volumes of Andersen études and Kuhlau duets. Duane had a lesson on the day of the D-Day invasion and arrived to find Barrère “glued to the radio and all excited.” That afternoon, he suffered another stroke and was taken to Benedictine Hospital. By Monday, June 12, Cécile Barrère told the students that her husband was dying; he had been unable to recognize her or his sons Gabriel or Claude for two days. ( Jean was now stationed overseas.) He died at three o’clock on the morning of June 14.58 Barrère’s funeral was held on Friday afternoon, June 17, at the Lasher Funeral Home in Woodstock, with the Reverend Austin V. Grey, chaplain of the Benedictine Hospital, officiating. Arthur Lora played the air from Orpheus, accompanied by Henrotte (violin), Roger Britt (viola), and Horace Britt (cello).59 The pallbearers included only one musician, Gabriel Peyre of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. The rest were his Woodstock neighbors Martin Shutze, president of The Maverick Concerts and chair of the German Department at the University of Chicago; the artists Eugene Speicher, Carl Walters, and Norbert Heerman; and photographer Konrad Cramer. Barrère was buried in the Artists’ Memorial Cemetery in Woodstock. His death was announced in all the major papers. An editorial in the Herald Tribune read: “A wide circle will mourn the passing of Georges Barrère, not only of friends and acquaintances and those who knew him solely from his virtuosity upon the flute, but of all who had any contact with the lively charm of his personality. One can have no keener realization of the tragedy that has come upon France, his native land, than to think of Nazi brutality crushing such Old-World-wise gayety as was his. . . . Probably few expatriates have been able to enter so wholeheartedly into the thought and especially the humor of an adopted land as he.”60 In July, Musical Courier published this tribute from Barrère’s long-time friend Francis Rogers: 313



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Pan himself had not the art To wake the lovely notes that dormant were Within the silver tube, and stir the heart. Of its full power man was not aware Until ’twas played by Orpheus’ counterpart, The living soul of music, Georges Barrère!61 On December 4, the Bohemians held a memorial concert replete with historical references and devoted exclusively to French repertoire. Lora, Britt, and Salzedo played the Sarabande from Pierné’s Sonata da camera, which was dedicated to the memory of Barrère’s classmate and friend Louis Fleury and commissioned by his long-time patron Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. The Taffanel Quintet, the Fauré Elégie (with Britt and Salzedo), and the Ravel Sonatine in Salzedo’s trio arrangement comprised a program curiously devoid of American music, but symbolic of Barrère’s essential French nature. Walter Damrosch gave the eulogy: “Most of you have known Barrère well, have recognized him as perhaps the greatest flute player of our era. As a teacher he proved himself equally outstanding , and as a result his pupils are now occupying prominent positions in many of our orchestras. As a man he quickly adapted himself to American customs and I can never forget how, during the many, many years he was with me, his wit, his sense of humor and with it all, his serious ideal of the finest, the best, the noblest in music, was part and parcel of his entire nature.” Now eighty-two, Damrosch concluded, “To me, his all too early loss is irreparable, and I can only hope that no matter how unworthy, if in a few years, the gates of heaven are open to me, I know I shall again see our beloved Barrère, flute in hand, among the orchestra of angels.”62



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I

n the 1950s, as popular history would have it, Jean-Pierre Rampal singlehandedly reinvented the flute as a solo instrument, and the flute’s American Independence Day took place on February 14, 1958, when he gave the U.S. premiere of the Poulenc Sonata at the Library of Congress. Alas, that interpretation reflects the rapid onset of historical amnesia, for Georges Barrère had died just fourteen years earlier. It takes nothing away from Rampal’s enormous accomplishments in the second half of the twentieth century to say that he walked in the footsteps of Barrère—quite literally, since Barrère had performed at the first concert in the library’s Coolidge Auditorium in 1925. Two decades before Rampal was born, Barrère was championing the flute as a solo instrument, giving what were likely the first flute recitals in Paris and, very soon thereafter, doing the same in the United States. For American flutists, therefore, Independence Day truly occurred on May 13, 1905, when Barrère arrived in New York. The comparison with Rampal does, however, prompt the question of where Barrère stands in relation to his contemporaries and successors. In France, Barrère was certainly very talented, but he was no prodigy. By the standards of the time, he had a relatively slow start and was soon overtaken by the younger Philippe Gaubert. Though they maintained a cordial relationship throughout their lives, Gaubert spurred Barrère’s competitive juices as a student and a young professional; Gaubert was certainly the more natural player, the quicker study. Given the primitive state of recording technology of the time, we have no objective evidence as to which was the greater player, even if such a thing could be quantified—and it is of little consequence. Both were 315



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devoted disciples of Taffanel and successful teachers of that tradition. Both inspired many works for their instrument, but Gaubert ultimately directed his interests toward a sterling career as a conductor, while Barrère had by far the greater solo and chamber music career. The Belle Époque press crowned Gaubert as Taffanel’s heir apparent, and in many ways he was, as conductor of the Société des Concerts and the Opéra, member of the resurrected Taffanel chamber music group, and coauthor of the flute method that Taffanel never finished. But Barrère’s quite different contribution also places him squarely in the succession. The wind chamber music group that he founded in Paris and its younger sibling in the United States were the leading forces in expanding the woodwind ensemble literature in the first half of the twentieth century, and Barrère was Taffanel’s chief apostle as an advocate for the flute as a solo instrument. The fine flutists Barrère left behind in Paris — Hennebains, Lafleurance, Blanquart — remained primarily orchestral players; Fleury, less extroverted in character, more of a scholar, faithfully continued the tradition of the Société Moderne and did much to edit and perform flute works of the Baroque period. Moyse, who was a half generation younger, did not branch out into solo work until the 1930s and never assumed an advocacy role. He did not have to—Barrère had done the hard work of battling the bonbons and spurring the interest of composers in the flute. When Barrère returned to Paris to perform in 1929, he worried that the French had forgotten him. His fears were not misplaced. His records never received wide distribution outside the United States, though when René Rateau returned to France with some in the 1950s, French flutists who heard them thought they were hearing Taffanel.1 Today Barrère is largely forgotten in France, save for the legendary premiere of Afternoon of a Faun and the dedications that grace the headings of so many musical scores. As Michel Debost, likewise an émigré to America, has observed, “You know how the French are: the musicians who have ‘made it’ in the U.S. are somehow removed from the national memory. . . . Such were Barrère, Tabuteau, Voisin, Casadesus, and Moyse, to a certain extent.”2 In 1905, Barrère swept onto the American scene and was immediately accepted by the public. Though he spent nearly a quarter century as an orchestral flutist, he was never exclusively regarded as such. From the beginning, he was much more, a soloist, a chamber musician, and above all a personality. He had an enormous drive to be a public figure, and as such he found his calling. The French flutists who preceded him to the United States were excellent musicians with similar training, but they never broke out of the orchestral ranks. Tall and handsome, with a long black beard, then de rigueur in France but quite unusual in the United States, speaking heavily accented English and oozing charm and good humor, Barrère was like nothing Americans had ever seen



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before. Nor was he like anything they had heard before — the technique was flawless, the articulation fluid and varied, the sound centered and limpid. Even by the 1940s, when one of his last pupils, Bernard Goldberg, first heard him, he was staggered by that sound. Despite lessons with Barrère student John Kiburz Sr. and Laurent student Laurent Torno, Goldberg says, “I’d never heard anything comparable.” John Krell, a Kincaid student, explained, “[H]is tone had a tremulous vitality that was very distinctive from the other migrating flutists of the French schooling.”3 Barrère was unique — and he remained the only flutist with a solo career for the first half of the century. To these fundamentals Barrère added the proverbial je ne sais quoi, that intangible thing called style. He commanded the respect of his colleagues by virtue of his musicianship, his bearing, his generosity, and his loyalty. His collaborations with the leading artists of his day—David Mannes, Isadora Duncan, Harold Bauer, Rudolf Ganz, Léon Rothier—leave no doubt of his musicianly bona fides. He was a welcome member of the boards of multiple musical organizations—the Beethoven Association, the Bohemians, the Society for the Publication of American Music, and various juries and committees—and was able to transcend the factionalism that plagued the musical worlds of both Paris and New York. A fine orchestral player, he had risen rapidly to the top in Paris, playing principal flute at the Société Nationale at eighteen, at the Geneva Exposition at twenty, and in the Colonne Orchestra by twenty-six. He officially joined the Opéra at twenty-four. In the New York Symphony, he was from the beginning of his tenure the aristocrat in an orchestra widely regarded as second to the Philharmonic in virtuosity, yet peopled with stars. Many years later, the composer Arthur Farwell told Barrère, “[T]he only reason I went to Damrosch’s concerts was to hear your wonderful handling of the flute phrases.”4 Moreover, Damrosch gave him more solo billings than any other first-chair woodwind player in the twentieth century ever received—indeed, he was brought forth as soloist more than almost any orchestral player of that century. Damrosch knew a star when he saw one, and the results of displaying him were mutually beneficial. Barrère adopted Damrosch’s touring strategy for his chamber ensembles and achieved similar success. Walfrid Kujala, long-time piccoloist of the Chicago Symphony, remembers that as a twelve-year-old he was “impressed with the fact that so many of our family friends, even those who were not musicians, knew about Barrère and held him in high esteem. At that time we lived in a small West Virginia town, but thanks to Barrère’s indefatigable touring he managed to touch a lot of people’s lives in the hinterlands as well as in the big cities. He was truly a household name.”5 He was one of the early pioneers in taking fine music to a diverse and musically inexperienced country and in raising the standards of literature 317



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and performance nationwide. “I have always regarded you,” wrote his patron Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, “as a flutist and a conductor and a program maker, as one of the best influences in our musical life in this country.”6 Moreover, as one of the most prominent classical musicians of his day, on a par with the leading violinists and singers, Barrère became a popular icon, able to raise unsurpassed amounts of money for Liberty Loans and to lend a patina of sophistication to advertisements for New York City apartment rentals. The sources of Barrère’s success were several. First, he was an excellent student: of Taffanel, of Damrosch, of American social customs, of history. His formal academic education ceased at age fourteen, in accordance with the French system, yet he was immersed in history and literature, a refined and well-read man who was self-taught but extremely knowledgeable. His insatiable curiosity extended not just to music but to fiction, history, food, theater, and popular culture. He quickly absorbed the lessons of his mentors — the entrepreneurship of his businessman father, the refinement and scholarship of Paul Taffanel, the barnstorming missionary spirit of Walter Damrosch, the organizational skills of them all. (Alas, he never acquired the financial acumen of either his father or Damrosch.) His well-developed ears, honed in the solfège courses of the Paris Conservatoire, served him well as arranger, conductor, and teacher. The rigor and breadth of his advanced studies in harmony and composition, not to mention music history, made him a well-rounded musician, not just a flute player. He conveyed this philosophy to his own students: pianists who slaved eight to ten hours a day lost all sense of proportion, he said, and could talk only of their ten fingers: “The overdose of practice will not give any benefit, whereas study in some other field will enrich him both as a person and as a musician.”7 Supporting his innate talent was a powerful work ethic, propelled initially by the competitive nature of the Paris Conservatoire and the rigorous auditions of the official Parisian musical institutions, but later self-motivated. Enormous energy allowed him simultaneously to play in the Colonne Orchestra and the Opéra, maintain a heavy teaching schedule, and serve on the board of the musicians’ union and the orchestra committee while also attending to the timeconsuming business of soliciting and presenting the substantial body of new music performed by his wind instrument society. In New York, similarly, he delighted in logging his working hours for the Flutist magazine. Barrère had the instincts to seize the opportunities presented to him and was savvy enough to discern broader trends in public taste and cultural predilection. He recognized the vacuum left by the disbanding of Taffanel’s chamber music group and created a new one. He was fortunate, when he came to the United States, that Damrosch found it convenient to use him as a selling point for his upwardly mobile and literally mobile New York Symphony. Those tours



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became a springboard for him to build a national reputation. He also seized on Damrosch’s connections in New York society, and he would come to know everyone in musical and social New York. During the World War I era, Barrère took advantage both of American Francophilia and the subsequent drive to define a distinctively American music, readily providing his audiences with an array of Gallic repertoire and culture and then making his concerts a forum for the promotion of American music. In an era when the vast majority of orchestral players, not to mention conductors, were foreign-born and unsympathetic to American composers, Barrère’s advocacy of American music was all the more exceptional. He used all the tools of his day: the railroad, a vibrant musical press, the nascent medium of radio. Unfortunately, he lived just a bit too early to benefit fully from the career-building potential of recordings. An adventurous spirit served him well. In coming to the United States, he displayed the courage of any immigrant who journeys thousands of miles to a country where he speaks not a word of the language. He was willing to take a chance on himself, on his audiences — touring the country with a woodwind ensemble in 1915 or with a Russian ballet troupe in 1920 took courage — and most of all on composers. “I think we Concert givers must not always play sure shots but give a chance to new composers to be presented to the general public.”8 Barrère’s intellectual curiosity led him both to research the lost masterworks of the past—he exulted over the discovery of new “treasures” in the New York Public Library—and to actively solicit new repertoire. The same curiosity that led him to read widely, to savor the changing landscape and customs of a continent that he traveled extensively, led him to explore it musically, whether that meant listening to American Indian music, playing a Chinese flute, or trying newly written music of all descriptions. His enthusiasm was genuine and was one of the factors that connected him so well with his audiences. Above all, Barrère owed his great success to the persona he created — the bon vivant, the professional Frenchman, the comedian, the public man. “His personality was writ large over everything he did,” observed Samuel Baron.9 He enjoyed life to the fullest, and that enjoyment showed on stage and off — an attitude that almost uncannily anticipated Rampal. He lived well, perhaps too well for the sake of his pocketbook, but in a style that enabled him to project an elegance and refinement that were gracious reminders of his European origins. His adolescent prankishness matured into an incomparable sense of humor, sometimes waspish, sometimes impish, sometimes almost vaudevillian. He had, to paraphrase Mark Twain, a combination of French wit and American humor. There is hardly a surviving colleague or student who cannot sum319



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mon up some bon mot from the Barrère comic repertoire. But that in no way diminished his seriousness as an artist. It was his way of coping with life; the humor always served a higher goal. His well-calculated self-deprecation sat well with his financial supporters; it is clear from the correspondence with Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge and Mary Howe, for example, that they thoroughly enjoyed the repartee. Barrère’s essentially optimistic and resilient nature, coupled with superb social skills, brought him through repeated periods of financial distress as well as the everyday rigors of the classical music business. Barrère was not bothered a bit by the need to curry favor with local sponsors and rich New York benefactors. He neither condescended nor felt condescended to. On tour, he endured more than his share of obligatory postconcert receptions hosted by local presenters, but he probably enjoyed them more than many musicians do. Of course it did not hurt if the food was good, but he was a trouper. He countered ignorant but well-meaning backstage chatter with verbal comebacks that went completely over the heads of his visitors but amused his colleagues no end. He had a thorough command of protocol, whether in the salons of Paris, the drawing rooms and boardrooms of New York, or the church basements of the Community Concerts circuit. His relationships with the Flagler family and Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge were quite formal, never on a first-name basis even after twenty-five years. Every year, he diligently sent Coolidge flowers on her birthday—and she archived the cards as a mark of her respect for “my flutist.” Like Miss Manners, Barrère viewed etiquette and protocol as customs that made life more comfortable, not more onerous. Even when playing for society weddings and soirées—something one can hardly imagine his late twentieth-century counterpart, Julius Baker, doing — he never felt demeaned. His European origins, his professional attainments, and his enormous personal charm allowed him, unlike many of his orchestral colleagues, to function on a level of social parity with his patrons. He was always an artiste musicien, just as the immigration documents described him in 1905. As Winthrop Sargeant, a fellow member of the New York Symphony, observed, “He was a man of great urbanity, and perhaps the only member of the ensemble who was as much at home among the Philistines of the outer world as he was among his fellow musicians.” Just as he connected with the all-important patrons, Barrère had a great talent for bridging the proscenium divide between performer and audience. His Frenchness helped, of course, and he was superb at charming the ladies who were the backbone of American musical institutions at all levels. His carefully preserved French accent was as meticulously groomed as his formal old-fashioned clothing , the Prince Albert coat, wing collar, and four-in-hand tie. In an era



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when Americans equated cultural authority with European birth, he realized the advantage that his birthright conferred, and he exploited it fully. He genuinely enjoyed communicating with an audience. On tour, he gently lectured an idealistic young colleague that “this is a show,” recognizing that part of his job was to entertain. He had an innate sensitivity to audiences, carefully tailoring his programs to the interests and experience of his listeners. There was no more savvy program maker. The Little Symphony, for example, was really two orchestras: in New York, it was most often a surprise symphony, presenting resurrected classical works and showcasing the “novelties” of a new generation of American composers to progressive audiences. On the road, it had a more conservative repertoire, multiple flute solos, and a comic stage act appropriate to listeners often new to classical music. He captivated them all and did an immense service to the American musical landscape by developing new audiences and inspiring a new generation of musicians, many of whom came to New York to study with him. Yet he never pandered. His woodwind ensemble tours of the mid-1910s were revolutionary in medium and literature. His encores were not Tulou or Doppler, but Syrinx and Orpheus. He radiated good taste, and he felt no need to sacrifice it in aid of audience development. Quite the opposite, in fact. “The public at large is only interested in what an artist can express and not at all in what he can display,” Barrère explained.10 He railed against cheapness in the repertoire, both by the example of his own programs and in statements in the musical press. “I always make up my programme so it compares favorably with that of any other soloist,” he declared, and he had the results to prove it. “Each time I play a solo I make it a point to do something useful, either playing some good, very good, music to elevate the standard of our instrument or by playing some new worthy compositions which will help furnish an incentive for present day composers to write for our worthy instrument.”11 The results were immediate and stunning , the more so because he accomplished them without benefit of recordings or radio. As early as 1910 the Evening Sun reported, “During five years in New York, Mr. Barrère has won friends for that abused instrument, the flute; has shown that its repertory includes music of the masters instead of second class ‘show pieces,’ and that its players are really interpretative artists.”12 Solicitous of patrons and responsive to the public, Barrère was also a charismatic leader and congenial collaborator. He built a coterie of loyal colleagues in France, where he marshaled performers and composers, despite little or no financial reward, to build the increasingly prominent Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent, and in the United States. Barrère was a man of strong and long-standing loyalties, most of all to his fellow Frenchmen. “Anybody

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from the Paris Conservatory was his buddy,” Samuel Baron recalled, especially his classmates, who remained lifelong friends and colleagues. He faithfully kept up with his French brethren—Alfred Barthel in Chicago, Marcel Tabuteau in Philadelphia, Léon Rothier, Edgard Varèse, Carlos Salzedo, Alfred Cortot, Pierre Monteux, Albert Roussel, and many others. But he won the respect of the Americans as well. The results were salutary in every respect: the dissemination of the growing woodwind literature, performing collaborations honed to a fine point over decades, and continued expansion of the flute and woodwind literature. “What a fine musician and unaffected man,” wrote composer Daniel Gregory Mason on hearing of his death.13 Lacking the aural legacy we might wish for — a few late recordings offer tantalizing tastes of Barrère’s ravishing tone and consummate artistry — we must, at least in part, judge his playing and stature through the words of his contemporaries. First there are the contemporaneous evaluations of the critics. He hardly ever got a bad review; perhaps the only late twentieth-century equivalent is the cellist Yo-Yo Ma. The epithets of choice are frequently royal: “prince among program-makers,” “monarch of the flute,” “king of the wood-winds,” “king of flutists,” “His Highness, King Georges.”14 There is a certain irony in these remarks, referring as they do to a son of the Third Republic who became a loyal American. But the metaphors affirm that he stood above the crowd. His potential rivals could not touch him in popular appeal: Georges Laurent, in Boston after 1919, was a magnificent player who taught his students well, but he was not fit by temperament nor employment to cutting the solo figure that Barrère did. John Amadio, visiting from Australia, also impressed but generally took second place to his wife, soprano Florence Austral. René LeRoy, who ventured to the United States in the 1930s, had success as a performer, continuing the Taffanel wind society, but little lasting influence. Moyse did not come to the United States until seven years after Barrère died, but by then his glory days as a performer were over. Barrère was clearly the most famous flutist of his generation in the United States, but he was also the most significant. As a teacher, he changed the face of American flute playing. Though he had no method, either literally or figuratively, he was the founding father not only of the Juilliard wind department but also of modern American flute playing. One researcher has estimated that 95 percent of present-day American flutists can trace their pedagogical genealogy to Barrère, a statistic he no doubt would have appreciated. He was, said Kincaid student John Krell, “the grandfather of American flutists.”15 The qualitative results speak for themselves. One Juilliard graduate recalled, “In years of acquaintance with wind players, I have never heard anyone speak of another teacher with the degree of respect and affection which he commanded.”16 His students went on to staff the leading conservatories: Kincaid at Cur-



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tis; Lora and then Baron at Juilliard; Blaisdell and Wilkins at the Manhattan School; and his “grandstudents” Baker at Juilliard and Mariano at Eastman, to name just a few. They also staffed the smaller music schools and private studios around the country in the second half of the twentieth century and have now produced several generations of French-school flutists. The performing résumés of his students, many of whom went on to prominent orchestral and chamber music careers, are equally telling: Meredith Willson (New York Philharmonic and New York Chamber Music Society), Bernard Goldberg (Cleveland and Pittsburgh), Frederick Wilkins (Voice of Firestone, CBS), Ruth Freeman (Musica Aeterna, New York), Frances Blaisdell (New York City Ballet), Bernard Birnbaum (San Antonio), Emil Niosi (Minneapolis), Byron Hester (Houston), John Kiburz, Sr. and Jr. (St. Louis), Ernest Liegl (Chicago), Francis Fitzgerald (Indianapolis), James Hosmer (Indianapolis, Metropolitan Opera), William Kincaid (Philadelphia), Arthur Lora (NBC Symphony, Metropolitan Opera), and Carmine Coppola (NBC Symphony, Detroit). “I enjoy teaching ,” said Barrère, “because the art of the flute has such tremendous possibilities and I should like to see it reach its Parnassus before long. I want to train excellent flute players for all the leading orchestras so that composers listening will realize these possibilities and give the flute interesting things to do. . . . There is something noble about the art of teaching, for it is an art in itself. To prepare something for the next generation is far more satisfying than the momentary thrill that accompanies a performance. Sincere teaching should almost be a religion.”17 That conviction extended to a thorough interest in his students, particularly after their formal education was complete. “There is no limit for ‘on advice’ boys as far as I am concerned,” he told James Hosmer. “All my pupils are dear to me and I am ready to do anything for any one of them; even if once or twice I have heard ugly reports on some of them [sic] attitude toward me. I am too optimistic to pay attention to these reports and I love my serious Students who have abide [sic] to my conception of flute playing.”18 His students’ memory of him is based not just on the musical substance of the lessons, but also on his hope that his own joie de vivre would be infectious. “Mr. Barrère stressed tone, interpretation, dynamics and having a good time,” Julia Drumm Denecke remembered.19 Graciously paternal, he also introduced them to society and to conductors, invited them to perform with him, and helped them to get jobs. The same was true for the promising young musicians he recruited for his Little Symphony. David Walter, his bassist in the late 1930s, recalled, “There had been a tradition among bassists that the surest and quickest way to get a good symphony job was to play a season or two with the Barrère Little Symphony.”20 Indeed, after serving their apprenticeships with Barrère, Morris 323



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Tivin, Fred Zimmermann, and Robert Brennand all moved on to the New York Philharmonic, John Mancini went to the Metropolitan Opera, and David Walter went to Pittsburgh under Fritz Reiner. Barrère’s enduring institutional legacy, the New York Flute Club, was founded on the same principle of mutual aid: to provide a performance venue for his students and colleagues; to furnish the opportunity for professional, student, and amateur flutists to hear new and classic repertory; and to encourage new compositions for the flute. It remains to this day the model for a host of local and national organizations with remarkably similar programs of concerts, ensembles, competitions, community outreach, commissions, and recordings. Then there is Barrère’s legacy as a builder of the repertoire. From his earliest days as a professional flutist, Barrère made enormous efforts to raise the level of literature for his instrument. First, he was firm about what he would not play. On the programs of some 1,800 concerts in which he appeared as soloist or chamber artist after 1897, the works of Andersen appear only five times; Demersseman twice; Tulou and Popp never. He told members of the New York Flute Club, “Truly, our colleagues who still confine themselves exclusively in the realm of the mediocre sentimentalism of a Terschak or the matter-of-fact of the Dopplers are hurting the famous CAUSE much more than the kind ultra-Modern Composer who pulls the Flute out of its supposed abandonment to deliver his revolutionary message through our medium.” His mission, he proclaimed, was “to promote better Music. Expose to the public our classical treasures, help the young composer and, above all, discard from our public repertoire these bookshelves [of ] mediocrities, reserving these relative masterworks for mere practice or historical study. Do not forget that pianists play Czerny every day in their Studios but never take him out. There is a reason and if we guess it we will accordingly treat our dear friends Walckiers, Boehm, Altès, Briccialdi with the same reserve that violinists treat Rode, Mazas, Ernst, Kreutzer, etc.”21 He was equally firm about what he did play from the existing literature: meaty works by Bach, Reinecke, Widor, Enesco, and Milhaud; sonatas of Handel, Marcello, Rameau, Couperin, and other Baroque masters; even the smaller works of Chopin, Leroux, and Godard. Most of all, though, he inspired a new generation of works for flute: the most enduring by Gaubert, Caplet, Roussel, Varèse, Griffes, and Riegger; and others, less known but of considerable musical interest, by Seitz, Goldman, Woollett, Wagenaar, Wailly, Lefebvre, Marion Bauer, and many more. It is a measure of his stature that he never commissioned a piece; there is no evidence that any money ever flowed from flutist to composer. He asked for new works, inspired them, promoted them, and did everything but pay for them. The results: at least 184 known premieres and 50 works dedicated to him.



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And then there is the broader legacy, one that is arguably even more important: by making the flute a respected solo instrument, he achieved his goal of inspiring composers to write for it, whether or not they dedicated the works to him. The Prokofiev Sonata, written after Barrère was forced to stop playing but with his sound clearly in mind, is the classic example. By elevating the overall standards of performance, ensuring that the flute could be a respected solo instrument, and expanding and improving the quality of the literature, he was responsible for the first flute renaissance of the twentieth century. He paved the way for Rampal — armed with the tools of a later generation, recordings and airplanes—to usher in the second flute renaissance of that century. In the woodwind ensemble arena, the pattern is similar. The Société Moderne, which endured for more than twenty years after Barrère left France under the leadership of his protégé and good friend Louis Fleury, was responsible for an additional sixty-nine premieres. The Société Moderne and the Barrère Ensemble fostered the growth of such innovative ensembles as the New York Woodwind Quintet, led by Barrère student Samuel Baron, and made the woodwind quintet a standard chamber configuration. The success of the Little Symphony spawned a plethora of similarly constituted chamber orchestras that were economically practical and musically rewarding. Barrère was a one-man vehicle for cultural transmission. Present at the Paris Conservatoire during the golden age of its woodwind tradition, he helped to start the first golden age of the French tradition in the United States. Working with the Wm. S. Haynes Co., by 1915 he had influenced the nearly universal adoption of the silver flute. In his tastes and friendships, he remained thoroughly French. Yet he was also an enthusiastic American, with a phenomenal command of his second language — an irrepressible punster, avid crossword puzzler, and stylish writer. Seizing the opportunity to introduce a new style to a growing nation, he embodied the best of Yankee entrepreneurship. Working with the French colleagues who were the backbone of American modernism in the 1920s, he supported the multitudinous factions of the American avantgarde. With his Barrère Ensemble and Little Symphony, he encouraged composers of all stripes by programming at least one American work on nearly every concert. The sheer quality of his work, combined with his personal qualities of humor, generosity, and social grace, enabled him to transcend social class. This son of an illiterate seamstress and bourgeois businessman rose to become one of the leading artists of his time and a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, to hobnob with French aristocracy as defined by class and American aristocracy as defined by money, and to connect with all types of audiences from the most provincial to the most sophisticated. His is a very American story. E. B. White got to the essence of the urban experience when he wrote that 325



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there were three New Yorks: that of the native New Yorker who takes it for granted, that of the commuter, and that “of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.” The greatest, he wrote, is the last, “the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. . . . the settlers give it passion. . . . each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh eyes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company.”22 Barrère fits that definition precisely. And what he did for New York, he did as well for an entire musical nation — as a flutist, a chamber music evangelist, a teacher, and a Frenchman. Carl Engel, chief of the Music Division in the Library of Congress, observed, “France, in letting the great flutist come to America, made an impressive gift of greater significance than when the Statue of Liberty was erected in New York Harbor.”23



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Appendixes

For each work, the entry gives the following information: composer; title; instrumentation; dedication (in Appendix 1 only); date of composition; premiere performers, date, sponsor (if any), and place; manuscript location; publisher(s); and publication date(s). If any given datum is unavailable, that line is omitted for reasons of space. For the same reasons, full personnel listings are not included for large ensembles (five or more players). Many of the composers with whom Barrère worked could fairly be described as obscure, and thus their birth and death dates are often unavailable in dictionaries and library catalogs; corrections are welcome. organizations, libraries, and other abbreviations BA B-BC BE BLS BNF-M BSB Comp DCM Ded ESC FLP GB ICG LC LOC Ms NYFC

Beethoven Association Barrère-Britt Concertino Barrère Ensemble/Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments Barrère Little Symphony Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Music Department Barrère-Salzedo-Britt Date composed Dayton C. Miller Flute Collection Dedication Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Free Library of Philadelphia Georges Barrère International Composers’ Guild Library of Congress League of Composers Manuscript New York Flute Club

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Appendixes NYPL NYPL-M NYSO PAAC Prem Pub SCM SMIV SNM SO TdL

New York Public Library New York Public Library, Music Division New York Symphony Orchestra Pan American Association of Composers Premiere Published edition(s) Société des Compositeurs de Musique Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent Société Nationale de Musique Symphony Orchestra Trio de Lutèce

instrument abbreviations altofl bassethn bcl bn cbn ch orch cl cond db EH fl hn hp hpsd ob ob d’am orch perc pf picc SATB str str qt timp tpt trb va vc vn ww ens

alto flute basset horn bass clarinet bassoon contrabassoon chamber orchestra clarinet conductor double bass English horn flute horn harp harpsichord oboe oboe d’amore orchestra percussion piano piccolo soprano/alto/tenor/bass strings string quartet timpani trumpet trombone viola cello violin woodwind ensemble



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appendix 1

Works Dedicated to Barrère and His Ensembles

The data in this list are derived from manuscripts, printed editions, program notes, and press accounts. In several cases, dedications in the manuscript or first published edition have been removed in subsequent editions (as, for example, in the Wummer edition of the Caplet Deux pièces). Many additional works were dedicated to the Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent after Barrère’s departure for the United States in 1905. They are not included in this list and will be the subject of continuing research. Bauer, Marion (1882–1955) Forgotten Modes: Five Pieces for Flute (Alone), op. 29 (Five Greek Lyrics) fl Ded: GB Comp: ca. 1938 Prem: GB (fl), December 18, 1938, NYFC, BA, New York [as Five Greek Lyrics] Ms: LC ML96.B349 (case) [as Forgotten Modes] Berezowsky, Nicolai (1900–1953) Suite No. 1, op. 11 fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Ded: à Georges BARRÈRE Comp: 1928 Prem: John Amans (fl); Bruno Labate (ob); Simeon Bellison (cl); Benjamin Kohon (bn); Bruno Jaenicke (hn); December 19, 1928, LOC, Town Hall, New York

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Ms: score and parts, Berezowsky coll., Butler Library, Columbia Univ., 53.05 B452Su; holograph score (negative photocopy) and holograph parts, NYPL-M, Berezowsky mss., JPB 83-54 Pub: miniature score and parts, Berlin, New York, Paris: Edition Russe de Musique, 1936 Bingham, Seth (1882–1972) Suite for Wind Instruments, op. 17 2fl, ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Ded: To Mr. George Barrère with sincere esteem Prem: BE, February 2, 1914, Belasco Theatre, New York Ms: holograph score and parts, NYPL-M, Seth Bingham mss., JPB 83-157, box 5



Appendix 1 Bové, J. Henry (1897–1963)

Ded: à Georges BARRÈRE, des Concerts-Colonne Pub: Paris: A. Bosc, 1900

Concertino fl, pf (originally fl, orch) Ded: To George Barrère Pub: New York: J. F. Hill, 1931

De Lorenzo, Leonardo (1875–1962)

Brant, Henry (b. 1913) Concerto for Flute with Orchestra of 10 Flutes (later, Angels and Devils) fl solo with fl orch (3picc, 5fl, 2altofl) Ded: To Georges Barrère in admiration and appreciation (ms.); Dedicated to the memory of Georges Barrère (pub. score) Comp: 1931, rev. 1956 Prem: GB (solo fl), Frederick Wilkins, Carl Moore, Harry Baugh (picc), Victor Harris, Sarah Possell, Milton Wittgenstein, Valentine Dike, Robert Bolles (fl), Paul Siebeneichen, John Petrie (altofl), Henry Brant (cond), February 6, 1933, PAAC, Carnegie Chapter Hall, New York Ms: sketches, LC, ML96.B695; score and parts, 1931–32 (with revs.), LC, ML96.B695 (case) [as Concerto, Music for 11 Flute players]; facsimile of ink score, 1956, ML96.5B76 (case); blueprint of ink score © 1968, Paul Sacher Foundation Pub: miniature score, New York: MCA Music, 1969 [as Angels and Devils] Caplet, André (1878–1925)

Sogno futuristico (Futuristic Dream), op. 34, no. 17 (from Il “Non plus ultra” del flautista, 18 capricci per flauto, op. 34) fl Ded: To George Barrère Comp: 1923 [second version] Pub: Frankfurt: Zimmermann, 1929 Improvviso, op. 72 fl, pf Ded: To Georges Barrère in memoriam Ms: LC, DCM, ML30.4c, No. 2757 Pub: New York: C. F. Peters, 1960 Deslandres, Adolphe (1840–1911) Trois pièces en quintette fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Ded: A la Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent Prem: SMIV, March 9, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris [as Suite] Pub: Paris, 1903; Tunbridge, Vt.: Trillenium Music, 1999 (ed. Don Stewart); in Twenty-two Woodwind Quintets for Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, Horn and Bassoon (comp. and rev. Albert J. Andraud), Cincinnati: Albert J. Andraud, 1948; San Antonio: Southern Music, 1958 Devanchy, Patrice (1876–1943)

Deux pièces (Rêverie, Petite Valse; nos. 2 and 5 of Feuillets d’Album) fl, pf Ded: A George Barrère Comp: 1897 Prem: GB (fl), André Caplet (pf ), March 30, 1900, SMIV, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris [as Deux pièces] Pub: Le Havre: Hurstel, 1897; New York: International Music, 1966 (ed. John Wummer)

Suite pour instruments à vent fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Ded: À mes amis G. Barrère et L. Leclercq et la Société Moderne d’Instruments à vent Comp: July 1903 Prem: SMIV, Patrice Devanchy (pf ), March 24, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: private collection Dobson, E. Aldrich (1896–1964)

Damaré, Eugène (1840–1919) Les Marionettes: Polka rondeau pour petite flûte picc, orch



Sonata-Fantasia (The Wheatlands) fl, pf Ded: G. Barrère

330

Works Dedicated to Barrère and His Ensembles Comp: ca. 1920 Prem: GB (fl), Rosa Frutman (pf ), July 23, 1920, Wm. S. Haynes Co. Fifth Musicale, Oliver Ditson’s Salesroom, Boston

Prem: BLS, April 6, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Ms: Arthur Fickenscher Papers, coll. 12731, Univ. of Virginia, oversize boxes I-1, I-2; score, LC, M1045.F47

Ehrhart, Jacques (1857–1949)

Gaubert, Philippe (1879–1941)

Suite, op. 39 fl, orch/pf Ded: dédiée à Monsieur George Barrère Comp: fl/pf, August 1893; orchestrated August 1899 Prem: piano version, GB (fl), Marcel Chadeigne (pf ), March 21, 1902, SMIV, Salle Henri Herz, Paris; orch. version, possibly December 17, 1903, benefit concert for Jacques Ehrhart, Mulhouse Ms: holograph orch. score, Bibliothèque du Conservatoire, Lausanne

Bourrée by A. Lefort (transc. Gaubert) fl, pf (originally vn, pf ) Ded: A Monsieur GEORGES BARRÈRE Pub: Paris: Leduc, 1902 Romance fl, pf Ded: à Georges Barrère Comp: 1905 Pub: Paris: Leduc, 1905

Valses Mulhousiennes, op. 20, 2e série [nos. 10–16] fl, ob, cl, pf Ded: à la Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent Prem: GB (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), A. Richardot (cl), Marcel Chadeigne (pf ), SMIV, February 16, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Ms: score, Bibliothèque du Conservatoire, Lausanne; parts, New York Chamber Music Society coll., NYPL-M, JPB 95-7, folder 13 Pub: Paris: Evette & Schaeffer, 1925 The SMIV program lists the second set as op. 15; however the ms. of the first set is labeled “Valses pour Piano, Flûte, Hautbois & Clarinette composées et dédiés à son ami Aimé Rieder par Jacques Ehrhart, op. 15. Les mêmes pour Piano à quatre mains par l’auteur, op. 15a, 1er Cahier” (which is emended by the librarian to op. 20). As published by Evette & Schaeffer in 1925, the sets are labeled op. 20, 1er and 2e Série.

Sonatine fl, pf Ded: à Georges Barrère Comp: 1936 Prem: GB (fl), Alice Nichols (pf ), December 18, 1938, NYFC, BA, New York Pub: Paris: Heugel, 1937 Suite: I. Invocation (Danse de prêtresses) fl, pf Ded: à Georges Barrère Comp: 1921 Pub: Paris: Heugel, 1922 Gibson, S. Archer (1875–1952), arr. Pastoral Suite [Transcription of J. S. Bach, Pastorale (1703–07) and Prelude and Fugue no. 4 of Eight Little Preludes and Fugues for organ (before 1710)] 2fl, ob, EH, 2cl, bcl, 2bn, 2hn Ded: Dedicated to Mr. George Barrère Ms: score and parts, FLP Prem: BE, January 22, 1912, Belasco Theatre, New York Giorni, Aurelio (1895–1938) Sonata in E-flat Major fl, pf Ded: Georges Barrère Comp: 1932 Prem: GB (fl), Aurelio Giorni (pf ), December 17, 1933, NYFC, Steinway Hall, New York

Fickenscher, Arthur (1871–1954) Day of Judgment (Variations on “Dies Irae”) orch Comp: 1927

331



Appendix 1 Ms: holograph score and copyist’s ms., LC, Giorni mss., ML 96.4G; holograph score (negative photocopy), NYPL-M, Giorni mss., JPB 83-61, box 2 Goldman, Richard Franko (1910–1980) Two Monochromes for Flute Alone fl Ded: To Georges Barrère Comp: 1939 Pub: Providence, R.I.: Axelrod Music, 1939; Delaware Water Gap, Pa.: Shawnee, 1939

Ded: To Barrère-Salzedo-Britt Comp: 1933 Prem: BSB; May 8, 1934, Town Hall, New York Ms: score, Vassar College; photostat, LC, ML382.K75 T7 Pub: score and parts, New York: Lyra Music, 1965 Kriens, Christiaan (1881–1934)

Herrera, Florentino L. (1895–1929) Badinage: Surréalisme Pentagonal, op. 11 fl, pf Ded: à mon maître Georges BARRÈRE Pub: Paris: Maurice Senart, 1925 Trio, op. 11 fl, vc, hp Ded: À M. George Barrère Comp: 1921 Ms: private collection Hüttel, Josef (1893–1951)

Aquarelles Hollandaises (Dutch Watercolors) 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Ded: Georges Barrère Prem: BE, February 6, 1911, Belasco Theatre, New York La Nymphe Bocagère (Introduction et Caprice Féerique) fl, pf Ded: à mon ami Georges Barrère Prem: unknown, possibly GB (fl), Eleanor Foster-Kriens or Margaret Hoberg (pf ), March 10, 1911, Virgil School of Music, New York Pub: New York: Carl Fischer, 1909 Lacroix, Eugène (1858–1950)

L’Arlequinade ch orch (13 insts.) Comp: 1930 Prem: BLS, April 6, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Pub: Paris: Maurice Senart, 1931 Jacquet, H. Maurice (1885–1954) Nocturne (after the Prelude in E-flat Minor by J. S. Bach) fl/vn, pf/hp Ded: To Georges Barrère Pub: Boston and New York: C. C. Birchard, 1928

4 Pièces (Invocation, Badinage, Paysage, Caprice) fl, pf Ded: à M. BARRÈRE, flûtiste à l’Opéra Prem: GB (fl), Eugène Lacroix (pf ), SCM, May 25, 1901, Salle Pleyel, Paris Pub: Paris: E. Demets, 1901 Lefebvre, Charles (1843–1917) Suite no. 2 pour instruments à vent, op. 122 fl, ob, 2cl, hn, bn Ded: A la Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent Comp: by 1903 Prem: unknown; played by SMIV, April 21, 1903, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris, with no notation of a premiere Pub: Paris: Evette & Schaeffer, 1910

James, Philip (1890–1975) Suite for Wood-Wind Quintet fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Ded: To Georges Barrère Pub: New York: Carl Fischer, 1938

Maganini, Quinto E. (1897–1974) Phantasy Japonaise, op. 7: A Suite of Three Pieces in Two Parts: Part II. 3. Moto-Kago-Machi (A Street of Bazaars)

Koutzen, Boris (1901–1966) Trio fl, vc, hp



332

Works Dedicated to Barrère and His Ensembles fl, pf Ded: To George[s] Barrère Comp: 1922 Ms: Curtis Institute Pub: New York: Carl Fischer, 1925 Riegger, Wallingford (1885–1961) Divertissement, op. 15 fl, vc, hp Ded: To Barrère-Salzedo-Britt Comp: 1933 Prem: BSB, December 11, 1933, PAAC, New School, New York Ms: 2 versions, NYPL-M, JPB 83-45, no. 30; *MNZ-Amer. Pub: New York: American Composers Alliance, n.d.; New York: C. F. Peters, 1984 (ed. Paul Sadowski from 2 mss.) Suite for Flute Alone, op. 8 fl Ded: Dedicated to M. Georges Barrère Comp: 1929 Prem: GB, February 2, 1930, LOC, Art Centre, New York Ms: 2 holographs, NYPL-M, JPB 83-45, no. 102 Pub: San Francisco: New Music (New Music 3, no. 4), 1930; Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Merion Music, 1973

Ded: Dedicated to Georges Barrère Comp: 1921, rev. 1930 Prem: GB, NYSO/Walter Damrosch, December 11, 1921, Aeolian Hall, New York Ms: orch. version, holograph score and parts, David Stanley Smith Papers, Irving S. Gilmore Music Library, Yale Univ., box 31, folder 15/99; rev. version, 3 holograph scores, box 15, folder 15/100; holograph parts, box 15, folders 15/101–102. Ms: pf version, holograph score and part, orig. version, Smith papers, Yale, folder 16/120; rev. version, holograph score and part, folder 16/121–122; LC, holograph score and part, ML96.S615 (case) Still, William Grant (1895–1978) Africa (Poem for Orchestra) orch Ded: Dedicated to GEORGES BARRERE Comp: 1930, rev. through 1935; reduced orch version, 1930 Prem (reduced orch version): BLS, April 6, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Ms: Autograph sketches, bound condensed autograph score with orchestration notes and revisions, fair copies of parts (va, vc, bass, hp) for II. Land of Romance, William Grant Still and Verna Arvey Papers, Univ. of Arkansas, box 93, folder 7; holograph full score of first version, LC, ML96.S915 (case)

Roussel, Albert (1869–1937) Andante et Scherzo, op. 51 fl, pf Ded: à Georges Barrère Comp: 1934 Prem: December 17, 1934, Convegno de Milan, Milan Ms: Humanities Research Center, Univ. of Texas, Ms. (Roussel, ACP) Pub: Paris: Durand, 1934

Varèse, Edgard (1883–1965) Density 21.5 fl Ded: To Georges Barrère Comp: 1936, rev. 1946 Prem: GB (fl), February 16, 1936, Carnegie Hall, New York Ms: 2 holograph versions, 1 photostat version, Varèse Papers, Paul Sacher Foundation Pub: New York: New Music 19, no. 4 (1946); New York: Colombo Music, 1946; New York: G. Ricordi, 1956

Seitz, Albert (1872–1937) Chant dans la nuit, op. 14 fl, pf Ded: à George Barrère Pub: Paris: Demets, 1901 Smith, David Stanley (1877–1949) Fête galante (after Watteau), op. 48 fl, orch (also pf red)

333



Appendix 1 Wagenaar, Bernard (1894–1971) Triple Concerto fl, hp, vc, orch Ded: For Barrère-Salzedo-Britt Comp: 1934 Prem: BSB, Philadelphia Orchestra/Eugene Ormandy, March 18, 1938, Academy of Music, Philadelphia Ms: score (without cadenzas), Juilliard, 31.W122cfh c.1; signed holograph, vc part (photocopy) with variant cadenza (holograph, negative photocopy) and part for 2 horns, NYPL-M, JPB 84-401 Wailly, Paul de (1854–1933) Aubade fl, ob, cl Ded: Georges Barrère Comp: 1901



Prem: GB (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), Jean Guyot (cl), March 7, 1902, SMIV, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Ms: BNF-M, Ms. 21451 Pub: score, Paris: Ponscarme, 1906; parts, Paris: Rouart Lerolle, 1907; score and parts, New York: International Music, 1983 (ed. Jerry Kirkbride) Woollett, Henry (1864–1936) Sonata in B Minor fl, pf Ded: à Georges BARRÈRE Prem: GB (fl), Céliny Richez (pf ), February 19, 1903, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: Paris: Costallat, 1908

334


appendix 2

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles

This list includes only solo, chamber, and orchestral works premiered by Barrère and the ensembles under his direction. It does not include the many orchestral works for which he was principal flutist in the premiere performances in either Paris or New York. Nor does it include the many arrangements for woodwind ensemble by Barrère or those by Salzedo for flute, cello, and harp unless a program specifies the premiere. All are world premieres unless otherwise noted as France, Paris, U.S., or New York premieres; this information is not always clear from the programs, which often indicate only “première audition” or “new, first time.” Some information is derived from press accounts in addition to or in lieu of program annotations. Works that were dedicated to Barrère or his ensembles bear the notation “see Appendix 1,” where the full data can be found. Aubert, Louis (1877–1968)

Barrère, Georges (1876–1944)

Feuillets d’Album (Lamento, Arabesque) ob, pf Prem: Louis Gaudard (ob), Louis Aubert (pf ), April 19, 1899, SMIV, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Ms: Arabesque, ob part only, 2 versions, BNF-M, Aubert papers, box 8

Chanson d’automne (text: Paul Verlaine) high voice, piano/ww ens Prem: ww ens accomp., Edmond Clément (tenor), BE, March 11, 1913, Carnegie Hall, New York Pub: pf version, New York: G. Schirmer, 1915

Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685–1750) Sonata in C Minor from the Musical Offering, BWV 1079 fl, vn, pf Prem (U.S. or N.Y.): GB (fl), David Mannes (vn), Clara Mannes (pf ), December 6, 1915, Aeolian Hall, New York

335

Nocturne fl, orch (orig fl, pf ) Prem (orch version): GB (fl), BLS, December 7, 1924, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Pub (pf version): New York: G. Schirmer, 1913; rpt. in The Barrère Album (ed. Frances Blaisdell), New York: G. Schirmer, 1994



Appendix 2 Symphony Digest orch Prem: NYSO/Walter Damrosch, March 9, 1924, dinner for Bruno Walter, Ambassador Hotel, New York; public premiere: BLS, April 13, 1924, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Bauer, Harold (1873–1951) Tunes from the Eighteenth Century orch (orig. pf ) Prem: BLS, March 30, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Pub: pf version, IV. Flourish: New York: G. Schirmer, n.d. Bauer, Marion (1882–1955) Fairy Tale pf Prem (N.Y.): Alice de Cevée (pf ), March 7, 1936, BLS concert, Town Hall, New York Five Greek Lyrics / Forgotten Modes See Appendix 1

Sextet in E-flat, op. 71 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Comp: ca. 1796 Prem (“probable first N.Y. rendition”): BE, February 13, 1920, Aeolian Hall, New York Pub: Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1810; New York, International Music, 1950 (ed. Lyman) Bingham, Seth (1882–1972) Suite, op. 17 See Appendix 1 Bloch, Suzanne (1907–2002) Petite suite pour flûte et piano fl, pf Comp: 1927 Prem: GB (fl), Suzanne Bloch (pf ), February 5, 1933, LOC, French Institute, New York [as Small Suite] Ms: Suzanne Bloch Coll., LC Borghi, Luigi (1745–ca. 1806) Concerto (unspecified) hpsd, wind insts Prem (N.Y.): Lewis Richards (hpsd), BLS, January 10, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York

Beach, John Parsons (1877–1953) Naive Landscapes fl, ob, cl, pf Comp: 1917 Prem: BE, February 13, 1920, Aeolian Hall, New York Ms: holograph score and ms. parts, NYPL-M, JPB 83-42, folder 17

Braine, Robert (1896–1940) Phantasy pf, orch Prem: Robert Braine (pf ), BLS, June 18, 1931, Town Hall, New York

Beethoven, Ludwig van (1770–1827) Serenade in D Major, op. 41 (arr. of Serenade for fl, vn, va, op. 25) fl, pf Comp: 1803 (orig. version, 1801) Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Lewis Richards (pf ), January 10, 1927, BA, Town Hall, New York Pub: Leipzig: A. Kühnel, 1807; Frankfurt: C. F. Peters, 1955 (ed. Bartuzat); New York: International Music, 1974 (ed. Rampal); Munich: G. Henle, 1977 (ed. Gerlach); Frankfurt: Zimmermann, 1987 (ed. Walther); Milan: Ricordi, 1989



Brant, Henry (b. 1913) Concerto for Flute with Orchestra of 10 Flutes [later, Angels and Devils] See Appendix 1 Brockway, Howard (1870–1951) Eclogue (At Twilight, An Idyl of Murmuring Waters), arr. GB wind ens Prem: BE, January 22, 1912, Belasco Theatre, New York

336

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Brun, Georges (b. 1878) Passacaille, op. 25 2fl, ob, 2cl, 2hn, bn, db Prem: SMIV, April 28, 1903, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: score and parts, Paris: Lemoine, 1908 Bucquet, Pierre Suite 2fl Comp: 1734 Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), George Possell (fl), February 13, 1920, BE, Aeolian Hall, New York Pub: Seville: P. Bucquet, 1734; Paris: Eschig, ca. 1910–12 Busch, Carl (1862–1943) Pan’s Flute women’s chorus, baritone, fl, chorus Prem (N.Y.): St. Cecilia Club/Victor Harris, Fred Patton (baritone), GB (fl), January 24, 1922, Waldorf-Astoria ballroom, New York Pub: Boston: Oliver Ditson, 1920 Büsser, Henri (1872–1973) A la Villa Médicis! Suite symphonique en trois parties, op. 4 2fl, 2cl, hn, orch Prem: Philippe Gaubert, GB (fl), Henri Paradis, Salingue (cl), Jules Viallet (hn), Concerts de l’Opéra/Henri Büsser, January 19, 1896, Opéra, Paris Ms: score and parts, FLP Pub: score and parts, Paris: Lemoine, 1910 Caldor, Ruth Coleman Fifth Avenue: A Symphonic Suite orch Prem: BLS, December 4, 1932, Civic Repertory Theatre, New York Caplet, André (1878–1925) Allegro from Quintette fl, ob, cl, bn, pf Comp: 1899 Prem: SMIV, André Caplet (pf ), April 19, 1899, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris

337

Ms: holograph score, BNF-M, Ms. 19778; see also full Quintette below Deux pièces (Rêverie, Petite Valse; nos. 2 and 5 of Feuillets d’Album) See Appendix 1 Feuillets d’Album (Allegretto, Rêverie, Babillage, Invocation, Petite Valse) fl, pf Prem: GB (fl), André Caplet (pf ), March 9, 1901, SMIV, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Ms: Invocation, BNF-M, Ms. 19751 [as Feuillets d’album, IV. Invocation], ms. 20071 [as Adagio pour Violin et Orgue] Pub: Deux pièces (Rêverie et petite valse), Le Havre: Hurstel, 1897; New York: International Music, 1966 (ed. Wummer) Quintette fl, ob, cl, bn, pf Comp: 1899 (Allegro, Adagio), 1900 (Scherzo) Prem: SMIV, André Caplet (pf ), March 30, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Ms.: Allegro, holograph score, BNF-M, Ms. 19778; Adagio, holograph score and parts, BNF-M, Ms. 19779; Scherzo, holograph parts, BNF-M, Ms. 19770; tempo indications, BNF-M, Ms. 19780; entire quintet, score, BNFM, Vma. ms. 1104; ms. copy of score by Eugène Wagner, BNF-M, Vma. ms. 1104, Vma. ms. 1106. Score and parts, Curtis Institute, NYPL-M (2 copies: score and parts, ex–Samuel Baron; photostat parts, New York Chamber Music Society coll., JPB 95-7, nos. 2–7) Pub: Mainz: Gebr. Schottstädt, 1996; Surbiton, Surrey: Rosewood, 1997 Winner of Société des Compositeurs de Musique prize, 1900 Suite persane 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Comp: 1900 Prem: SMIV, March 9, 1901, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Ms: Curtis Institute, FLP Pub: score and parts, Amsterdam: Edition Compusic, 1988; Mainz: Gebr. Schottstädt, 1996; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 1999



Appendix 2 Carpenter, John Alden (1876–1951)

Colomer, Blas-Marie (1840–1917)

Krazy Kat ch orch Prem: as ballet, BLS, Adolph Bolm (dancer), January 20, 1922, Town Hall, New York; as orch suite, Chicago Symphony/Frederick Stock, December 23, 1921 Ms: score, Carpenter coll., Newberry Library Pub: piano score, New York: G. Schirmer, 1922; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 2001; score, rev. version, New York: G. Schirmer, 1948

Caprice moldave fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, February 16, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris

Cartan, Jean (1906–1932) Sonatine fl, cl Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Fred Van Amburgh (cl), January 10, 1932, LOC, French Institute, New York Pub: Paris: Heugel, 1931 Casella, Alfredo (1883–1947) À la manière de Fauré fl, hp, vc (arr. Salzedo from pf original) Prem (U.S.): TdL, November 28, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Ms: Salzedo arrangement, Curtis Institute Pub: In À la manière de . . . , vol. 1, Paris: Salabert, 1911 Coedès-Mongin, André (1871–1954) Barcarolle & Scherzo fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, André Coedès-Mongin (pf ), March 28, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Deux pièces (Nocturne, Gigue) fl in E
, 2fl in C, fl in G Prem (France): GB, Louis Balleron, Louis Fleury, Ernest Million, SMIV, March 9, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: as Deux pièces pour orchestre: Nocturne, op. 14, no. 1; Gigue, op. 6 bis, Paris: Ch. Hayet, 1913



Menuet et Bourrée fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Prem: SMIV, March 9, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: Menuet: Paris: Evette & Schaeffer, n.d.; Boston: Cundy-Bettoney, 1940. Bourrée: New York: Cundy-Bettoney, 1940; in Twenty-two Woodwind Quintets for Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, Horn and Bassoon (comp. and rev. Albert J. Andraud), Cincinnati: Albert J. Andraud, 1948; San Antonio: Southern Music, 1958 Cortot, Alfred (1877–1962) Deux Danses (Orientale, Coraule) 2fl, ob, 2cl, hn, bn Prem: SMIV, February 16, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Cowell, Henry (1897–1965) Suite for Winds fl, ob, cl, bn, hn Comp: 1933–1934 Prem: BE (GB, Carlos Mullenix, Fred Van Amburgh, Angel Del Busto, Rudolph Puletz), late 1934, recording for NMQR, no. 1111A (issued 1935), New York Pub: Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Merrymount Music Press/Mercury Music, 1949 Daniels, Mabel Wheeler (1878–1971) Deep Forest: Prelude for Little Symphony Orchestra, op. 34, no. 1 ch orch Prem: BLS, June 3, 1931, Town Hall, New York Ms: some parts, Boston Public Library Pub: score and parts, New York: J. Fischer, 1932 Pirates’ Island, op. 34, no. 2 orch Chautauqua SO/GB, August 3, 1932, Chautauqua, N.Y. Ms: score and parts, FLP

338

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Debussy, Claude (1862–1918)

Dubensky, Arcady (1890–1966)

Sonata fl, va, hp [arr. fl, vc, hp] Comp: 1915 Prem (U.S.): TdL, November 28, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Ms: BNF-M, Ms. 991 Pub: Paris: Durand, 1916; Leipzig: Peters, 1970

Suite 9fl (picc, 7fl, altofl) Comp: 1935 Prem: GB, Frances Blaisdell, Julia Drumm, James Hosmer, John Kiburz, Paul Siebeneichen, Fred Wilkins, Milton Wittgenstein, Lorna Wren, January 26, 1936, NYFC, BA, New York Ms: score and parts, Fleisher coll., FLP Pub: score, New York: F. Colombo, 1978

Syrinx fl Comp: 1913 Prem (U.S.): GB, March 25, 1928, BLS, Booth Theatre, New York Ms: private collection Pub: Paris: Jobert, 1927; Vienna: Wiener Urtext Edition, 1996 (ed. Stegemann and Ljungar-Chapelon)

Suite Russe orch Prem: BLS, March 7, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: Andante russe, FLP Dubois, Théodore (1837–1924)

Delacroix, Auguste (1871–1936) Pièce enfantine 2fl, 2cl, bn Prem: SMIV, March 21, 1902, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Deslandres, Adolphe (1840–1911)

Suite no. 1 2fl, ob, 2cl, hn, 2bn Prem: SMIV, April 29, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: BNF-M, Res. Vma. Ms. 624 Pub: score and parts, Paris: Heugel, 1898; score, New York: Kalmus, n.d. Suite no. 2 2fl, ob, 2cl, hn, 2bn Prem: Société de Musique de Chambre pour des Instruments à Vent (including Philippe Gaubert, GB [fl]), February 21, 1899, Salle Pleyel, Paris Pub: score and parts, Paris: Leduc, 1898; score, New York: Edwin F. Kalmus, n.d.

Trois pièces en quintette See Appendix 1 Devanchy, Patrice (1876–1943) Suite pour instruments à vent See Appendix 1 Diamond, David (b. 1915) Quintet for Flute, String Trio, and Piano fl, vn, va, vc, pf Comp: 1937 Prem: B-BC, March 8, 1938, Fifth Avenue Galleries, New York Pub: score and parts, New York: Society for the Publication of American Music/G. Schirmer, 1942; New York: Southern Music, 1962

Ducourau, Marthe Trois pièces brèves sur des themes populaires basques fl, ob, pf SMIV, GB (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 29, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Dyck, Vladimir (1882–1943) Quintette fl, ob, cl, 2bn Prem: SMIV, February 1, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris

Dobson, E. Aldrich (1896–1964) Sonata-Fantasia (The Wheatlands) See Appendix 1

339



Appendix 2 Dyer, Susan (d. 1923)

Flament, Édouard (1880–1958)

An “Outlandish” Suite orch Comp: 1923 Prem: BLS, March 21, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: vn and pf, LC, ML 96.D97 (case) Pub: vn and pf, New York: J. Fischer, 1924

Poème nocturne fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, March 30, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris

Ehrhart, Jacques (1857–1949) Serenade, op. 40 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Comp: December 1901 Prem: SMIV, April 20, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: score, Bibliothèque du Conservatoire, Lausanne The work is dedicated to the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent de Paris, the rival organization.

Ganaye, Jean-Baptiste (1870–1946) Trois pièces brèves 2fl, ob, 2cl, hn, bn Prem: SMIV, March 1, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Gaubert, Philippe (1879–1941) Andante & Tarentelle fl, ob, pf Prem: GB (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), Marcel Chadeigne (pf ), February 9, 1901, SMIV, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Pub: Tarentelle: Paris: Enoch, n.d.; Paris: Bornemann, 1926; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 1999 The Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent (Gaubert [fl]) incorrectly billed its February 11, 1904, concert as the premiere of the Tarentelle.

Suite See Appendix 1 Valses Mulhousiennes, op. 20, 2e série [nos. 10–16] See Appendix 1 Enesco, Georges (1881–1955) Dixtuor, op. 14 2 fl, ob, EH, 2cl, 2bn, 2hn Comp: 1906 Prem (N.Y.): BE, January 9, 1911, Belasco Theatre, New York Ms: holograph score and parts, Juilliard Pub: Bucarest: Editura Muzicala a Uniunii Compozitorilor din Republica Socialista România, 1965; New York: E. F. Kalmus, 1980; Amsterdam: Compusic, 1997 World premiere by SMIV, June 12, 1906, Paris Fickenscher, Arthur (1871–1954) Day of Judgment (Variations on “Dies Irae”) See Appendix 1 Fiske, Dwight (1892–1952) Castles in Spain speaker, orch Prem (N.Y.): BLS, Paul Leyssac (narrator), March 6, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York

Méditation fl, ob, cl, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, February 9, 1901, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Noël (text: Th. Gautier) voice, pf Prem: Antoinette Laute (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), February 1, 1905, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Paris: Leduc, 1905 Pièce romantique fl, vc/bn, pf Prem: GB (fl), Édouard Flament (bn), Marcel Chadeigne (pf ), March 21, 1902, SMIV, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Pub: Le Havre: Hurstel, 1904 Plaintive Tourterelle (text: Th. Gautier) voice, pf Prem: Antoinette Laute (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), February 1, 1905, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Paris: Gaubert, 1907 Sonatine See Appendix 1



340

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Gibson, S. Archer (1875–1952), arr.

Comp: 1916 Prem: Members of BE/Nikolai Sokoloff, Charles T. Griffes (pf ), February 10, 1917, Neighborhood Playhouse, New York Ms: NYPL-M, JPB 84-1, no. 104 Pub: score, Philadelphia: Kallisti Music Press, 1993

Pastoral Suite See Appendix 1 Giorni, Aurelio (1895–1938) Sonata in E-flat Major See Appendix 1 Goldman, Richard Franko (1910–1980) Divertimento fl, pf Prem: GB (fl), Richard Franko Goldman (pf ), December 18, 1938, NYFC, BA, New York Pub: Delaware Water Gap, Pa.: Templeton/Shawnee, 1938; Providence: Axelrod Music, 1938 Goossens, Eugene (1893–1962) Three Pictures fl, pf Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Alice Nichols (pf ), December 18, 1938, NYFC, BA, New York Pub: London: J. & W. Chester, 1938 Grainger, Percy Aldridge (1882–1961) Walking Tune (Room-Music Tit-Bits No. 3) fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Comp: ca. 1900–05 Prem (N.Y.): BE, December 15, 1913, Belasco Theatre, New York Pub: London: Schott, 1912 Granados, Enrique (1867–1916) Tango of the Green Eyes (Tango de los ojos verdes) pf/orch Prem: BLS, La Argentina (dancer); February 10, 1916, Maxine Elliott Theatre, New York Ms: orch sketches, Centre de Documentació Musical, Barcelona

Poem fl, orch/pf Comp: 1918 Prem: GB (fl), NYSO/Walter Damrosch, November 16, 1919, Aeolian Hall, N.Y.; possible prem. of fl/pf arr.: Nicholas Kouloukis (fl), Walter Golde (pf ), November 24, 1920, MacDowell Club, N.Y., at memorial service for Griffes Ms: orch score and sketches, NYPL-M, JPB 84-1, no. 67 Pub: fl, pf (arr. GB), New York: G. Schirmer, 1922; fl, orch, N.Y.: G. Schirmer, 1951 Salut au Monde (text: Walt Whitman) chorus, fl/picc, cl, 2hn, tpt, 2trb, timp, 2hp, pf, perc Comp: 1919 (completed by Edmund Rickett) Prem: members of BLS, cond. GB, April 22, 1922, Neighborhood Playhouse, New York Ms: score and parts, NYPL-M, JPB 84-1, no. 105; LC Pub: score, Philadelphia: Kallisti Music Press, 1993 Three Tone-Pictures, op. 5; The Lake at Evening, op. 5, no. 1; The Vale of Dreams, op. 5, no. 2 fl, 2 ob, 2 cl, 2 bn, 2hn, hp (orig. piano) Comp: pf orig., Lake, 1910; Vale, 1912; arr. 1915 Prem: BE, December 19, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Ms: Lake, Elmira College; Vale, sketches, NYPL-M, JPB 84-1, no. 90–92 Hagen, W.

Griffes, Charles T. (1884–1920) Kairn of Koridwen (text adapted from Les Grandes Légendes de France by Edouard Schuré) fl, 2cl, 2hn, celesta, hp, pf

341

Quintette fl, ob, cl, bn, hn, pf Prem (France): SMIV, March 7, 1902, Salle Henri Herz, Paris



Appendix 2 Hahn, Reynaldo (1875–1947)

Hindemith, Paul (1895–1963)

Le Bal de Béatrice d’Este 2fl, ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn, tpt, pf, timp, 2hp Prem: SMIV, March 28, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: score and parts, Paris: Heugel, 1911; Miami: Kalmus, 1986

Sonata fl, pf Comp: 1936 Prem: GB (fl), Jesús Maria Sanromá (pf ), April 10, 1937, LC, Washington, D.C. Ms: Hindemith Institute, Frankfurt Pub: Mainz: Schott, 1937; New York: Associated Music, 1937

Harnisch, Giulio O. Grandfather’s Clock, op. 6 ch orch Prem: BLS, March 7, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ichabod orch Prem: BLS, March 6, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Haydn, Franz Joseph (1732–1809) Sinfonie Concertante, op. 84, H. I, 105 vn, vc, ob, bn, orch Comp: 1792 Prem (“modern”): BLS, November 23, 1924, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Pub: score and parts, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1920; miniature score, New York: Eulenberg, 1940 (ed. Hochkofler); score, Munich: G. Henle, 1982; Salzburg: Haydn-Mozart Presse, 1965 (ed. Robbins Landon) Hill, Mabel Wood (1870–1954) Intermezzo and Gypsy Dance fl, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn, ob, EH Prem: BE, February 2, 1914, Belasco Theatre, New York Reactions to Prose Rhythms of Fiona MacLeod ch orch Prem: BLS, March 7, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: score and parts, FLP Pub: New York: Dimit Edition, 1943 Suite in the Olden Style fl, ob, EH, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Prem: BE, November 22, 1914, Belasco Theatre, New York

Holst, Gustav (1874–1934) Fugal Concerto, op. 40, no. 2 fl, ob, str Prem (U.S. public): GB (fl), Pierre Mathieu (ob), NYSO/Walter Damrosch, March 30, 1924, Aeolian Hall, New York Ms: score, University of Michigan Pub: score and parts, London: Novello, 1923 Private U.S. premiere by Alfred Quensel (flute), Alfred Barthel (ob), members of the Chicago Symphony/Frederick Stock, May 17, 1923, president’s house, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor Howe, Mary (1882–1964) Chain Gang Song ch orch (fl, ob, cl, bn, hn, tpt, timp, 2vn, va, vc, db; orig. SATB, pf ) Comp: arr. 1926 Prem: BLS, March 20, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: Mary Howe coll., NYPL-M, JPB 84181, no. 40 (chorus and orch version), box 15 Pub: choral/pf orig.: New York: G. Schirmer, 1925 Mists orch Comp: ca. 1929, rewritten as Andante tranquillo, second movement of Quatuor (1939) Prem: BLS, March 23, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Ms: Mary Howe coll., NYPL-M, JPB 84181, no. 160, box 47 Poema ch orch (fl, ob, cl, hn, str), 2 solo voices Comp: 1925



342

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Prem: BLS, Helen Howison (soprano), Ethel Wright (contralto), February 21, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: Mary Howe coll., NYPL-M, JPB 84181, no. 147, box 38

3fl, ob, EH, 2cl, hn, 2bn, pf Prem: SMIV, April 20, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: private collection

Sand orch (fl/picc, ob, bn, hn, snare, str) Comp: 1928 Prem: BLS, March 23, 1930, Guild Theatre, New York Ms: sketches, score, and parts, NYPL-M, JPB 84-181, no. 176, box 53 Pub: score, New York: G. Schirmer, 1935; New York: Galaxy Music, 1963

L’Arlequinade See Appendix 1

Scherzo ch orch Prem: BLS, March 20, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: Mary Howe Coll., NYPL-M, JPB 84181, no. 177a, box 53 Stars ch orch Prem: BLS, March 20, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: LC, ML96.H857 (case), copy in FLP; Mary Howe coll., NYPL-M, JPB 84181, no. 200, box 60 Pub: score, New York: Composers Press, 1938; New York: Galaxy, 1963 Hüe, Georges (1858–1948) Fantaisie fl, pf Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Walter Damrosch (pf ), January 25, 1914, NYSO, Aeolian Hall, New York Pub: Paris: Costallat, 1913; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 1990 Soir païen (from Chansons lointaines, text: André Lebey) soprano, fl, pf Prem: Charlotte Lormont (soprano), GB (fl), Blanche Selva (pf ), Quatuor Fernandez, January 25, 1902, SNM, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Pub: Paris: Rouart, Lerolle, n.d. Huré, Jean (1877–1930) Pastorale

343

Hüttel, Josef (1893–1951)

Divertissement Grotesque fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Comp: 1929 Prem: BE, Arthur Loesser (pf ), October 7, 1929, LC, Washington, D.C. Prem (Prague): GB (fl), members of Prague Woodwind Quintet, Alfredo Casella (pf ), October 22, 1929, U Nováku˚ Palace, Prague Ms: holograph score and parts, LC/ESC, ML29c.H88 (case) Winner of the Coolidge Prize, 1929 Ibert, Jacques (1890–1962) Jeux fl, pf Comp: 1923 Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Lewis Richards (pf ), January 17, 1926, Steinway Hall, New York Ms: BNF-M, Ms. 8888 Pub: Paris: Leduc, 1924 Trois Pièces Brèves fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Comp: 1930 Prem (U.S.?): BE, January 11, 1932, WABC/LC broadcast Ms: Alphonse Leduc Collection Pub: score and parts, Paris: Leduc, 1930 Inghelbrecht, Desiré-Emile (1880–1965) Petite Suite 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn, tpt Prem: SMIV, March 21, 1902, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Sonatine en trois parties fl, hp/pf Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Carlos Salzedo (hp), January 6, 1922, home of Mrs. Oliver Gould Jennings, New York Pub: Paris: Leduc, 1920



Appendix 2 Jarnach, Philipp (1892–1982)

Prem: SMIV (cond. Lampe), March 1, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna, VIII 30768 (H 25489) Pub: score, Berlin: Simrock, 1904 Although the SMIV program claimed this premiere, the true premiere was conducted by Lampe at the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent on February 23, 1905.

Sonatine, op. 12 fl, pf Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Lewis Richards (pf ), January 17, 1926, Steinway Hall, New York Pub: Berlin: R. Lienau, 1920 Koutzen, Boris (1901–1966) Trio See Appendix 1

Lavaud, André

Kramer, A. Walter (1890–1969) Two Preludes: At Evening, An Oriental Sketch (arr. GB) ww ens Prem: BE, December 19, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Pub: as Three Preludes (voice, pf ): Boston: Oliver Ditson, 1912 Kriens, Christiaan (1881–1934) Aquarelles Hollandaises See Appendix 1 Ronde des lutins fl, ob, cl Prem: BE, December 15, 1913, Belasco Theatre, New York Ms: holograph score, LC, ML 96.K793 (case) Pub: New York: Carl Fischer, 1928

Deux Pièces bn, pf Prem: Édouard Flament (bn), André Lavaud (pf ), February 9, 1901, SMIV, Petite Salle Érard, Paris Lazzari, Sylvio (1857–1944) Octuor, op. 20 fl, ob, EH, cl, 2hn, 2bn Comp: 1889 Prem (U.S.): BE, February 3, 1913, Belasco Theatre, New York Ms: BNF-M, Ms. 9412 Pub: score and parts, Paris: Evette & Schaeffer, 1920; Amsterdam: Compusic, 1994 Leclair, Jean Marie (1697–1764) Sonata (unspecified) fl, pf Prem (modern?): GB (fl), Paul Vidal (pf ), April 20, 1904, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Figured bass realized by Paul Vidal

Lacroix, Eugène (1858–1950) Aubade fl, ob, EH, 2cl, 2hn, bn Prem: SMIV, April 28, 1903, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris

Lefebvre, Charles (1843–1917) Aubade, op. 93 fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, 2vn, va, vc, db Prem: SMIV, April 7, 1897, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: Paris: Baudoux, 1896

4 Pièces See Appendix 1 Sextuor fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, April 7, 1897, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Ms: score and parts, Curtis Institute

Ballade fl, vc, pf Prem: GB (fl), Charles-Henri Baretti (vc), Charles Lefebvre (pf ), March 24, 1899, Salle Pleyel, Paris Pub: Paris: Rouart, Lerolle, n.d.; Rheinfelden: Kossack, 1998

Lampe, Walther (1872–1964) Serenade, op. 7 2fl, 2ob, EH, 2cl, bcl, 4hn, 2bn, cbn



344

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Le Tourneux, Ernest F. (1868–1898)

Three Country Pictures, op. 9 (no. 2, Chimney Swallows; no. 3, At Sunset; no. 5, The Quiet Hour) fl, hns, str Comp: 1908–12; arr? Prem: GB, NYSO/Walter Damrosch, December 2, 1926, Carnegie Hall, New York Pub: 2-piano version, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1914; New York: Associated Music Publishers, 1942

Aubade, op. 60 fl, vn, va, hp Prem: SMIV, April 7, 1897, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Rêverie fl, pf Prem: GB(fl), F. Le Tourneux (pf ), May 19, 1898, Association Sténographique Unitaire, Salle des Fêtes du Palais du Trocadéro, Paris

Mel-Bonis (aka Mélanie Bonis, Mme Albert Domange, 1858–1937)

Maganini, Quinto (1897–1974) In the Realm of Dolls fl, ob, cl, bn Prem: BE, February 27, 1932, McMillin Theatre, Columbia Univ., New York Pub: 4fl version, op. 9: New York: Carl Fischer, 1923 Version for 4 flutes played at NYFC, April 9, 1922 La Rumba (Impressions from Cuba) orch Prem: BLS, March 21, 1926, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Pub: score and parts, as La Rumba: A Cuban Rhapsody, New York: J. Fischer, 1928 Sketches from a Dreamer’s Notebook orch Prem: BLS, March 20, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York

Suite fl, vn, pf Prem: Louis Fleury (fl), Paulin Gaillard (vn), Mel-Bonis (pf ), April 7, 1903, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Paris: E. Demets, 1903; Paris: Fortin, 1999 Claimed as a first hearing, but played at a concert of the SCM by same performers, March 27, 1903, Salle Pleyel, Paris Milhaud, Darius (1892–1974) Sonatine fl, pf Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Lewis Richards (pf ), January 24, 1926, Steinway Hall, New York Pub: Paris: Durand, 1923 Moreau, Léon (1870–1946)

Malherbe, Edmond (1870–1963)

Nocturne 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2hn, 2bn Prem: SMIV, March 28, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: private collection

Sextuor fl, ob, EH, cl, hn, bn Prem: SMIV, April 29, 1897, SCM, Salle Pleyel, Paris Ms: score and parts, Curtis Institute Winner of the SCM concours, 1896

Narici, Louis Sonata cl, pf Prem: Jean Guyot (cl), Marcel Chadeigne (pf ), March 7, 1902, SMIV, Salle Henri Herz, Paris

Mason, Daniel Gregory (1873–1953) Divertimento, op. 26b (March and Fugue) fl, ob, cl, hn, bn Prem: BE, February 9, 1927, McMillin Theatre, Columbia Univ., New York Ms: Daniel Gregory Mason coll., Butler Library, Columbia Univ., box 29 Pub: New York: M. Witmark, 1936

Nordoff, Paul (1909–1977) Variations on a Bavarian Dance pf Comp: 1933; orchestrated 1933–35

345



Appendix 2 Prem (N.Y.): Alice de Cevée (pf ), March 7, 1936, BLS concert, Town Hall, New York Ms: orch score and parts, FLP Pub: pf, Mainz: Schott, 1935 Pierné, Gabriel (1863–1937) Preludio e fughetta, op. 40, no. 1 2fl, ob, cl, hn, 2bn (arr. by composer from 3 Pièces formant suite de concert, op. 40, pf, 1903) Comp: 1903–04 Prem: SMIV, March 14, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Prem (N.Y.): played on first NY Symphony Wind Instrument Club program, March 7, 1906, Rudolph Schirmer residence, New York; public premiere: BE, February 13, 1920, Aeolian Hall, New York Pub: score and parts, Paris: Hamelle, 1906; New York: International, n.d. Sonata da Camera, op. 48 fl, vc, pf Comp: 1926 Prem (N.Y.): (with harp), BSB, November 19, 1934, BA, Town Hall, New York Ms: score, fl and vc parts, ESC Foundation/LC, ML29c.P62 (case) Pub: Paris: Durand; Philadelphia: ElkanVogel, 1927 Commissioned by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Pilati, Mario (1903–1938) Sonata fl, pf Comp: ca. 1926–27 Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Rudolph Reuter (pf ), October 14, 1930, Chicago Festival of Chamber Music, James Simpson Theatre, Field Museum, Chicago Ms: LC, ML29d .P64 (case) Pub: Rome: Accademia Italiana del Flauto, 1995 Commissioned by Coolidge Foundation Poldowski (pseud. of Lady Dean Paul, b. Irene Régine Wieniawska, 1879–1932) Dance for Piano and Clarinet Prem: Poldowski (pf ), Fred Van Amburgh



(cl), BLS, January 21, 1922, Town Hall, New York The Dying Child orch Prem: BLS, January 21, 1922, Town Hall, New York Pub: vn, pf: London: J. & W. Chester, 1923 (as Berceuse de l’enfant mourant); Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Hildegarde/Theodore Presser, 2003 Pat Malone’s Wake orch Prem: BLS, January 21, 1922, Town Hall, New York Phryné orch Prem: BLS, January 21, 1922, Town Hall, New York Pub: vn and pf, Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Hildegarde/Theodore Presser, 2003 Suite Miniature 2fl, ob, obd’am, EH, cl, bassethn, bcl Prem (U.S.): BE, February 15, 1921, Aeolian Hall, New York Pub: as Suite Miniature (arr. GB for fl, ob, cl, hn, bn), New York: Galaxy Music, 1934 Polignac, Armande de (1876–1962) Valse orch Prem (U.S.): BLS, June 3, 1931, Town Hall, New York Provinciali, Emilio Danse Villageoise fl, ob, cl, bn Prem (Paris): GB (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), Jean Guyot (cl), Édouard Flament (bn), March 21, 1902, SMIV, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Pub: score and parts, Paris: Demets, 1906 Quef, Charles (1873–1931) Suite fl, ob, cl, bn, hn, pf Prem: SMIV, February 22, 1899, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: Paris: A. Noël, 1902

346

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Ravel, Maurice (1875–1937) À la manière de Borodine (arr. Salzedo) fl, vc, hp (orig. for pf ) Comp: 1913 Prem (U.S.): TdL, November 28, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Ms: Salzedo arrangement, Curtis Institute Pub: In À la manière de . . . (with Alfredo Casella), vol. 2, Paris: Salabert, 1914 À la manière de Chabrier (arr. Salzedo) fl, vc, hp (orig. for pf ) Comp: 1913 Prem (U.S.): TdL, November 28, 1916, Cort Theatre, New York Ms: Salzedo arrangement, Curtis Institute Pub: In À la manière de . . . (with Alfredo Casella), vol. 2, Paris: Salabert, 1914 Introduction and Allegro hp, fl, cl, str qt Comp: 1905 Prem (U.S./N.Y.?): GB (fl), Carlos Salzedo (hp), cond. GB, January 2, 1916, Maxine Elliott Theatre, New York; premiere claimed by NYSO/Walter Damrosch (“new, first time”): GB (fl), Salzedo (harp), December 2, 1916, Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn, N.Y. Reinecke, Carl (1824–1910) Introduction & Allegro Appassionato, op. 256 cl, pf Prem (Paris?): Jean Guyot (cl), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 28, 1903, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Köln: Bosworth, 1901; Boston: Cundy-Bettoney, 1940; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 2004 Sextuor, op. 271 fl, ob, cl, 2hn, bn Comp: ca. 1905 Prem: SMIV, February 1, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Leipzig: Zimmermann, 1904; Amsterdam: Compusic, 1989; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 1991 Trio, op. 188 pf, ob, hn Comp: 1887

347

Prem (France): SMIV, March 3, 1897, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Pub: Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1887; New York: International, n.d. Riegger, Wallingford (1885–1961) Divertissement, op. 15 See Appendix 1 Suite for Flute Alone, op. 8 See Appendix 1 Rimsky-Korsakov, Nicolai (1844–1908) Quintet in B-flat Major, op. post. fl, cl, hn, bn, pf Comp: 1876 Prem (U.S.?): BE, November 27, 1911, Belasco Theatre, New York Pub: score and parts, Leipzig: M. P. Belaieff, 1911; Bonn: Belaieff, 1920; Moscow: Gos. Muzykal’noe izd-vo, 1951; New York: International Music, n.d.; Melville, N.Y.: Belwin-Mills, 1981 Roussel, Albert (1869–1937) Joueurs de Flûte, op. 27 fl, pf Comp: 1924 Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Lewis Richards (pf ), January 31, 1926, Steinway Hall, New York Ms: Lake coll., Univ. of Texas, Austin Pub: Paris: Durand, 1925 Trio, op. 40 fl, va, vc Comp: 1929 Prem: GB (fl), Lionel Tertis (va), Hans Kindler (vc), October 22, 1929, U Nováku˚ Palace, Prague Prem (France): GB (fl), Lionel Tertis (va), Hans Kindler (vc), October 28, 1929, Palais Royal, Paris Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Josef Vieland (va), Iwan d’Archambeau (vc), October 15, 1930, James Simpson Theatre, Field Museum, Chicago Ms: score, LC, ML29c.R86; Lake coll., Univ. of Texas, Austin Pub: Paris: Durand, 1930



Appendix 2 Ruggles, Carl (1876–1971) Angels 6fl [orig. 6tpt] Prem: GB (cond), 6 students (fls), December 11, 1933, PAAC, New School for Social Research, New York Ms: Ruggles coll., Yale (tpt version) Pub: London and Philadelphia: Curwen, ca. 1925 Saint-Saëns, Camille (1835–1921) Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs fl, ob, cl, pf Prem (U.S.?): GB (fl), Cesare Addimando (ob), Adolph Finkelstein (cl), Walter Damrosch (pf ), May 20, 1905, NYSO, New York Theatre Roof Garden, New York Pub: Paris: Durand, 1888; New York: International Music, 1971 Salzedo, Carlos (1885–1961) Préambule et Jeux hp, fl, ob, bn, hn, str qt, db Comp: 1929 Prem: GB (cond), Lily Laskine (hp), Marcel Moyse (fl), Georges Bonneau (ob), Gustave Dhérin (bn), Louis Vuillermoz (hn), Quartet Pro Arte, Boussagol (db), October 28, 1929, Palais Royal, Paris Prem (U.S.): Carlos Salzedo (cond), Lucile Lawrence (hp), GB (fl), Marcel Honoré (ob), Hugo Fox (bn), Pelligrini Lecce (hn), Gordon String Quartet, Vaclav Jiskra (db), October 16, 1930, Chicago Festival of Chamber Music, James Simpson Theatre, Field Museum, Chicago Ms: score, LC, ML29c.S27 (case) A one-movement work of the same name, scored for harp, flute, oboe, bassoon, French horn, and string quartet, conducted by Salzedo, was premiered at the ICG, January 13, 1924, Vanderbilt Theatre, New York. Scott, Cyril (1879–1970) Scotch Pastoral fl, pf Prem (N.Y.): GB (fl), Walter Golde (pf ), February 15, 1921, Aeolian Hall, New York



Pub: Copenhagen: Hansen, 1914; Boca Raton: Masters Music, 1991 Seitz, Albert (1872–1937) Deuxième Sextuor (Andante et Allegro) fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, February 9, 1901, Petite Salle Érard, Paris; “première audition intégrale”: SMIV, April 23, 1901, Schola Cantorum, Paris Ms: copyist’s parts, Indiana Univ. (missing pf part) Sextuor, op. 37 fl, ob, cl, hn, bn, pf Prem: SMIV, February 10, 1897, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Ms: copyist’s parts, Indiana Univ. Suite in G Minor double reed choir Prem: SMIV, April 11, 1902, Salle Henri Herz, Paris Suite Rustique fl, ob, cl, hn, 2bn Prem: SMIV, March 30, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, Paris Skilton, Charles Sanford (1868–1941) East and West (East: Alla Palestrina and Alla Menuetto in the classical style; West: three Indian pieces: Kickapoo Social Dance, Winnebago Sunrise Song and Rogue River Gambling Song) ch orch Comp: 1920 Prem: BLS, September 9, 1920, Fifth National American Music Festival, Lockport, N.Y. Smith, David Stanley (1877–1949) Fête Galante, op. 48 (after Watteau) See Appendix 1 Flowers, op. 52 orch Comp: 1924 Prem: BLS, December 7, 1924, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: 2 holograph scores, ms. parts, David Stanley Smith Papers, Irving S. Gilmore Music Library, Yale Univ., box 30, folders 3/14–15

348

Works Premiered by Barrère and His Ensembles Still, William Grant (1895–1978)

Thomé, F. (1850–1909)

Africa See Appendix 1

Thème et Variations, op. 112 fl, ob, cl, bn Prem: SMIV, Louis Fleury (fl), Louis Gaudard (ob), Jean Guyot (cl), Édouard Flament (bn), February 1, 1905, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Paris: Henry Lemoine, 1908

From the Black Belt orch Prem: BLS, March 20, 1927, Henry Miller’s Theatre, New York Ms: holograph lead sheet, LC Pub: score, New York: National Blueprint, n.d.; New York: Carl Fischer, 1946

Torre Alfina, R. Le Balcon soprano, pf Prem: Berthe Auguez de Montalant (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 20, 1904, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris

Log Cabin Ballads Comp: 1927 Prem: BLS, March 25, 1928, Booth Theatre, New York Suite from Sahdji orch Prem (N.Y.): BLS, March 7, 1936, Town Hall, New York Ms: William Grant Still and Verna Arvey Papers, Univ. of Arkansas, 7-99-2, subseries 7, box 99, folders 2–3 Full ballet produced at Eastman Theatre, Rochester, N.Y., conducted by Howard Hanson, May 22, 1931. Strauss, Richard (1865–1949) Suite in B-flat, op. 4 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, 2bn, 4hn, contrabass cl Comp: 1884 Prem (U.S.): BE, February 6, 1911, Belasco Theatre, New York Ms: score, BNF-M, Ms. 15600 Pub: score and parts, Berlin: Furstner, 1911; Munich: Leuckart, 1984; Munich: Thomi-Berg, 1984; score, Miami: Kalmus, 1984

Le Jet de l’Eau soprano, pf Prem: Berthe Auguez de Montalant (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 20, 1904, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Les Sèves, Les Grèves, Les Rêves soprano, pf Prem: Berthe Auguez de Montalant (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 20, 1904, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Pub: Paris: A. Quinzard, 1901 Le Vin des Amants soprano, pf Prem: Berthe Auguez de Montalant (soprano), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 20, 1904, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Varèse, Edgard (1883–1965) Density 21.5 See Appendix 1

Szymanowski, Karol (1882–1937) Divertissement Grotesque pour une Comédie de Molière (i.e., Mandragora, op. 43, pantomime in 3 scenes by Ryszard Boleslawski and Leon Schiller) ch orch Comp: 1920 Prem (U.S.): BLS, January 20, 1922, Town Hall, New York Ms: Warsaw University Library Pub: score, Krakow: PWM Edition and Vienna: Universal Edition, 1997

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Villa-Lobos, Heitor (1887–1959) Chôros No. 2 fl, cl Prem (U.S.): GB (fl), Fred Van Amburgh (cl), March 23, 1930, BLS, Guild Theatre, New York Pub: Paris: Eschig, 1925



Appendix 2 Wagenaar, Bernard (1894–1971)

Weinberg, Jacob (1879–1956)

Triple Concerto See Appendix 1

Vocalise Orientale (previously, A Shepherd Boy on the Mount of Olives) voice, orch Prem: Maria Kurenko (soprano), BLS, January 23, 1931, Carnegie Hall, New York

Wagner, Eugène Fantaisie ob, cl, pf Prem: Lucien Leclercq (ob), Jean Guyot (cl), Eugène Wagner (pf ), April 21, 1903, SMIV, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris

Woollett, Henry (1864–1936) Sonata in B Minor See Appendix 1

Wailly, Paul de (1854–1933) Aubade See Appendix 1 Ward-Stephens (1872–1940) Ecstasy (text: translation from Victor Hugo by Charles Henry Meltzer) baritone, 2fl, 2ob, 2cl, EH, 2bn, cbn, 2hn, pf Comp: ca. 1914 Prem: David Bispham (baritone), BE, Ward-Stephens (pf ), November 22, 1914, Belasco Theatre, New York



Trois Pièces 2fl, cl, hn, pf (Prelude in B-flat: 2fl, cl, hn, pf; Romance in D Minor: cl, pf; Scherzo in B Minor: 2fl, pf ) Prem: SMIV, April 29, 1904, Salle des Agriculteurs, Paris Ms: parts, New York Chamber Music Society coll., NYPL-M, JPB 95-7, folders 75–76, along with two additional movements, Nocturne and Finale, as Cinq Pièces pour piano et instruments à vent

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notes

abbreviations In the interest of space, the following abbreviations have been used throughout the notes: AdP ANF Arsenal Barrère BHVP BNF-M Bolm/Syracuse CM CO DB/LC DCM/LC DD Downes/Georgia ESC ESC/LC FD FLP FQ Gates/BYU GB GM HHF LA

Archives de Paris Archives Nationales de France Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, Paris Georges Barrère, Georges Barrère (privately printed, ca. 1928) Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Département de Musique Adolph Bolm Collection, Syracuse University Le Courrier Musicale Courrier de l’Orchestre Damrosch-Blaine Collection, Library of Congress Dayton C. Miller Flute Collection, Library of Congress The Damrosch Dynasty Olin Downes Collection, Hargrett Library, University of Georgia Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Collection, Library of Congress Frank Damrosch Free Library of Philadelphia Flutist Quarterly Emma Lucy Gates Bowen Collection, Brigham Young University Georges Barrère Le Guide Musical Harry Harkness Flagler Lettres autographes (in BNF-M)

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Notes to Pages 6–7 LC MA MC MFC ML MM MML MoA MQ NT NYFC NYHT NYPL-D NYPL-M NYPL-Mss. NYPL-T NYSO NYT NYWT OHK OHK/Princeton PA PBO PML RIMF RM SB SCM SFPALM SNM SPAM TS WD WD/NYPL

Library of Congress Musical America Musical Courier Mary Flagler Cary Collection, Pierpont Morgan Library Musical Leader Monde Musical Walter Damrosch, My Musical Life Le Monde Artiste Musical Quarterly Nancy Toff New York Flute Club New York Herald Tribune New York Public Library, Dance Collection New York Public Library, Music Division New York Public Library, Manuscripts Division New York Public Library, Billy Rose Theatre Collection New York Symphony Orchestra New York Times New York World-Telegram Otto H. Kahn Otto H. Kahn Collection, Princeton University Le Progrès Artistique Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, Paris Pierpont Morgan Library Revue Internationale de Musique Française La Revue Musicale scrapbook Société des Compositeurs de Musique San Francisco Performing Arts Library and Museum Société Nationale de Musique Society for the Publication of American Music typescript Walter Damrosch Walter Damrosch Collection, New York Public Library, Music Division

chapter 1 1. Debussy, Debussy Letters, 50. 2. Baedeker, Le Centre de la France, 92, 94. 3. Acte de naissance, François Gabriel Barrère, November 27, 1845, Archives municipales de Bordeaux, 1E205 acte no. 1482, dated November 28, 1845. 4. Acte de naissance, Marie Périne Courtet, Archives Départementales de Finistère, February 24, 1845, acte no. 8, lists her parents as cultivateur and cultivatrice. Acte de naissance, Étienne Barrère, born April 3, 1872, Archives municipales de Bordeaux, 1E192, acte no. 540, dated April 4, 1872. Acte de mariage, François Gabriel Barrère and Marie Périne Courtet, April 23, 1874, Archives municipales de Bordeaux, 2E 254, acte no. 187; Marie’s parents were termed journaliers. 5. Acte de naissance, Georges Barrère, October 31, 1876, Archives municipales de Bordeaux, 1E306, acte no. 1260, dated November 2, 1876.



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Notes to Pages 7–13 6. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 316. 7. Barrère, bois des îles pour placage, rue de Charonne, 49, et imp. Mortagne, 4; Annuaire-Almanach du Commerce, 1879, 1880. 8. The school records do not survive; according to Jacques Gauvin, assistant to the mayor, Epernon (e-mail to NT, February 18, 2001), this was the only boys’ school in the town. 9. Ozouf, L’École, l’église et la république, 124; Zeldin, France 1848–1945, vol. 2: Intellect, Taste and Anxiety, 483. 10. Annuaire des artistes de l’enseignement dramatique & musical (1888), 424; Barrère, 4. 11. Calepins de cadastre, Ville de Paris, rue de Faubourg Saint Denis no. 163 à 186, Propriété no. 1801 (1876), AdP, D1P4 413. 12. Sanson, Les 14 juillet, 5; Bulletin de la Ligue Française de l’Enseignement, August 1, 1882, quoted in Ozouf, L’École, 126. 13. Manuel général, July 22, 1882, quoted in Ozouf, L’École, 126; Le Petit Journal, July 16, 1885, quoted in Sanson, Les 14 juillet, 71. 14. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 317. 15. Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 840. Victor Coche introduced the Boehm wooden flute to the Paris Conservatoire in 1838; see Toff, The Development of the Modern Flute, 65. Dorus began playing the silver Boehm flute in 1855; Blakeman, “Paul Taffanel,” 8. He imposed it on the Paris Conservatoire when he became flute professor there in 1860; see Dorgeuille, The French Flute School, 14. 16. Paris Conservatoire, juries for admission, November 14, 1890, ANF, AJ37 242, 1:294; AJ37 246, 1:633. 17. Examinations of applicants to woodwind classes, November 14, 1890, notes of Ambroise Thomas, ANF, AJ37 2461. Barrère himself misremembered it as the Kuhlau First Solo, op. 57; see Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 317. 18. Casella, Music in My Time, 39; Gavoty, Les souvenirs de Georges Enesco, 64. 19. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 317. Those elders were Jules Verroust (future professor in Lille), Louis Balleron, Gaston Danis, Edmond Leclercq, Josset, Michaud, Pierre Deschamps, and André Maquarre; see ANF, AJ37 2372; and Pierre, Le Conservatoire National. 20. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 317–18; Barrère, 3. 21. Flute examination of January 30, 1891, ANF, AJ37 2372; ANF, AJ37 292, 445; Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 385. 22. Flute examination of June 18, 1891, ANF, AJ 37 292, 602. 23. Solfège examination of June 1, 1891, ANF, AJ37 292, 472. 24. Flute examination of January 26, 1892, ANF, AJ 37 293, 127; AJ37 2372; AJ37 2363. 25. Calepins de cadastres, Ville de Paris, AdP: 95, rue de La Fayette, D1P4 598; 45, rue des Petites Écuries, D1P4 873; 8, rue Bellefond, D1P4 98. 26. Flute examination of June 20, 1892, ANF, AJ37 2372; AJ37 293, 285; concours of July 30, 1892, ANF, AJ37 252, 2:302. 27. Examination of January 28, 1893, ANF, AJ37 293, 435; examination of June 19, 1893, ANF, AJ37 2362; Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 318. 28. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 318. chapter 2 1. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 30. 2. Huysmans, Parisian Sketches, 25, 11. 3. Current and Current, Loïe Fuller, 50.

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Notes to Pages 14–19 4. Brody, Paris: The Musical Kaleidoscope, 241. 5. Current and Current, Loïe Fuller, 74. 6. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 318. 7. Fleury, “The Flute in Paris,” 176. 8. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 36 ( June 1925): 220. 9. Fleury, “The Flute and Its Powers of Expression,” 385. 10. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 36 ( June 1925): 220. 11. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 35 (October 1924): 329. 12. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 319. 13. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 36 ( June 1925): 220. 14. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 319; Casella, Music in My Time, 57. 15. Flute examination of January 29, 1894, ANF, AJ37 2372; AJ37 294, 125. 16. Flute examination of June 18, 1894, ANF, AJ37 2372; AJ37 294, 279. 17. Flute concours of July 30, 1894: ANF, AJ37 2473; AJ37 2523, 63; Bernard Goldberg, oral history interview, May 9, 1994. Pierre Deschamps also won first prize. 18. Blakeman, “Paul Taffanel,” 174. 19. Instrumentalists’ solfège examination, June 1, 1891, ANF, AJ37 292, 477; table of classes, ANF, AJ37 162. 20. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 318. 21. Woldu, “Gabriel Fauré,” 208–9. 22. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 36 (March 1925): 91. 23. Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 1:371–72. 24. Ibid., 311, 372, 509. Emmanuel Hondré, “Claude-Paul Taffanel,” in Dictionnaire de la musique, ed. Fauquet, 1196, states that Taffanel was appointed in 1897, but Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 435, lists no incumbent for 1900. 25. Rolland, Musicians of To-day, 267. 26. Daubresse, Le Musicien dans la société moderne, 168. 27. Calvocoressi, Musicians Gallery, 17. See also Jane F. Fulcher, “La Musique,” in L’Affaire Dreyfus et le tournant du siècle (1894–1910), ed. Laurent Gervereau and Christophe Prochasson (Nanterre: Bibliothèque de Documentation Internationale Contemporaine, 1994); Fulcher, French Cultural Politics and Music; Hart, “The Symphony in Theory and Practice in France,” 10ff. 28. Programmes, Société Nationale de Musique, BNF-M, Res. F994 (D,7). The concert was repeated, as was the custom for the SNM, on Sunday afternoon, December 23. 29. Doret, Temps et contretemps, 95–96. Doret noted that the triumph did not prevent some of Debussy’s biographers, intent on making the composer a musical martyr in the best romantic tradition, from writing that the Prélude was hissed at its premiere. That event occurred, however, when the Colonne Orchestra first performed it, on October 13, 1895. Barrère referred to this same Colonne incident, in a talk to the New York Flute Club in March 1923, as an example of audience intolerance for a work that later became a classic; see The New York Flute Club, Inc. (May 1923, pamphlet in NT Collection). Nor did Doret’s account prevent the false assertion attributed to Marcel Moyse and members of his family that he had played the premiere; Moyse was only five years old at the time, though he may have played in the 1912 Diaghilev/Nijinsky ballet production, which indeed provoked something of a scandal. 30. Nectoux, “Debussy et Mallarmé,” 61; Debussy, Debussy Letters, 218. 31. Debussy to Georges Jean-Aubry, March 25, 1910, in Debussy, Debussy Letters, 219.



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Notes to Pages 19–25 32. Flute examination of January 28, 1895, ANF, AJ37 294, 431. 33. Théâtre National de l’Opéra, Artistes de la Musique de Scène, Feuilles de presénce, 1895, ANF, AJ13 991. The exact duties of the musique de scène remain unknown; some players certainly provided music to accompany the drama or for social functions in the Opéra building; see J.-M. Fauquet, “Musique de scène,” in Dictionnaire de la musique, ed. Fauquet, 840. As the Opéra maintained separate ledgers for musicians of the main orchestra and the musique de scène, there must have been a distinction in their duties. 34. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 35 (October 1924): 331. 35. Extrait, 6 aôut 1894, règlement modifié du Conservatoire National de Musique et de Déclamation, 11 septembre 1878, Article 20; Conservatoire National de Musique et de Déclamation, Concours dans la Grande Salle; both in ANF, AJ37 241, folder 3. 36. Bauer, “The Paris Conservatoire: Some Reminiscences,” 534–35. 37. Ibid., 533. 38. Rohozinski, ed., Cinquante ans de musique française, 2:194. 39. Bauer, “The Paris Conservatoire,” 533. 40. Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 385. 41. Paul Taffanel to Joachim Andersen, May 5, 1895; May 28, 1905; June 6, 1895; Karl Joachim Andersen Papers, William R. Perkins Library, Duke University; Blakeman, “Paul Taffanel,” 225–26. The late piece was ultimately published as the 2e Morceau de Concert, op. 61 (Copenhagen: W. Hansen, 1896). 42. “Centenaire du Conservatoire,” MM 7 (August 15, 1895): 127; “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 41 (August 18 and 25, 1895), 641; Le Ménestrel 61 (August 4, 1895): 247; Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 627–28. 43. “Centenaire du Conservatoire,” MM 7 (August 15, 1895): 127; “Les Concours du Conservatoire,” PA 18 (August 1, 1895): 32. 44. Taffanel’s other commissions were Duvernoy’s Concertino (1899), Ganne’s Andante et Scherzo (1901), Chaminade’s Concertino (1902), Périlhou’s Ballade (1903), Enesco’s Cantabile et Presto (1904), Gaubert’s Nocturne et Allegro Scherzando (1906), Taffanel’s own Andante Pastorale et Scherzettino (1907), and Büsser’s Prélude et Scherzo (1908); see Dorgeuille, The French Flute School; and Hériché, A propos de . . . la flûte, 111–16. 45. Bauer, “The Paris Conservatoire,” 538. chapter 3 1. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 318–19. 2. A list of the Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent’s premieres is in Dorgeuille, The French Flute School, 17–21. The programs are at BNF-M. 3. “Paris et Départements,” Le Ménestrel 62 ( January 19, 1896): 23. 4. Adolphe Hennebains (flute), Georges Gillet (oboe), Charles Turban (clarinet), Fernand Reine (horn), and Léon Letellier (bassoon) were all previously members of the Taffanel group and of the Opéra and Société des Concerts; the rest of the members were Isidor Philipp (piano), Henri Berthelier (violin), Victor Balbreck (viola), and Jules Loeb (cello). 5. Le Ménestrel 62 (February 9, 1896): 45; programs in Comettant, La musique de chambre . . . Année 1897, 20, 40, 66. See also Gut and Pistone, La musique de chambre en France, 57. The second group consisted of Leopold Lafleurance (flute), Louis Bas (oboe), Henri Paradis (clarinet), Marcel Couppas (bassoon), and Jean Pénable (horn). 6. “Notre Portrait: La Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent,” MM 13 (February 28, 1901): 57. Its members in 1898 were Leopold Lafleurance (flute), Georges

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Notes to Pages 25–31 Longy and Louis Bleuzet (oboe), Henri Lefebvre (clarinet), Jean Pénable and Louis Vuillermoz (horn), and Léon Letellier and Eugène Bourdeau (bassoon). In 1899, Gaubert replaced Lafleurance, and Louis Bas took the oboe chair when Longy left for the Boston Symphony. In later years, Longy would claim that he had founded the successor group to Taffanel’s, and some writers about Gaubert would do the same; in fact, it was Mimart who was the guiding force. 7. His initial compatriots were Joseph Foucault (oboe; first prize, 1892), Paul Vronne (clarinet; first prize, 1894), Paul Bulteau (bassoon; first prize, 1893), Louis Aubert (piano; second prize in piano, 1893; first prize in accompanying, 1899), and L. Servat (horn). 8. Comettant, La musique de chambre . . . Année 1893, 13. 9. A. D., “Musique de chambre pour instruments à vent,” MM 7 (March 30, 1896): 440. 10. Comettant, La musique de chambre . . . Année 1893, 5. 11. A. D., “Musique de chambre pour instruments à vent,” MM 7 (April 15, 1896): 463. 12. Le Ménestrel 62 (April 12, 1896): 118. 13. Gut and Pistone, La musique de chambre en France, 44–46. On chamber music in Paris, see Fauquet, “Chamber Music in France from Cherubini to Debussy”; Fauquet, Les sociétés de musique de chambre à Paris de la Restauration à 1870; and Cooper, The Rise of Instrumental Music and Concert Series in Paris. A comprehensive list of chamber music societies is in Fauquet, Dictionnaire de la musique, 837–40. 14. Olin, “The Concerts de l’Opéra,” 254–55. 15. Orchestra rosters in folder III, Concerts November–December 1897, January–April 1897, ANF, AJ13 1294; Inghelbrecht, Mouvement contraire, 290. 16. Victor Soucon, agent général, Société des Auteurs, Compositeurs et Éditeurs de Musique, to Eugène Bertrand, directeur de l’Académie Nationale de Musique, Paris, October 15, 1895, folder II, Concerts à l’Opéra 1869–1895, ANF, AJ13 1294; Patureau, Le Palais Garnier, 261–62. 17. Olin, “The Concerts de l’Opéra,” 256, 259–60. “Jeunes compositeurs joués pendant ces concerts,” ms. list in ANF, AJ13 1294, folder II, Concerts à l’Opéra 1869–1895, lists fifteen premieres; Erlanger’s St. Julien is included in the master list of performances but not indicated as a premiere; it omits the Saint-Saëns Symphony no. 1 in E-flat. 18. Doret, Temps et contretemps, 105; Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 340. 19. Barrère, 5. 20. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 340. 21. Inghelbrecht, Mouvement contraire, 290. 22. “Les Grands Concerts,” PA 20 ( January 17, 1897): 3. 23. Fernand Le Borne, “Concerts,” MoA 37 ( January 10, 1897): 22. 24. Fernand Le Borne, “Concerts,” MoA 37 ( January 31, 1897): 70. 25. Pelissier, Histoire administrative de l’Académie Nationale de Musique, 188, puts the total loss at 120,000 francs; Patureau, Le Palais Garnier, 266, puts it at 150,000 francs. 26. “Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent,” ms. notes, in ANF, F21 3985, folder 5(a), Concerts de Paris, notes diverses. 27. A. D., “Société de Musique de Chambre,” MM 8 (February 28, 1897): 362. For a biography of Seitz, see http://hector.ucdavis.edu/sdc/MainRoll/S.htm. 28. Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent, flyer [ca. 1925–26], in Fonds Caplet, BNF-M. 29. “Courrier de la semaine,” MoA 37 (March 7, 1897): 158. 30. Barrère, 5.



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Notes to Pages 31–38 31. Annuaire de la Société des Compositeurs de Musique (1897), 20; “Courrier de la semaine,” MoA 37 (March 14, 1897): 174. 32. “Revue des Concerts,” PA 20 (May 6, 1897): 140. For a Malherbe biography, see Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 803. 33. Schnapper, “La Société des Compositeurs de Musique,” RIMF 16 (April 1985): 95. 34. Schnapper, “La Société des Compositeurs de Musique” (maîtrise, Paris IV, 1981), 92. 35. Schnapper, “La Société des Compositeurs de Musique,” RIMF 16 (April 1985): 100– 101; Schnapper, “Société des Compositeurs de Musique,” in Dictionnaire de la musique, ed. Fauquet, 1156–59. 36. Duplaix, “Louis Fleury,” 47. 37. Yves Mongrolle, archivist, Collège Stanislas, letter to NT, April 24, 2001. Because the arrangements for lessons were private, made between parents and teacher, the Collège has no records of his lesson schedule. 38. Ibid.; Sauvé, Le Collège Stanislas, 299. 39. Adhésions aux Statuts no. 2, 55, Colonne Archives, AdP, V.3S1; Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 340. 40. Adhésions aux Statuts no. 2, Colonne Archives, AdP, V.3S1, 49 (Monteux), 53 (Thibaud), 55 (Million). 41. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 40. 42. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 340–41. 43. Military record, Georges Barrère, AdP, Ministère de la Guerre, Gouvernement militaire de Paris, Subdivision de la Seine, 6e Bureau de Recrutement, Classe de 1896, no. 1088. Dispensation according to Art. 23, 1er prix du Conservatoire. Barrère states in his autobiography (Flutist 2 [March 1921]: 342) that he entered the army on November 1, 1897, but the military record gives the date as November 13. 44. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 342. chapter 4 1. Compte rendus des concerts, Colonne Archives, AdP, V.3S20. Thursday programs in BNF-M. 2. Cantié (b. 1844), a student of Tulou and Dorus, earned first prize at the Paris Conservatoire in 1863. See Goldberg, Biographieen, 71, portrait 60; Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 714. 3. Rolland, Musicians of To-day, 273. 4. Boschot, Chez les musiciens, 194. 5. Ibid., 196. 6. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 40–41; Barrère, 9. 7. Cocteau, Souvenir Portraits, 10. For a thorough history of the Société des Concerts, see D. Kern Holoman, The Société des Concerts du Conservatoire, 1828–1967 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), and the accompanying Web site, http://hector.ucdavis.edu/sdc. 8. Daubresse, Le Musicien dans la société moderne, 167 9. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 189. 10. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 43. For a thorough analysis of German conductors in Paris, see Caullier, “Les chefs d’orchestre allemands,” 191–210. 11. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 242. 12. Théâtre National de l’Opéra, Comptabilité 1898, ANF, AJ13 993.

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Notes to Pages 38–44 13. On the Sax family, see Haine, Adolphe Sax. 14. A. D., MM 11 (March 30, 1899): 128. 15. Hugues Imbert, untitled review, GM 45 (March 5, 1899): 226. 16. A. Dandelot, “Musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” MM 11 (February 28, 1899): 81. Charles Quef earned his first prize at the Paris Conservatoire in 1898 as a student of Guilmant and was organist at Ste-Marie, St-Laurent, and the Trinité. See Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 835; Hull, Dictionary of Modern Music and Musicians, 401; Thompson, 1758. 17. A. L., untitled review, GM 45 (March 5, 1899): 227–28. 18. A. D., “Musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” MM 11 (April 30, 1899): 179. Eugène Lacroix had studied organ with Gigout; see biography in Hull, Dictionary of Modern Music and Musicians, 283. 19. Édouard Flament, “Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent,” ms., BNF-M, Res. F. 1569. 20. Acte du décès, Marie Périne Courtet [Barrère], April 22, 1899, Paris, 9e arrondissement, no. 614, dated April 23, 1899; Théâtre National de l’Opéra, Comptabilité 1899, Service des feux, ANF, AJ37 994; Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 342; certificat d’inhumation, Mme BARRÈRE née COURTET Marie Périne, Cimetière de Saint-Ouen, Paris, dated March 13, 2000. The temporary “concession” was renewed in 1904 and 1910, but the grave was reclaimed. chapter 5 1. Gosling, The Adventurous World of Paris, 13. See also Rudorff, The Belle Epoque, 339; Roman, Paris 1890’s, 75. 2. Although members of the Société Moderne played at this concert, no doubt in the Suite for woodwind quintet, its official premiere was at the Société Moderne’s own concert on March 9, 1900. Adolphe Deslandres received first prizes in organ, and in counterpoint and fugue, from the Paris Conservatoire in 1858 and earned the second Prix de Rome in 1860. 3. Fleury also credits Aubert as a cofounder; see Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 36 (February 1925): 46. Curiously, there are no Société Moderne programs or correspondence in Aubert’s papers, recently donated to the Bibliothèque Nationale, though it is possible that some of these items may have been filed elsewhere in the BNF’s collections. 4. R. D., untitled review, GM 46 ( June 10 and 17, 1900): 480; MM 12 (May 30, 1900): 165; Reinecke, Drei Cadenzen zum Concert für Flöte und Harfe von W. A. Mozart (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, ca. 1886). Barrère performed Taffanel’s cadenzas to the Mozart G Major Concerto, undoubtedly from manuscript, under the baton of Jacques Ehrhart in December 1903. Taffanel’s cadenzas for the Mozart G and D Major Flute Concertos, as edited by Gaubert, were published by Leduc in 1923 as part of the Taffanel-Gaubert Méthode. Barrère’s were published by Galaxy in 1939 (D Major) and 1943 (G Major); prior to those dates, he prepared manuscript copies for many of his students. 5. GB to Jacques Ehrhart, January 1900, Fonds Jacques Ehrhart, Bibliothèque du Conservatoire, Lausanne. For a biography of Ehrhart, see Schuh et al., Dictionnaire des musiciens suisses, 104–5; and Gabriella Hanke Knaus, “Jacques Ehrhart,” Historisches Lexicon der Schweiz, http://www.lexhist.ch/externe/protect/textes/d/D47520.html. 6. GB to Jacques Ehrhart, April [prior to 22], 1900, Fonds Ehrhart. The letter indicates the concert would take place on Thursday, April 25; an unidentified program at BHVP, dated April 26, which includes the Valses, is filed with programs for the Exposition Universelle de 1900.



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Notes to Pages 44–49 7. The SMIV program lists the second set as op. 15; however, the manuscript of the first set is labeled “Valses pour Piano, Flûte, Hautbois & Clarinette composées et dédiés à son ami Aimé Rieder par Jacques Ehrhart, op. 15. Les mêmes pour Piano à quatre mains par l’auteur, op. 15a, 1er Cahier” (which is emended by the librarian to op. 20). As published by Evette and Schaeffer in 1925, the sets are labeled op. 20, 1er and 2e série. 8. GB to Ehrhart, April 3, 1900, Fonds Ehrhart. 9. Deux pièces pour orchestre: no. 1, Nocturne, op. 14, no. 1; no. 2, Gigue, op. 6 bis (Paris: Ch. Hayet, 1913). 10. Gaubert premiered the Suite (Paris: Girod, 1896) at a concert of the Société de Musique Française on January 21, 1896, at the Salle Pleyel. 11. Lavignac and Laurencie, Encyclopédie, pt. 1, 3:1790; see also Annuaire des artistes (1900), 453; Fauquet, Dictionnaire de la musique, 530. 12. For a biography, see Dictionnaire de biographie française, 13:1459; Honegger, Dictionnaire de la musique, 403; Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 754; Gabriel Bender, “Entretien avec Édouard FLAMENT” (unidentified clipping), and TS biography, both in Nicolas Slonimsky Collection, LC, box 192, folder 37; and Musica et Memoria, http://www .musimem.com (which, however, states inaccurately that he was a member of the Société des Instruments à Vents). 13. Obituaries, October 1927, in Fonds Montpensier, BNF-M; Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 172. 14. Ernest Roche, quoted in Rudorff, The Belle Epoque, 302. 15. Roman, Paris 1890’s, 75. 16. Lejeune, La France de la Belle Époque, 8–9; Mabire, L’Exposition Universelle, chaps. 1 and 2. 17. Mabire, L’Exposition Universelle, 41. 18. Rudorff, The Belle Epoque, 337. An exhibition jointly organized by the Guggenheim Museum in New York and the Royal Academy of Arts, London; a century later reconstructed portions of the Exposition Décennale exhibition and a wide variety of other works indicative of the styles were exhibited there; see Rosenblum, Stevens, and Dumas, 1900: Art at the Crossroads. NYT critic Michael Kimmelman termed it “kitsch in sync with treasures.” 19. See Fischer, Paris 1900. 20. Cocteau, Souvenir Portraits, 81. 21. MM 12 (special issue, October 15, 1900): 66. 22. MM 12 (October 30, 1900): 289. 23. MM 12 (special issue, October 15, 1900): 11. 24. Roman, Paris 1890’s, 79; Mabire, L’Exposition Universelle, 118. 25. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 195–96. 26. “Exposition Universelle de 1900,” MoA 40, no. 20 (May 20, 1900): 310. 27. “Notes et Informations,” MoA 40 (February 18, 1900): 109. 28. GM 46 (February 25, 1900): 177. Flyer, “Les Concerts Colonne au Vieux Paris,” BHVP, ephemera file, Exposition Universelle de 1900. 29. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 195. 30. MM 12 ( June 15, 1900): 176. 31. Vieux Paris folder, ANF, F12 4349; Imbert, “Au ‘Vieux Paris,’ ” GM 46 (April 29, 1900): 392. 32. Imbert, “Au ‘Vieux Paris,’” GM 46 (April 29, 1900): 392. 33. A. Mangeot, “Exposition de 1900,” MM 12 (May 15, 1900): 142. According to Colonne’s brochure (BHVP), prices ranged from 2.5 to 6 francs, including Vieux Paris admission.

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Notes to Pages 49–55 34. Rearick, Pleasures of the Belle Epoque, 87. 35. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 196. 36. “Les Concerts du Vieux Paris,” MM 12 ( July 30, 1900): 226; A. M., “Le Vieux Paris,” MM 12 (August 15, 1900): 247; “Exposition Universelle de 1900,” MoA 40 (August 12, 1900): 503–4. 37. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 197. Arthur Heulhard, who held the concession for Vieux Paris, felt the same way: he sued the Ministry of Commerce for 280,000 francs in damages, but ultimately collected only 25,000; see Vieux Paris folder, ANF, F12 4349. 38. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 342. Blanquart, whom Barrère graciously termed “an excellent friend of mine,” got the first chair when Barrère emigrated to the United States in 1905. 39. D’Indy, “La Schola Cantorum,” in Lavignac and Laurencie, Encyclopédie, pt. 2, 6:3622. 40. Dowd, “Charles Bordes,” 44. 41. D’Indy, The Schola Cantorum, 198–201. 42. For Selva’s style, see Timbrell, French Pianism, 67–68. 43. Dowd, “Charles Bordes,” 35. 44. Vincent d’Indy, “Une École d’art répondant aux besoins moderns,” MM 12 (November 30, 1900): 320. 45. Gail Hilson Woldu, “Debussy, Fauré, and d’Indy and Conceptions of the Artist: The Institutions, the Dialogues, the Conflicts,” in Debussy and His World, ed. Fulcher, 236; Hart, “The Symphony in Theory and Practice in France,” 78, on the d’Indy Conservatoire commission. 46. Woldu, “Debussy, Fauré,” 245, quoted in Vincent d’Indy, “Le Virtuoso,” MM 36 ( June 1925): 212. 47. Louis Fleury, “La Flûte,” in Lavignac and Laurencie, Encyclopédie, pt. 2, 3:1526. 48. Schola Cantorum attendance roster, courtesy of Michel Denis, director. The rosters for 1901–02 and the first seven meetings of 1902–03 are missing. Blanquart succeeded Barrère in 1903, for reasons unknown. 49. See Paul, “Rameau, d’Indy, and French Nationalism,” 46–56. 50. Jean Marnold, “Le Conservatoire et la Schola,” Le Mercure de France 43 ( July 1902): 105, translated by and quoted in Woldu, “Debussy, Fauré,” 238. 51. Calvocoressi, Musicians Gallery, 21. 52. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 364. Barrère’s Bonneville no. 2210 was formerly owned by his student Bernard Birnbaum, principal flutist of the San Antonio (Texas) Symphony. 53. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 364. 54. Deschamps, “Histoire de l’administration de l’Opéra de Paris,” 265. 55. “Les Beaux-Arts à la Chambre,” CO, no. 37 (December 1, 1904): 3. 56. Personnel list: Association Philanthropique des Artistes de l’Opéra (Imprimerie et Librairie Centrales des Chemins de Fer, Imprimerie Chaix, 1901): 12, in ANF, AJ13 1017 II. Budgets for extra musicians (Feux des Artistes de l’Orchestre): ANF, AJ13 99–994 (1895–1899). Contract: Académie National de Musique, Service de l’orchestre, Engagement de M. Barrère, entré le 1er octobre 1900. PBO, Opéra Arch. 19[3322. Orchestra rosters in Comptabilité ordinaire, Budget, Theatre National de l’Opéra, Service de l’Orchestre, ANF, AJ13 1296–1310 (1901–1905). From 1901 to 1905, solo flutist Adolphe Hennebains got 3,600, second flutist Leopold Lafleurance 3,000, third flutist Philippe Gaubert 2,400, Barrère 2,000.



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Notes to Pages 55–60 57. A. Triomphe-Cornilus, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra de 1875 à 1900,” in Dictionnaire de la musique, ed. Fauquet, 910. 58. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 364. 59. Académie National de Musique, Service de l’orchestre, Engagement de M. Barrère, entré le 1er octobre 1900. PBO, Opéra Arch. 19[3322. 60. Annie Triomphe-Cornilus, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra,” in Dictionnaire de la musique, ed. Fauquet, 911, states that the contracts contained exclusivity clauses that were never honored; indeed, most of the Opéra musicians also belonged to the Société des Concerts. 61. Alphonse Lemonnier, Les abus du théâtre: Quelques directeurs en robe de chambre (Paris: Tresse et Stock, 1895), 43–44, quoted in Deschamps, “Histoire de l’Administration de l’Opéra de Paris,” 265. 62. The budget was 3,854,672 francs in 1905, according to CO ( January 1, 1905): 3. 63. Paul Gerbod, “La scène lyrique Parisienne en 1900,” RIMF, no. 12 (November 1983): 17–19, 21. 64. One student dropped out in January for lack of an instrument, according to the Schola ledgers. 65. For 1895 salaries, see Pierre, Le Conservatoire National, 434. 66. “La Musique à Paris en 1900: Quelques prix,” RIMF, no. 12 (November 1983): 48; A. Robert, 1897 catalog, DCM/LC. 67. Charle, Histoire sociale de la France, 33; Cadier-Rey, Les Français de 1900, 83. 68. Military record, Étienne Barrère, Ministère de la Guerre, Gouvernement militaire de Paris, Subdivision de la Seine, Bureau de recrutement no. 1, 1892, no. 639; military record, Georges Barrère, 6e Bureau de Recrutement, Classe de 1896, no. 1088, both in AdP. chapter 6 1. Cocteau, Souvenir Portraits, 29. 2. It is all the more regrettable that there was no press coverage because the scores of the Gaubert Andante and Quintet, the Lavaud pieces, and the piano part of the Seitz are all lost. 3. Adagio pour violon et orgue, BNF-M, Ms. 20071. Feuillets d’album, IV. Invocation, BNF-M, Ms. 19751. 4. Annuaire de la Société des Compositeurs de Musique (1901), 16. Schnapper, “La Société des Compositeurs de Musique,” RIMF 16 (April 1985): 99, states that the premiere was on February 21, 1901, at the SCM. However, neither the actual program (SCM programmes, BNF-M) nor the reprint in the Annuaire de la Société des Compositeurs de Musique (1902) credits it as a premiere. The SMIV program of March 30, 1900, Salle des Quatuors Pleyel, does claim the premiere. The Société de Musique de Chambre, with Gaubert as flutist, performed the Quintet in March 1901; see MM 13 (March 15, 1901): 76–77. 5. Le Ménestrel 67 (March 17, 1901): 88. 6. GM 47 (March 17, 1901): 253. 7. A. D., “Société de Musique Moderne pour Instruments à Vent,” MM 13 (March 15, 1901): 79. 8. Édouard Flament, “Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent,” ms., BNF-M, Res. F. 1569. The SMIV had played the Quintet in installments as it was written over a period of three years, according to Flament, who incorrectly dates the first debut of the group as 1898. The SMIV did play the Allegro on April 19, 1899, but performances of other individual movements have not yet been documented.

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Notes to Pages 60–67 9. Le Soir, March 10, 1901, clipping in BNF-M, Fonds Caplet, box 10. 10. Chanson et danses was premiered by the Société des Instruments à Vent on March 7, 1899, with Gaubert as flutist; see Vallas, Vincent d’Indy, 2:243, and review in MM 11 (March 15, 1899): 104. 11. “Société de Musique Moderne pour Instruments à Vent,” MM 13 (April 15, 1901): 116; GM 47 (April 14, 1901): 345–46. 12. Fauquet, Dictionnaire de la musique, 346. 13. “Société des Compositeurs de Musique, Salle Pleyel,” MM 13 (May 30, 1901): 170. 14. Schnapper, “La Société des Compositeurs de Musique,” RIMF 16 (April 1985): 101. 15. Hugues Imbert, “Société Rameau,” GM 47 (November 10, 1901): 815–16. 16. Christophe Charle, “Debussy in Fin-de-Siècle Paris,” trans. Victoria Johnson, in Debussy and His World, ed. Fulcher, 282. 17. GM 47 (November 10, 1901): 823. 18. Neue Freie Presse, November 5, 1901, quoted in “M. Colonne et l’orchestre du Châtelet appréciés par un critique viennois,” RM 1 ( July 1901): 408–9. 19. Toff, Flute Book, 104. 20. Cobban, History of Modern France, 3:45. 21. Fleury, “Histoires de syndicat,” 10; Fleury, “De la situation économique des musiciens d’orchestre en France,” 521. 22. Quoted in Fauquet, “Les debuts du syndicalisme musical en France,” 232. Fauquet provides a detailed and authoritative history of the rival musicians’ unions and their accomplishments. 23. Ibid., 233; statuts, Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens, BNF-M. 24. Minutes of December 23, 1901, meeting of conseil syndicale, Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens, in Procès-verbaux des séances, Assemblées générales et conseils syndicaux du Syndicat des Artistes Musiciens Professionels (SAMUP), SAMUP Archives. 25. Barrère’s participation is thoroughly documented both in the Procès-verbaux des séances, SAMUP Archives, and in Courrier de l’Orchestre, the union journal. 26. Fleury, “Histoires de syndicat,” 13–14. 27. “Liste de souscription pour la caisse de grève,” CO, no. 12 (December 1, 1902): 18. 28. Gustave Samazeuilh, “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 48 (1902): 106. 29. Victor Debay, “A la Scola [sic],” CM 5 (February 15, 1902): 56. 30. Les Tablettes de la Schola Cantorum 1, no. 6 (April 15, 1902): 3–4; ibid. 1, no. 7 (May 1, 1902): 3; Timbrell, French Pianism, 68. 31. MM 14 (February 28, 1902): 63. 32. “Société de musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” CO no. 4 (March 1, 1902): 10. 33. Untitled review, GM 48 (March 16, 1902): 251. 34. Inghelbrecht, Mouvement contraire, 259. In her biography of her husband, D. E. Inghelbrecht et son temps, 185, Germaine Inghelbrecht does not list the work under this title; she does list an unpublished 1905 work for winds, Poème Sylvestre. 35. GB to Ehrhart, n.d. [before November 14, 1904], Ehrhart Papers; the letter bears the annotation by Ehrhart “G. Barrère 17 Décembre.” 36. “Société de musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” MM 14 (April 15, 1902): 123. 37. Victor Debay, “Société de musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” CM 5 (April 15, 1902): 119; “Société de musique moderne pour instruments à vent,” MM 14 (April 15, 1902): 123; “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 48 (April 27, 1902): 394. 38. “Départements,” MM 14 (May 30, 1902): 189.



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Notes to Pages 67–70 39. This comment applies to his purposely innovative concerts in New York by the Barrère Ensemble and Barrère Little Symphony, presented under his own auspices for what he considered sophisticated, discerning, and adventurous audiences. This was not generally true of the out-of-town concerts sponsored by community-based presenters; he did learn to temper his enthusiasm in the provinces. 40. Acte de naissance no. 292, Michelette Burani Roucoux, November 7, 1881, Asnières, Archives départementales Haut de Seine; acte de mariage, Georges Barrère and Michelette Burani Roucoux, May 22, 1902, register 132, no. 524, Mairie du 14e arrondissement, Paris; biography, program for Men in Shadows, March 10, 1943, NYPL-T clipping file. Burani was Michelette’s father’s pen name, an anagram of his middle name, Urbain; the actual family name was Roucoux. Michelette’s birth certificate lists her as Michelette Burani Roucoux, as does her wedding certificate. 41. Bronislaw Horowicz, “Paul Burani,” Enciclopedia dello Spettacolo, 2:1336; obituary, GM 47 (October 13, 1901): 740–41; “Paul Burani,” Dictionnaire de biographie française, 7:677; acte du décès no. 3283, October 9, 1901, dated October 10, 1901, Mairie due 10e arrondissement, Paris; Hortense Barrère, oral history interview, April 14, 1993. 42. Untitled obituary, GM 47 (October 13, 1901): 740–41. 43. Contrat de mariage entre Monsieur Barrère avec Madelle Burani-Roucoux dit Burani, May 16, 1902, Me Cottin, Notaire à Paris, courtesy Lefeuvre Ginisty Fil Blanchet, Paris. Liquidation, estate of Paul Burani, December 11, 1902, registered January 29, 1903, Tribunal Civil de Paris, AdP, DU5 1294. 44. Acte de mariage, Georges Barrère and Michelette Burani Roucoux, May 22, 1902, register 132, no. 524, Mairie du 14e arrondissement, Paris. The Paris Archdiocese has no record of a church wedding; Mme Lemaire, archevêché de Paris, Archives de Catholicité, to NT, October 19, 2001. 45. Change of address notice, MM 14 ( June 15, 1902): 210; but according to Barrère’s military record, AdP, he moved on August 12, 1902. His brother, Étienne, remained at 42, rue de Rochechouart, until 1905, when he moved to 86, rue Richelieu, over the furniture showroom; Gabriel does not appear in the election rolls in 1900 but is listed as a resident of 42, rue de Rochechouart, on the wedding certificate. He may have retired to Gers, as the business directory lists Étienne beginning with the 1902 edition. 46. “Les Concerts,” CO, no. 11 (November 1, 1902): 8; the date is frequently mis-cited in reference works, but the biography provided by Barrère to Ehrhart in his undated [November 1904] letter confirms the 1902 date. 47. Le Ménestrel 69 ( January 11, 1903): 15. 48. Le Ménestrel 69 (April 5, 1903): 109; H. Imbert, “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 49 (April 5, 1903): 233, called the Bach a chaconne; MM 15 (April 15, 1903): 104, called it a scherzo. 49. Le Ménestrel 69 (February 15, 1903): 55; Barrère dossier, ANF, F17 40165. Gaubert received the identical title at the same time. 50. “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 49 (February 22, 1903): 165. 51. The comprehensive listing of SNM programs in Duchesneau, L’Avant-Garde musicale, 270, states incorrectly (apparently based on the SNM program) that the Woollett was premiered at the SNM’s concert no. 362, March 27, 1909, Salle Érard, by Philippe Gaubert and Lucien Wurmser. 52. “Chronique de la semaine,” GM 49 (March 1, 1903): 187. Taffanel biographer Edward Blakeman confirms that he is not aware that Taffanel played any public solo recitals, though it is possible that he played some in salons or other private settings.

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Notes to Pages 70–79 53. “Text Not Second Even to Music in Modern Song, Says Clément,” MA 15 (February 17, 1912): 19. 54. GM 49 (April 19, 1903): 353. 55. Annuaire de la Société des Compositeurs de Musique (1903): 40; Dufourcq, “Mélanie DOMANGE BONIS,” 3; Geliot, Mel Bonis, 104, 180. 56. “Société moderne d’instruments à vent,” MM 15 (April 30, 1903): 122; GM 49 (April 26, 1903): 376–77. 57. “Société moderne pour instruments à vent,” MM 15 (May 15, 1903): 146. 58. Minutes of conseil syndicale, Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens, SAMUP Archives. 59. Auguste Mercadier, untitled review, MM 15 (December 30, 1903): 379; Romain Rolland, “Concerts Colonne,” RM 4 ( January 1, 1904): 19; J. Jemain, “Revue des Grands Concerts,” Le Ménestrel 70 ( January 3, 1904): 5. 60. Gustave Samazeuilh, “Société Nationale de Musique,” GM 40 (March 27, 1904): 289; MM 16 (March 30, 1904): 89. 61. GB to Ehrhart, n.d. [before November 14, 1904], Fonds Ehrhart; the letter bears the annotation by Ehrhart “G. Barrère 17 Décembre.” 62. RM 4 (February 15, 1904): 112; Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (March 1921): 340. 63. GM 50 (April 3, 1904): 172; A. M., “Société moderne d’instruments à vent,” MM 16 (March 30, 1904): 98. 64. GM 50 (May 1, 1904): 409; Philippe Moreau, “Société moderne d’instruments à vent,” MM 16 (April 15, 1904): 129. 65. Fleury, “Souvenirs d’un flûtiste,” MM 35 (December 1924): 404. The Second Suite was premiered by the rival Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent, with Gaubert as first flute and Barrère as guest second flutist. 66. D’Jinn, “Concerts Divers,” CM (May 15, 1904): 337; Harry M., “Société moderne des instruments à vent,” MM 16 (May 15, 1904): 143. 67. CM ( January 1, 1904): 34. 68. Bernard, “La Vie symphonique à Paris,” 280; MM 17 ( January 30, 1905): 15; Compte rendu des concerts, Colonne Archives, AdP, V.3 S27. 69. J. Jemain, “Revue des Grands Concerts,” Le Ménestrel 71 (March 19, 1905): 92. 70. “Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent” (pamphlet), DCM/LC. The statistics compiled by the author indicate sixty-two premieres; see Appendix 2. The version of Barrère’s autobiography in the Flutist 2 (March 1921): 240, has a typographical error, giving the figure as eighty-one, but the 1928 version of the autobiography gives it as sixty-one. 71. “Salons Musicaux,” RM 5 (April 1, 1905): 216. 72. H. F., “Société moderne d’Instruments à vent,” MM 17 (February 15, 1905): 39; P. G., “Société moderne d’Instruments à vent,” MM 5 (March 15, 1905): 66. 73. Julien Torchot, untitled review, GM 51 (1905): 280, 220, 191. 74. Harry M., “Société moderne d’Instruments à vent,” MM 17 (April 15, 1905): 99–100. chapter 7 1. Martin, DD, 109. 2. For the history of the Philharmonic, see Shanet, Philharmonic; for the Boston Symphony, see Howe, Boston Symphony Orchestra; for the Thomas Orchestra, see Schabas, Theodore Thomas. 3. Martin, DD, 109; WD, MML, 186–88.



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Notes to Pages 79–87 4. “Young Mr. Damrosch,” MC 22 (February 11, 1891): 124. 5. WD, MML, 205. 6. Ibid., 206; Martin, DD, 169. 7. Martin, DD, 185, 189. 8. NYT, November 23, 1903, quoted in Martin, DD, 189. 9. WD, eulogy for Barrère, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 10. Dietz, “Conversation with Sol Schoenbach,” 48; WD, MML, 46. 11. “Charles Molé,” Flutist 9 (May 1928): 134; Norman Schweikert, historical personnel rosters, New York Philharmonic Archives. 12. WD, MML, 46; WD to Loeffler, n.d., Loeffler Collection, LC; WD, TS in Loeffler, WD/NYPL, box 7, Loeffler folder, WD/NYPL, evidently a draft of WD, “Charles Martin Loeffler”; Commemorative Tribute, Academy Publication No. 88 (New York: American Academy of Arts and Letters, 1936). 13. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 219–20. 14. Tabuteau, orchestra questionnaire, April 1915, Philadelphia Orchestra Archives, cited in Laila Storch, e-mail to NT, August 6, 1999; WD, MML, 46. 15. René Rateau, letter to NT, March 21, 1993. 16. Barrère, 10. Gaubert would become principal conductor of both the Société des Concerts (1919) and the Opéra (1920); even so, that would take another fifteen years. 17. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 364. 18. GB to WD, April 18, 1905, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 19. Donald Harper to WD, April 14, 1905, WD/NYPL, box 20, folder C; contract, WD/NYPL, box 20, folder B. 20. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 365. 21. Loeffler to Elise Fay, Loeffler Collection, LC; WD, “Frenchmen’s Pay,” WD/NYPL, box 24, NYSO Fund folder. 22. Ph. M., “Les Festivals populaires du Trocadéro,” MM 17 (May 15, 1905): 122. 23. The version of his autobiography published in Flutist 2 (April 1921): 365, states incorrectly that he arrived on May 30. He would ultimately find lodgings at 147 East 54th Street; WD/NYPL, box 28, folder A (Orchestras, NYSO 1900–1909). 24. Ship passenger manifest, La Savoie, arrival New York, May 13, 1905, National Archives reel T715/573, vols. 1196–98, p. 10. 25. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 231; ship passenger manifest, La Lorraine, arrival New York, May 27, 1905; ship passenger manifest, La Bretagne, arrival New York, October 8, 1905, National Archives (at www.ellisisland.org ). Mesnard incorrectly says that Leroy arrived with Barrère. 26. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 365. 27. Leiter, Musicians and Petrillo, 32–33; Martin, DD, 123. 28. Leiter, Musicians and Petrillo, 34; Martin, DD, 131–32. 29. Quoted in “The Musical Unions,” MC 50 ( June 7, 1905): 19. 30. Ibid. 31. Ibid., 20. 32. WD, untitled TS, WD/NYPL, box 33, folder A (Organizations, General: Musicians union); American Federation of Musicians, Official Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Convention (May 15–20, 1905), 148. 33. WD, eulogy for Barrère, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 34. WD/NYPL, box 33, folder A (Organizations, General: Musicians Union).

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Notes to Pages 87–93 35. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 365; programs in WD SB 1, NYPL. 36. “Damrosch Fined $1,000; Didn’t Consult Union,” NYT, June 1, 1905; decision and receipt in WD/NYPL, box 33, folder A (Musicians Union). 37. 1905 diary, Welling Collection, NYPL-Mss., box 33. 38. Loeffler to WD, July 16, 1905, WD/NYPL, box 7, Loeffler folder. 39. Barrère, 11. chapter 8 1. Ship passenger manifest La Savoie, from Le Havre, arriving New York, June 10, 1905, National Archives, reel T715/587, vol. 1233, p. 4. 2. MC 51 (August 2, 1905): 24. 3. MML, 203. For Theodore Thomas, see Schabas, Theodore Thomas; Derek Vaillant, Sounds of Reform: Progressivism and Music in Chicago, 1873–1935 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003); and Hart, Orpheus in the New World. 4. Advertisement, “Les artiste musiciens en Amérique . . . conference par le camarade Louis Fleury,” CO (April 1, 1906): 54. 5. CO (April 1, 1906): 60. 6. NYSO Season 1905–06 Preliminary Announcement, NYPL-M, NYSO programs. 7. MC 51 (October 25, 1905): 20. 8. Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 231, 226. 9. GB to WD, September 19, 1905, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 10. “Musical Art Opening,” NYT, November 1, 1905; “A Great National Institution: The New York Institute of Musical Art,” MA 3 (November 18, 1905): 2; “Lay Cornerstone of New Music School,” MA 11 (April 2, 1910): 1; FD, Institute of Musical Art, 49; Martin, DD, 228. 11. “A Great National Institution,” MA 3 (November 18, 1905): 2. 12. Loeb to FD, October 20, 1904, Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 5. 13. MM 17 ( July 15, 1905): 247. 14. “The New School of Musical Art,” MC 50 ( June 28, 1905): 19; “Bright Outlook for the New Institute of Musical Art,” NYT, October 8, 1905; Martin, DD, 228; NY Sun quoted in “The New School of Musical Art,” MC 50 ( June 28, 1905): 19. 15. The Cleveland Institute (1920), the Eastman School of Music (1921), and the Curtis Institute (1925) would follow. 16. Martin, DD, 228. 17. “Frank Damrosch’s Ideas on Conservatory Training,” MA 4 ( June 23, 1906): 5. 18. Emmet Brazier to H. N. Morse, May 4, 1907, WD/NYPL, box 28, folder A (Orchestras: NYSO 1900–1909). 19. “Damrosch’s Twentieth Year,” MA 3 (November 25, 1905): 3; Millar Ular in Chicago Examiner, January 7, 1906, quoted in Martin, DD, 189, 193. 20. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 42–43. 21. No clarinetists were mentioned in the announcement in Musical America (“Walter Damrosch Forms Wind Octet,” MA 3 [December 30, 1905]: 5), but it was really a double quintet. The two clarinetists were listed on the manuscript first program, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. The initial members were John Roodenburg (second flute), Cesare Addimando and Marcel Tabuteau (oboe), Henry Léon Leroy and Henry Christmann (clarinet), Auguste Mesnard and Alvin Kirchner (bassoon), and Hermann Hand and J. Chernoff (horn).



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Notes to Pages 93–99 22. “Personalities,” MA 3 (December 23, 1905): 8, termed it a “formal debut.” See also “The Longy Club of Boston,” NYT, December 20, 1905. In fact, the Longy group had played a private New York concert in December 1903 and in Mendelssohn Hall in March 8, 1904, which Whitwell, Longy Club, 34, cites as its first New York concert. Georges Longy (1868–1930) won first prize at the Conservatoire in 1886, studying with Georges Gillet. He became a member of the Lamoureux Concerts (1886) and the Opéra Comique orchestra (1887) and first oboist of the Colonne Orchestra (1888), where his tenure overlapped slightly with Barrère’s. He was not, as he and others often claimed (for example, “Famous Longy Club Ends Its Most Successful Season,” MA 4 [May 26, 1906]: 5), the founder of the renewed Taffanel society in 1895 “with the assistance of his friend Prosper Mimart”; the credit properly goes to Mimart, as Longy played only in 1898. 23. Addimando to WD, February 7, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 8, NYSO members folder. 24. WD to Addimando, February 8, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 8, NYSO members folder. 25. Barrère, 12; program in Barrère SB. The printed program was far more restrained than the drafts; the manuscript program in WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder (reproduced in Toff, Georges Barrère and the Flute in America, 16), includes the full Suite persane, the Beethoven Trio for flute, bassoon, and piano; both the Preludio e fughetta and Pastorale variée of Pierné, Théodore Dubois’s Two Pieces in Canonic Form, and the Gounod Petite symphonie. There are two other drafts in the Damrosch Papers, equally long. 26. WD to Henry Wolfson, November 22, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 27. Brochure in WD SB 21, NYPL microfilm; the original cannot be found among the original scrapbook contents at LC. 28. WD to Hobart Weed, May 24, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 4, 1900–1909 folder. 29. “New York Symphony Orchestra Offerings,” MA 4 (Oct 20, 1906): 7. The novelties were Franck’s Rédemption, Debussy’s The Sirens, and Chabrier’s incidental music for Shakespeare’s Henry VIII. 30. WD to Saint-Saëns, September 26, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 8, Saint-Saëns folder; Rees, Camille Saint-Saëns, 370. 31. “Damrosch Orchestra Gives Fine Concert,” MA 5 (November 17, 1906): 2. 32. WD to Welling, February 27, 1907, PML, MFC D1667.W452 (2). 33. “New York Symphony on Permanent Basis,” MA 5 (March 16, 1907): 4. 34. “Damrosch Victim of Weather’s Whims: Small Audiences at Willow Grove Concerts,” MA 6 ( June 22, 1907): 3; “Damrosch Concerts in Chicago,” MA 6 ( July 6, 1907): 5; “Damrosch Forces to Tour Far West,” MA 6 (August 31, 1907): 1. 35. “Mme. Eames at Bar Harbor Dedication,” MA 6 ( July 20, 1907): 3. 36. WD to Dave H. Morris, December 22, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 4, 1900–1909 folder; GB to WD, December 23, 1906, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. 37. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 67–68; Mesnard, “Mémoires,” 273. 38. “Damrosch Forces for Many Cities,” MA 6 (September 21, 1907): 9. 39. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 43; Shanet, Philharmonic, 229; “New York’s Permanent Orchestra and the Men Who Made It Possible,” MA 7 ( January 4, 1908): 3. 40. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 43. 41. “$250 to Feed Musicians,” MA 7 (February 15, 1908): 15. 42. WD to HHF, March 10, 1908, PML, MFC D1667.F574 (2); GB to HHF, March 11, 1908, PML, MFC B272.F574 (1). 43. WD to Welling, June 30, 1908, WD/NYPL, box 8, NYSO members folder. The new second flutist was Gustave Schmit; see Schweikert rosters, New York Philharmonic Archives.

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Notes to Pages 99–108 44. “Cincinnati Hears Damrosch Forces,” MA 8 (November 7, 1908): 21. 45. Martin, DD, 217–19. 46. Duncan, My Life, 224. 47. “Albert Spalding’s Debut a Success,” MA 9 (November 14, 1908): 8. 48. “Damrosch Players Give Mozart Music,” MA 9 (November 21, 1908): 29. 49. “Young People Hear Pierné Concert,” MA 8 (December 26, 1908): 19. 50. “Elgar’s New Symphony,” MC 58 ( January 6, 1909): 40. 51. “‘Doctor’ Damrosch’s Recomposed Composers,” MC 58 (March 17, 1909): 34. 52. “Observations on Orchestras,” MC 58 (March 1, 1909): 25. 53. “The ABCD’s of Music,” MC 58 (March 24, 1909): 23. 54. Luening, Odyssey of an American Composer, 73. 55. Powell probably heard him at Ravinia. 56. Berdahl, “Verne Q. Powell,” 2; Berdahl, “The First Hundred Years of the Boehm Flute in the United States,” 641–42. 57. Willson, And There I Stood with My Piccolo, 29. 58. Wehner’s colleagues and successors at the Philharmonic were also Germans or Central Europeans. The colleagues were Hugo Wittgenstein, Frederick Rietzel, Charles Siedler, Christian Schaefer, Otto Stoeckert, Anton Fayer, Julius Spindler, Louis Fritze, Paul Henneberg , William Schade, and Henry Heidelberg. Four Wehner students became members of the Philharmonic: Otto Oesterle, Nicola Laucella, Ernest F. Wagner, and Julius Spindler. 59. De Lorenzo, My Complete Story of the Flute, 461–62. See also “Carl Wehner,” Flutist 4 ( June 1923): 992–93. 60. Schweikert, orchestra rosters, New York Philharmonic Archives. chapter 9 1. Barrère, 12. 2. “A Recital for the Flute,” NYT, March 19, 1907. 3. “Paul Kéfer, Successful Cellist,” MC 58 (February 17, 1909): 15; “An Instrumental Recital,” NYT, February 27, 1909; “Unique Trio in New York Concert,” MA 9 (March 6, 1909): 27. 4. Daniel Gregory Mason, letter to editor, NYT, January 17, 1926. See also Palmer, Harpsichord in America, 31–32. 5. “Paul Kéfer and the Viola da Gamba,” MA 12 (November 5, 1910): 6; Dolmetsch, Personal Recollections of Arnold Dolmetsch, 78. 6. Other members included violinists Constance Edson, Laura Kelsey, and Georges Vigneti; Alwyn Schroeder, first cellist of the Boston Symphony; and sopranos Susan Metcalfe and Loraine Wyman. 7. “Harpsichord Music at Whiting Recital,” MA 11 (February 27, 1910): 4. 8. Whiting , “The Lesson of the Clavichord,” New Music Review 8 (1909) 69–72, 138–42; “Plays Old Music on Harpsichord,” MA 7 (December 21, 1907): 11. See also Haskell, The Early Music Revival, 100. Whiting’s mss. are in NYPL-M, JPB 84–421. 9. “Old French Music Heard,” NYT, January 9, 1912. 10. GB, “Old French Music Not Arranged” (letter), NYT, January 14, 1912; François Couperin, Concerts royaux: Trios pour violon, violoncelle et piano, transcription by Georges Marty (Paris: A. Durand, ca. 1903). The movements Barrère played — Musette, Sarabande, and Forlane en Rondeau—were taken from various of the four Concerts. 11. “Mr. Whiting at His Best,” Daily Princetonian, November 22, 1909; Sigmund Spaeth,



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Notes to Pages 108–114 “Musical Uplift for the Collegian,” Opera Magazine 1 (April 1914): 32; Palmer, Harpsichord in America, 96. 12. Aldrich to Howe, April 18, 1928, Harvard University Archives, UAV 587.15: Department of Music, Correspondence of W. R. Spalding, 1904–1929, Richard Aldrich folder. See also Spalding , Music at Harvard, 234–36, which notes that women were forbidden to attend. 13. “Pleads for a Better ‘Carmen,’” MA 9 ( January 16, 1909): 14. 14. “Mme. Anna Arnaud to Open Summer Studio in Paris,” MA 16 (May 11, 1912): 37. 15. “Greater New York,” MC 9 (December 22, 1909): 37; “Old French Songs in Mme. Arnaud’s Recital,” MA 13 (April 15, 1911): 23. 16. First violinist Franz Kneisel, the former concertmaster of the BSO, headed the violin department. In this era second violinists were Julius Theodorowicz (1902–07), Julius Roentgen (1907–12), and Hans Letz (1912–17); violist, Louis Svecˇenski (1885–17); cellists, Alwin Schroeder (1891–1907) and Willem Willeke (1907–17). 17. GB to Professor Hooper, April 30, 1909, Love Collection, Yale, box 1, folder 4. 18. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, January 21, 1910, clipping in Kneisel SB, Juilliard Archives; H. F. P., “Art of Kneisels Again Enchants,” MA 11 (February 26, 1910): 18. 19. GB, “‘Violin of the Wood Wind Instruments’— the Flute,” MA 10 (November 6, 1909): 9. 20. “Flute Player’s Rise,” NY Evening Sun, February 28, 1910. 21. The flyer for the 1910 concerts lists the following personnel: Georges Barrère and Rocco Guerriere (flute); Albert de Busscher and Irving Cohn (oboe); Henry Léon Leroy and Harry Christmann (clarinet); Josef Franzel and J. [John F.] Heyer (horn); Benjamin Kohon and Emil Barbot (bassoon); Carl Heinrich (trumpet), all but Kohon and Heinrich members of the NYSO. Guarantors were Miss Lizzie P. Bliss, Miss Mary R. Callender, Mr. Frederick G. Corning , Mr. E. J. de Coppet, Mrs. Charles H. Ditson, Mr. Carl Fischer, Mr. H. Harkness Flagler, Mrs. John R. MacArthur, Mr. Dave H. Morris, Mrs. Paul Morton, Mr. Rudolph E. Schirmer, Mrs. Henry Seligman, Mr. Charles A. Sherman, Mrs. Albert Strauss, and Mr. Paul Warburg. 22. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, March 1, 1910. 23. “New Musical Body,” NY Tribune, March 1, 1910. 24. “Music and Musicians,” NY Evening Sun, March 1, 1910. 25. Barrère, 13. 26. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, March 8, 1910; “Barrère Ensemble Again,” MA 11 (March 12, 1910): 33. 27. “Novelty in New York Chamber Music,” MA 11 (March 19, 1910): 28. 28. “Chamber Music by Woodwind Choir,” MA 13 (December 10, 1919): 37; “Mme. Arnaud’s Musicale,” MA 13 (December 10, 1919): 35. 29. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, December 6, 1910. 30. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NY Post, December 6, 1910. 31. “Concerts of the Week,” NYT, December 18, 1910. 32. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, January 10, 1911; “Barrère Ensemble’s Wood-Wind Concert,” MA 13 ( January 14, 1911): 6. Debussy was becoming increasingly acceptable to the concert-going public, as Arthur Farwell noted in “Too Much Debussy,” MA 11 ( January 29, 1910): 26. “‘The Afternoon of a Faun’ now belongs to the repertory of all selfrespecting orchestras. . . . It is almost getting to be popular as music, rather than as merely something by Debussy.” 33. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, February 7, 1911.

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Notes to Pages 115–123 34. “Greater New York,” MC 62 (February 1, 1911): 37; Daniel Lynds Blount, “New American Music in Paris,” MA 14 (October 7, 1911): 5. 35. “Kriens Compositions Form Whole Program,” MA 13 (March 18, 1911): 37. 36. Ship passenger manifest, La Lorraine, from Le Havre, arriving New York, October 8, 1911. National Archives, microfilm roll T715/1752, vol. 3873, p. 136. 37. “Attention of New York’s Concert-Goers Focused on Stransky and Philharmonic,” MA 14 (October 14, 1911): 7. 38. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, November 28, 1911; A. W. K., “First Matinée by Barrère Ensemble,” MA 15 (December 9, 1911): 21. 39. The OCLC catalog record notes that the authenticity of the Pastorale is uncertain, and that the Prelude and Fugue is no. 4 of Eight Little Preludes and Fugues, composed before 1710. All eight may possibly be by Johann Ludwig Krebs. The OCLC record notes incorrectly that the first performance was by the Longy Club, Georges Longy, conductor, November 25, 1914, in Boston. 40. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, January 23, 1912; “Barrère’s Search for Novelties,” MA 16 ( June 8, 1912): 21. 41. Irving Weil, “Barrère Ensemble Discloses Some New Landscape Music,” NY Journal, January 23, 1912. 42. H. F. P., “Unique Program of Wood-Wind Music,” MA 15 ( January 27, 1912): 37. 43. A. W. K., “Unique Wood-Wind Organization Gives Final Chamber Music Concert,” MA 15 (April 20, 1912): 35. 44. Programs and unidentified clipping, Michelette Burani Papers. 45. “Notre Fête du 5 Mai,” Morbihannais de Paris 1, no. 1 ( June–July 1912): 7. 46. “Barrère’s Search for Novelties,” MA 16 ( June 8, 1912): 21. 47. “George Barrère Hurt: But Flutist Has Unique Programs in Readiness for Coming Season,” MA 16 (August 31, 1912): 5; ship passenger manifest, SS Venezia, from Marseilles, arriving New York, September 27, 1912, www.ellisisland.org. chapter 10 1. “New Aeolian Hall Will Contain Two Concert Auditoriums,” MA 14 ( June 17, 1911): 5; “New Home for the Damrosch Concerts,” MA 17 (November 16, 1912): 2. 2. “A Rare Musical Treat on Monday,” Greencastle Herald, October 19, 1912; Barrère, 13; “Good-Sized Audience Out to Hear Concert,” Greencastle Herald, October 22, 1912. 3. C. J. E., “Musicians Delighted by Barrère Ensemble,” Pittsburgh Dispatch, October 26, 1912. 4. Krehbiel, The Bohemians, 9; Danek, “Historical Study of the Kneisel Quartet,” 155. 5. Krehbiel, The Bohemians, 12; Danek, “Historical Study of the Kneisel Quartet,” 155–56; “‘Bohemians’ Found Fund for Needy Musicians,” MA 15 ( January 6, 1912): 8a. 6. Karl Feininger diary, March 21, 1911–July 7, 1913, entry for November 30, 1912, Feininger Collection, NYPL-Mss. I am grateful to Jon Butler for calling my attention to this entry. 7. A. W. K., “Damrosch Presents Bach and Debussy,” MA 17 (February 1, 1913): 5. 8. A. W. K., “Three Barrère Novelties,” MA 17 (February 8, 1913): 39; “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, February 4, 1913. 9. Salzedo graduated from the Paris Conservatoire in 1901 with first prizes in both harp and piano. See Archambo, “Carlos Salzedo: The Harp in Transition,” and Owens, Carlos Salzedo. 10. “Clément Sings with Woodwind Background,” MA 17 (March 22, 1913): 13; “Wooden



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Notes to Pages 123–130 Shoes Hint to Tenor for ‘Mes Sabots,’” NY Herald, March 12, 1913; “Two Song Treats in Different Styles Given Music Lovers,” NY Journal, March 12, 1913. 11. “Concerts of the Week,” NYT, April 13, 1913; Town and Country, April 16, 1913. 12. “Mr. Longy Shows Us a New Chamber Music Organization,” NY World, November 10, 1913; Boston Transcript, November 10, 1913, quoted in Whitwell, Longy Club, 152. 13. “Blind Men Hear Demonstration of Instruments at Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City,” Music Trades 45 (March 8, 1913): 41. See A Checklist of Western European Fifes, Piccolos, and Transverse Flutes (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, Department of Musical Instruments, 1977). 14. “Flute and Piano Concert,” NY Sun, March 3, 1913; A. W. K., “Unique Recital for Flute and Piano,” MA 17 (March 8, 1913): 29; “A Joint Sonata Recital,” NYT, March 3, 1913. 15. A comprehensive discography of Barrère’s recordings is Nelson, “Georges Barrère,” 26–48. 16. “Barrère Announces American Novelties,” MA 18 (September 20, 1913): 13; “Damrosch Plans Vigorous Orchestral Campaign,” MA 18 (October 25, 1913): 32. 17. May Stanley, “Concert-Managing as Catherine Bamman Sees It,” MA 30 (September 20, 1919): 3; obituary, Catherine A. Bamman, MA 72 (May 1952): 24. 18. “The New York Symphony,” NYT, December 6, 1913; H. F. P., “Extremes Meet in Damrosch Program,” MA 19 (December 13, 1913): 20. 19. Kincaid transcript, Juilliard School Archives; “William M. Kincaid,” Flutist 6 ( June 1925): 125; Toff, “Kincaid in New York,” 50–51. Kincaid (1897–1967) would graduate from the Institute in 1914 and from the artist’s course, with highest honors, in 1918. Damrosch hired him as a substitute and then as third flute of the New York Symphony in 1915, and he played there until he enlisted in the navy in 1918. He was also a member of the New York Chamber Music Society beginning in 1915 and was appointed principal flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1921. See also Norman Schweikert, e-mails to NT, August 10 and 26, 2004. 20. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, December 16, 1913; “Barrère Ensemble Opens Fifth Season,” MA 19 (December 20, 1913): 44; “Barrère Ensemble Heard,” NY Tribune, December 16, 1913. 21. “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, February 3, 1914; “The Barrère Ensemble, Witherspoon Soloist,” NY Star, February 3, 1914; “The Barrère Ensemble,” NY Post, February 3, 1914. 22. B. R., “The Harp Still in Its Infancy, Says Virtuoso Carlos Salzedo,” MA 19 ( January 17, 1914): 13. 23. Barrère, 16. 24. White, “Autobiography,” 160. 25. Owens, Carlos Salzedo, 17. 26. “Novel Trio Introduced,” MA 19 (March 7, 1914): 33; “New Trio Plays Interesting Music,” NY Tribune, February 23, 1914; “Trio de Lutèce Heard,” NYT, March 9, 1914. 27. “Concert for Red Cross,” MA 19 (March 7, 1914): 23. 28. McCutchan, Marcel Moyse, 87. 29. GB to Olin Downes, August 16, 1938, Downes/Georgia, box 2, folder 48. 30. Diana Watts, The Renaissance of the Greek Ideal (New York: Stokes, 1914). 31. “Mrs. Watts and Trio de Lutèce Show ‘Law of Balance’ in Music,” MA 19 (April 25, 1914): 27. 32. Nectoux, Gabriel Fauré, 544–45, 192–93.

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Notes to Pages 130–135 33. Barrère’s manuscripts were dispersed, and the piece is not on the list of Salzedo arrangements in Owens, Carlos Salzedo. 34. “Greek Dance and Lecture,” NYT, April 22, 1914. 35. Untitled notice, Times (London), June 29, 1914, 12. 36. Barrère, 17; Owens, Carlos Salzedo, 18, says the concert was at the American embassy, sponsored by the baroness. In a letter to Eugène Wagner, April 17, 1914 (BNF-M, LA Barrère [G.] 2), Barrère says Kéfer would not be coming , only Salzedo, but reviews refer to the trio. 37. GB to Wagner, BNF-M, LA Barrère (G.) 3; GB to Wagner, BNF-M, LA Barrère (G.) 4. 38. Wharton, Fighting France, 7. 39. Ibid., 220, 23–24. 40. Barrère, 17; “All-American Program for Barrère,” MA 20 (October 24, 1914), 32; military record, Paris, Bureau de recrutement no. 6, Classe de mobilisation 1896, Paris 10e arrondissement, no. 1088, AdP. 41. Passenger ship record, National Archives, reel T715/2373, vol. 5452, p. 176: SS Espagne, arrived from Le Havre September 28, 1914; GB, military record, AdP. 42. “Boston Symphony Cancels Fall Tour Because of War,” MA 20 (September 15, 1914): 1. 43. Audoin-Rouzeau and Becker, 14–18: Understanding the Great War, 21, 23; Howard, The First World War, 146. 44. Mousnier, Pierre Monteux, 38. 45. “Léon Rothier’s Latter-Day Miracle,” MA 21 (November 21, 1914): 13; “Edmond Clément Wounded,” MA 21 (April 24, 1915): 37. 46. Mousnier, Pierre Monteux, 27; Vogue, February 1, 1918, in NYPL, Monteux clipping file, quotes MA 30 (September 6, 1919): 16. 47. The brochure commemorating the Société Moderne’s twenty-fifth anniversary lists the following casualties: members Jacques Capdevielle (horn), Georges Mellin (horn), Lucien Leclercq (oboe), and Henri Delgrange (horn) and auxiliary members L. Bailleux (horn), H. Bineaux (clarinet), Léon Joffroy (flute), and E. Million (flute). Fonds Caplet, BNF-M. 48. “‘Be Neutral’ Talk for Orchestra Men,” MA 20 (October 10, 1914): 3; WD, MML, 195. 49. “Damrosch Men and Quebec Relief Fund,” MA 21 (December 5, 1914): 8. 50. “Trio de Lutèce Playing in London,” MA 20 ( June 27, 1914): 16. 51. “American Music Cause Advanced by Mr. Damrosch,” MA 21 (November 21, 1914): 1. 52. Crawford, America’s Musical Life, 376. 53. “Mephisto’s Musings,” MA 21 (December 5, 1914): 7. 54. “Whiting Assails Propaganda for Native Composer,” MA 21 (November 28, 1914): 18. 55. “All-American Program for Barrère,” MA 20 (October 24, 1914): 32. 56. C. A. B., “Prophet of the Wind Instrument,” MA 21 (November 28, 1914): 28. 57. B. R., “American Program of the Barrère Ensemble,” MA 21 (November 28, 1914): 2. 58. “Bispham with Barrère Ensemble,” NY Evening Post, November 23, 1914. Barrère was inconsistent about the spelling of his name throughout his career, both in programs and on his own letterhead; sometimes, the stationery sheets and envelopes were inconsistent. After his stroke in 1941, his painstakingly crafted handwriting clearly shows the s.



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Notes to Pages 135–143 59. NY Press, November 23, 1914; Bispham SB, NYPL-M, reel 7; NY Sun, November 23, 1914. 60. “George Barrère as Defender of the Cause of American Music,” MA 21 (December 5, 1914): 6. 61. “Flagler to Defray Symphony Deficits,” MA 19 (April 4, 1914): 1; “Symphony Directors ‘Surprise’ Flagler,” MA 21 (December 19, 1914): 39. 62. Henry B. Baerman, “American Symphony Orchestras,” MC 70 (February 10, 1915): 23. 63. “Damrosch Presents Music of Bohemians,” MA 21 ( January 9, 1915): 6. 64. Harpist Salvatore di Stefano substituted for the mobilized Salzedo. 65. “Barrère as Route Maker,” MA 21 (March 6, 1915): 31. 66. “Diverse Buffalo Concerts,” MA 21 (April 3, 1915): 16. 67. Advertisement, MA 21 (April 10, 1915): 6. 68. Cincinnati Commercial Tribune, March 28, 1915, quoted in MA 21 (April 10, 1915): 6. 69. “St. Paul Debut of Barrère Ensemble,” MA 21 (April 24, 1915): 39. 70. Barrère, 18. 71. San Francisco Enquirer, April 26, 1915, quoted in advertisement, MA 22 (May 15, 1915): 29. 72. Avery Strakosch, “Finds Public’s First Judgments Unreliable,” MA 22 (May 29, 1915): 2. 73. WD to HHF, April 27, 1915, PML, MFC D1667.F574 (6). 74. Barrère, 18. 75. Acte de mariage, Étienne Barrère and Flore Marie Clémence Ragot, February 20, 1915, mairie, 2e arrondissement, Paris; “Francis Rogers Gives a New Year Party,” MC 70 ( January 6, 1915): 19. 76. GB to WD, June 21, [1915], PML, MFC B272.D166. 77. Marginal note, acte de mariage, Georges Barrère and Michelette Burani Roucoux, May 22, 1902, register 132, no. 524, mairie du 14e arrondissement, Paris; Assignation de divorce no. 15702, April 22, 1922, recorded March 5, 1923, 1er Chambre du Tribunal Civil de la Seine, Paris, AdP. 78. Her stage credits include The Trial of Mary Dugan, Time of Your Life, The Detective Story, and The Two Mrs. Carrolls; films include The Gilded Lily, Enter Madame, and Everybody Sing. 79. “Honored for Ten Years’ Service to American Music,” MA 22 ( June 5, 1915): 33. 80. MA 22 (October 30, 1915): 15. chapter 11 1. “Trio de Lutèce,” NY Sun, November 29, 1916. 2. “Sunday’s Concerts Enjoyed by Crowds,” NYT, December 13, 1915; “New York Symphony Orchestra Concert,” NY World, December 13, 1915. 3. H. F. P., “Barrère New York Symphony Soloist,” MA 23 (December 18, 1915): 33. 4. “Salzedo to Appear under Bamman Management,” MA 22 (September 11, 1915): 15; “Strong Attractions on Catherine A. Bamman’s List for 1915–16,” MA 22 ( June 19, 1915): 9. 5. Quoted in Knapp and Chipman, This Was Yvette, 164–65. 6. Ibid., 209. 7. Ibid., 257.

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Notes to Pages 143–151 8. “Yvette Guilbert to Her Audiences in America,” Boston Evening Transcript, February 23, 1916. 9. Promotional booklet, “Yvette Guilbert,” Fonds Rondel, Arsenal, Ro. 87878. 10. Quoted in Knapp and Chipman, This Was Yvette, 262. 11. “Yvette Guilbert Delights Audience,” NY Sun, December 8, 1915. 12. “Mme. Yvette Guilbert,” NY Dramatic Mirror, December 18, 1915. 13. However, the New York Symphony claimed that distinction for its own concert at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on December 2, 1916. 14. H. T. P., “Mme. Yvette Departs,” Boston Evening Transcript, February 26, 1916. 15. Barrère, 19; “La Argentina Appears,” NYT, February 11, 1916. 16. MA 24 (May 20, 1916): 24. 17. Collins, Otto Kahn, 113–15. 18. Zieger, America’s Great War, 108–9. 19. “Beck Starts Fund to Aid the French,” NYT, January 5, 1916; “France Glorified in Benefit Concert,” MA 23 ( January 8, 1916): 5. 20. K. S. C., “Raise $10,000 for France’s Musicians,” MA 23 (March 25, 1916): 29; “Paris Appreciative of Generosity of Concert Artists Here,” MA 24 ( June 10, 1916): 46. 21. Mattis, “Edgard Varèse and the Visual Arts,” 111. 22. Ibid., 105. 23. Varèse interview with Gilbert Chase, quoted in Mattis, “Edgard Varèse and the Visual Arts,” 94. 24. Varèse to Sophie Kauffman, January 8, 1916, quoted in Mattis, “Edgard Varèse and the Visual Arts,” 112. 25. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 96. 26. Collins, Otto Kahn, 109–10. 27. Schwartz, Great Masters of the Violin, 355. 28. B. R., “Trio Introduces Sonata by Debussy,” MA 25 (December 9, 1916): 20. This arrangement is not listed in Dewey Owens’s catalog of Salzedo works and transcriptions. 29. Alfredo Casella and Maurice Ravel, À la manière de . . . , 2 vols. (Paris: Salabert, 1911–1914); Owens, Carlos Salzedo, 197; “Trio de Lutèce,” NY Sun, November 29, 1916. 30. NY Evening World, quoted in Trio de Lutèce ad, MA 26 (September 1, 1917): 12. This echoes Barrère’s own statement in “Barrère Applauds Chaplin,” MA 26 ( July 28, 1917): 22. 31. “Little Symphony Pleases Hearers,” NY Sun, November 1, 1916. 32. “Barrère Ensemble Plays,” NYT, December 20, 1916. 33. Unidentified review, Griffes SB, NYPL-M. 34. Unidentified review, Griffes SB, NYPL-M; Globe and Commercial Advertiser, December 20, 1916; NY Evening Post, December 20, 1916, quoted in Anderson, Works of Charles T. Griffes, 426. 35. H. F. P., “Helen Stanley with Barrère Ensemble,” MA 25 (December 30, 1916): 33; Barrère, 19–20. 36. Barrère, 21. 37. “Chamber Music by Americans Sought,” MA 25 (February 10, 1917): 39. 38. Barrère’s Cuban flute student Florentino Herrera wrote a trio for the Trio de Lutèce in 1921; it was not strictly American and probably not written as a result of this appeal. 39. “Start Campaign to Boom Music of France Here,” MA 24 (October 28, 1916): 1; Copeau, Journal, 2:25; Henri Casadesus, 1917 carnet, Fonds Casadesus, PBO, box XI (6). 40. Various correspondence in Fonds Casadesus, PBO, box XII (6), 1917 folder. 41. “A Concert of ‘Old Music,’” NYT, February 24, 1917.



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Notes to Pages 151–160 42. “Chamber Music and Dance Linked in Combination of Pavley-OukrainskyBarrère,” MA 28 ( July 20, 1918): 10; “The Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet and the Little Symphony,” MC 75 (August 30, 1917): 19. 43. “Novel Program at Sleepy Hollow Fete,” MC 74 ( June 21, 1917): 25. 44. Monteux, It’s All in the Music, 98; Mousnier, Pierre Monteux, 27. 45. “Civic Orchestra Concerts,” NYT, June 8, 1917; “Civic Orchestra Tonight,” NYT, June 20, 1917; “Civic Orchestral Concerts,” MC 74 ( June 28, 1917): 8. 46. “The Civic Orchestra and Its Good Players,” NYT, June 24, 1917. 47. “Recruiting Is Not in George Barrère’s Line,” MA 74 ( June 30, 1917): 13. 48. “Applaud Civic Orchestra,” NYT, July 12, 1917. 49. “Civic Orchestra Tonight,” NYT, June 20, 1917. 50. “Patriotic Rally at Civic Concert,” NYT, June 21, 1917. 51. “The Civic Orchestra and Its Good Players,” NYT, June 24, 1917. 52. “Civic Orchestral Concerts,” MC 74 ( June 28, 1917): 8. 53. “The Civic Orchestra,” NYT, July 22, 1917. 54. “Variations: New York Summer Concerts,” MC 75 (August 2, 1917): 22. 55. “What the Civic Orchestra Concerts Failed to Do,” MA 26 (August 4, 1917): 16. 56. “Asks Why Civic Orchestra Placed Ban on American Works,” MA 26 (August 18, 1917): 9. 57. “Mephisto’s Musings,” MA 26 (September 15, 1917): 7. 58. Monteux to OHK, August 29, 1917; OHK to Monteux, August 31, 1917; both OHK/Princeton, box 84. 59. Marriage license and certificate no. 323, State of Connecticut, Bureau of Vital Statistics; license dated June 27, 1917; marriage certificate dated July 6, 1917. chapter 12 1. Zieger, America’s Great War, 81; Kennedy, Over Here, 54; Cooper, Pivotal Decades, 301–2. 2. “Will Not Play in Canada,” MA 23 (February 19, 1916): 6; “Barrère Ensemble Fills New York Symphony Engagements in Canada,” MA 23 (February 19, 1916): 30. 3. “Mephisto’s Musings,” MA 27 (November 3, 1917): 7. 4. “Threat to Disband Boston Symphony,” NYT, November 1, 1917. Tischler, An American Music, 77–82, provides the most concise summary of l’affaire Muck; see also Irving Lowens, “L’Affaire Muck: A Study in War Hysteria,” Musicology 1, no. 3 (1947): 265–74. 5. “Agitation Continues against Enemy Music,” MC 75 (November 15, 1917): 5; “Variations,” MC 75 (December 13, 1917): 13. 6. “More Patriotic Agitation against Alien Musicians,” MC 75 (December 6, 1917): 5, 19. 7. Untitled editorial, New France 1 (August 1917): 3. 8. Carlos Salzedo, “French Music in America,” New France 1 (August 1917): 23–24. 9. “Trio de Lutèce Had Beginning in Row among Three Small Boys,” MA 26 ( June 30, 1917): 4. 10. “Barrère Applauds Chaplin,” MA 25 ( July 28, 1917): 22. 11. MA 26 (September 15, 1917): 12. 12. MA 26 (October 20, 1917): 51. 13. Carol Cornwall Madsen, “Emma Lucy Gates Bowen,” Utah History Encyclopedia, http://www.media.utah.edu/ucme/b/BOWEN,EMMA.html. See also Catherine M. Johnson, “Emma Lucy Gates Bowen: Singer, Musician, Teacher,” Utah Historical Quarterly 64 (Fall 1996): 344–55.

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Notes to Pages 160–167 14. Gates to her family, November 26, 1916, Gates/BYU, box 2, folder 2. 15. “Aggie” to Gates family, April 8, 1917, Gates/BYU, box 2, folder 2. 16. “Lucy Gates Anticipates Forthcoming Tours,” MC 75 (October 4, 1917): 41. 17. “Noted Artists on Detroit Programs,” MA 27 (December 15, 1917): 25. 18. “Barrère Appears in Five Capacities in Single Week,” MA 27 (December 15, 1917): 43. 19. Barrère, 21. 20. Kurth, Isadora, 370–71; Duncan, Duncan Dancer, 163–64. 21. “Duncan Dancers Please,” NY Herald, November 16, 1917. 22. Untitled editorial, New France 1 (October 1917): 36. 23. Report to André Tardieu, high commissioner, cited in Copeau, Journal, 2:101–2. 24. “Personalities,” MA 27 (December 15, 1917): 24. 25. “Chandelier ‘Bombs’ Barrère,” MA 27 (March 9, 1918): 13. 26. “Barrère Gives Impromptu Program for Toledo Audience,” MA 27 (March 16, 1918): 55. 27. “Hofmann Cheered Playing Our Anthem,” NYT, March 11, 1918; H. F. P., “Damrosch Performs New Sowerby Score,” MA 27 (March 16, 1918): 11; untitled review, NY World, March 11, 1918. 28. Symphony Society of New York Bulletin 11, no. 12 (March 8, 1918): [3]. 29. GB to HHF, March 1?, 1918, PML, MFC B272.F574 (7); GB to HHF, October 24, 1918, PML, MFC B272.F574 (9). 30. “Little Symphony Members ‘Play,’ Spurred on by Director Barrère,” MA 28 (May 4, 1918): 33. 31. “Exquisite Concert by Trio de Lutèce,” Detroit Journal, April 3, 1918. 32. “Apollo Club: Barrère, Salzedo and Kéfer,” MC 76 (May 2, 1918): 49. 33. “Trio de Lutèce Delights Montgomery (Ala.) Audience,” MA 27 (April 13, 1918): 35. 34. “American Friends of Musicians in France,” MC 76 (April 4, 1918): 16; “Aid for French Musicians,” MA 27 (April 6, 1918): 6; “Flonzaley Quartet Plays,” NYT, March 31, 1918; “American $10,000 for French Musicians,” MC 76 (April 25, 1918): 12. 35. “American Soprano Sings for Liberty Bond,” Albany Union, May 8, 1918; “Record Sale of Bonds at Liberty Bell when Lucy Gates and Barrère Appear,” MA 28 (May 11, 1918): 56; “Lucy Gates Singing for the Liberty Loan,” MC 76 (May 16, 1918): 46. 36. GB to HHF, April 29, 1918, PML, MFC B272.F574 (8). 37. Barrère, 22. 38. “Daniel Maquarre Leaves Philadelphia Orchestra,” MC 76 (May 9, 1918): 12, confirmed in “Daniel Maquarre with New York Symphony,” MC 76 (May 30, 1918): 12. But in “Barrère Leaves the New York Symphony,” MA 28 (May 18, 1918): 24, Musical America incorrectly stated that the successor would be André Maquarre, Daniel’s brother. Elsewhere in the same issue (“Philadelphia Orchestra to Give Series of Concerts in New York,” 49), Daniel was correctly credited as the new NYSO principal. André, who had been principal in the Boston Symphony since 1898, now succeeded Daniel in Philadelphia. 39. Loeffler to Henri Casadesus, April 19, 1918, Fonds Casadesus, PBO, box XII (6), 1918 folder. 40. “Boston Symphony Ousts 18 Players as Enemy Aliens,” MA 28 ( June 29, 1918): 1. 41. Dinner, May 7, 1918, in carnet 1918, Fonds Casadesus, PBO, box XI (6); GB to Loeffler, May 28, 1918, Loeffler Collection, LC, box 1. 42. “Henri Rabaud to Lead Boston Symphony,” MC 77 (October 10, 1918): 5. 43. “Lends House to Red Cross,” NYT, May 16, 1918; “Distinguished Musicians in Great Red Cross Drive,” MA 28 (May 18, 1918): 49.



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Notes to Pages 167–174 44. Bamman to Gates, June 7, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10; amount confirmed by “Brilliant Series at the Vanderbilts,” MA 28 ( June 8, 1918): 10. 45. Kincaid transcript, Juilliard Archives. chapter 13 1. Nelson, “Georges Barrère,” 27. 2. Flyer, “George Barrère Flautist,” DCM/LC. 3. GB to Loeffler, May 28, 1918, Loeffler Collection, LC, box 1; classified advertisement, NYT, July 7, 1918. 4. “Concerts by Flute Quartet,” MA 28 (October 5, 1918): 12. 5. MC 77 ( July 11, 1918): 25; Bamman to Gates, June 12, 1918, and Bamman to Gates, June 29, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 6. Bamman to Gates, August 2, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10; “Admirers Pay Tribute to Gates and Barrère,” MA 28 (August 3, 1918): 24. 7. MA 28 ( June 1, 1918): 22. 8. Advertisement, MA 28 (October 19, 1918): 56. 9. Advertisement, MA 28 (May 4, 1918): 20. 10. Bamman to Gates, July 15, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10; “Manager Bamman’s New Quarters,” MC 77 (September 19, 1918): 13; “Catherine A. Bamman Moves into Larger Quarters,” MA 28 (September 21, 1918): 35. 11. “Influenza Postpones Festivals,” “No Boston Concerts till October 7,” MC 77 (October 3, 1918): 5. 12. Editorial, MC 78 ( January 30, 1919): 20. 13. Tour personnel at http://hector.ucdavis.edu/sdc/Rosters/Ros092.htm and http:// hector.ucdavis.edu/sdc/Rosters/Ros092USAWent.htm. 14. “French Orchestra Wins an Ovation,” NYT, October 16, 1918; “Famous French Orchestra Debuts in New York,” MC 77 (October 17, 1918): 5; Carlos Salzedo, “The Great French Musical Movement in America,” New France 2 (November 1918): 271–72. 15. GB to HHF, October 24, 1918, PML, MFC B272.F574 (9). 16. Barrère, 23. 17. “Symphony Society Entertains Conservatoire Orchestra,” MC 77 (November 7, 1918): 12; “Entertains Paris Orchestra,” MA 29 (November 16, 1918): 29. 18. “Lucy Gates Delightful, Troy’s Verdict,” MC 77 (December 12, 1918): 26; “First Chromatic Concert of Season,” Troy Record, November 22, 1918. 19. Bamman to Gates, November 23, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 20. Barry, The Great Influenza, 374. 21. Bamman to Gates, December 24, 1918, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 22. Walt C. Wickersham, “Bellingham Is Delighted with Gate’s [sic] Concert,” Evening Journal, undated clipping , Gates/BYU, box 9, folder 2; “Lucy Gates and Trio de Lutèce Delight Big Berkeley Gathering,” MC 78 ( January 30, 1919): 37; “Trio de Lutèce in Seattle,” MA 29 (February 1, 1919): 34; “Lucy Gates and Barrère Trio in Tacoma Concert,” MA 29 (February 1, 1919): 38. 23. Crosby, American’s Forgotten Pandemic, 111–12. 24. The Concert Bulletin [Official Program of Selby C. Oppenheimer’s Attractions] 8, no. 5 ( January 13, 1919): 1. 25. Walter Anthony, “Large Savoy Audience Hears Lucy Gates: She Shares Honors with Trio de Lutèce,” San Francisco Chronicle, January 14, 1919.

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Notes to Pages 174–179 26. Unidentified review of January 13, 1919, concert, San Francisco, “Lucy Gates, Trio, Delight Large Audience,” SFPALM. 27. “Lucy Gates Triumphs,” MA 29 (February 1, 1919): 13. 28. Kolata, Flu, 5–6. 29. “Music on the Pacific Slope,” “Lucy Gates and Trio de Lutèce Delight Big Berkeley Gathering,” MC 78 ( January 30, 1919): 36, 37. 30. Gates to Albert Bowen, January 12, 1919, Gates/BYU, box 3, folder 6. 31. “Welcome Trio de Lutèce,” MA 29 (February 1, 1919): 6. 32. “Los Angeles Music Teachers Open Year,” MA 29 (February 8, 1919): 25. 33. “Los Angeles Flute Club,” Flutist 1 (October 1920): 222. 34. “In a Movie Donjon,” MA 29 (February 15, 1919): 9. 35. Bamman to Gates, January 9, 1919, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 36. Frances Blaisdell, telephone interview, April 11, 2004. 37. Z. S. H., “Barrère Trio and Lucy Gates in Utah,” MA 29 (February 22, 1919): 27; “Rare Welcome to Lucy Gates in Her Own Home Town,” MC 79 (February 27, 1919): 27. 38. H. M. R., “Music,” Omaha Bee, February 7, 1919. 39. “Across the Country,” MC 78 (May 29, 1919): 36; F. E. P., “Little Symphony and Russian Dancers Impress Sioux City Audience,” MA 29 (April 26, 1919): 37. 40. Barrère, 23. 41. New France and Victory 3 (May 1919): 493; “Alys Michot’s Soirées Françaises Popular,” MC 78 (May 29, 1919): 43. 42. “Tell of Full Plans for New Symphony,” MA 30 ( June 21, 1919): 9. 43. “Personalities,” MA 28 ( July 27, 1918): 18; Maisel, Charles T. Griffes, 249. See also Anderson, Works of Charles T. Griffes, 364–69. 44. Barrère, 24. 45. GB to HHF, June 30, 1919, PML, MFC B272.F574 (10). 46. Various correspondence from GB to Lora, NT Collection. In 1925 Lora would become Barrère’s assistant and would ultimately succeed him at Juilliard; he was principal flutist of the City Symphony of New York (1922–23), State Symphony of New York (1924–25), Metropolitan Opera (1937–45), and NBC Symphony (1947–52). In the late 1930s the Loras and Barrères both lived in the Beethoven Association building on West 56th Street, and both couples had summer cabins in Woodstock, New York. They were close friends as well as colleagues. 47. Richard Aldrich, “Music,” NYT, November 7, 1919. 48. GB to Irene Lewisohn, August 7, 1920, quoted in Maisel, Charles T. Griffes, 332. The letter is not extant in Lewisohn’s papers at NYPL-Mss. 49. Maisel, Charles T. Griffes, 291; Burnet C. Tuthill to Edward M. Maisel, June 4, 1933, Tuthill Papers, LC. 50. Maisel, Charles T. Griffes, 294. 51. Quoted in ibid., 240. 52. John Wion, e-mail to NT, September 19, 1996. 53. Grenville Vernon, “New American Work at Symphony Concert,” NY Tribune, November 17, 1919. 54. Sylvester Rawling , “Symphony Plays a Griffes Poem; Heifetz Again,” NY Evening World, November 17, 1919; “The Fluted Gamut,” NY Evening Sun, November 17, 1919. 55. GB to Medicus, June 11, 1921, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. The sources for the Barrère piano reduction have been hotly debated over the years; see Anderson, “The Griffes Poem,” 3, 6–8. Anderson identified some eighty-five variants between the 1922 (pi-



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Notes to Pages 179–184 ano) and 1951 (orchestral) editions and the full orchestra score, now at NYPL-M. There has been particular debate about whether the first note in measure 113 should be B-natural or B-flat; in Barrère’s own performance of the Poem with the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra, July 30, 1939, he played B-flat. 56. Laura Elliot to ESC, n.d. [ca. January 1920], ESC/LC, box 35; GB to ESC, n.d., ESC/LC, box 5. 57. It seems odd that Barrère, who was an honorary pallbearer at Griffes’s funeral, did not participate, but on the evening of November 23, he was playing with the NYSO in Washington, D.C., and quite possibly had another out-of-town concert on the twenty-fourth. 58. GB to Reis, September 26, [probably 1932], League of Composers Papers, NYPL-M, box 1. He most likely refers to Reis’s American Composers: A Record of Works Written between 1912 and 1932 (New York: ISCM, 1932), or possibly to the 1930 version. 59. Holman, “Comprehensive Performance Project,” 53–54. 60. Ibid., 18, 53–54. 61. The New York Symphony Wind Instrument Club had played the Pierné at its first concert, on March 7, 1906, but that concert was private. 62. Richard Aldrich, “The Barrère Ensemble,” NYT, February 14, 1920; “Barrère Ensemble in Birthday Concert,” MA 31 (February 21, 1920): 30. 63. “Beethoven Association Organized by Harold Bauer,” MA 30 (October 18, 1919): 4. 64. Stokowski to Harold Bauer, March 15, 1920, Beethoven Association Papers, NYPL-M, box 2, folder 87; “Profits of Beethoven Society to Be Used for Publishing Thayer Work,” MC 80 (April 22, 1920): 5. 65. “ADOLPH BOLM DANCER AND CHOREOGRAPHER,” TS, Bolm/Syracuse, box 1. 66. Untitled ms., Bolm/Syracuse, box 1. 67. Armitage, Dance Memoranda, 46; Carbonneau, “Adolph Bolm in America,” 220. 68. Dougherty, “Perspective on Adolph Bolm. Part I,” Dance Magazine 37 ( January 1963): 49–50. 69. Merle Armitage, “The Bolm Ballet Intime and George Barrère’s Little Symphony Orchestra,” Adolph Bolm Collection, NYPL-D, box 1; “Catherine Bamman to Manage Adolf [sic] Bolm,” MA 29 (December 7, 1918): 43; Martin, Ruth Page, 33; Carbonneau, “Adolph Bolm in America,” 228. 70. “Bolm Dances at Carnegie Hall,” NY Telegraph, March 18, 1920; F. R. G., “Bolm and Barrère Forces in Program,” MA 31 (March 27, 1920): 5. 71. Adolph Bolm, TS memoir, Bolm/Syracuse, box 4, pt. 3, p. 6. 72. L. E. A., “Visiting Ensembles Divert Terre Haute,” MA 32 (May 1, 1920): 25. 73. “Across the Country,” MC 80 ( June 3, 1920): 41; “Bolm Ballet Intime and George Barrère Give League Concert,” Toledo Blade, April 16, 1920. 74. Armitage, “The Bolm Ballet Intime,” Bolm Collection, NYPL-D, box 1. 75. “Bolm Ballet Intime and George Barrère Give League Concert,” Toledo Blade, April 16, 1920. 76. Babette Pheatt, “Adolph Bolm’s Ballet Is a Delightful Treat,” Toledo News Bee, April 16, 1920. 77. Armitage, “The Bolm Ballet Intime,” Bolm Collection, NYPL-D, box 1. 78. F. E. P., “Little Symphony and Bolm Ballet Enchant Sioux City,” MA 32 (May 15, 1920): 41. 79. “The European Tour,” Symphony Society of New York Bulletin 13, no. 10 (March 18, 1920): [1, 3]; “New York Symphony Sails this Week,” MC 80 (April 22, 1920): 36.

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Notes to Pages 184–191 80. “New York Symphony Sails for Europe,” MA 32 (May 1, 1920): 5; “Fontainebleau Honors the New York Symphony Orchestra,” MC 81 ( July 1, 1920): 23. 81. Barrère, 25. 82. “Damrosch Orchestra at First Paris Concert Arouses Paris Critics,” MC 80 (May 27, 1920): 5; O. P. Jacob, “Damrosch’s Orchestra Gains a Firm Foothold in Paris,” MA 32 ( June 19, 1920): 52. 83. “Variations,” MC 80 ( June 3, 1920): 21. 84. “Damrosch Orchestra at First Paris Concert Arouses Paris Critics,” MC 80 (May 27, 1920): 5. 85. Quoted in “Music,” NYT, June 13, 1920. 86. Quoted in “Music,” NYT, June 27, 1920. 87. “Variations,” MC 80 ( June 3, 1920): 21. 88. Quoted in “Variationettes,” MC 81 ( July 22, 1920): 25. 89. Quoted in “Damrosch in the Lion’s Den,” NYT, July 4, 1920. 90. “The New York Symphony Orchestra in London,” Musical Times 61 ( July 1, 1920): 445. 91. GB to HHF, July 31, [1920], PML, MFC B272.F475 (25). 92. “Flute Soirée,” Flutist 1 (August 1920): 188–89. 93. Reis, Composers in America, 221–22. 94. “Skilton Compositions at Lockport Festival,” MC 81 (September 16, 1920): 7, 16, 42. 95. “Annual Berkshire Chamber Music Festival Proves Noteworthy Event,” MC 81 (September 30, 1920): 5. 96. “Flute Virtuosi in Soiree at Boston,” MA 24 (October 14, 1916): 43; “The Sixth Musicale of the Wm. S. Haynes Co.,” Flutist 1 (October 1920): 221. 97. It was preceded by the Los Angeles Flute Club (founded November 15, 1916), Twin City (St. Paul and Minneapolis, March 1920), Seattle (March 1920), St. Louis (October 1920), and Pittsburgh (December 1920). There are modern flute clubs in some of these cities, but they have not operated continuously, as the New York Flute Club has. See Flutist 1 (1920): 35, 99, 118, 253, 256, 270. 98. Certificate of Incorporation, The New York Flute Club, Inc., NYFC Archives. The twelve signatories to the document, who would be the initial directors, were Barrère, Willard C. Harvey, Mary Henderson, Edwin W. Meyer, Carmine Stanzione, Max Schotter, Milton H. Wittgenstein (a future president), Lamar E. Stringfield, Frederick C. Hicks, Albert R. Lesinsky, Muriel R. Pell, and William V. Montgomery. 99. Lamar Stringfield, “New York Flute Club, Inc.,” Flutist 2 ( January 1921): 301. The first three years of NYFC programs are reprinted in a commemorative booklet, The New York Flute Club Incorporated (May 1923), NT Collection. 100. The quartet consisted of Barrère, William Kincaid, George Possell, and Raymond Williams; see Flutist 2 (April 1921): 368, and The New York Flute Club Incorporated, NT Collection. Ferencz, Robert Russell Bennett, 65, credits Stringfield, also a friend of Bennett, as the probable fourth flute, but in an e-mail of May 31, 2000, Ferencz quotes Bennett that he did not remember who the fourth flute was. 101. GB to OHK, January 26, 1921, OHK/Princeton, box 147. 102. OHK to GB, January 27, 1921, OHK/Princeton, box 147. 103. “Barrère Ensemble Plays Novelties,” MA 33 (February 26, 1921): 30; “Woman Conducts Barrère Ensemble in Two Novelties,” unidentified clipping, Griffes SB, NYPL-M. 104. Also known as “Bonnie Sweet Bessie.” 105. “Barrère Ensemble Plays Novelties,” MA 33 (February 26, 1921): 30; see also “Barrère Ensemble,” MC 82 (February 24, 1921): 40.



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Notes to Pages 192–201 106. “Publication Society to Issue Works by Huss and Leo Sowerby,” MA 33 (February 26, 1921): 5. 107. Advertisement, MC 82 (March 31, 1921): 18. 108. Ruth Page to Dr. and Mrs. La Fayette Page, March 25, 1921, Ruth Page Collection, NYPL-D, 21C1. 109. “Adolph Bolm Scores in Ballot [sic] with Orchestra,” University Daily Kansan, April 12, 1921; “Little Symphony Plays Skilton Work,” MC 82 ( June 16, 1921): 31. 110. Ruth Page to Dr. and Mrs. La Fayette Page, May 2, 1921, Ruth Page Collection, NYPL-D, 21C1. 111. W. F. G., “Bolm Ballet and Little Symphony Close Los Angeles Series,” MA 34 (May 21, 1921): 39. 112. “Adolph Bolm in Second Program,” Los Angeles Daily Times, May 6, 1921. 113. Marie Hicks Healy, “Season in San Francisco Ends with New Bolm-Barrère Program,” MA 34 (May 21, 1921): 37. 114. Bamman to Lucy Gates, June 22, 1921, Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 115. Barrère, 26. 116. GB to Caplet, July 15, 1921, Fonds Caplet, BNF-M, box 15. 117. GB to Gates, June 17, 1921; Bamman to Gates, June 22, 1921, both Gates/BYU, box 4, folder 10. 118. GB to Caplet, July 15, 1921, Fonds Caplet, BNF-M, box 15. chapter 14 1. GB to Emil Medicus, June 11, 1921, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. 2. B. Winfred Merrill, “The Instiwocky,” Baton 1 ( January 1922): 8; “Music: Summer Concerts in this Town,” NYT, June 11, 1921. 3. GB to Medicus, June 11, 1921, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. 4. GB to André Caplet, July 15, 1921, Fonds Caplet, BNF-M, box 15. 5. Frances Blaisdell, “First Lady of American Flute Playing ,” New York Flute Club, February 16, 1992; videotape courtesy Frances Blaisdell. 6. GB to ESC, June 11, 1921, ESC/LC, box 5. 7. A. Walter Kramer, “Annual Festival Draws Pilgrims to Pittsfield’s Shrine of Music,” MA 34 (October 8, 1921): 1; Richard Aldrich, “Play Prize Work of H. Waldo Warner,” NYT, October 1, 1921; “Novelties Attract Huge Throng to Berkshire Festival at Pittsfield,” MC 83 (October 6, 1921): 5. 8. A. Walter Kramer, “Annual Festival Draws Pilgrims to Pittsfield’s Shrine of Music,” MA 34 (October 8, 1921): 1. 9. GB to ESC, September 7, 1921, ESC/LC, box 5. 10. WD to HHF, September 2, 1921, PML, MFC D1667.F574 (17). 11. “New York Symphony Troubles Settled,” MC 83 (September 29, 1921): 12. 12. “N.Y. Philharmonic Decides Personnel,” MA 34 (October 1, 1921): 33; orchestra personnel roster, 1919–21, New York Philharmonic Archives. 13. Perlis, Two Men for Modern Music, 9. 14. Wiecki, “A Chronicle of Pro Musica,” 1:41, 2:654. 15. GB to André Caplet, July 15, 1921, Fonds Caplet, BNF-M, box 15. 16. “New York Symphony Orchestra,” MC 83 (December 15, 1921): 45. 17. Bolm, TS memoir, pt. II:8, Bolm/Syracuse, box 4. 18. Program notes to Krazy Kat, Bolm/Syracuse, box 5 (writings, author unidentified); Carbonneau, “Adolph Bolm in America,” 229; Pollack, Skyscraper Lullaby, 203.

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Notes to Pages 201–208 19. Eugene Stinson, “New Carpenter Ballet for Monte Carlo Delineates Industrial Activity in U.S.,” MA 40 (August 16, 1924): 27. 20. Pollack, Skyscraper Lullaby, 201. 21. “I saw the birth of jazz in America and I expect to be in at its death. I do not hate it. I am just unable to be interested in it.” Quoted in “Georges Barrère, Flutist, Dies; With N.Y. Symphony 23 Years,” NYHT, June 15, 1944. 22. Henry Osgood, So This Is Jazz, 153, quoted in Pollack, Skyscraper Lullaby, 204; Richard Aldrich, “Music,” NYT, January 21, 1922. 23. Deems Taylor, “America’s First Dramatic Composer,” Vanity Fair, April 1922, 59; Henrietta Straus, “Marking the Miles,” Nation 114 (March 1, 1922): 192, quoted in Pollack, Skyscraper Lullaby, 203, 205. 24. P., “Ballet Intime,” MC 84 ( January 26, 1922): 34. 25. “Krazy Kat and Others,” NY Sun, January 22, 1924. 26. P., “Ballet Intime,” MC 84 ( January 26, 1922): 34; Richard Aldrich, “Music: Modern Music and Ballet,” NYT, January 21, 1922. 27. Advertisement, NYT, March 4, 1922; “Boy Singer Wins House,” NYT, March 13, 1922. 28. Jerome Rappaport, oral history interview, January 24, 1994. 29. Seroff, Sergei Prokofiev, 259. 30. GB to Emil Medicus, December 27, 1921, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. 31. Frederick H. Gottlieb, “New York Flute Club Outing (Arcadia, Sound Beach, N.Y., July 6, 1922),” Flutist 3 ( July 1922): 733–35. 32. GB to Emil Medicus, December 27, 1921, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. 33. Crowley, The Neighborhood Playhouse, xii. 34. Krutch, introduction to Crowley, The Neighborhood Playhouse, xi. 35. Quoted in Crowley, The Neighborhood Playhouse, 121. 36. Ibid., 124–25; “Barrère Discusses Innovations in ‘Salut au Monde,’” MA 36 ( June 17, 1922): 26. 37. Crowley, The Neighborhood Playhouse, 127. 38. Ibid., 130. 39. “Music: Griffes Airs for Whitman,” NYT, April 30, 1922; “Salut au Monde,” MC 84 (April 27, 1922): 37. 40. GB to André Caplet, July 15, 1921, Fonds Caplet, BNF-M, box 15. 41. “Personalities,” MA 36 (September 9, 1922): 14; “Barrère Plans Programs,” MA 36 (August 19, 1922): 6; “Personalities,” MA 36 (September 9, 1922): 14. 42. GB to ESC, June 23, 1922; ESC to GB, October 2, 1922, both ESC/LC, box 5. Ultimately the ensemble comprised flutist Arthur Lora, who had just graduated from the Institute and was Grisez’s colleague in the Chamber Music Art Society in New York; bassoonist Auguste Mesnard of the NYSO and Barrère Ensemble; oboist Marcel Tabuteau of the Philadelphia Orchestra; and hornist George Wendler of the Boston Symphony. 43. “Siloti, Kochanski and Barrère,” MC 85 (December 21, 1922): 30. 44. O. T., “Bach Program, Dec. 17,” MA 37 (December 23, 1922): 37. 45. “Seventh Symphony Makes a Mahlerite’s Holiday,” MA 37 (March 17, 1923): 6. 46. “Mephisto’s Musings,” MA 38 (May 19, 1923): 7. 47. Mary Jay Schieffelin, “High School Players,” NYT, November 25, 1923. 48. New York Symphony Society orchestral scholarships, 1924–25 teachers; WD/NYPL, box 24, Educational Fund (NY Symphony). Coppola graduated from the Institute in 1929.



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Notes to Pages 208–215 49. GB to Emil Medicus, November 20, 1923, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. 50. Ibid. 51. “Orchestras Engage Barrère Pupils,” MA 38 (October 10, 1923): 190. Hutchings does not show up on the online Sousa roster at http://www.dws.org/sousa/roster.htm. Other Barrère students in the Sousa band were John Bell, Rex Elton Fair, Rolland Klump, John Petrie, Paul Siebeneichen, Harry Thorne, R. E. Williams, and Henry Zlotnik. Manuscript roster compiled by Paul Bierley. 52. “Few Changes in Philharmonic,” MC 88 (May 29, 1924): 31; “Philharmonic Flute Soloist Is Better,” MA 40 ( July 19, 1924): 30. 53. Willson, And There I Stood with My Piccolo, 61–62. 54. “New York Symphony,” MC 87 (November 8, 1923): 29. 55. Palmer, Harpsichord in America, 48. 56. Richards later became head of the music department at Michigan State College. See Palmer, Harpsichord in America, 63ff. 57. “Lewis Richards,” MC 88 ( January 31, 1924): 27. 58. “Another Harpsichord,” NY Sun and the Globe, January 27, 1924. 59. Invitation enclosed in ESC to Herbert Putnam, January 7, 1924, ESC/LC, box 53. 60. ESC to Franz Kneisel, January 10, 1924, ESC/LC, box 47; ESC to Engel, January 26, 1924, ESC/LC, box 54; secretary to ESC to GB, January 29, 1924, ESC/LC, box 5. 61. F. W., “Crowd Welcomes New York Symphony,” MA 39 (March 29, 1924): 30; Olin Downes, “The New York Symphony,” NYT, March 31, 1924; B. R., “New York Symphony Season Ends,” MA 39 (April 5, 1924): 40. 62. GB to OHK, January 10, 1924; OHK to GB, January 12, 1924; GB to OHK, April 15, 1924; all in OHK/Princeton, box 216. 63. Draft enclosed with GB to OHK, January 10, 1924, OHK/Princeton, box 216. 64. GB to OHK, March 28, 1924, OHK/Princeton, box 216. 65. “Little Symphony: Paul Kochanski, Soloist,” MC 88 (April 10, 1924): 23. 66. Jerome Rappaport, oral history interview, January 24, 1994. 67. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 44. 68. “Personalities,” MA 39 (April 19, 1924): 24. 69. GB to OHK, April 15, 1924, OHK/Princeton, box 216. 70. Lola Haynes to Emil Medicus, May 16, 1924, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. Haynes had married his secretary in December 1921. 71. Berdahl, “The First Hundred Years of the Boehm Flute in the United States,” 493; Haynes production log , Wm. S. Haynes Co., Boston. Barrère used the “Barrère model” terminology in a letter to Emil Medicus, September 29, 1919, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC. On a receipt for Haynes flute no. 5566, which he bought from Barrère on January 27, 1920, Arthur Lora made the notation “Barrère model” (receipt, NT Collection). 72. Kortschak to ESC, May 11, 1924, ESC/LC, box 49. 73. Ivan Narodny, “Woodstock Colony Has Its First Festival,” MA 22 (September 11, 1915): 36. See also Maverick Sunday Concerts 1916–1975, 60th Season; Maverick Sunday Concerts 1916–1990; and Kimball, “A Brief Account of Chamber Music in Woodstock,” 8–19. 74. According to Pierre Henrotte’s log (Woodstock Library), Barrère made his official Maverick debut on August 24, but the Maverick Sunday Concerts Collection has the July 6, 1924, program, and early photographs indicate that it is probable that Barrère had played in a quarry concert there even earlier, ca. 1916. See Maverick Sunday Concerts 1916–1990, 3. 75. Agreement between Mathilda Storm Van Leeuwen and George Barrère, September

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Notes to Pages 215–221 15, 1924, Ulster County, N.Y., Deeds 552: 96–98. Hervey White, “Autobiography,” 264, Woodstock Library. 76. “Little Symphony Concert,” NYT, November 24, 1924. 77. H. M., “The Little Symphony,” MA 41 (December 6, 1924): 30. 78. Barrère, 27. 79. Rappaport oral history interview, January 24, 1994. 80. Toff, program notes to Georges Barrère and the Flute in America, November 12, 1994, New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. I am grateful to the late Samuel Baron, who played the work on that concert, for researching the antecedents of these movements. 81. Olin Downes, “Barrère Little Symphony,” NYT, November 10, 1924. 82. GB to OHK, December 28, 1924; OHK to GB, December 30, 1924, both OHK/ Princeton, box 216. 83. Copland and Perlis, Copland: 1900 through 1942, 103–4. 84. “Havana to Hear New York Symphony,” MC 89 ( July 3, 1924): 16; “Damrosch Is Guest of Honor at Dinner,” NYT, February 23, 1925. See also “Damrosch in Cuba,” NYT, February 15, 1925; “Honor Walter Damrosch,” NYT, January 31, 1925; “Music Notes Afield: Melba’s Gala Farewell,” NYT, February 8, 1925. 85. U.S. House of Representatives, Committee on Education, National Conservatory of Music, 68th Cong., 1st sess., March 25, 1924 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1924), 3, 7, 11. 86. “Fritz Reiner at Stadium July 24: Baireuth [sic] Festival Opens July 22,” NYT, July 20, 1924; “Deny Assertion that Foreigners Predominate in U.S. Orchestras,” MA 40 ( July 19, 1924): 2. 87. Mueller, American Symphony Orchestra, 347ff. For a detailed review of the labor situation nationwide, see “Symphony Players Demand $25 Raise,” NYT, January 20, 1925. 88. Leiter, Musicians and Petrillo, 31–32. 89. “Orchestra Musicians Ask for Pay Increase,” MC 90 ( January 22, 1925): 5; “Orchestra Players Seek $25 Increase,” MA 40 ( January 24, 1925): 2; “Musicians Hope for a Compromise,” NYT, January 22, 1925. 90. “New York Symphony Players’ Salary Raised,” MC 90 (March 26, 1925): 5; “Increase Pay of Musicians in N.Y.,” MA (May 2, 1925): 40. 91. “Increase Pay of Musicians in N.Y.,” MA 42 (May 2, 1925): 40. 92. “Congress Passes Bill Accepting the Gift of Mrs. F. S. Coolidge,” MC 90 ( January 29, 1925): 5; “Mrs. Coolidge Adds to Washington Gift,” MA 42 (May 2, 1925): 2. 93. Engel to GB, August 26, 1925, LC Music Division, old correspondence files; Engel to Charles Martin Loeffler, May 22, 1925, Loeffler Collection, LC, Engel undated and pre1925 folder. 94. Engel to GB, September 3, 1925, LC Music Division, old correspondence files. 95. E. E. P., “Beethoven Scores and English Songs Feature [of ] Festival,” Washington Post, October 30, 1925. 96. Emilie Frances Bauer, “Mrs. Coolidge Music Philanthropist,” Woman Citizen, November 1925, in ESC SB, ESC/LC, box 253. 97. Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Kincaid and Tabuteau were appointed to the faculty of the newly opened Curtis Institute of Music, which would become one of America’s most selective conservatories. Arthur Lora, Juilliard faculty questionnaire, November 24, 1952, Juilliard Archives; FD to GB, September 28, 1925, NT Collection 98. “Gershwin’s Concerto,” MC 91 (December 10, 1925): 30. 99. GB to Emil Medicus, November 19, 1925, Medicus Collection, DCM/LC.



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Notes to Pages 222–229 100. “Personalities,” MA 43 (November 28, 1925): 22. 101. Richard Aldrich, “The Spread of the ‘Bach Mania’ and Its Results on the Musical Life of Today,” NYT, February 28, 1926. 102. G. D., “Barrère and Richards,” MA 43 ( January 23, 1926): 32. 103. E. A., “Barrère and Richards,” MA 43 ( January 30, 1926): 25. 104. GB to ESC, February 13, 1926, ESC/LC, box 5. 105. “Barrère Symphony to Introduce Novelties,” MA 43 (February 20, 1926): 38; GB, “Wood-Wind Instruments Attracting Women,” Musician 31, no. 6 ( June 1926): 30. 106. O. T., “The Little Symphony,” MA 43 (February 27, 1926): 9. The Barrère Ensemble then consisted of Barrère, Pierre Mathieu (oboe), Fred Van Amburgh (clarinet), Louis Letellier (bassoon), and Santiago Richart (horn). 107. B. L. D., “George Barrère Entertains,” MA 43 (March 13, 1926): 36. 108. Ibid. The “Boccherini” Concerto has since been attributed to Franz Xaver Pokorny (1729–1794). It was first published in an edition by Sydney Beck by the NYPL in 1938. A revision, with piano reduction and cadenzas by Ary van Leeuwen, was published by Albert J. Andraud in 1941. 109. D. B., “The Little Symphony,” MA 43 (March 27, 1926): 33. It appears that the Dyer was played by the full orchestra, but the only version that survives is for violin and piano in a manuscript dated 1923 (LC) and the edition published by J. Fischer in 1924. 110. “Personalities,” MA 43 (April 10, 1926): 20. 111. See Whitesitt, “The Role of Women Impresarios in American Concert Life,” 159–80; and Linda Whitesitt, “Women as ‘Keepers of Culture’: Music Clubs, Community Concert Series, and Symphony Orchestras,” in Cultivating Music in America: Women Patrons and Activists since 1860, ed. Locke and Barr, 65–86. 112. ESC to GB, February 19, 1926; GB telegram to ESC, February 23, 1926; both in ESC/LC, box 5. Migot, Le Premier livre de divertissements français, à deux et à trois, dedicated to ESC, manuscript score in ESC/LC; published by Alphonse Leduc in 1928. 113. GB to ESC, February 27, 1926, ESC/LC, box 5. 114. Isabel Morse Jones, “Music Given New Impetus,” Los Angeles Times, April 20, 1926. 115. GB to Mary Howe, n.d., Howe SB, NYPL-M. The Chanler portrait is now in the permanent collection of the Woodstock Artists Association. 116. Salzedo to ESC, November 13, 1926, ESC/LC, box 86. 117. Coolidge did, however, offer Barrère the first New York performance (GB to ESC, December 17, 1927, ESC/LC, box 5) and the right to play it anywhere but Boston, where she had promised it to Laurent (ESC to GB, December 27, 1927, ESC/LC, box 5). There is no sign of a performance by Barrère in New York; it appears that he first played it at The Maverick, on July 28, 1929. chapter 15 1. James H. Rogers, “Loesser-Barrère Recital Delights,” Cleveland Plain Dealer, October 16, 1926; Cleveland Museum Bulletin, October 1926. 2. GB to WD, n.d. [1926], DB/LC, box 1, folder 27. 3. Formal resignation, WD to HHF, November 21, 1926, PML, MFC D1667.F574 (21). 4. “Manhattan Heaps New Honors on Schumann Heink,” MA 45 (December 25, 1926): 4. 5. Ewen, Composers of Today, 168. 6. Untitled reviews in Mason SB3, Daniel Gregory Mason Collection, Butler Library, Columbia University; Olin Downes, “Music,” NYT, December 3, 1926.

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Notes to Pages 230–238 7. Score of Divertimento annotated by Mason, Daniel Gregory Mason Collection, Butler Library, Columbia University, box 29. 8. “Critics in Recital; Musicians as Critics,” NYT, January 22, 1927. 9. George Gershwin, “Critic Artist, Artist Critic in this Review of Concert,” NY World, January 22, 1927; Ernest Hutcheson, “Critics’ Benefit Piano Recital Praised by Ernest Hutcheson,” NYHT, January 22, 1927; Josef Hoffman, “The Critics in Concert and the Musician-Critics,” NYT, January 22, 1927; Georges Barrère, “Three Men at Three Pianos,” NY Telegram, January 24, 1927. 10. Georges Barrère, “Three Men at Three Pianos,” NY Telegram, January 24, 1927. 11. Georges Barrère customer card, Wm. S. Haynes Co.; “Barrère, a Capitalist, Shuns Silver Flute,” NY Sun, February 10, 1927. 12. “Plans of Musicians,” NYT, March 6, 1927. 13. GB to Harry Moskovitz, April 30, 1925, courtesy Paula Easton. 14. R. C. B. B., “Beethoven Association,” MA 45 ( January 22, 1927): 11. The score in question was Hahn’s edition of Rameau’s Fêtes de l’hymen et de l’amour; ou, Les dieux d’Égypte, published in Rameau, Oeuvres complètes, vol. 15 (Paris: Durand, 1895–1913). 15. GB to OHK, February 13, 1927, OHK/Princeton, box 305. 16. “George Barrère and Some New Music,” NY Sun, March 21, 1927. 17. GB to Mary Howe, January 18, 1926, Howe Collection, NYPL-M. 18. Still, “Personal Notes,” in Smith, William Grant Still, 219; Arvey, In One Lifetime, 65. 19. Arvey, William Grant Still, 16. 20. Arvey, In One Lifetime, 65. 21. Still, “Personal Notes,” 219. 22. Edgard Varèse to Dane Rudhyar, March 7, 1928, quoted in Smith, William Grant Still, 88. 23. Still, “Personal Notes,” 226. 24. F. D. Perkins, “Little Symphony Program Varied in Second Recital,” NYHT, March 21, 1927. 25. “George Barrère and Some New Music,” NY Sun, March 21, 1927. 26. J. A. H., “Barrère Little Symphony,” MA 45 (March 26, 1927): 25. 27. “Boy Stowaway Returns,” NYT, July 10, 1927; Hortense Barrère, oral history interview, November 18, 1998. 28. David Sandow, “Broadcasting across the Country,” MA 47 (December 24, 1927): 9. 29. The production would be revived, with a different but equally glittering cast, in 1938 as a benefit for the Musicians Emergency Fund, a depression-era charity headed by Damrosch. 30. “Pan Frolics in Cincinnati,” Flutist 9 (February 1928): 52. 31. Quoted in Varèse, Varèse: A Looking-Glass Diary, 1:280. 32. “Barrère Entertains,” MA 47 (March 31, 1928): 24; Varèse, Varèse: A Looking-Glass Diary, 280. 33. Arvey, William Grant Still, 17; Still, Dabrishus, and Quin, William Grant Still, 140. 34. Oscar Thompson, “Symphony Begins Jubilee Year with Busch,” MA 47 (October 29, 1927): 4. 35. “Damrosch Will Not Resign from New York Symphony, Says Engels,” MA 33 (March 5, 1921): 3. 36. Martin, DD, 305–6. 37. Mason, Music in My Time, 277. 38. Martin, DD, 306–8.



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Notes to Pages 238–244 39. Memorandum, “Tentative Suggestions for Consolidation . . . ,” revised July 7, 1926, and rerevised July 13, DB/LC, box 17, folder 7. 40. Paul Cravath to Clarence Mackay, February 20, 1928, DB/LC, box 7, folder 7. 41. Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 74–75. 42. “Present Orchestral Issues,” NYT, April 8, 1928; Flagler letter to NYSO members reprinted in “The Public’s View,” NYT, April 8, 1928. 43. WD to Toscanini, March 28, 1928, typed copy, DB/LC, box 7, folder 7; Toscanini to WD, April 1, 1928 [but dated March 1], DB/LC, box 9. A draft of the Toscanini letter, also dated March 1, 1928, is in the T. Max Smith Collection, Beinecke Library, Yale, folder 5. 44. WD to HHF, April 2, 1928, DB/LC, box 7, folder 7. 45. Minutes of meeting of the Symphony Society board of directors, March 26, 1928, Richard Welling Collection, NYPL-Mss., box 21. 46. WD to HHF, April 2, 1928, DB/LC, box 7, folder 7. 47. “Final Concert Ends Symphony’s Career,” NYT, April 2, 1928; Sargeant, Geniuses, Goddesses and People, 76–78; “Orchestras Give Final Individual Lists,” MA 47 (April 7, 1928): 1. 48. HHF to GB, April 4, 1928, copy attached to HHF to WD, April 4, 1928, DB/LC, box 7, folder 7. 49. WD to Arthur Judson, May 17, 1928, New York Philharmonic Archives, box 01013-01-73, Walter Damrosch folder. 50. Arthur Judson to Clarence H. Mackay, May 24, 1928, New York Philharmonic Archives, box 010-03-05-21, folder 02 (Mackay). 51. Arthur Judson to Clarence H. Mackay, June 6, 1928, New York Philharmonic Archives, box 005-03-05-21, folder 02 (Mackay); “Plans of Musicians,” NYT, May 27, 1928. 52. Arthur Judson to Clarence H. Mackay, March 5, 1927, New York Philharmonic Archives, box 05-03-01-25, Board of Directors folder 01/Papers of Clarence H. Mackay 1921–38. Ultimately, the Philharmonic flute section consisted of John Amans, Meredith Willson, John Fabrizio, and Ernest F. Wagner. 53. H. I. Brock, “Merger of Orchestras an Economic Necessity,” NYT, April 1, 1928; “The Philharmonic-Symphony” (editorial), NYHT, March 31, 1928; Olin Downes, “Present Orchestral Issues,” NYT, April 8, 1928. 54. Samuel Chotzinoff, “Concert Pitch: The Symphony-Philharmonic,” NY World, April 1, 1928. 55. “One Orchestra for Two” (editorial), NYT, March 28, 1928; “Merger Grieves Heifetz,” NYT, April 1, 1928. 56. President’s Report, Annual Meeting of the Symphony Society of New York, May 14, 1928, Welling Collection, NYPL-Mss., box 21. Apparently Flagler did not penalize Barrère for his 1918–19 absence. 57. Maia Crane Tener, letter to the editor, “The Public’s View,” NYT, April 8, 1928. chapter 16 1. H. H., “Barrère Plays Obligato [sic] to Balieff Role,” MA 47 (October 22, 1927): 11. 2. Leonard Smith to NT, February 18, 1993, and October 10, 1994. Unfortunately, the Little Symphony arrangements have been lost; Mrs. Barrère sold Barrère’s library to Juilliard, and it was subsequently dispersed. 3. “Novelties for Los Angeles,” MA 48 (April 28, 1928): 28; Isabel Morse Jones, “Little Symphony of East Performs,” Los Angeles Times, April 11, 1928.

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Notes to Pages 244–252 4. GB to Ernest Hutcheson, May 21, 1928; GB to Erskine, May 26, 1928; Erskine to GB, May 28, 1928; GB to Erskine, May 30, 1928; all in Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 5. Frances Blaisdell, “Georges Barrère,” unpublished paper, National Flute Association, New York, August 1986. 6. “Wood-Wind Instruments Attracting Women,” Flutist 7 (December 1926): 322, reprinted from Musician 31 ( June 1926): 30. 7. Frances Blaisdell, “Georges Barrère — The Master — Remembered,” FQ 20, no. 2 (Winter 1994–1995): 30. 8. GB to MFC, February 24, [year unknown], PML, MFC B272.6333 (5). 9. GB to ESC, February 2, 1929; ESC to GB, February 12, 1929; both in ESC/LC, box 5. 10. Establishment of the BARRERE LITTLE SYMPHONY, Revised Plan, Adopted by Committee, May 2, 1929, PML, MFC. 11. “Patrons and Patronesses” were Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell Cabell, Mrs. Melbert B. Cary Jr., Mrs. E. S. Coolidge, Harry Harkness Flagler, Susan D. Griffith, Mrs. Christian R. Holmes, Senator F. C. Walcott, and Felix Warburg. 12. Olin Downes, “Hess-Samuel-Barrère Recital,” NYT, February 6, 1929. 13. Canceled checks in ESC/LC, box 5. 14. Notebook, Coolidge Foundation Activities, ESC/LC, box 259; Riegger to ESC, October 7, 1929, ESC/LC, box 83. 15. Olin Downes, “Coolidge Festival Opens at Capital,” NYT, October 8, 1929. 16. GB to ESC, August 15, 1929, ESC/LC, box 5; Roussel to Hoérée, August 17, 1929, in Roussel, Lettres, 146. 17. Roussel to ESC, August 23, 1929, in Roussel, Lettres, 147; Roussel to Arthur Hoérée, September 25, 1929, in Roussel, Lettres, 148. See also Roussel, Lettres, 317. 18. Tertis to ESC, October 23, 1929, ESC/LC, box 97. 19. Prunières to ESC, September 30, 1929, ESC/LC, box 81. Barrère had played there in 1920 with the NYSO, but did not appear as soloist. 20. Salzedo telegram to ESC, September 1, 1929, ESC/LC, box 86. 21. Henry Prunières, “Concerts in Paris,” NYT, December 1, 1929. 22. Herbert Hughes, “Moderns at the Palais-Royal,” Daily Telegraph, November 2, 1929. 23. Zelma Friedman, “Fluting Abroad: After an Absence of Nine Years, Georges Barrère Finds Paris Taking Its Music ‘à l’Americaine,’” MA 49 (November 25, 1929): 7. 24. GB to ESC, n.d., ESC/LC, box 5; Barr, Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, 203. 25. Leiter, Musicians and Petrillo, 56–57. 26. “Musicians’ Gambol by 24 Celebrities,” NYT, December 31, 1929; Cron and Goldblatt, Portrait of Carnegie Hall, 102–3. 27. “League of Composers,” MC 100 (February 8, 1930): 21–22. 28. Bauer and Reis, “Twenty-five Years with the League of Composers,” 2. 29. Thomas, “Claire Reis,” 3. 30. Spackman, Wallingford Riegger, 35. 31. Ibid., 33. 32. Riegger to Reis, September 7, 1930, League of Composers Collection, NYPL-M, box 6. 33. Richard F. Goldman, “The Music of Wallingford Riegger,” MQ 36 ( January 1950): 46. 34. Wallingford Riegger, Suite for Flute Alone (San Francisco: New Music, 1930), 7.



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Notes to Pages 252–257 35. Smith, Review of The American Flute, 131. 36. GB to OHK, January 13, 1930; OHK to GB, January 14, 1930; both in OHK/Princeton, box 414. GB to ESC, January 25, 1930; ESC to GB, February 2, 1930, both in ESC/LC, box 5. Individually typed statements, “THE BARRÈRE LITTLE SYMPHONY, Three Recitals at Guild Theatre, March 23–30, April 6, 1930,” enclosed with GB to MFC, June 10, 1930, PML, MFC B272.6333 (20); GB to OHK, April 15, 1930, OHK/Princeton, box 414; GB to ESC, April 15, 1930, ESC/LC, box 5. 37. “Barrère Little Symphony,” MC 100 (March 29, 1930): 25; Samuel Chotzinoff, “Music,” NY World, March 24, 1930; Pitts Sanborn, “Initial Concert Is Given by the Barrère Little Symphony,” NY Telegram, March 24, 1930. 38. Oja, Colin McPhee, 37; see a detailed analysis, 37–42. 39. F., “The Barrère Little Symphony,” MA 50 (April 10, 1930): 10. 40. GB to ESC, March 25, 1930, ESC/LC, box 5. The players as of 1928 were Saul Sharrow (concertmaster), Adolph Belfer and George Raudenbusch (violin), Giulio Harnisch (viola), Alberico Guidi (cello), Saul Levman (bass), George Possell (flute), Pierre Mathieu (oboe), Fred Van Amburgh (clarinet), Louis Letellier (bassoon), Santiago Richart (horn), Carl Heinrich (trumpet), and Karl Glassman (tympani). 41. “Barrère Group Heard,” NYT, March 31, 1930; “Barrère Symphony Plays Hier Works,” MC 100 (April 19, 1930): 22. The sextet is apparently the Suite for chamber ensemble, scored for flute, oboe, violin, viola, cello, and piano; manuscript, Ethel Glenn Hier Manuscripts, University of Cincinnati, Archives & Rare Books. The manuscript of Choreograph (the eventual title of the Choreographic Suite), also at the University of Cincinnati, is dated September 1933. 42. GB to Still, December 15, 1928, William Grant Still Collection, University of Arkansas, box 7; Still, Dabrishus, and Quin, William Grant Still, 45. Howard Hanson would premiere the full-orchestra version in Rochester in November and would later play it in Germany and France. 43. “Barrère Surprises Concert Audience,” NYT, April 7, 1930. 44. “Barrère Honored on 25th American Anniversary,” MC 100 (May 17, 1930): 37; “Barrère’s Friends Mark Anniversary,” NYT, May 1, 1930; WD to HHF, April 29, 1930, PML, MFC D1667.F574 (30), including list of contributors; GB to HHF, May 1, 1930, PML, MFC B272.F574 (14). 45. “Five Days of Music,” Chicago Daily Tribune, October 13, 1930. 46. “Chamber Music Festival Opens Chicago Season,” NYHT, October 13, 1930; Herman Devries, “Chamber Music Concert Proves Real Delight,” Chicago Evening American, October 13, 1930. 47. Karleton Hackett, “Mrs. Coolidge Gives Feast to Music Lovers,” Chicago Post, October 13, 1930. 48. GB to ESC, February 3 and March 25, 1930, both in ESC/LC, box 5; see also Barr, Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, 204–6, for an account of the Chicago festival. 49. Eugene Stinson, “Italian Music Pleases Guests of Mrs. Coolidge,” Chicago News, October 15, 1930; “Pizzetti Songs Please in Music Festival Debut,” NYHT, October 15, 1930; “Chicago Festival of Chamber Music Delights Throngs,” MA 50 (October 25, 1930): 30. 50. Henry Prunières, “The Coolidge Festival in Chicago,” NYT, October 19, 1930; Herman Devries, “Devries Highly Pleased with Music Festival,” Chicago American, October 17, 1930; “Chicago Festival of Chamber Music Delights Throngs,” MA 50 (October 25, 1930): 30. 51. ESC to GB, March 22, 1930; GB to ESC, April 3, 1930; both in ESC/LC, box 5.

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Notes to Pages 252–264 52. Salzedo to ESC, April 18, 1930, ESC/LC, box 86; ESC to GB, April 21, 1930, ESC/LC, box 5; ESC to Salzedo, April 21, 1930, ESC/LC, box 86; GB, telegram to ESC, April 30, 1930, ESC/LC, box 5; ESC to Salzedo, May 7, 1930, ESC/LC, box 86; Salzedo to ESC, May 15, 1930, ESC/LC, box 86. 53. Henry Prunières, “The Coolidge Festival in Chicago,” NYT, October 19, 1930. chapter 17 1. “Personalities,” MA 51 (February 25, 1931): 16; certificate of citizenship no. 3351955, February 9, 1931, Supreme Court of Ulster County, Kingston, N.Y., courtesy Immigration and Naturalization Service, U.S. Department of Justice. 2. “Chevalier Gives Show at Carnegie Hall,” NYT, April 12, 1931; GB to ESC, August 7, 1931, ESC/LC, box 5. 3. Concerto appearances with the Beethoven Association (Mozart Concerto for flute and harp, Juilliard Graduate School orchestra, January 31); New Haven Symphony (Allegro aperto from the Mozart D Major Concerto and David Stanley Smith’s Fête galante in its 1930 revision, February 22); Baltimore Symphony (Mozart D Major, March 22); Easton Symphony (Bach Suite in B Minor and works of Griffes, Widor, and Enesco with piano, March 26); National Orchestral Association (Mozart D Major, April 7); Beethoven Association (Bach’s Brandenburg No. 5, April 13). 4. “National Orchestral Association,” MA 51 (April 25, 1931): 12. 5. Hutcheson to GB, March 24 and March 31, 1931; agreement between the Juilliard School of Music and GB, May 1, 1931; both in Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 6. GB to Hutcheson, April 4, 1931, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 7. GB to Hutcheson, March 25, 1931, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 8. GB to Erskine, June 6, 1931; Erskine to GB, June 8, 1931, Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 9. GB to Erskine, May 21, 1931; Erskine to FD, June 8, 1931; FD to Erskine, June 10, 1931; GB to Erskine, August 3, 1931; all in Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. Wagner’s notes attached to GB to Oscar Wagner, December 22, [1931], Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2, indicate that Barrère was paid for five hours per week of private flute instruction at $15 per hour, but there is no indication of a guarantee. 10. GB to ESC, May 18, 1931, ESC/LC, box 5. 11. B. G., “Barrère Concert Delights,” NYT, June 12, 1931. 12. Mabel Wheeler Daniels, TS memoir, IV, 2–3, Mabel Wheeler Daniels Papers, Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe College, box 4, folder 51. 13. “Georges Barrère Describes Growing Musical Importance of Chautauqua,” Chautauquan Daily, July 3, 1931. 14. GB to MFC, March 3, 1930, PML, MFC B272.6333 (19). 15. GB to Farwell, May 22, June 27, July 19, August 12, 1932; Farwell to GB, August 1, 1932; all courtesy Evelyn Culbertson. Manuscript score and parts are in FLP. 16. “Intimate Concerts for Young People,” MC 104 ( January 23, 1932): 15. 17. GB to Oscar Wagner, December 22, 1931, and attached notes by Wagner, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 18. GB to Wagner, February 20, 1932, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. The eighteen hours were a prorating of the annual figure, since he began teaching in January.



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Notes to Pages 264–271 19. GB to Hutcheson, April 1, 1932, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 20. GB to Oscar Wagner, October 20, 1932, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. See also Kaplan, “Leonard Sharrow,” 101–2. 21. GB to Hutcheson, April 1, 1932, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 22. “Juilliard Graduate School Concert,” MC 102 (May 14, 1932): 26. 23. Oscar Wagner to GB, June 17, 1932, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 24. GB to WD, May 3, May 16, and May 19, 1931, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère correspondence. 25. GB to Oscar Wagner, December 22, 1931, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 26. Beethoven Association, annual report, 1932, Harold Bauer Collection, LC, box 9. 27. Salzedo to ESC, March 12, 1932, ESC/LC, box 86. 28. “Concert by Barrère Group,” NYT, June 10, 1932. 29. Ruth Freeman Gudeman, oral history interview, February 21, 1993. 30. Morrison, Chautauqua, 135. 31. GB to John Erskine, January 6, 1932, Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 32. “Barrère Introduces Novelty,” MA 52 (December 10, 1932): 23; Leonard Liebling , “Variations,” MC 105 (December 10, 1932): 19. 33. GB to MFC, November 30, 1932, PML, MFC B272.6333 (24). 34. “Barrère Introduces Novelty,” MA 52 (December 10, 1932): 23. 35. Leonard Liebling, “Variations,” MC 105 (December 10, 1932): 19. 36. For a thorough survey of the New York new music scene, see Oja, Making Music Modern. 37. H. H., “Composers Give Native Works,” NYT, February 6, 1933. 38. Theodore Chanler, “All-American,” Modern Music 10 (March–April 1933): 161. 39. James Lyons, liner notes, Henry Brant, Angels and Devils, CRI-106. 40. Henry Brant, oral history interview, February 5, 1995; GB to Oscar Wagner, November 25, 1931; Wagner to GB, November 27, 1931; both in Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 41. Henry Brant, oral history interview, February 5, 1995; Toff, “Henry Brant on the Birth of Angels and Devils,” 5–6. 42. J. D. B., “American Music Heard in New School Concert,” NYHT, December 12, 1933. 43. “Play Modern American Music,” NYWT, December 12, 1933; J. D. B., “American Music Heard in New School Concert,” NYHT, December 12, 1933. 44. Leonard Liebling , “Research School Sponsors Program of American Music,” NY American, December 12, 1933. 45. Root, “The Pan American Association of Composers,” 60. 46. Cowell to Ives, November 8, 1933, Cowell Collection, NYPL-M, folder 478. 47. Ives to Cowell, November 12, 1933, quoted in Mead, Henry Cowell’s New Music, 256. 48. Cowell to Ives, November 14, 1933, Cowell Collection, NYPL-M, folder 478. 49. Mead, Henry Cowell’s New Music, 265. 50. Marshall Kernochan, “‘New Music’ Discs Are Issued,” MA 54 ( July 1934): 27. 51. Cowell to Ives, March 14, 1934, Cowell Collection, NYPL-M, folder 479. 52. Scott and Rutkoff, New York Modern, 233. 53. GB to WD, March 21, 1932, WD/NYPL, box 24, Funds folder. 54. “600 Musicians Receiving Help from Musicians Emergency Aid,” MC 106 (April 1, 1933): 8.

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Notes to Pages 271–277 55. WD to GB, June 3, 1933; GB to WD, June 7, 1933; both in WD/NYPL, box 24, Musicians Emergency Fund 1933–1934 (folder E). 56. “Barrère’s Eerie Air on a Flute of Jade Opens Art Exhibit,” NYHT, April 6, 1934. 57. Nadia Koutzen, telephone interview, August 6, 1994. 58. Jerome Rappaport, oral history interview, January 24, 1994. 59. “Civic Music Plan Operating in Many Cities,” MC 105 (October 29, 1932): 11. 60. “Carrying the Best Music Afield: Spaeth Discusses the Community Concerts Policy,” MA 47 (February 4, 1928): 21. 61. Salzedo to ESC, June 28 and September 11, 1934, ESC/LC, box 86. 62. “Barrère, Salzedo and Britt Give a Delightful Concert,” MA 54 (May 25, 1934): 36. The previous concerts were at the Beethoven Association ( January 1933), Juilliard (February 1933), and the Bohemians (February 1934). The May 8 concert was the trio’s first independent public recital. 63. “Barrère, Britt, Salzedo Heard in Recital Here,” NYHT, May 9, 1934. 64. “France Honors Barrère, Flutist, at Dinner Here,” NYHT, May 28, 1934; “Georges Barrère Receives Cross of the Legion of Honor at Ceremonial Banquet,” MA 54 ( June 1934): 4; “Georges Barrère Honored,” MC 108 ( June 2, 1934): 29. 65. GB to Carl Engel, April 9, 1934; Carl Engel to GB, April 10, 1934, LC Music Division, old correspondence file. 66. Indenture, George Barrère and Cécile Elise Barrère and the Saugerties Savings Bank, September 13, 1934, Ulster County, N.Y., Deeds, 413:482–83. 67. GB to Erskine, December 12, 1934; Erskine to William Bergold, December 13, 1934; GB to Erskine, December 18, 1934; Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 68. “Musicians’ Emergency Fund Board Convenes,” MC 109 (October 13, 1934): 10. 69. The ensemble’s members were Barrère (flute), Carlos Mullenix (oboe), Fred Van Amburgh (clarinet), Angel Del Busto (bassoon), and Rudolph Puletz (horn). 70. Henry Cowell to Olive Cowell, November 13, 1934, Cowell Collection, NYPL-M, folder 482, reports its completion. 71. The concert premiere took place on February 21, 1948, at an Alice M. Ditson Chamber Concert, McMillin Theater, Columbia University, played by James Pellerite (flute), Melvin Kaplan (oboe), Marvin Uller (clarinet), John Shults (horn), and Tina di Dario (bassoon); see Lichtenwanger, The Music of Henry Cowell, 138. 72. GB to Berezowsky, October 1, 1932, Berezowsky Collection, Columbia, folder 76. 73. GB to Berezowsky, November 19, [1934?], Berezowsky Collection, Columbia, folder 76. 74. Program booklet, Composers Forum Laboratory, WPA Federal Music Project, February 3, [1937], NYPL-M, Berezowsky programs. 75. Mead, Henry Cowell’s New Music, 309. 76. Salzedo to Cowell, February 19, 1935, Cowell Collection, NYPL-M, folder 356. 77. “Mephisto’s Musings,” MA 55 (April 10, 1935): 9; advertisement, MA 55 (April 25, 1935): 22. 78. R. K., “Barrère Little Symphony and Anita Zahn Dancers Appear,” MC 111 ( June 15, 1935): 37; O. T., “Zahn Dancers and Barrère Symphony,” NYT, May 28, 1935. See Duncan quotation in chap. 8. 79. GB to Erskine, June 12, 1935, Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 80. GB customer card, Wm. S. Haynes Co.; Dayton C. Miller manuscript notes, DCM/LC, Platinum Flute folder. 81. William H. Baldwin to Dayton C. Miller, September 24 and November 6, 1935;



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Notes to Pages 277–284 “Barrère: With Platinum, Climaxes Flute Scale,” unidentified clipping; William H. Baldwin, untitled press release, all in DCM/LC, Platinum Flute folder; Simon Snooper, “Somebody Told,” MC 111 (November 30, 1935): 20. 82. The Platinum Flute and Georges Barrère, 5, 12–13. Sadly, neither the test discs nor the written records survive; Sheldon Hochheiser, AT&T corporate historian, e-mail to NT, April 29, 2002. 83. The Platinum Flute and Georges Barrère, 3. 84. “$3,000 Flute,” Time, December 2, 1935, 6; “Speculation Makes Precious Metal More Precious,” Newsweek, August 29, 1936, 36. 85. GB to Everett Timm, November 29, 1941, courtesy Everett Timm; Toff, Georges Barrère and the Flute in America, 30. 86. “Pons and Boyer Aid Benefit for Lycée Français,” NYHT, February 17, 1936; Pitts Sanborn, “Pons Sings at Benefit for Lycée,” NYWT, February 17, 1936; Varèse to Jolivet, February 18, 1936, in Hilda Jolivet, Varèse, 110–11. 87. Density was mentioned seven times in the NYT in the 1950s, fifteen times in the 1960s. chapter 18 1. “Barrère Little Symphony Orchestra and Alice de Cevée,” MC 112 (March 14, 1936): 12. 2. Olin Downes, “Ballet Presented in Rochester Fete,” NYT, May 23, 1931; N. S., “Barrère Ensemble Gives Lively Recital,” NYT, March 8, 1936. 3. Marchant to ESC, April 29, 1936, ESC/LC, box 67; GB to ESC, April 29, 1936, ESC/LC, box 5. 4. Verna Carleton Millan, “Barrère, Salzedo and Britt Win Honors in Mexico City,” MC 114 ( July 1936): 8. 5. Unidentified clipping, “Cuatro Conquistadores en el dominio del arte,” June 9, 1936; G. Baqueiro Foster, “Cronicas musicales,” Excelsior, June 8, 1936; courtesy Claude Kenneson. 6. Foster, “Cronicas Musicales,” Excelsior, June 8, 1936. 7. “Cuatro Conquistadores en el dominio del arte,” June 9, 1936. 8. Carlos Salzedo, “Mexican Impressions,” Overtones 7 ( January 1937): 9. 9. Lost for many years, the painting was found rolled up in a closet in the artist’s widow’s home, and it was purchased in 2001 by the Jule Collins Smith Museum of Auburn University, Auburn, Alabama, reproduced at www.julecollinssmithmuseum .com/recacqu.html; Michael Demarsche, director, Jule Collins Smith Museum, e-mail to NT, June 25, 2002. 10. “Chautauqua Society Holds Annual Dinner,” MC 113 (May 16, 1936): 12. 11. Georgina Anderson, oral history interview, July 27, 1994. 12. Nathan Gottschalk to NT, January 7, 1994; Nathan Gordon to NT, October 18, 1994, and telephone interview, October 24, 1994. 13. Martin Bernstein to NT, February 12, 1993. 14. Erskine to William Bergold, October 1, 1936, Juilliard Archives, President’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 15. “Barrère Opens His ‘Pop’ Concert Series,” NYHT, September 27, 1936. 16. “Barrère Offers Concert in American Music Hall,” NYHT, October 19, 1936. 17. “Music Notes,” NYT, October 23, 1936. 18. GB to Eichheim, November 1, 1936, Eichheim Collection, UCSB.

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Notes to Pages 285–291 19. Julius Baker, telephone interview, October 11, 1997. 20. D. E., “Barrère-Salzedo-Britt,” MC 114 (December 26, 1936): 9. 21. Scott and Rutkoff, New York Modern, 233. 22. “Two More Concerts in WPA Bach Series,” MA 56 (November 25, 1936): 21. 23. “Miss Bori Honored at a Gay Dinner,” NYT, January 3, 1937. 24. Leonard B. Smith to NT, February 18, 1993; David Walter, “Barrère’s Bassist: A Reminiscence,” FQ 20, no. 1 (Fall 1994): 59. 25. W. T. R., “Trenton Symphony Orchestra Concludes Series,” MC 115 (May 1, 1937): 8. 26. “Stage Folk Chided on Union Demands,” NYT, March 16, 1937. Jean became a leading Broadway stage manager whose credits included Life with Father, South Pacific, Sunrise at Campobello, and The Unsinkable Molly Brown. See “Jean Barrère, 59, Stage Manager for Many Hit Shows on Broadway,” NYT, August 30, 1977; obituary, Variety, August 31, 1977, 79. 27. Giselher Schubert, “Paul Hindemith,” in Grove Music Online, ed. Laura Macy, http://www.grovemusic.com. Scheck, Die Flöte und Ihre Musik, 227, incorrectly states that Barrère and Hindemith gave the premiere in Chicago. 28. Paul Hindemith to Gertrud Hindemith, April 8, 1937, in Skelton, Selected Letters of Paul Hindemith, 100; German original in Hindemith, Das private Logbuch, 161. 29. Noss, Paul Hindemith in the United States, 20; German original in Hindemith, Das private Logbuch, 164. 30. Olin Downes, “Hindemith Words Heard in Capital,” NYT, April 11, 1937; Henry Pleasants, unidentified review [Philadelphia Evening Bulletin], April 17, 1937, in NYPLM, Hindemith clipping file 29; Cecil Michener Smith, “Forecast and Review: Hindemith and the Coolidge Festival,” Modern Music 14, no. 4 (May–June 1937): 208. 31. Paul Hindemith to Gertrud Hindemith, April 10 and 11, 1937, in Skelton, Selected Letters of Paul Hindemith, 100. 32. Advertisement for Callimahos performance on April 11, 1937, in NYT, April 4, 1937. Barrère played the Sonata for the League of Composers at the Cosmopolitan Club on April 18. 33. Olin Downes, “Beethoven Group in Varied Concert,” NYT, December 14, 1937. 34. Palmer, Harpsichord in America, 109. 35. “Beethoven Association,” MC 115 (April 24, 1937): 12; P., “Beethoven Association Gives Final Concert in Series,” MA 57 (April 25, 1937): 49. 36. Sonatas in B Minor, BWV 1030; in E-flat Major, BWV 1031; and C Major, BWV 1033; four twelve-inch discs, Victor Sets M-406 (manual), AM-406 (automatic), DM-406 (drop), released December 1937. See Nelson, “Georges Barrère,” 31. 37. Compton Pakenham, “Recent Recordings,” NYT, January 6, 1938. Barrère’s was indeed the first recording of the Bach sonatas with harpsichord; Georges Laurent had recorded two of them, the Sonatas in B Minor, BWV 1030, and E Major, BWV 1035, with pianist Harry Cumpson (Columbia Masterworks set 203) in 1934. 38. Georgina Anderson, oral history interview, July 27, 1994. 39. “Radio Highlights,” MC 116 (August 1, 1937): 32. 40. “Chautauqua Institute Completes Musical Season,” MA 57 (September 1937): 14. 41. “Worcester’s Seventy-eighth Festival Brings Notable Music Crescendo,” MC 116 (November 1, 1937): 9. 42. GB to Mrs. Austin Hay, November 17, 1937, courtesy Austin Hay. 43. Jerome Rappaport, oral history interview, January 24, 1994.



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Notes to Pages 291–297 44. GB to Still, February 3, 1938, William Grant Still Collection, University of Arkansas, box 7; “Diamond Quintet Has Its Premiere,” MA 58 (March 25, 1938): 27. 45. Elliott Carter, “Season’s End, New York,” Modern Music 15 (May–June 1938): 232. 46. Linton Martin, “Phila. Orchestra Gives a Premiere,” Philadelphia Inquirer, March 19, 1938. 47. Henry Pleasants, “The Orchestra Gives Premiere of Wagenaar’s Concerto for Flute, Harp, and ’Cello,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, March 19, 1938. 48. Arthur Cohn, “How News Comes to Philadelphia,” Modern Music 15 (May–June 1938): 235. 49. Elliott Carter, “Season’s End, New York,” Modern Music 15 (May–June 1938): 231–32. 50. Irving Kolodin, “Ormandy Leads Wagenaar Score,” NY Sun, March 23, 1938; Lawrence Gilman, “A New Triple Concerto for Flute, Harp, and Cello with Orchestra,” NYHT, March 23, 1938. 51. Olin Downes, “Ormandy Directs Wagenaar Music,” NYT, March 23, 1938. 52. Olin Downes, “Composing to Please the Public,” NYT, March 28, 1938. 53. “Triple Concerto by Wagenaar Given by Philadelphians,” MA 58 (April 10, 1938): 21; O., “18th International Festival Explores Music of the Day,” MA 61 ( June 1941): 20. 54. Contract between J. Walter Thompson Company and Columbia Concerts Corporation, March 11, 1938, reel 227; script, “Kraft Music Hall,” April 28, 1938, reel 125; both in J. Walter Thompson Company Archives, Perkins Library, Duke University. 55. Kortschak to ESC, December 13, 1937; ESC to Kortschak, March 23, 1938; Kortschak to ESC, March 27, 1938, all in ESC/LC, box 50. 56. “Tenth Berkshire Chamber Music Festival Held,” MA 58 (October 10, 1938): 30. 57. David R. Vallee and Michael R. Dion, National Weather Service, Taunton, Mass., Southern New England Tropical Storms and Hurricanes: A Ninety-eight Year Summary 1909–1997, cited at http://www.erh.noaa.gov/box/hurricane1938.htm. 58. Alice Eversman, “Great Composers Meet at Berkshire Festival,” Washington Star, October 2, 1938. 59. Jay C. Rosenfeld, “Berkshire Festival,” NYT, October 2, 1938. 60. McCutchan, Marcel Moyse, 148–50. In fact, James Pappoutsakis joined the BSO as second flute in 1937. Phillip Kaplan assumed the newly created third flute chair in the 1939–40 season. 61. GB to Downes, August 16, 1938, Downes/Georgia, box 2, folder 48. 62. GB to James Hosmer, November 21, 1938, NT Collection. The “real one” refers to Serge Koussevitzky’s nephew Fabian Sevitzky, at that time conductor of the Indianapolis Symphony. The last sentence refers to Lambros Demetrios Callimahos, a student of Arthur Lora, with whom there had reputedly been a behind-the-scenes battle for the premiere of the Hindemith Sonata; Barrère ended up with the world premiere, Callimahos with the New York premiere. Callimahos had a brief but brilliant solo career before becoming a leading cryptanalyst for the O.S.S. during World War II. 63. L. L., “Lehmann, Heifetz, Boston Orchestra among Attractions in Rochester,” MC 119 ( January 1, 1939): 31. 64. Joseph Mariano to NT, September 11, 2001. 65. In “Les Travaux d’été des compositeurs,” MM 47 (September 30, 1936): 251, Gaubert stated, “Finally, I have finished a Sonatine for flute and piano that my old friend Barrère, to whom it is dedicated, will play in New York this winter.” It was published in 1937; it is possible but somewhat unlikely that the world premiere did not take place until a year after publication, as Barrère’s NYFC program claimed.

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Notes to Pages 297–307 66. “Barrère Plays New Bauer Pieces,” ML 70 (December 24, 1938): 9. 67. Lester, “Richard Franko Goldman,” 184–85; “Barrere Plays New Bauer Pieces,” ML 70 (December 24, 1938): 9. 68. Advertisement, NYT, May 19, 1940. 69. Minutes, SPAM special meeting, November 5, 1939, SPAM Collection, Yale, box 1, folder 9. 70. GB to William S. Thomas, October 18, 1939, NT Collection. chapter 19 1. GB to Helen Frank, September 11, 1939; Helen Frank to GB, September 15, 1939; both Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 2. GB to Helen Frank, October 2, 1939, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 3. GB to Arthur Lora, February 16, 1940, NT Collection. 4. Contract between J. Walter Thompson Company and Columbia Management of California, for Georges Barrère, November 20, 1939, reel 68, J. Walter Thompson Company Archives, Perkins Library, Duke University. 5. GB to Varèse, November 26, 1939, Edgard Varèse Collection, Paul Sacher Foundation, Basel. 6. Ibid. 7. Script, “Kraft Music Hall,” December 28, 1939, reel 125, J. Walter Thompson Company Archives, Perkins Library, Duke University. 8. Advertisement, MA 60 (February 10, 1940): 53. 9. GB to ESC, January 6, 1940, ESC/LC, box 5. 10. GB to Jean Barrère, January 11, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 11. GB to Jean Barrère, February 26, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 12. GB to Jean Barrère, March 5, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 13. Leonard Liebling, “Variations,” MC 121 (May 15, 1940): 19. 14. Morris, Favorite Recipes of Famous Musicians, 33–36. 15. GB to Jean Barrère, January 11, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 16. GB to Jean Barrère, January 23, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 17. GB to Jean Barrère, February 26 and March 5, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 18. GB to Jean Barrère, March 1, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 19. GB to Jean Barrère, January 11, 1940, courtesy Barbara Barrère. 20. Oscar Wagner to GB, June 13, 1940, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 21. GB to Wagner, June 4, 1940, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 22. Wagner to GB, June 13, 1940, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 23. The Pastoral Ode was dedicated not to Barrère but to the composer’s fellow Bostonian, Georges Laurent. 24. Benjamin Fine, “Stars Will Help Students Here,” NYT, November 3, 1940. 25. Bernard Garfield, e-mail to NT, June 7, 2004; “Music Class Hears Barrère Give Advice: He Demonstrates Technique to Interested Listeners,” NYT, November 14, 1940. 26. Friede F. Rothe, “Milhaud Returning to America Next Season,” MC 121 ( January 15, 1940): 12; Barr, Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, 269–70. 27. “Demand for Artists Mirrors Nation’s New Prosperity,” MC 123 (February 1, 1941): 15; Arthur Judson, “Concert Field Shows 10 Per Cent Gain over Last Season’s Figures, Judson Reports,” MC 123 (February 1, 1941): 42. 28. GB to ESC, February 24, 1941, ESC/LC, box 5. 29. Robert Abernathy, oral history interview, August 2, 1996.



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Notes to Pages 308–313 30. Robert Stuart to NT, March 22, 1993. 31. Simon, Be Your Own Music Critic. 32. GB to Hosmer, January 14, 1941, NT Collection. 33. Oja, Colin McPhee, 216; McPhee, “An American Composer in Bali,” pt. 2 of a script of a five-part Voice of America radio series, ca. 1958, quoted in Oja, Colin McPhee, 107–8. 34. Ed Herbst, notes to The Roots of Gamelan: The First Recordings Bali, 1928–New York, 1941 (New York: World Arbiter, 1999). 35. John Briggs, “Six Soloists Perform at Lewisohn Stadium,” NY Post, August 5, 1941; Robert Bagar, “Steinberg Conducts Bach Work,” NYWT, August 5, 1941; Miles Kastendieck, “Six Soloists Play Bach for Stadium Audience,” Brooklyn Eagle, August 5, 1941. 36. GB to Wagner, July 3, 1941; Wagner to GB, August 19, 1941, both in Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 37. GB to Everett Timm, November 29, 1941, courtesy Everett Timm. 38. Cécile Barrère to Wagner, n.d. [September 1941]; Wagner to Cécile Barrère, September 26, 1941, both in Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 39. GB to Ernest Hutcheson, October 16, 1941, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 40. GB to Everett Timm, November 29, 1941, courtesy Everett Timm. 41. GB to Carpenter, March 23, 1942, SB, John Alden Carpenter Collection, LC, box 12. 42. GB to Wagner, March 24, 1942; Wagner to GB, June 16, 1942, both in Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 43. GB to ESC, March 31, 1942, ESC/LC, box 5. 44. “Musician Rents Unit in West 78th Street,” NYT, May 18, 1943; GB to Mrs. Grant, June 12, 1943, courtesy Carolyn Grant Morey; Samuel Baron, oral history interview, August 6, 1995. 45. Samuel Baron, oral history interview, August 6, 1995; “Rites for Stoessel Attended by 1,000,” NYT, May 16, 1943. 46. Lesley Oakes to NT, May 10, 1993. 47. Ruth Freeman Gudeman, oral history interview, February 21, 1993. 48. Samuel Baron, oral history interview, August 6, 1995. 49. GB to Edith Sagul, July 15, 1943, NT Collection; GB to Joyce Thompson, July 5, 1943, courtesy Joyce Thompson Bottje. 50. GB to Jean Barrère, August 8, 1943, courtesy Barbara Barrère. The wording is ambiguous; he could either have been writing a full autobiography or merely copying the 1928 one for handwriting practice. 51. Cécile Barrère to Wagner, October 4, 1943, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2; Cécile Barrère to Miss Frank, October 4, 1943, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 3. 52. GB to Genevieve Hall, October 26, 1943, courtesy Genevieve Hall. 53. GB to ESC, October 29, 1943, ESC/LC, box 5. 54. GB to HHF, March 2, 1943, PML, MFC B272.F475 (21). 55. “30,000 Flutists,” Time, January 3, 1944, 44. 56. GB to Helen Frank, January 24, 1944, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 57. SPAM minutes, SPAM Papers, Beinecke Library, Yale, box 1, folder 9; GB to Helen Frank, April 14, 1944, Juilliard Archives, Dean’s Records, box 1, folder 2. 58. Joyce Thompson to Marjorie Broer, June 30, 1944, courtesy Marjorie Broer Gallagher. 59. “Georges Barrère,” Ulster County News, June 22, 1944.

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Notes to Pages 313–326 60. “George Barrère,” NYHT, June 18, 1944. 61. Leonard Liebling, “Variations,” MC 130 ( July 1944): 19. 62. Eulogy for Barrère, December 4, 1944, WD/NYPL, box 6, Barrère folder. epilogue 1. René Rateau to NT, March 21, 1993. 2. Michel Debost to NT, November 14, 1993. 3. Bernard Goldberg, oral history interview, May 9, 1994; John Krell to NT, September 28, 1994. 4. Farwell to GB, August 30, 1932, courtesy Evelyn Culbertson. 5. Walfrid Kujala, e-mail to NT, June 14, 2003. 6. ESC to GB, February 12, 1929, ESC/LC, box 5. 7. Robert Sabin, “Georges Barrère Discusses Study of the Flute,” MA 59 (October 25, 1939): 31. 8. GB to ESC, March 25, 1930, ESC/LC, box 5. 9. Samuel Baron, oral history interview, August 6, 1995. 10. Sara A. Dunn, “Pertaining to the Flute,” Woodwind News 1, no. 2 (Summer 1926): 6. 11. Allison, “George Barrère,” Flutist 2 (April 1921): 366. 12. “Flute Player’s Rise: Barrère, Honored in Paris, Is New Society’s Head,” NY Evening Sun, February 28, 1910. 13. Mason to Burnet C. Tuthill, June 18, 1944, Burnet C. Tuthill Collection, LC, Daniel Gregory Mason 1941–43 folder. 14. “[P]rince among program-makers”: “Barrère Entertains,” MA 47 (March 31, 1928): 24; “that dapper and insinuating monarch of the flute”: Olin Downes, “Beethoven Group in Varied Concert,” NYT, December 14, 1937; “king of the wood-winds”: Zelma Friedman, “Fluting Abroad: After an Absence of Nine Years, Georges Barrère Finds Paris Taking Its Music ‘à l’Americaine,’” MA 49 (November 25, 1929): 7; “king of flutists”: Herman Devries, “Devries Lauds Olga Averino,” Chicago American, October 15, 1930; “His Highness, King Georges”: Ruth Benedict, “Royalty in Flutedom,” Musical Digest 22 ( January 1938): 11. 15. John Krell to NT, September 28, 1994. 16. Page Grosenbaugh Rowe to NT, January 28, 1993. 17. Press kit from George Engles, prepared by Helen M. Miller [1925], Barrère clipping file, NYPL-M. 18. GB to Hosmer, November 21, 1938, NT Collection. “On advice” was the policy at the Paris Conservatoire and Juilliard of permitting alumni to return to their teachers, gratis, for lessons and advice. 19. Julia Drumm Denecke to NT, January 13, 1991. 20. David Walter, “Barrère’s Bassist: A Reminiscence,” FQ 20, no. 1 (Fall 1994): 59–60. 21. “Address at the Annual Dinner, March 25th, 1923,” The New York Flute Club, Incorporated, May 1923. 22. E. B. White, “This Is New York,” 696. 23. Quoted in Lawrence Gilman, notes to Philadelphia Orchestra program, March 18, 1938.



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bibliography

a note about sources The sources for this study are, for better or worse, widely dispersed; the fabled “Barrère archive” does not exist. After Barrère’s death, Cécile Barrère apparently discarded her husband’s personal papers and photographs; she sold his music library to Juilliard for $500, and the Juilliard library later deaccessioned it. Remnants of that library periodically surface in the private libraries of woodwind musicians across the United States, but most of Barrère’s manuscripts and performing editions are presumed lost. Nor does the family have very much in the way of letters or memorabilia; one daughter-in-law had ten letters to his youngest son from 1940 and 1941, and another daughter-in-law has a few items from the papers of his first wife, the singer and actress Michelette Burani. Thus the research for this book has been a quest to find the papers of as many colleagues, students, and affiliated organizations as possible, both in France and the United States. Disappointingly, of the 560 or so letters to or from Barrère that I have been able to locate, only 13 are in Europe (7 in France and 6 in Switzerland); the earliest letter dates from 1900, and only 6 pre-date his departure for the United States in 1905. The greatest concentrations of Barrère letters are in the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Collection at the Library of Congress, the Walter Damrosch Papers at the New York Public Library, and the Juilliard School Archives, with significant collections also in the Mary Flagler Cary Collection at the Pierpont Morgan Library, the Olin Downes Collection at the University of Georgia, and the Otto Kahn Papers at Princeton. Many former Barrère students have also contributed valuable and revealing personal correspondence. Perhaps because Barrère began working with many of his composer colleagues early in their careers, when they were not yet conscious of their own historical importance, the archival documentation is skimpy; moreover, many French collections have not survived the two intervening world wars, or they are still held by the families. The program files of the Music Department of the Bibliothèque Nationale (BNF), the Bibliothèque de

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Bibliography l’Opéra, and the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris were invaluable in establishing chronology and repertoire, as were the French music periodicals of the period, particularly Le Monde Musical. Programs and clippings from the Fonds Montpensier at the BNF were also helpful in filling in data on certain composers. The program and clipping files of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, supplemented by detailed national concert coverage in Musical America and Musical Courier and the Historical Backfile of the New York Times, provided the skeleton of the chronology for Barrère’s American career. The papers and scrapbooks of his colleagues, concert presenters, and the organizations on whose boards he served provided additional material. The locations of concert programs, flyers, and pamphlets are not specifically indicated in the notes of this book for lack of space; many of them come from the invaluable clipping and program files at the NYPL, but others have been generously donated to the author by performers and listeners, or are in the papers of his colleagues. I will be happy to provide citations to researchers who need more specific information. Information on particular students, subject to legal restrictions, came from the archives of the Juilliard School. In addition, many of the students themselves have generously provided letters, photographs, and programs. However, Barrère also had many private students; unfortunately, any records he may have kept have disappeared. I was fortunate in being able to conduct nearly fifty oral history interviews with Barrère’s family, friends, colleagues, and flute and woodwind ensemble students, and I have corresponded with many more of them. Barrère wrote a short autobiography, with the assistance of Lola Allison, that was published in the Flutist magazine in 1921 and later reprinted, with minor changes, in Leonardo De Lorenzo’s My Complete Story of the Flute (1951). In 1928 he published a different version in pamphlet form, omitting much of the French material and updating the account of his American activities. He apparently began writing a full autobiography after he had his first stroke in 1941, but it does not survive. Fortunately, however, the memoirs of a number of his colleagues in both France and the United States did see their way into print, and I have relied on these for background and anecdotes, as well as on other secondary materials such as regional and institutional histories and biographies and catalogs of the composers with whom he worked. Barrère made quite a few commercial recordings, and these are easily accessible in library collections. In addition, there are numerous off-the-air recordings from radio broadcasts from the 1930s through 1941, principally from Chautauqua Symphony broadcasts. The collection of the late Irving Levin was invaluable in providing copies of these recordings; Susan Nelson, who compiled a comprehensive discography (ARSC Journal, 1993), has provided others. I have not included a discography in this book because only a few private recordings have surfaced since that discography was published. archives Archives de Paris: Calepins du cadastre (1852–1900), series D1P4; Contributions directes, series D9P2; Electoral rolls, series D1M2; Judicial, tax, and military records; Rôle generale (1900), D1U5 6563; Association Artistique des Concerts Colonne, V. 3S 1 à 111 Archives Départementales de Bordeaux Archives Départementales de Finistère Archives Nationales de France: series AJ13 (Opéra), AJ37(Conservatoire Nationale Supérieur de Musique), F12 (Commerce), F17 (Instruction Publique), F21 (BeauxArts)



400

Bibliography Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, Paris: Collection Fréjaville, Fonds Rondel, Fonds Yvette Guilbert Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, Paris: Fonds Casadesus; Opéra archives, 19e siècle; programs Bibliothèque du Conservatoire de Lausanne: Fonds Jacques Ehrhart Bibliothèque Gustav Mahler, Paris: Alfred Cortot Collection Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris: program (ephemera) files Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Département de Musique: Fonds Louis Aubert, Fonds André Caplet, Fonds Montpensier, Lettres autographes Boston Public Library, Music Department: Scrapbooks of musical events Boston University, Mugar Library: Paris Conservatoire, Winthrop Sargeant, Albert Spalding Collections Brigham Young University: Emma Lucy Gates Bowen Collection Michelette Burani Papers, courtesy Hortense Barrère, Van Nuys, California Chautauqua Institution Archives Columbia University, Butler Library: Nicolai Berezowsky, Daniel Gregory Mason Collections Duke University, Hartman Center for Sales, Advertising and Marketing History: J. Walter Thompson Archives Harvard Theatre Collection Harvard University Archives Harvard University, Schlesinger Library: Mabel Wheeler Daniels Collection Wm. S. Haynes Co., Boston Huntington Library: L. E. Behymer Collection Indiana University Archives Juilliard School Archives, Lila Acheson Wallace Library, The Juilliard School, New York Kneisel Hall, Blue Hill, Maine: Franz Kneisel Collection (now in Juilliard Archives) Gustav Langenus Collection, courtesy Peter Langenus, New Canaan, Conn. Library of Congress: Samuel Baron, Harold Bauer, John Alden Carpenter, Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, Aaron Copland, Damrosch–Blaine, Damrosch–Tee Van, Percy Grainger, Philip James, Charles Martin Loeffler, Emil Medicus, Nicolas Slonimsky, Burnet Tuthill collections; Walter Damrosch scrapbook materials; Library of Congress Music Division correspondence; Dayton C. Miller Flute Collection Los Angeles Public Library: Coleman Concert Series Collection, program collection Mairies of 9e, 10e, 14e arrondissements, Paris: État civil Pierpont Morgan Library: Mary Cary Flagler Collection (including papers of Harry Harkness Flagler) Newberry Library: Adolph Bolm, John Alden Carpenter, Rudolph Ganz Collections New York Philharmonic Archives New York Public Library, Dance Division: Adolph Bolm, Ruth Page Collections; clipping and program files New York Public Library, Manuscripts Division: Richard Welling Papers New York Public Library, Music Division: Clipping and program files; John Parsons Beach, Beethoven Association, Seth Bingham, Henry Cowell, Walter Damrosch, Mary Howe, League of Composers, Otto Luening, New Music Quarterly, New York Chamber Music Society, New York Flute Club, Claire Reis, Wallingford Riegger, Kurt Schindler, Arthur Whiting Collections; David Bispham, Sophie Braslau, Frank Damrosch, Walter Damrosch, Jacques Fray, Olive Fremstad, Marcel Grandjany, Charles Tomlinson Griffes, Musical Art Society, People’s Music League, Helen Stanley, Symphony Society of New York, Blanche Walton scrapbooks

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Bibliography Paul Sacher Foundation, Basel, Switzerland: Henry Brant, Edgard Varèse collections Princeton University Archives Princeton University Library, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections: Otto H. Kahn Collection SAMUP: Chambre Syndicale des Artiste Musiciens Archives, Paris San Francisco Performing Arts Library & Museum: Clippings and program collections Syracuse University, Bird Library: Adolph Bolm Collection Ulster County Clerk, Kingston, N.Y.: Real estate records, Woodstock, N.Y. University of Arkansas Library, Fayetteville: William Grant Still Collection University of California, Berkeley, Bancroft Library: Arthur P. Agard, Leonard W. Buck Collections; other scrapbooks of musical programs University of California, Santa Barbara: Henry Eichheim Collection University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, Albino Gorno Memorial Music Library: Ethel Glenn Hier Manuscripts University of Georgia: Olin Downes Collection University of Kansas: Charles Sanford Skilton Papers University of Maryland, Michelle Smith Performing Arts Library: International Clarinet Association Library, Ernest Williams Music School Collection University of Missouri, Kansas City: Charles Sanford Skilton Papers University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill: North Carolina Collection, Lamar Stringfield Papers, Southern Historical Collection University of Texas, Austin, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center: Adolfo Betti Papers, Carlton Lake Collection, Varèse Collection, Musicians’ Collection (photographs) University of Virginia Library, Manuscripts Division: Arthur Fickenscher Papers Utah State Historical Society: Emma Lucy Gates Bowen Collection Woodstock (N.Y.) Library: Maverick Sunday Concerts Collection, local newspapers archive Yale University, Irving S. Gilmore Music Library: Charles Ives, Love family, Carl Ruggles, E. Robert Schmitz, David Stanley Smith, T. Max Smith, Society for the Publication of American Music Papers oral history interviews Henry Aaron Robert Abernathy Georgina Anderson Samuel Baron Hortense Barrère Paul Barrère Frances Blaisdell Joyce Thompson Bottje Henry Brant Anabel and Frank Brieff Gene Chamides Marie Mountain Clark Julia Drumm Denecke Ruth Cubbage Dorsey Doriot Anthony Dwyer

Charlotte Dykema Anita Haines Exline Francis Fitzgerald Ray Friendly Bernard Goldberg Samuel Goldman Ruth Freeman Gudeman Genevieve Hall James B. Hosmer Philip Kaplan Herbert Levy Gloria Lora Stephen Maxym Claude Monteux Carl Moore



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Bibliography Jean Klussman Morehead Carolyn Grant Morey George Morey Emil Niosi Bruce Price Morty Rapfogel Jerome Rappaport Gerald Rudy

Edith Sagul Sol Schoenbach Vineeta Schweitzer Leonard B. Smith Edward Treutel David Walter Jeanne Overman Whiton

writings and interviews by georges barrère The published musical compositions, editions, and arrangements by Barrère are listed in Nancy Toff, Georges Barrère and the Flute in America (New York: New York Flute Club, 1994), 72–73. “Lettre à un Futur Maître.” Courrier de l’Orchestre (October 1903): 5–7. “Artistes!” (letter dated March 1, 1906). Courrier de l’Orchestre (April 1, 1906): 51–52. “Violin of the Wood Wind Instruments—the Flute.” Translated by R. Champion. Musical America 10 (November 6, 1909): 9. “Old French Music Not Arranged” (letter). New York Times, January 14, 1912. Allison, Lola M. “George Barrère.” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 316–19, (March 1921): 340–42, (April 1921): 364–66. Reprinted with minor variations in Leonardo De Lorenzo, My Complete Story of the Flute, rev. ed., 182–97. Lubbock: Texas Tech University Press, 1992. [the earliest edition of Barrère’s autobiography] D. J. T., “Art in America Today Is Petty Commerce: So Avers Georges Barrère, Chastising Businesslike Conservatories — What a National Conservatory Might Mean for America—Change of Soul an Essential Need.” Musical America 33 (April 16, 1921): 17. “One in Two (Letter to my Cousins).” Eolian Review 1, no. 2 (March 1922): 11–13. “Wanted—A Musical Traffic Squad.” New York Times, December 10, 1922. Malkiel, Henrietta. “On Playing Minor Instruments: Georges Barrère, Flautist of the New York Symphony, Offers Suggestions for the Orchestral Rank and File.” Musical Digest ( June 5, 1923): 15. “Music at the Maverick.” Hue and Cry 4, no. 10 (1926): 73–74. “Wood-Wind Instruments Attracting Women.” Musician 31 ( June 1926): 30. Reprinted in Flutist 7 (December 1926): 322. “Three Men at Three Pianos.” New York Telegram, January 24, 1927. Georges Barrère. New York: privately printed, [1928]. [the final version of the autobiography, omitting much of the French period and adding information on his American career since 1921] “Competition.” Hue and Cry 7 ( July 13, 1929): 1, 6. “Georges Barrère Describes Growing Musical Importance of Chautauqua.” Chautauquan Daily, July 3, 1931, 3. Letter to editor, in “Variations” column, dated October 17, 1931. Musical Courier 103 (October 24, 1931): 21. “Music and the Sense of Humor.” Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin. Reprinted in Chautauquan Daily, July 11, 1933, 3. “‘What about the Flute?’ An Interview Secured Expressly for the Etude Music Magazine by R. H. Wollstein.” Etude 54 ( June 1936): 355–56.

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Bibliography Sabin, Robert. “Georges Barrère Discusses Study of the Flute.” Musical America 59 (October 25, 1939): 31. “The Woodwinds.” In Be Your Own Music Critic: The Carnegie Hall Anniversary Lectures, edited by Robert E. Simon, Jr., 215–41. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Doran, 1941. “Expression Unconfined.” Musical Quarterly 30 (April 1944): 192–97. newspapers and periodicals Annuaire-Almanach du commerce de l’industrie de la magistrature et de l’administration ou Almanach des 1,500,000 adresses de Paris, des départements, des colonies et des pays étrangers Annuaire de la Société des Compositeurs de Musique Annuaire de l’instruction publique et des beaux-arts Annuaire des artistes de l’enseignement dramatique & musical et des sociétés orphéoniques de France et de l’étranger Annuaire des commerçants de Paris et des départements de Seine, Seine et Oise, Seine et Marne et Oise L’Art Musical Bulletin d’Orchestre Chautauquan Daily Le Courrier de l’Orchestre Le Courrier Musical Ensemble News Le Figaro The Flutist Le Guide Musical Hue and Cry L’Instrumental Le Ménestrel Metronome Le Monde Artiste Le Monde Musical Musica Musical America Musical Courier Musical Digest Musical Leader New York American New York Evening Post New York Evening Sun New York Herald New York Herald Tribune New York Journal New York Sun New York Times New York World New York World-Telegram Le Progrès Artistique La Revue Musicale



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Bibliography Le Soir Les Tablettes de la Schola Cantorum Le Temps La Tribune de Saint-Gervais Woodwind News books, articles, dissertations, and pamphlets Allison, Lola M. “George Barrère.” Flutist 2 (February 1921): 316–19, (March 1921): 340– 42, (April 1921): 364–66. Alten, Michèle. La musique dans l’école: de Jules Ferry à nos jours. Issy-les-Moulineaux, France: EAP, 1995. Ammer, Christine. Unsung: A History of Women in American Music. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1980. Anderson, Donna K. Charles T. Griffes: A Life in Music. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993. ———. “The Griffes Poem: A New Perspective.” NFA Newsletter 8, no. 1 (Fall 1982): 3, 6–8. ———. The Works of Charles T. Griffes: A Descriptive Catalog. Ann Arbor, Mich.: UMI Research Press, 1983. André Caplet Le Havre 1878–Paris 1925, musicien français: Catalogue des oeuvres exposés du 29 avril au 24 mai 1986. Le Havre: Bibliothèque Municipale du Havre, 1986. Andrew, Nancy. “Interview with Bernard Goldberg.” Marcel Moyse Society Newsletter 13 ( July 2002): 11–14. Archambo, Shelley Batt. “Carlos Salzedo: The Harp in Transition.” Ph.D. diss., University of Kansas, 1984. Armitage, Merle. Dance Memoranda. Edited by Edwin Corle. 2d ed. New York: Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1946. Arvey, Verna. In One Lifetime. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 1984. ———. William Grant Still. New York: J. Fischer, 1939. Auclair, René. “Un Symphoniste lorrain du dix-neuvieme siècle: Louis-Theodore Gouvy (1819–1898).” Mémoire, Conservatoire de Metz, 1983. Audoin-Rouzeau, Stéphane, and Annette Becker. 14–18: Understanding the Great War. New York: Hill and Wang, 2002. Augé de Lassus, L[ucien]. La Trompette: Un demi-siècle de musique de chambre. Paris: Delagrave, 1911. Baedeker, K. Le Centre de la France de Paris à la Garonne et aux Alpes: Manuel du voyageur. 3d ed. Leipzig: Baedeker; Paris: Ollendorff, 1889. Baker, Theodore. A Biographical Dictionary of Musicians. 2d ed. New York: Schirmer, 1905. Balough, Teresa, ed. A Complete Catalogue of the Works of Percy Grainger. Nedlands, Western Australia: Department of Music, University of Western Australia, 1975. Balteau, J., Michel Prévost, and Roman d’Amat, eds. Dictionnaire de biographie française. Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1933–. Baltzell, W. J. Baltzell’s Dictionary of Musicians. Boston: Oliver Ditson, 1921. Baron, John Herschel. Intimate Music: A History of the Idea of Chamber Music. Stuyvesant, N.Y.: Pendragon, 1998. Barr, Cyrilla. Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge: American Patron of Music. New York: Schirmer Books, 1998.

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Bibliography Barry, John M. The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History. New York: Viking, 2004. Bauer, Harold. “The Paris Conservatoire: Some Reminiscences.” Musical Quarterly 33 (October 1947): 533–42. Bauer, Marion, and Claire R. Reis. “Twenty-five Years with the League of Composers.” Musical Quarterly 34 ( January 1948): 1–14. Beaumont-Maillet, Laure. Vie et histoire du X e arrondissement. Paris: Hervas, 1991. Becker-Derex, Christine. “Louis Diémer: Pianiste, claveciniste, professeur, compositeur (1843–1919).” Thesis, Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique de Paris, 1983. Bennett, Robert Russell. “The Broadway Sound”: The Autobiography and Selected Essays of Robert Russell Bennett. Edited by George J. Ferencz. Rochester, N.Y.: University of Rochester Press, 1999. Berdahl, Susan. “The First Hundred Years of the Boehm Flute in the United States, 1845–1945: A Biographical Dictionary of American Boehm Flutemakers.” Ph.D. diss., University of Minnesota, 1986. ———. “Verne Q. Powell: 13 Years with Haynes.” Verne Q. Powell [Newsletter] 3, no. 2 (Summer 1987): 2. Bernard, Elisabeth. “La Vie symphonique à Paris entre 1861 et 1914, suivie d’une étude analytique des programmes des concerts populaires de musique classique, de l’Association Artistique, et de la Société des Nouveau-Concerts.” Diss., 3e cycle, Paris I, 1976. Bibliothèque Nationale. Albert Roussel 1869–1937: Catalogue par François Lesure. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, 1969. Blaisdell, Frances. “Georges Barrère—The Master—Remembered.” Flutist Quarterly 20, no. 2 (Winter 1994–1995): 29–31. Blakeman, Edward Graham. “Paul Taffanel (1844–1908) and His Significance in French Musical Life.” Ph.D. thesis, University of Birmingham, 1993. Bloch-Michel, Antoine. Bibliothèque Nationale (France), département de la musique. Lettres autographes: conservées au département de la musique: Catalogue sommaire. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, 1984. Boll, André, ed. Répertoire analytique de la musique française des origines à nos jours. Paris: Horizons de France, 1948. Bongrain, Anne, and Yves Gérard. Le Conservatoire de Paris: Des Menus-Plaisirs à la Cité de la Musique 1795–1995. Paris: Buchet/Castel, 1996. Boschot, A. Chez les musiciens. 2e serie. Paris: Librairie Plon, 1924. Bourzac, Albert. “Les Bataillons scolaires: Histoire et idéologie.” Thesis, doctorat de 3e cycle, Lyon II, n.d. Brand, Myra Friesen. “Poldowski (Lady Dean Paul): Her Life and Her Song Settings of French and English Poetry.” D.M.A. diss., University of Oregon, 1979. Brécourt-Villars, Claudine. Yvette Guilbert l’irrespectueuse: Biographie. Paris: Plon, 1988. Brody, Elaine. Paris: The Musical Kaleidoscope 1870–1925. New York: Braziller, 1987. ———. “Vive la France: Gallic Accents in American Music from 1880 to 1914.” Musical Quarterly 65 ( January 1979): 200–211. Bruneau, Alfred. La Musique française: Rapport sur la musique en France du XIII e au XX e siècle: La Musique à Paris en 1900, au théâtre, au concert, à l’Exposition. Paris: Fasquelle, 1901. Buisson, Sylvie, and Christian Parisot. Paris-Montmartre: Les Artistes et les lieux 1860–1920. Paris: Terrail, 1996.



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Bibliography Burbank, Richard. Twentieth-century Music: A Chronology. London: Thames and Hudson, 1984. Burnand, Robert. Paris 1900. Paris: Hachette, [1951]. ———. La Vie quotidienne en France de 1870 à 1900. Paris: Hachette, 1947. Burns, Elena Giorni. The Broken Pedal: A Biographical Sketch of Pianist/Composer Aurelio Giorni, 1895–1938, and His Family. Whittier, Calif.: privately printed, 1986. Büsser, Henri. De Pelléas aux Indes galantes . . . de la flûte au tambour. Paris: Libraire Arthème Fayard, 1955. Cadier-Rey, Gabrielle. Les Français de 1900. Paris: Circonflexe, 1999. Calvocoressi, M. D. Musicians Gallery: Music and Ballet in Paris and London. London: Faber and Faber, 1933. Canarina, John. Pierre Monteux, maître. Pompton Plains, N.J.: Amadeus, 2003. Carbonneau, Suzanne. “Adolph Bolm in America.” In The Ballet Russes and Its World, edited by Lynn Garafola and Nancy Van Norman Baer, 220–44. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999. Carlat, Louis E. “Sound Values: Radio Broadcasts of Classical Music and American Culture, 1922–1939.” Ph.D. diss., Johns Hopkins University, 1995. Casablanca, Ramon C. “Angel Del Busto (Bassoonist): A Musical Master from Puerto Rico.” Translated by Richard L. Brown. Double Reed 2, no. 4 [3, no. 1] (April 1980): 18–20; also at http://idrs.colorado.edu/Publications/DR/DR3.1/angel.html. Casares Rodicio, Emilio, ed. Diccionario de la música española e hispanoamericana. 10 vols. Madrid: Sociedad General de Autores y Editores, 1999–2002. Casella, Alfredo. Music in My Time: The Memoirs of Alfredo Casella. Translated and edited by Spencer Norton. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1955. Catalogue of the Works of Christiaan Kriens: American and Foreign Publications. New York: Kriens Studios, n.d. Caullier, Joëlle. “Les chefs d’orchestre allemands à Paris entre 1894 et 1914.” Revue de Musicologie 67 (1981): 191–210. ———. “Les chefs d’orchestre allemands à Paris (1894–1914): Contribution à l’étude de la société française et la crise morale des années 1900.” Thesis, 3e cycle, Paris IV, 1983. Charle, Christophe. Histoire sociale de la France au XIX e siècle. Paris: Seuil, 1991. ———. Paris fin de siècle. Paris: Seuil, 1998. “Charles Mole.” Flutist 9 (May 1928): 132–35. Chassain-Dolliou, Laetitia. Le Conservatoire de Paris ou les voies de la création. Paris: Découvertes Gallimard, 1995. Chimènes, Myriam. “Le Budget de la musique sous la IIIe République.” In La Musique: du théorique au politique, edited by Joël-Marie Fauquet, 261–312. Paris: Amateurs de Livres, 1991. Chou Wen-chung. “Varèse: A Sketch of the Man and His Music.” Musical Quarterly 52 (1966): 151–70. Cobban, Alfred. A History of Modern France. Vol. 3: 1871–1962. New York: Penguin, 1965. Cobbett, Walter Willson, ed. Cobbett’s Cyclopedic Survey of Chamber Music. 2 vols. London: Oxford University Press, 1929–30. Cocteau, Jean. Souvenir Portraits: Paris in the Belle Epoque. Translated by Jesse Browner. New York: Paragon, 1990. Coeuroy, André. Historique de Concerts Colonne: Association Artistique des Concerts Colonne. Paris: Pailhé, 1929.

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index

Académie Nationale de Musique. See Paris Opéra Addimando, Cesare, 93–94, 95, 99, 366n6 Adler, Clarence, 142, 225 Aeolian Hall, opening of, 120 “After the Concert,” (Barrère Little Symphony concerts), 216, 223, 265 American Federation of Labor, 84, 85–6 American Federation of Musicians, 199, 218 Alary, Georges, 60 Aldrich, Richard, 108, 110, 245, 290 Alien Contract Labor Law, 84 all-American programs, 133, 134–35, 187 Allison, L. Mont, 168 Allison, Lola M., 192 Allombert, Cécile. See Barrère, Cécile Altès, Henry, 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, 22, 23, 80, 209 Amadio, John, 243, 322 Amans, John, 103, 209, 240–41, 275, 387n52 Amerena, Pasquale, 187, 209 American Museum of Natural History, 271–72 American composers, 133–34, 178, 187, 188, 223, 269. See also individual composers American music, 192, 201–2, 215, 229, 253, 262, 319 Amitiés Françaises, Les, 158

421

Andersen, Joachim, 15, 21, 209, 355n41 Anderson, Georgina, 283 Anthony, Doriot, 289 anti-Germanism, 153, 156, 157 Argentina, La, 144 Armitage, Merle, 181, 183–84 Armory Show, 147, 181 Arnaud, Anna, 108, 112, 113, 123, 144 Arrachart, Paul Arthur, 68 art nouveau, 46, 47 Association Artistique des Concerts Colonne. See Concerts Colonne Aubert, Louis, 40, 42, 248, 356n7, 358n3 auditions, 9, 32, 54, 55, 81, 296 Bach Cantata Club, 236 Bach Circle of New York, 293 Bach, Johann Sebastian Art of the Fugue, 259 Brandenburg Concerto no. 2, 228 Brandenburg Concerto no. 4, 38, 100, 126, 271, 294–5, Brandenburg Concerto no. 5, 76, 126, 204, 210, 294,309 flute sonatas, 15, 29, 54, 125, 142, 197, 198, 207, 222, 224, 228, 256, 274, 288, 289 Musical Offering, 142



Index Bach, Johann Sebastian, (continued) popularity of, 222, 236, 285, 293–94 Suite in B Minor, 69, 70, 83, 90, 95, 96, 99, 122, 129, 153, 161, 207, 210, 220, 277, 284, 285, 284, 294, 308 Baker, Julius, 285, 323 Balleron, Louis, 44, 47 Ballet Intime, Bolm, 182–84, 192–95, 201 Ballets Russes, 147, 181 Bamman, Catherine, 125–26, 133, 142, 168, 170, 180, 280 and Barrère Ensemble, 125–26, 134, 138, 156 and Barrère Little Symphony, 144–45, 151, 171, 182, 183 and Adolph Bolm, 182, 183, 192, 194–95 and Lucy Gates, 160, 169, 172 and Yvette Guilbert, 143–44 and Trio de Lutèce, 159, 170, 175 Bar Harbor, Maine, 96, 191 Baron, Samuel, 311, 322, 323, 325 Baroque revival, 4. See Bach, Johann Sebastian; early music; harpsichord revival; Rameau, Jean-Philippe Barrère-Britt Concertino, 290–91, 297, 300–1, 307 Barrère, Cecile (second wife), 149, 155, 165, 186, 198, 204, 206, 212, 214, 262, 280, 283, 285, 300, 309, 311, 312, 313 Barrère, Claude Paul (son), 95, 206, 235, 306, 313 Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments, 111, 134, 190–91, 229–30, 241, 247, 262, 265 at Berkshire Festival, 197, 294 New York concerts and repertoire, 112–13, 113–14, 116, 121, 122, 126–7, 148–9, 190–91, 221, 363n39 patrons, 111, 190–91, 369n21 personnel, 369n21, 385n106, 392n69 on radio, 280, 281 recordings, 142, 274–75 repertoire, 133–34, 197, 363n39 tours and repertoire, 119, 120–21, 123, 127, 137–38, 149–50, 159, 163, 175 Barrère, Etienne (brother), 7, 10, 16, 58, 64, 138, 363n45 Barrère family, 6–8, 10, 16–17, 139, 206–7. See also furniture business, Barrère family



Barrère, [François] Gabriel (father), 7, 10 58, 69, 363n45 Barrère, Gabriel Paul (son), 112, 206, 235, 280, 304, 312, 313 Barrère, Georges on amateurs, 204, 230–31 Americanization of, 84, 133–34, 140, 255, 258, 313, 314, 372n58 American music, advocate for, 133–34, 140, 179, 229, 319, 325 anniversary and birthday celebrations, 139, 228, 252, 255, 285 arrangements and transcriptions, 107, 141–44, 149, 160, 179, 187, 191, 207, 209, 243–44, 260, 264, 266, 285, 308 audiences, relationship with, 111, 215–16, 316, 320–21, 363n39 autobiography, 191–92, 245, 312 chamber music activities, 24, 110, 142. See also Barrère-Britt Concertino; Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments; Barrère-Salzedo-Britt; Barrère Trio; Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent; Trio de Lutèce; Trio Rameau childhood, 7–9 children, 139, 206–7. See also Barrère, Claude; Barrère, Gabriel Paul; Barrère, Jean Clement citizenship, U.S., 255, 258 colleagues and friends of, 9, 34, 127, 199, 290, 309, 311, 321–22 as competition judge, 118, 247, 289, 298, 317 composers, collaborations with, 4, 5, 30–31, 66, 125, 267, 275, 325. See also individual composers compositions, 119, 209 cadenzas to Mozart concertos, 358n4 “Chanson d’Automne,” 123 In the Vegetable Garden, 216 Nocturne, 119, 136, 189, 209, 215 Symphony Digest, 213 Travesty on a Haydn Symphony, 172 Two pieces for three flutes, 209, 253 conducting skills, 111, 257, 283. See also Barrère Little Symphony; Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra crossword puzzles, love of, 222, 228, 312, 325 death and memorials, 313–14

422

Index 170, 175, 192, 193, 207, 212–13, 221–22, 276, 298 on radio, 262, 280, 294, 300, 306 reading habits, 312, 318 recitals, 104–5, 124–25, 288, 235, 315 recordings, 125, 141, 142, 168, 270, 274–75, 289, 308–9 repertoire of, 321 schedule, 57, 123, 161, 208, 221, 298, 304–5, 309–10, 318 sense of humor, 149, 159, 201, 216, 220, 235, 250, 268, 283–84, 306–7, 310, 313, 314, 319–20 separation and divorce, 138–39, 149, 220, 235, 149 silver flute, 4, 62, 278, 325 social connections, 104, 122, 151, 235, 246, 320 as soloist, 28, 49, 69, 258–59, 290, 295–96, 299, 309, 317, 390n3 with New York Symphony, 87, 89, 90, 95, 96, 100, 122, 126, 136, 141, 163, 204, 207, 210, 212, 220, 228, 317 strokes, 309–11, 312, 313 as student, 7–11, 14–17, 19–22, 318 students, 53, 92, 102, 177, 189–90, 263, 299–300, 305, 322–23 accomplishments of, 209, 244, 273, 290, 305, 323, 383n51 concerts with, 149, 189–90, 271, 281 woodwind ensemble, 260, 264 See also individual students as teacher, 32, 177, 208, 265, 271, 298, 309–10, 322, 323 in Boston, 168–69, 177, 186–87 at Chautauqua, 197, 262 , 265 at Collège Stanislas, 32, 57 at Institute of Musical Art, 92, 244, 245, 259, 260–61, 298, 299, 310 at Juilliard, 259, 263–64, 265–66, 298, 306, 309, 312 in Paris, 32, 51–53, 57, 70 at Woodstock, 289, 306, 311 on tour, 149–50, 172, 243, 317. See also individual chamber groups and orchestras as tourist, 175, 193, 276, 301–2 as union activist, 56, 64, 69, 72, 86, 219 vacations, 118, 206, 225. See also Woodstock

English, command of, 84, 213, 294, 308, 316 as entertainer, 14, 307–8, 321 as entrepreneur, 24, 325. See also Barrère Little Symphony; finances; and individual chamber groups fame, 87, 288, 294, 317–19, 322 as fife player, 8–9 finances, 29, 55, 57–58, 68, 82–83, 98, 139, 177, 186–87, 194, 203, 259, 274, 284, 299, 304–5, 309, 310, 318 flute, advocate for, 70, 111, 142, 312, 315 flute repertoire, advocate for, 178, 316, 321, 324–25 flutes of, 47, 55, 102, 169, 214, 231, 277–78, 360n52, 383n71 food, appreciation of, 286, 291, 301, 302, 312 French nature, 104–5, 155, 213, 314, 321, 326 health, 98, 273–74, 285, 309–10, 312, 313 homes, 7, 8, 10, 58, 69, 75, 139, 215, 221, 274, 297–98, 310, 311, 363n45 honors, 69–70, 209, 273, 325 influence of, 307, 312, 316, 317, 324–26 lesson fees, 32, 57, 197, 261, 266, 273, 299 marriages, 68–69, 149, 155 as mentor, 286, 305, 323–24 military service, 34, 54, 131, 207 new music, advocate for, 212–13, 267, 275, 297, 319, 324–25 new repertoire, search for, 30–31, 118–19, 133, 319 onstage commentary, 213, 216, 223, 253, 267, 294, 308 orchestral career, 3, 317. See also individual orchestras patrons, 195, 320. See also individual patrons pedagogical works Altès études, 209 Berbiguierana, 308 Flutist’s Formulae, 285 pedagogy, 4, 245, 260, 265, 266, 311, 313, 322, 323 personality, 316, 318, 319, 320, 321, 326 philosophy, 271, 303, 307, 318, 321 platinum flute, 277–78 portraits, 225, 283 as program maker, 67, 202, 212–13, 215, 223, 252, 262, 276, 285, 318, 321, 363n39 publicity for, 75, 111, 118, 134, 159, 160–61,

423



Index Barrère, Georges (continued ) woodwind chamber music, advocate for, 30–31, 66, 134 works dedicated to, 40, 52, 329–340 works premiered by, 4, 335–50, as writer, 107, 230–31 Barrère, Hortense (daughter-in-law), 304 Barrère, Jean Clément (son), 165–66, 186, 198, 206, 276, 280, 286, 301, 303, 312, 313, 394n26 Barrère Little Symphony, 129, 143, 182, 206, 223–25, 231, 235, 241, 243, 245, 258 and Ballet Intime, 180, 183–84, 192–95 board of directors, 245 and Isadora Duncan students, 161–62 finances, 194–95, 213, 216–17, 240, 245–46, 266–67, 304 freelance engagements of, 144, 151, 191, 246, 258 New York concerts and repertoire, 148, 212–13, 215, 223–24, 232–35, 252–54, 261, 265–66, 276, 281, 284, 363n39 patrons, 212, 223, 240, 245–46, 388n11 and Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet, 151, 170, 171, 175–76 personnel, 286, 307, 323–24, 389n40 publicity for, 212–13, 252 repertoire, 243–44, 321, 363n39 tours and repertoire, 150, 164, 172, 221, 224, 243, 250, 262, 281, 286, 301–2, 304, 307 Barrère, Marie Périne Courtet (mother), 7, 16, 51 Barrère, Michelette Burani (first wife), 68, 88, 99, 113, 115, 118, 131, 138–39, 149, 206, 280, 303–4, 363n40, 373n78 Barrère model flute, 214, 383n71. See also Haynes, Wm. S., Co. Barrère, Pierre (grandfather), 7 Barrère-Salzedo-Britt, 265, 269, 270, 273, 280, 285, 286, 292–93 and composers, 265, 269, 272, 291, 292 repertoire, 273, 281, 285, 291 tours, 272, 276, 281–82, 286, 281–82, 290 Barrère Trio, 307, 310 Barthe, Adrien, 21, 22 Barthel, Alfred, 124, 322 Barzin, Leon, 214, 259, 308 Bas, Louis, 38, 171, 355n5



Bataillons scolaires, 8–9 Bathori, Jane, 42 Bauer, Harold, 110, 160, 167, 180, 191, 198, 220, 250, 253, 273, 309, 317 and Beethoven Association, 180, 297, 305 on Paris Conservatoire, 20, 22 Bauer, Marion, 251, 281, 293, 297, 306 Baxter, Harry V., 175 Beach, John Parsons, 180, 197, 220 Beebe, Carolyn, 122, 126, 176 Beethoven Association, 109, 180–81, 221, 231– 32, 258, 259, 271, 286, 288, 305–6, 317 Barrère as officer, 264–65, 297 Barrère’s apartment at, 274 Beethoven, Ludwig van Octet, 71 Serenade, 30, 109, 219, 232, 297 Behrend, Lydia Hoffman, 288 Behymer, L. E., 137, 174, 301 Bell Telephone Laboratories, 277–78 benefit concerts, 72, 73, 122, 145–46, 162, 164–65, 166–67, 175, 230, 235, 246, 250, 263, 271, 278, 285–86, 304, 307 Bennett, Robert Russell, 190, 281 Benoist, André, 110 Berckman, Evelyn, 272 Berezowsky, Nicolai, 275, 294 Berkshire Music Festivals, 178, 188, 197–99, 207, 211, 219, 294, 298 Berlioz, Hector, 56, 72, 111, 184 Damnation of Faust, 36, 69 Bernard, Emile, 25, 38, 71 Bernstein, Martin, 284 Bertram, Edmond, 54 Be Your Own Music Critic (Simon), 308 Bingham, John Parsons, 125, 127, 188, 213 Birnbaum, Bernard, 323, 360n52 Bispham, David, 134, 138, 167 Blaisdell, Frances, 244, 268, 271, 281, 286. 295, 305, 308, 310, 312, 323 Blanquart, Gaston, 50, 62, 69, 73, 223, 316, 360n38, 360n48 Bleuzet, Louis, 38, 47, 51, 118, 171, 356n6 Bloch, Suzanne, 267 blue laws, 80, 98 Boccherini, Luigi, flute concerto, 224 Bodanzky, Artur, 176, 199 Bohemians (New York Musicians’ Club), 109, 121–22, 272, 286, 314, 317

424

Index Bolles, Robert, 265 Bolm, Adolph, 130, 181, 182–83, 192, 193, 195, 201–2. See also Ballet Intime, Bolm Bonis, Mélanie. See Mel-Bonis Bonnet, Joseph, 150 Bonneville, flutes by, 47, 54, 102, 360n52 Bordeaux, 6–7 Bordes, Charles, 51, 65, 73, 107, 207 Bori, Lucrezia, 250, 285–86 Boston Flute Players Club, 190, 229 Boston Symphony, 9, 78, 79, 80, 86, 132, 136, 157–58, 176 flutists in, 80–81, 93, 166, 171, 289, 296, 376n38, 395n60 Boulanger, Nadia, 185, 217, 232, 252, 267, 291 Bourgault-Ducoudray, Louis-Albert, 17, 164 Bové, J. Henry, 103, 209 Braine, Robert, 261 Brant, Henry, 268–69 Brescia, Domenico, 197, 198, 207 Britt, Horace, 115, 126, 214, 265, 272, 273, 276, 285, 307, 313, 314 Brockway, Howard, 116, 117, 192 Brooke, Arthur, 169,189 Brun, Georges, 72 Brun, Paul, 28, 77 Bruneau, Alfred, 63, 76, 185 Burani, Marie Bunières (mother-in-law), 68 Burani, Michelette. See Barrère, Michelette Burani Burani, Paul (father-in-law), 68, 363n40 Busch, Carl, 203 Büsser, Henri, 28, 32, 126 Cabell, Hartwell, 245, 301, 388n11 cafés-concerts, 13, 46 Cahuzac, Louis, 248 Caldor, Ruth Coleman, 267 Callender, Mary R., 111, 369n21 Callimahos, Lambros Demetrios, 288, 395n62 Calvé, Emma, 18, 136–37, 145–46 Cantié, Auguste, 36, 38, 62, 69 Capdevielle, Jacques, 372n47 Caplet, André, 32, 39, 40, 116, 117, 123, 132, 161, 197, 219, 265, 123 Feuillets d’album, 60 Quintet, 60, 71, 117 Rêverie et Petite Valse, 40, 44, 59–60, 117, 136

425

and Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent, 40, 59–60 Suite persane, 66, 67, 74, 112, 116, 191 Carboni, William, 290 Carnegie Hall, 79, 308 Carpenter, John Alden, 182, 188, 192, 201–2, 203, 213, 310 Carroll, Inez, 215, 276 Cartan, Jean, 263 Cary, Mary Flagler, 242, 245–46, 252–53, 266, 388n11 Casadesus, Gaby and Robert, 278 Casadesus, Henri, 10, 23, 39, 51, 61, 150–51, 163, 166, 210 Casadesus, Robert-Guillaume, 10 Casella, Alfredo, 9, 203, 248, 249 Century Club, 264, 286 Chadeigne, Marcel, 67 Chadwick, George Whitefield, 134, 180, 233 chamber music instruction, 17, 24, 259–60, 263–64 in New York, 115–16 in Paris, 18, 26–27, 30, 77 in United States, 109, 138, 173, 188, 214 See also individual ensembles chamber orchestras, 194, 224, 325. See also Barrère Little Symphony Chamber Music Society of America, 288, 291, 294 Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens, 63–64 Chanler, Robert, 225 chansons, French, 108, 143 Chaplin, Charlie, 159, 193 charity concerts. See benefit concerts Charlton, Loudon, 94, 97, 155, 160 Charpentier, Gustave, 42, 63 Chautauqua Institution, 196, 215, 235, 262, 276–77, 283, 289, 306 Chautauqua Little Symphony, 276–77, 283 Chautauqua Summer School, 197, 262 Chautauqua Symphony, 255, 262, 263, 265, 276–77, 283, 309 Chávez, Carlos, 282 Chevalier, Maurice, 213, 258 Chicago Festival of Chamber Music, 255–57 Chicago Symphony, 79, 88, 101, 136, 201 Chrétien, Hedwige, 26 Cincinnati Symphony, 136, 218, 236



Index Civic Concert Service, 302 Civic Music Association, 272 Civic Orchestral Society (New York), 152–55 class system of instruction, 15, 91, 266 Clawson, Frank L., 290 Clément, Edmond, 70, 110, 123, 132, 166 Cocteau, Jean, 37, 46–47, 59 Coedès-Mongin, André, 44, 77 Collège Stanislas, 32, 57 Colomer, Blas-Marie, 32, 43, 44 Colonne, Edouard, 32, 33, 36, 47, 48–50, 69 Colonne orchestra, at Exposition Universelle (1900), 48–50 Colonne Orchestra (Association Artistique). See Concerts Colonne Comettant, Oscar, 25 Comité Franco-Americain de l’Art Musical, 150 Committee on Public Information, 153 Community Concerts, 265, 272, 286, 295, 301, 302 Concert National, 36 Concerts Colonne, 32–33, 35–38, 50, 57, 72, 76, 128, 249 Barrère as soloist, 69 flutists in, 32, 36, 62–63, 69, 73 tours, 62, 69 Concerts de l’Opera, 27–28, 29–30 Concerts Internationaux de la Libre Esthetique, 203 Concerts Lamoureux, 37 concours, Paris Conservatoire, 10, 19–21, 52, 110, 355n44 Barrère in, 16, 19, 21–22 Conservatoire National de Musique et de Déclamation. See Paris Conservatoire conservatories, American, 92. See also Curtis Institute, Eastman School of Music, Institute of Musical Art, Juilliard Graduate School Consolo, Ernesto, 115, 116, 124–25 Coolidge Auditorium, Library of Congress, 219, 315 Coolidge, Elizabeth Sprague, 188, 216, 258 and Barrère, 179, 207, 280, 301, 312, 318 and Barrère Little Symphony, 245–46, 252–53, 388n11 and Barrère-Salzedo-Britt, 272–73, 280, 281–82



Berkshire Festival of Chamber Music, 178, 188, 197–99, 207, 294–95 as chamber music patron, 188, 198–99, 211, 249, 250, 295 Chicago Festival of Chamber Music, 255–57 composition competitions, 214, 247, 265 and composers, 198, 247, 249, 255–57, 287–88, 298, 307, 314 European concerts, 247–50 Library of Congress Festival of Chamber Music, 211–12, 219, 220, 287–88 and performers, 256–57, 294–95 Copeau, Jacques, 162 Copland, Aaron, 217, 282, 306 Coppola, Carmine, 208, 290, 323, 382n48 Corigliano, John, 309 Cortot, Alfred, 43, 150, 152, 322 Cowell, Henry, 252, 267, 269–70, 275 Cras, Jean, 291 Cravath, Paul, 238 Crosby, Bing, 294, 300 Cuba, American orchestras in, 217, 218, 262 cultural propaganda. See propaganda, French; propaganda, German Curtis Institute, 282, 285, 384n97 Damrosch, Frank, 80, 121, 210, 261, 290 Damrosch, Leopold, 78 Damrosch Symphony, 78 Damrosch, Walter, 78–87, 101, 157, 171, 191, 197, 246, 271, 286, 303, 306 and American music, 217, 221 and Barrère, 3, 5, 81–3, 85–87, 93–94, 97, 105, 119, 136, 139, 165, 176–78, 228, 254, 264, 273, 314, 317 and French music, 96, 184, 200 as conductor, criticism of, 186, 221, 229, 237 and musicians’ union, 80, 81, 85–87, 199 and New York Philharmonic, 79, 238–40 and New York Symphony, 78, 79–87, 89, 90, 95–96, 97–101,132–33, 156–57, 217, 228, 235, 237, 238–40 on New York Symphony tours, 93, 95, 97, 98, 101, 138, 184–86 as orator, 132–33, 139, 156–57, 217 programming of, 88, 89, 221, 237 Danbé, Jules, 61

426

Index Daniels, Mabel Wheeler, 261–62, 277, 306 Debost, Michel, 316 DeBusscher, Albert, 99 Debussy, 114, 148, 164, 251 Children’s Corner, 281 Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, 4, 6, 18–19, 72–73, 90, 99, 122, 126, 154, 201, 207, 212, 236, 316, 354n29, 369n32 Syrinx, 237, 276 Del Busto, Angel, 259, 392n69 Delacroix, Auguste, 66 Delgrange, Henri, 372n47 De Lorenzo, Leonardo, 102, 281 Denecke, Julia Drumm, 281, 323 depression, effect on musicians, 250, 258, 271, 274, 285 Deslandres, Adolphe, 42, 44, 358n2 Désorme, Léon, 12 Devanchy, Patrice, 74, 77 DeVroye, A., 21 Dhérin, Gustave, 248 Diaghilev, Sergei, 147, 151, 152, 181 Diamond, David, 180, 291 Dobson, E. Aldrich, 187, 188 Dolmetsch, Arnold and Mabel, 106 Doret, Gustave, 18, 28, 354n29 Dorus, Louis, 15 Downes, Olin, 230, 233, 266, 296, 307, 308 Dreyfus Affair, 18, 35, 45 Dubensky, Arcady, 224, 232, 281 Dubois, Adolphe, 83, 84, 89 Dubois, Théodore, 36, 38, 54, 74–75, 76, 110 Ducourau, Marthe, 75 Duncan, Isadora, 46, 99–100, 161–62, 276, 317 Dyck, Vladimir, 76–77, 125, 127 Dyer, Susan, 224 early music, 53, 65, 105, 107, 108, 210–11. See also harpsichord revival. Eastman School of Music, 285, 296 Ehrhart, Jacques, 43–44, 66–67, 72, 73, 74, 358n4, 358n5 Eichheim, Henry, 198, 203, 211, 213, 271, 284 Elzon, Mischa, 290 emigrés, French, to United States, 146–47, 176, 273, 280, 316. See also “five Frenchmen” Enesco, Georges, 9, 114, 180, 259, 286

427

Engel, Carl, 211, 219–20, 247, 273–74, 326 Engles, George, 206, 215, 238 Epernon, 7–8 Erard, 25, 36 Erskine, John, 244, 260, 261, 276, 274, 284, 289 Evette et Schaeffer, 47 Exposition Universelle (1900), 44, 45–50 Vieux Paris, 46, 47–50 Expositions of Classic and Modern Chamber Music, 105, 106, 107, 142. See also Whiting, Arthur Fabrizio, John, 92, 103, 209, 387n52 Fanelli, Ernest, 118–19 fanfare, 8, 38 Farwell, Arthur, 187, 198, 262, 317 Fauré, Gabriel, 22, 76, 110, 130 Favorite Recipes of Famous Musicians (Morris), 302 Federal Music Project, 285, 286 Fenboque, Alfred, 236 Ferrari, Gustave, 28 Ferry, Jules, 7 Festival of American Music (Rochester), 233, 281 Festival of Women Composers, Chautauqua, 277 Fickenscher, Arthur, 254 Fiske, Dwight, 232 Fitzgerald, Francis, 323 “five Frenchmen,” 83, 89, 91, 199 Flagler, Harry Harkness, 110, 139, 167, 254 and Barrère Ensemble, 111, 164, 190, 369n21 and Barrère Little Symphony, 240, 246, 388n11 gifts and loans to Barrère, 98, 139, 171, 177, 186–87 and NYSO, 80, 97, 135, 165, 184, 199, 218, 238, 240, 242 Flament, Edouard, 40, 44, 45, 60 Flégier, Ange, 45 Fleury, Louis, 15, 32, 44, 75, 89, 222, 225, 237, 316 on Conservatoire education, 14, 17, 19 and Société Moderne, 71, 74, 75, 89, 115, 225, 316, 325 on Taffanel, 14, 52 works dedicated to, 71, 223, 314



Index flu epidemic, 170–71, 172, 173, 174, 175–76 flute, as solo instrument, 109, 110–11, 142, 315, 316–17, 325 flute clubs, 32, 190, 204, 380n97. See also Boston Flute Players Club; Los Angeles Flute Club; New York Flute Club flute concertos, 259, 265, 296 flute quartets, 169, 189, 204–5 flute recitals, 70, 104–5, 124, 315 flute repertoire, 15–16, 70, 110–11, 112, 178, 316, 321, 324 flute, reputation of, 110–11, 324 Flutist magazine, 192 flutist-composers, 110–11 Folies-Bergère, 12–13, 14, 16, 47, 68, 143, 300 “four-minute men,” 153 Franck, Cesar 18 Franco-American Music Society, 199–200, 203 Franco-American relations, 96, 145, 150, 170, 185–86, 319 Franco-Prussian War, 18 Freeman, Ruth, 265, 279, 305, 311 Fremstad, Olive, 108, 128–29 French music in United States, 96, 153–54, 198, 199–200 French Theatre Guild, 280 Friars Club, 148 Friends of Music, Society of, 126, 143 Frisch, Povla, 202 Fritze, Louis, 236 Fuller, Loie, 12, 13, 46–47 fundraising concerts. See benefit concerts furniture business, Barrère family, 7, 8, 10, 41, 58, 363n45 Ganaye, Jean-Baptiste, 77 Garfield, Bernard, 306 Gariboldi, Giuseppe, 209 Gartlan, George H., 218 Gates, Lucy, 159–60, 165, 169–70, 172, 174, 175, 194 Gatti-Casazza, Giulio, 147, 152 Gaubert, Philippe, 16, 47, 81, 171, 309, 363n51, 365n16 and Barrère, 16, 171, 315–16 as flutist, 28, 38, 39, 42, 43, 73, 362n10 Méthode Complète (Taffanel-Gaubert), 208 in Opéra orchestra, 81, 360n56



and Taffanel, 39, 208 works by, 59, 66, 75, 77, 297 works dedicated to, 44, 66, 223 Gay, Maria, 71–72 Gershwin, George, 12, 221, 230 Gerville-Réache, Jeanne, 128 Ghignatti, Amedeo, 236 Gibson, Archer, 116 Gillet, Fernand, 39, 61 Gillet, Georges, 25, 81, 355n4 Giorni, Aurelio, 226, 272 Gluck, Christoph, Dance of the Blessed Spirits (Orfeo), 149, 161, 204, 209, 225, 254, 276, 281, 289, 294 Godard, Benjamin, 17 Goettich, Hans, 239 gold flute, 231, 277 Goldberg, Bernard, 310, 311, 317, 323 Goldman, Richard Franko, 275, 289, 297, 300 Goldmark, Rubin, 121, 268, 273 Goossens, Eugene, 233, 255, 297 Goossens, Leon, 249 Gordon, Nathan, 283 Gottschalk, Nathan, 283–84 Gounod, Charles, 25, 122 Gouvy, Théodore, 71, 77, 122 government subventions, French, 27, 37, 56–57, 73, 76 Grainger, Percy, 126, 204, 289, 291 Granados, Enrique, 144 Grand Jany, Anatole-Léon, 16 Grandaval, Comtesse de, 44, 113 Great War. See World War I Grenier, Jean, 16, 21, 28 Griffes, Charles Tomlinson Kairn of Koridwen, 206 Poem, 176, 177–79, 191, 209, 227, 228, 255, 288 Salut au monde, 205–6 Three Tone-Pictures, 149 White Peacock, 182, 188, 192, 202, 213, 225, 265, 281, 284 Grisez, Georges, 132, 188, 207 Grovlez, Gabriel, 62, 185 Guilbert, Yvette, 4, 13, 62, 109, 126, 142, 143, 144, 205 Guilmant, Alexandre, 39, 51, 65 Guion, David, 260, 265, 276

428

Index Hadley, Henry, 188, 191, 290 Hagen, W., 66 Hahn, Reynaldo, 74, 77, 113, 232, 259, 264 Hand, Hermann, 95, 366n6 Hanson, Howard, 233, 253, 267, 281, 283 Harmati, Sandor, 265 Harnisch, Giulio, 215, 223, 224, 232, 389n40 harpsichord revival, 106, 210–11, 289. See also early music Harrisburg Mozart Festival, 246, 255 Harris, Victor, 202–3, 265, 296 Harshbarger, Dema E., 272 Hartmann, Georges, 36 Hatto, Jeanne, 72 Haynes, George W, 203–4 Haynes, Lola. See also Allison, Lola M. Haynes, William and Lola, 214 Haynes, Wm. S., Co., 101, 187, 189, 325 Barrère and, 4, 5, 168, 169, 177, 192, 214, 383n71 Barrère model, 214 gold flute, 231, 277 platinum flute, 277–78 Hecht, Elias, 138 Heifetz, Jascha, 241–42 Hennebains, Adolphe, 25, 27, 47, 68, 81, 316, 355n4, 360n56 Hennessy, Swan, 253 Henrotte, Pierre, 214, 276, 286, 289, 313 Herbert, Victor, 134 Herrera, Florentino, 374n38 Herriman, George, 201 Hess, Myra, 222, 246 Hier, Ethel Glenn, 254 Higginson, Henry Lee, 79, 83, 86, 157 High School of Music & Art (New York), 306 Hill, Edward Burlingame, 180, 298 Hill, Mabel Wood, 123–24, 125, 127, 134, 188, 223–24 Hindemith, Paul, 255–56, 287–88 Flute Sonata, 287–88, 297, 395n62 Kleine Kammermusik, 223, 225, 256 Sonatine in Canon Style, 255, 264 Hiugoli-Chisarn [Harnisch, Giulio], 215 Hofmann, Josef, 230 Holst, Gustav, 212 Hosmer, James, 281, 290, 296, 305, 323 Howe, Mary, 200, 211, 223, 225, 232–33, 253, 306, 320

429

Hüe, Georges, 65, 125, 185 Hughes, Adella Prentiss, 227, 286 Hullinger, William, 175 Hulme, Anabel, 308, 312 Huré, Jean, 74 Hutcheson, Ernest, 110, 220, 230, 244, 259, 264, 289, 310 Hüttel, Josef, 247, 249, 250, 254 Ibert, Jacques, 222, 262 Institute of Musical Art, 91–92, 196 Barrère on faculty, 82, 221, 259, 260–61, 299 curriculum, 91–2, 210 faculty, 82, 91–92, 104, 109, 221 flute students, 92, 102, 149, 177, 209, 244– 45, 271, 290, 299–300, 310, 322–3, and Juilliard Graduate School, 259, 290 recruitment of students, 93, 101–2 immigration, 84 impresarios. See managers Indianist composers, 187, 189, 214, 260. See also Dobson, E. Aldrich; Farwell, Arthur; Skilton, Charles Sanford Indy, Vincent d’, 4, 18, 47, 54, 67, 191, 199 Chanson et Danses, 43, 60, 112, 362n10 Sarabande et Menuet, 197–98 at Schola Cantorum, 51, 52, 53 Suite dans le style ancien, 27, 39 Inghelbrecht, Désiré-Emile, 28, 29, 66, 113, 200 International Composers’ Guild, 233, 236, 251, 252, 269 International Society for Contemporary Music, 248, 293 Ito, Michio, 182 Ives, Charles, 267, 270 Jacquet, Maurice, 273 Jarnach, Philipp, 222 jazz, 201 Jespersen, Holger Gilbert, 227 jeune école, 24–34 Johnson, Britton, 285 Johnson, Reber, 216 Jolivet, André, 278 Joncières, Victorien de, 21, 70 Judson, Arthur, 218, 239, 241, 290, 307 Juilliard, Augustus D., 150, 259



Index Juilliard Graduate School, 259, 264, 289–90, 304–5 Barrère on faculty, 244, 259, 306, 309 flute students, 263, 265–66, 305, 310 and Institute of Musical Art, 259, 289–90 woodwind ensemble class, 259, 263, 264, 284, 309–10 Juilliard Intermediate Series of Solo Music of Wind Instruments, 285 Juilliard School of Music, 259 flute faculty, 323;. See also Lora, Arthur Kahn, Otto, 110, 145, 147, 150, 152, 181, 190, 212, 232 and Barrère Little Symphony, 216–17, 252–53 and Civic Orchestral Society, 152, 153, 155 Kaplan, Phillip, 395n60 Kéfer, Paul, 105, 106, 124, 127–28, 142, 152–53, 159, 171, 199, 203, 214, 215, 309 Kiburz, John H. (Sr.), 209, 317, 323 Kiburz, John Jr., 281 323 Kincaid, William, 126, 129,138, 149, 167, 196, 209, 226, 273, 284–85, 322, 323, 371n19, 380n100, 384n97 Kindler, Hans, 248, 295 Kneisel, Franz, 104, 109–10, 121, 220, 369n16 Kneisel Quartet, 92m, 109, 126, 369n16 Kortschak, Hugo, 180, 211, 214, 294–95 Koshetz, Nina, 203, 236 Kouloukis, Nicholas, 103, 179, 199 Koussevitzky, Serge, 296, 305 Koutzen, Boris, 273 Kraft Music Hall, 294, 300 Kramer, A. Walter, 149, 160, 188, 285 Kreisler, Fritz, 149, 158 Krell, John, 317, 322 Kriens, Christiaan, 114–15, 116, 125,126 Kroll, William, 276 Kuhlau, Friedrich, Grand Quartet, 189, 204 Kujala, Walfrid, 317 Kunz, Gerald, 290 Labate, Bruno, 122 labor unions, French, 45, 63–64. See also Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens Lacroix, Eugène, 31, 40, 61, 67, 72, 358n18



Lafleurance, Leopold, 81, 316, 355n5, 355n6, 360n56 Lammers, Henri, 65, 70 Lamoureux Orchestra, 37, 76 Lampe, Walther, 77 Landowska, Wanda, 54, 106, 210, 211, 222 Langenus, Gustave, 122 Laskine, Lily, 248 Laurent, Georges, 171, 190, 204, 229, 252, 294, 296, 298, 322, 394n37, 396n23 Lavaud, André, 59 Lawrence, Lucile, 257, 274 Lazzari, Sylvio, 25, 26, 27, 30, 39, 122 League of Composers, 251, 257, 263, 267, 268, 275, 288, 291 Leclercq, Lucien, 74, 372n47 Leeraas, Margit, 182, 193, 202 Lefebvre, Charles, 21, 25, 26, 31, 38, 39, 71, 72, 77, 117 Lefebvre, Henri, 356n6 Legion of Honor, 184, 258, 273 Leroux, Xavier, 24, 31, 39, 40 Leroy, Henry Léon, 83, 89, 90, 95, 124, 132, 366n6 LeRoy, René, 279, 293, 322 Letellier, Léon, 171, 264, 355n4, 356n6 Letellier, Louis, 51, 171, 177, 239, 385n106, 389n40 Lewisohn, Adolph, 238 Lewisohn, Alice and Irene, 205 Lewisohn Stadium series, 309 Liberty Loan, 164–65, 318 Library of Congress, 211–12, 219–20, 247, 262, 273, 274, 287, 315. See also Coolidge, Elizabeth Sprague; Engel, Carl Liegl, Ernest, 255, 323 Lieurance, Thurlow, 190 Little Symphony, 194, 224. See also Barrère Little Symphony Loeb, James, 90 Loeffler, Charles Martin, 81, 83, 87, 133, 166, 168, 180, 198, 219, 255 Loesser, Arthur, 227, 247 Longy Club, 93, 113, 124, 207, 367n22, 370n39 Longy, Georges, 25, 38, 47, 93, 126, 188, 199, 355–56n6, 367n22

430

Index Lora, Arthur, 177, 274, 288, 290, 311, 313, 323, 378n46, 382n42 at Institute of Musical Art and Juilliard, 221, 261, 297, 299, 310, 323 Los Angeles Flute Club, 174–75, 380n97 Lot, Louis, flutes by, 47, 55, 102, 214 Love, Helen, 109 Luening, Otto, 101 Lycée Français of New York, 278 MacDowell, Edward, 133, 149, 188 Mackay, Clarence, 150, 199, 208, 218, 238, 240–41 Maduro, Charles, 261 Maganini, Quinto, 177, 204, 209, 223, 224, 232, 233, 236 Mallarmé, Stéphane, 6, 13, 19 managers, 94, 160, 206, 301, 307. See also individual managers Manet, Édouard, 6, 13 Mannes, Clara, 112, 114, 142 Mannes, David, 95, 114, 120, 139, 142, 198, 293, 306, 317 Maquarre, André, 9, 21, 93, 196, 376n38 Maquarre, Daniel, 21, 93, 103, 166, 176, 199, 376n38 Mariano, Joseph, 296, 323 Marteau, Henri, 34 Marty, Georges, 27–28, 107 Mason, Daniel Gregory, 179, 198, 229, 229–30, 237, 322 Mathieu, Pierre, 211, 239, 385n106, 389n40 Matinées Engel, 42 Maverick Concerts, 214–15, 235, 276, 289, 383n74 Maxym, Stephen, 260 McPhee, Colin, 234, 253, 267, 308–9 Medicus, Emil, 192, 208 Melba, Nellie, 129 Mel-Bonis, 71 “Mélodies de France” (WJZ radio), 262 Mengelberg, Willem, 176, 199, 238, 291 Mercredis-Danbé, 61 Mesnard, Auguste, 37, 83, 89, 90 in New York, 83, 84, 95, 124, 366n6, 382n42 in Paris, 45, 47, 49–50, 81 Messager, André, 32, 171, 185 Metropolitan Museum of Art, 124

431

Metropolitan Opera, 78, 158, 199 Mexico City, Barrère-Salzedo-Britt in, 282–83 Michot, Alys, 176 Migot, Georges, 225 Milhaud, Darius, 222, 248, 249, 281, 307 military service, French, 21, 34, 54, 131, 207. See also World War I, musicians and Miller, Dayton C., 189, 277 Miller, Mitchell, 293 Miller, Owen, 87 Million, Ernest, 32, 44, 61–62, 132, 372n47 Mills College, 282, 307 Mimart, Prosper, 25, 38, 47, 51, 356n6, 367n22 Molé, Charles, 80–81 Monteux, Pierre, 12, 13, 23, 130, 132, 322 and Colonne orchestra, 32, 33, 36–37, 38 in United States, 147, 150, 152–55, 166, 176, 199 Montmartre, 13, 14, 16, 42, 45, 143 Morales, Gustavo, 213 Moreau, Leon, 72, 77 Morey, George, 285 Morris, Dave, 97 Moskovitz, Harry, 231, 263 Mottl, Felix, 38 Moyse, Louis, 296 Moyse, Marcel, 129, 222–23, 248, 296, 316, 322, 354n29 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus Concerto for Flute and Harp, 43 Flute Concerto in D Major, 282, 286, 290, 295, 299 Flute Concerto in G Major, 73, 100, 309 flute concertos, 15 flute concertos, cadenzas for, 43, 73, 358n4 Serenades, 75, 116, 117, 121, 138, 191 Muck, Karl, 157–58 Mullenix, Carlos, 259, 392n69 Musical Courier, antipathy to Damrosch, 105 musical jokes, 122, 149, 216 Musical Mutual Protective Union, 80, 85, 199, 218 Music from Bali (McPhee), 308–9 Music Hall (Carnegie Hall), 79 music history, study of, 17 Musicians Emergency Aid, 271 Musicians Emergency Fund, 274, 285, 304 Musicians’ Foundation, 121, 258



Index musicians, social status of, 90, 97 musicians’ unions, 3, 4, 50 New York, 80, 84–85, 89, 199, 218 Paris, 56, 63–64, 69, 72, 86 Music School Settlement (New York), 192 musique de scène, 38, 355n33. See also Paris Opéra, musique de scène Narici, Louis, 66 National American Music Festival (Lockport, N.Y.), 187–88 National Orchestral Association, 259 National Symphony Orchestra (New York), 199, 237–38 National Symphony Orchestra (Washington), 295 nationalism, American, 135, 234. See also American music Nationalism, French, 4, 6, 18, 54, 146 National University of Mexico, 282–83 Nazzi, Michel, 239 Neighborhood Playhouse, 205, 206 New Haven Symphony, 295 New music groups in New York, 267–71. See also International Composers’ Guild; International Society for Contemporary Music; League of Composers; New Music Society; PanAmerican Association of Composers in Paris. See Concerts de l’Opéra; Société des Compositeurs de Musique; Société Nationale de Musique New Music, 252, 253 New Music Quarterly Recordings, 270, 279 New Music Society, 252 New Symphony Orchestra, 176, 237. See also National Symphony Orchestra (New York) New York Chamber Music Society, 102 ,129, 176, 189–90, 221 New York City Board of Education, 208 New York Flute Club, 230, 274, 312, 324 activities, 203–4, 230 Barrère as president of, 204, 230, 298 Barrère concerts at, 230, 263, 281, 286, 296–97 founding, 174, 189, 273, 380n98 New York Little Symphony, 128. See also Barrère Little Symphony



New York Musicians’ Club. See Bohemians New York Philharmonic, 78–79, 136, 199, 208, 309 flutists, 102,103, 179, 199, 209, 368n58, 387n52 merger with National Symphony, 237 merger with New York Symphony, 5, 237, 238–42 nationality of members, 97, 218 rivalry with New York Symphony,79, 208, 237, 317 See also Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York; Stadium Concerts New York Symphony Orchestra, 78, 79, 93, 135–36, 185, 208, 213, 228, 237, 242–43, 255 Barrère as principal flutist, 3, 4, 5, 6, 82–83, 171, 176–77, 180, 317 at Chautauqua, 196, 215, 262 Damrosch, Walter. See Damrosch, Walter, and New York Symphony finances, 80, 96, 135–36, 238, 242 flutists, 99, 100,129, 138, 177, 236 merger with New York Philharmonic, 5, 237, 238–42 and musicians’ union, 80, 81, 84–87, 199 nationality of members, 80, 97–98, 132–33, 156, 185, 218 New York seasons, 78, 79, 95–96, 115, 156, 177, 210, 217, 220–21, 237 patrons, 97, 135. See also Flagler, Harry Harkness personnel 80–87, 89–90, 96, 97, 120, 171, 176, 238–42 at Pittsburgh Exposition, 89, 99, 95, 97 at Ravinia, 88, 95, 96, 99 rehearsals, 132–33, 178, 222 repertoire, 90, 96, 100, 157, 228 rivalry with New York Philharmonic, 79, 208, 237, 317 tour, European, 184–86 tours, Cuban, 217, 224 tours, U.S., 93, 96, 97, 98, 99, 101, 102, 115, 118, 122, 125, 133, 138, 150, 164, 212 at Willow Grove, 88–89, 95, 96 woodwind section, 80, 83, 86, 100, 177, 186 See also Damrosch, Walter; Flagler, Harry Harkness

432

Index New York Symphony Quintette, 95, 96–97 New York Symphony Wind Instrument Club, 93–95, 105, 109, 366n6 Nielsen, Carl, flute concerto, 227 Nijinsky, Vaslav, 147 Nikisch, Arthur, 38 Niosi, Emil, 323 Nordoff, Paul, 281 Oakes, Lesley, 311 Ocean Grove Auditorium (New Jersey), 169 Oesterle, Otto, 92 Ojai Festival, 225 100% Americanism, 150, 164 Opéra, Paris. See Paris Opéra Oppenheimer, Selby C., 173 Oratorio Society of New York, 78, 79, 80, 90, 107, 286, 294 orchestra musicians American, national origins of, 80, 95–96, 97, 158, 218 attitudes of, 29, 56, 97 salaries, 48, 50, 55, 64, 83, 96, 135–36, 218–19 social status, 90, 97, 320 See also American Federation of Musicians; Chambre Syndicale des Artistes Musiciens; musicians’ unions orchestras, 3 American, 78–79, 135–36, 199, 218, 237 auditions for, 32, 54, 55, 81, 296 cooperative, 36, 78–79 German, 80 in Paris, 32, 37–38, 185 See also individual orchestras orientalism, 67, 191 Ormandy, Eugene, 291 Oukrainsky, Serge, 176 Page, Ruth, 182, 192–93 Pan American Association of Composers, 252, 267, 268–69, 270–71 Panitz, Murray, 306 Pappoutsakis, James, 395n60 Paris, 42, 47, 54, 59, 75 audiences for concerts, 26, 27, 30 Barrère’s return to, 184, 249–50, 316 chamber music in, 24, 30 concerts and cultural life, 26, 27, 146, 249

433

orchestras, 26, 27, 32, 37–38. See also individual orchestras See also Montmartre Paris Conservatoire, 4, 9, 22–23, 24, 92, 184, 265 Barrère at, 9–11, 14–17, 19–23 Barrère’s friends and colleagues from, 127, 199, 322 class instruction at, 15, 91, 266 concours, 10, 13, 19–22, 52, 110, 355n44 examinations and juries, 9,10, 16, 19, 19–22, 118 flute class, 9–10, 15–16, 24 flute faculty, 9, 14–16, See also Altès, Henry; Taffanel, Claude Paul and Schola Cantorum, 52, 54, 74 women at, 26, 71 woodwind tradition, 5, 9, 23, 81, 171, 266 Paris Opéra, 14, 21, 27, 38, 55–57, 184 Barrère as extra/substitute, 19, 22, 38, 41 Barrère as orchestra member, 54, 55, 81, 83, 317, 360n56 concerts. See Concerts de l’Opéra flutists in, 81, 360n56 musique de scène, 19, 22, 38, 355n33 orchestra, 55–56, 64, 81, 360n56 patrons, 110, 123, 195, 211, 320 for Barrère Ensemble, 190–91, 369n21 for Barrère Little Symphony, 212, 223, 245–46, 388n11 See also Cary, Mary Flagler; Coolidge, Elizabeth Sprague; Flagler, Harry Harkness; Kahn, Otto Pavley, Andreas, 176 Pavley-Oukrainsky Ballet, 151, 170, 171, 175–76 Pelton-Jones, Frances, 211 People’s Music League, 251, 280–81 People’s Symphony Club, 123, 127 People’s Symphony Concerts, 159 Pessl, Yella, 288–89, 293, 296 Petits Vents, Les, 39, 43, 66. See also Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent Petrie, John, 263, 383n51 Pfeiffer, George, 30, 44, 74 Philadelphia Orchestra, 9, 136, 158, 218, 238, 291 flutists, 129, 166, 196, 306, 376n38



Index Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York, 238–41 flutists, 239, 240–41 piano manufacturers, as concert sponsors, 25 Pierné, Gabriel, 30, 38, 66, 72, 74, 75, 76, 112, 180, 185, 225, 249, 290, 314 Pilati, Mario, 256 Piston, Walter, 252, 275, 294 Pittsburgh Exposition, 89, 95, 97, 99 platinum flute, 277–78 Pleyel, 25, 30 Poldowski, 130, 191, 202, 203 Polignac, Princess Armande de, 261 Pollain, René, 180, 196, 199, 239, 309 Possell, George, 102, 149, 177, 209, 236, 380n100, 389n40 Poulenc, Francis, Sonata, 315 Powell, Verne Q., 101 169, 187, 204 Pro Musica, 200, 252, 257. See also FrancoAmerican Music Society Prokofiev, Sergei, 182, 202, 203 propaganda, French, 143, 146–47, 150–51, 153, 158–59, 162–63, 166, 176, 199–200, 250, 280 propaganda, German, 200 Provinciali, Emilio, 66 Prunières, Henry, 248, 249, 257 Pugno, Raoul, 24, 35, 90 Putnam, Herbert, 212 Quef, Charles, 39, 358n16 Quensel, Alfred, 101, 212 Quinze, Les, 39 Rabaud, Henri, 166, 185, 232 radio, 223, 235, 262, 273, 280, 293, 300, 306. Rameau, Jean-Philippe, 53, 54, 61, 62, 107, 213, 232, 246 Rampal, Jean-Pierre, 315 Rappaport, Jerome, 216, 272, 290, 307 Rateau, René, 316 Ravel, Maurice, 122, 144, 290, 294 Ravinia Park, 88, 95, 96, 99 recitals, solo, 70, 104–5, 124, 315 recordings, solo, 125, 168, 274–75, 289, 308–9 Red Cross, benefits for, 128, 145, 166–67 Reinecke, Carl, 30, 39, 43, 72, 77, 112 Reiner, Fritz, 269, 296



Reis, Claire Raphael, 179, 251 restrictive immigration, 84–85 Réty, Emile, 19 Richards, Lewis, 210–11, 215, 222, 224, 262–63, 309, 383n56 Richart, Santiago, 385n106, 389n40 Richaud, Léon, 9 Richez, Céliny de, 70 Riegger, Wallingford, 180, 214, 247, 251–52, 268, 272 Canons for Woodwinds, 252 Divertissement, 252, 269–70, 273 Suite for Flute Alone, 251, 252, 253 Robert, A., flutes by, 47, 57 Robida, Albert, 47 Rogers, Francis, 122, 138, 273, 313–14 Roodenberg, John, 99, 366n6 Rothier, Léon, 34, 132, 176, 199, 278, 303, 317, 322 Rousseau, Marcel, 60 Roussel, Albert, 32, 51, 52, 247, 255, 290, 322 Andante et scherzo, 274 Divertissement, 125, 126–27, 198, 247, 251, 252 Joueurs de Flûte, 222, 274 Trio, 40, 52, 247–48, 248–49, 256 Rudall, Carte, platinum flutes by, 277 Ruggles, Carl, 267, 268–69 Saar, Louis Victor, 92, 148, 188 Sacré-Coeur, 69 Sagul, Edith, 310 Saint Cecilia Society, 202 Saint-Saëns, Camille, 18, 26, 28–29, 61, 71, 76, 95–96, 107, 146 salons, 62, 76, 223 Salzedo, Carlos, 115, 126, 127–28, 130, 142, 150, 167, 182, 193, 225, 273, 306 arrangements by, 123, 148, 160, 172, 188 and Barrère, 127–28, 256–57, 265, 290, 314, 322 behavior and personality, 175, 256–57, 272 at chamber music festivals, 220, 255, 294, 295 compositions, 248–49, 256–57, 275 and French musical propaganda, 158–59, 199 and new music groups, 199, 233, 267, 270 See also Barrère-Salzedo Britt; Trio de Lutèce

434

Index Samuel, Harold, 222, 246 Sang-Collins, Lillie, 104–5, 107, 286 Sanromá, Jesús María, 287, 295 Sarasate, Pablo, 35, 69, 83 Sargeant, Winthrop, 93, 97, 98, 213, 219, 239, 240, 320 Sargent, John Singer, 130 Saslavsky, Alexander, 120 Sassoli, Ada, 110 Sax, Adolphe, 38, 51 Scheck, Gustav, 287 Schelling, Ernest, 198, 247, 250, 198, 286 Schiller, Max, 62 Schindler, Kurt, 110, 128, 203 Schirmer, Rudolph, 94, 105, 111, 369n21 Schmit, Gustave, 100, 367n43 Schmitt, Florent, 32, 125, 203, 248, 264, 267 Schmitz, E. Robert, 176, 199 Schnitzer, Germaine, 265, 273, 286 Schoenbach, Sol, 260 Schoenheit, Brown, 190 Schola Cantorum, 51–53, 54, 65, 70, 107, 127, 247 and Paris Conservatoire, 52, 54, 74 schools, French primary, 7–8 Schumann-Heink, Ernestine, 96, 228, 254–55 Schvartz, Emile, 16 Scott, Cyril, 191 Seaver, Frances, 109, 116 Seidl, Anton, 78, 153 Seitz, Albert, 30, 44, 59, 67, 71, 171 Seligman family, 80, 111, 274, 369n21 Selva, Blanche, 51–52, 53–54, 65 Sharrow, Leonard, 260, 264 Sharrow, Saul, 264 Siebeneichen, Paul, 253, 263, 281, 383n51 sight reading, 20, 266 silver flute, 4, 62, 278, 325 Simon, Robert E., Jr., 308 Skilton, Charles Sanford, 187, 193, 309 East and West, 187, 193, 213 Sioux Flute Serenade, 187 Smith, David Stanley, 133, 200, 215, 255m Smith, Leonard B., 286 Société de Musique de Chambre pour Instruments à Vent, 24, 76, 77, 93, personnel, 355n4, 355–56n6

435

Société de Musique de Chambre pour instruments à Vent et Cordes, 25 Société des Compositeurs de Musique, 31–32, 44, 60, 61, 65, 71 Société des Concerts du Conservatoire, 14, 37, 62, 82, 170, 171, 172, 227 Société des Instruments Anciens, 151, 163, 210 Société des Instruments à Vent, 38, 39, 43, 48 Société des Matinées Artistiques Populaires, 61 Société Moderne d’Instruments à Vent, 25–26, 54, 67, 76, 93, 325, 358n3 and Barrère Ensemble, 95, 112 and composers, 30–31, 43–44, 45, 73 concerts and repertoire, 25–27, 30–32, 39–40, 43–45, 49, 54, 59–61, 65–67, 70–71, 73–75, 76–7, 114, 115, 125, 198, 247, 251m 264 Fleury and, 71, 74, 75, 89, 115, 225, 316, 325 personnel, 25, 40, 132, 171, 248, 356n7, 372n47 programming goals and philosophy, 30–31, 73, 215 rival groups, 25, 77 Société Nationale de Musique, 18, 26, 31, 32, 39, 61, 73, 317 Société Rameau, 62 Society for the Publication of American Music, 179–80, 192, 229, 298, 312, 317 Soirées Françaises, 176 solfège, 16, 266 Sousa Band, 383n51 Sousa, John Philip, 250 Sousa Band, Barrère students in, 209 Southern Wedding, A, 172 Sowerby, Leo, 180, 188, 197, 198 Spaeth, Sigmund, 107–8, 272 Spalding, Albert, 186, 271, 308 Spartanburg Festival, 246 Stanley, Helen, 149, 155, 160, 164 Still, William Grant, 233–34, 237, 254, 267, 281, 291 stock exchange crash, 250 Stock, Frederick, 133, 180, 201, 219, 220, 257 Stoessel, Albert, 196, 197, 216, 236, 260, 265, 289,294, 308, 310, 311 Stokowski, Leopold, 181, 233, 238, 247 Stransky, Joseph, 157, 237



Index Strauss, Richard, 114, 121 strikes, musicians’, 64, 85 Stringfield, Lamar, 189–90, 204, 380n98, 380n100 Stuart, Robert, 307–8 summer festivals, 88, 95, 255, 262, 289. See also individual festivals Swiss National Exposition, Geneva, 28, 317 Switzerland, summer tour of, 33 Sykes, Maltby, 283 Symphony Society of New York. See New York Symphony Orchestra Szymanowski, Karol, 202

concerts and repertoire, 128, 130, 143, 148, 164, 166–67, 188, 191, 236 publicity for, 159, 170 recordings, 142, 168 tours, 130, 136, 148, 150, 159, 163, 164, 172–75, 180, 191 Trompette, La, 39 Tuthill, Burnet, 124, 178, 179–80 Unemployment, among musicians, 250, 258, 271, 274, 285 Unions. See musicians’ unions University Concerts. See Expositions of Classic and Modern Chamber Music

Tabuteau, Marcel, 81, 83, 84, 89, 90, 98–99, 316, 322, 366n6, 382n42, 384n97 Taffanel, Claude Paul, 4, 11, 14, 15, 32, 45, 47, 48, 61, 164, 316 and Barrère, 14, 16, 23, 24, 68, 81, 83, 95, 208–9, 316 cadenzas to Mozart concertos, 43, 358n4 and composers, 26, 30, 45, 110, 164, 355n44 as Conservatoire flute professor, 11, 14–16 Méthode Complète (with Gaubert), 208–9, 358n4 as performer, 15, 16, 52 repertoire, 15, 22 and Société de Musique Chambre pour Instruments à Vent, 25, 76 Tcherepnin, Nicolai, 285 Temple of Music, Pittsfield, 188, 295 Tertis, Lionel, 248, 249 Tetley-Kardos, Richard, 300 Théâtre du Vieux-Colombier, 162–63 Thibaud, Jacques, 23, 30, 32, 33, 38, 39, 130, 148, 150, 164, 199 Thomas, Ambroise, 9, 11, 21, 28 Thomas, Theodore, 78, 79, 89, 93, 153 Thompson, Joyce, 311–12,, 313 Thuille, Ludwig, 112 Timm, Everett, 278 Tinlot, Gustave, 180, 199, 210, 215 Tipton, Albert, 285 Torre Alfina, R., 74 Toscanini, Arturo, 159, 166, 238, 239, 241 Trenton Symphony, 286 Trio de Lutèce, 127–28, 150

Vacchiano, William, 274 Van Amburgh, Fred, 120, 385n106, 389n40, 392n69 VanDeMark, Albert A., 187 Vanderbilt family, 79, 105, 147, 150, 166 van Leeuwen, Ary, 62, 236 Van Praag, Maurice, 239 Varèse, Edgard, 53, 146, 233–34, 236, 286, and Barrère, 161, 236, 273, 300, 322 and International Composers’ Guild, 233, 236, 269 and National/New Symphony, 176, 199, 237–38 and Pan American Association of Composers, 267, 269, 270 vibrato, 62, 289 Vidal, Paul, 28, 29, 70, 74, 185 Vinée, Anselme, 31 Vieux Paris, 46, 47–50 Villa Lobos, Heitor, 253 von Hornbostel, Prisca, 244 Wagenaar, Bernard, 272, 291–92, 298 Wagner, Ernest F. , 210, 241, 368n58, 387n52 Wagner, Eugène, 60, 67, 71, 74, 130 Wagner, Oscar, 261, 289–90, 304–5, 309, 310 Wagner, Richard, 27, 228 Wailly, Paul de, 60, 66, 72, 116, 117 Walter, Bruno, 213 Walter, David, 286, 323, 324 Warburg, Felix, 246, 388n11 Warburg, Paul, 111, 369n21 Ward-Stephens, 134 Watts, Diana, 129–30



436

Index Weatherly, Albert, 310 Weber, Joseph N., 87, 199 Wehner, Carl, 102–3, 240, 368n58 Welling, Richard, 87, 96, 98 Wharton, Edith, 130–31 White, Hervey, 128, 214, 255 Whiting, Arthur, 105–8, 112, 121, 133, 142, 198, 215 Widor, Charles-Marie, 38, 48, 49, 76, 290 Suite, 70, 163–64, 197 Wieniawska, Régine. See Poldowski Wilkins, Frederick, 265, 271, 281, 305, 312, 323 Willeke, Willem, 110, 211, 226 Williams, Ernest, camp and school, 286, 289, 297, 306 Willow Grove Park, 88–89, 95, 96 Willson, Meredith, 102, 103, 204, 209–10, 241, 323, 387n52 Wittgenstein, Milton H., 204, 281, 380n98 women in music, 26, 71, 75, 223, 224–25, 244–45. See also individual women composers, managers, patrons, and performers wooden flute, 62, 102 Woodstock, New York, 214, 225, 253, 265, 273, 274, 276, 289, 290, 299, 306, 309, 311–12, 313. See also Maverick Concerts woodwind ensembles, 30–31, 38, 124 Juilliard class, 259, 263, 264, 284, 309–10

437

repertoire, 30, 112, 113, 134, 260, 316, 322, 325 See also individual ensembles woodwind quintet, 207, 260, 325. See also Barrère Ensemble of Wind Instruments; New York Symphony Quintette woodwind style, French, 4, 62, 80–81, 89–90, 102, 105, 159, 171, 325 woodwind style, German and Viennese, 62, 80, 89–90, 102. See also Wehner, Carl Woollett, Henry, 67, 70, 75, 126 Worcester Festival, 217, 220, 290 Wren, Lorna, 281 Wummer, John, 209, 265 World War I, 4, 131, 141, 143, 145, 151, 153, 156–57, 168, 172, 205, 319 charities and fundraising, 145–46, 164–65, 166–67 musicians and, 32, 132, 133, 157–58, 219, 306, 372n47 World War II, 280, 295, 299. 306, 307, 312, 313 Wyman, Loraine, 213 Zahn, Anita, 276 Zeitlin, Sidney, 310 Zimbalist, Alma Gluck, 110, 235 Zimbalist, Efrem, 110, 198