I have to admit to a certain fascination with the early 20th century. The clothes! The changing times! All things Downton Abbey! And of course, the professional female violinists breaking new ground in their era. Irma Seydel (1896-?) was one of those young women, achieving virtuoso status and making her way as a concert soloist at least into the 1920's.

Seydel was helped along by having a father in the Boston Symphony, who started her on the violin at the age of three. She studied with the renowned violinist, composer, and teacher Charles Martin Loeffler from the age of ten, and later on made the obligatory "finishing" trip to study in Europe (though I have not discovered with whom she studied). Seydel clearly progressed rapidly, and in 1909, at the age of 13, she was soloist with the Gurzenich Orchestra in Cologne. During her career, she was to perform with the Berlin, Leipzig, and Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. In America she appeared with the New York Philharmonic, the Chicago, San Francisco, Philadelphia and Baltimore Symphonies, and multiple times with the Boston Symphony.

Seydel often performed the Saint-Saens B minor Concerto, including its premiere performance with the San Francisco Symphony in 1913. The reviewer for that concert wrote, "The youthful virtuoso has spirit, vigor and sympathy. She plays with faultless Intonation and exhibits a rare capacity for expression. She was recalled for two encores, playing Schumann's immortal 'Traumerei' exquisitely."

World War I disrupted Seydel's plans for another European tour, but she stayed active on the home front. The Musical Courier of 1918 (from which this picture was snagged) reported that she "has proved herself as great a patriot as she is an artist," spending two months that summer playing for soldiers and the wounded at various forts and a naval hospital. "Although there were no printed programs," the article continues, "Miss Seydel always played until long after 'lights out in the barracks' on some of the islands. The well-liked violinist and her accompanist, Edna Stoessel, both charming girls, were entertained and chaperoned by Y.M.C.A. men, and created much enthusiasm wherever they appeared."

Seydel also made appearances drumming up business for the Edison Musical Instrument Company. An ad in the May 12, 1918 Reading (PA) Eagle, the Metropolitan Phonograph Company announced a concert at the Rajah Theater in which Seydel, Marie Morrisey (contralto with the Metropolitan opera), and cellist Jack Glockner would "sing and play with and without the Edison, for the purpose of comparison-- see if you discern one from the other." Seydel recorded Kreisler's Liebeslied on an Edison wax cylinder, and later two 78 records (Beethoven Minuet in G and D'Ambrosia Canzonetta). Syracuse University has made an mp3 of the Kreisler recording available here. I love technology! You can hear that, like Kreisler, she uses an almost continuous vibrato. Her approach to rubato and slides are quite conservative for the time. The recording is dated as from 1924.

Seydel married in 1921, an event which seems to have been undertaken in haste. A notice in the March 26 Musical America is headlined, "Waives Five Days Clause When Musician Marries in Boston." The spouse was one William Dunbar, "a member of the theatrical profession." I don't know how long the union lasted, or whether or not it provided wedded bliss, but maybe it's not a good sign that Seydel registered a piece entitled "Dirge" for copyright a few months later. She never took his name professionally, at any rate.

In the late 1920's, Seydel served as concertmaster with the Boston Women's Symphony. She taught violin and solfeggi, possibly at the New England Conservatory, from 1920 to 1937, and is listed in a document of new Department of Music hires for Boston schools in 1946. It seems her concertizing reached at end sometime in the 1930's. 

Besides the Bijou Minuet in Volume Two and the Minuet in Volume One, I looked at two other compositions by Seydel. Valley of Dreams and A Sunset Picture were both copyright in 1927, and are significant departures from the earlier minuets. Somewhat impressionistic in character, both were more dissonant and dreamy. I remember not liking either one very much, but now I wish I could to review them again and see I what I think.

Bijou Minuet suited the need for a straightforward, entertaining piece in 1st and 3rd position. Of technical note is the bowing in the A section, which could be treated as either elementary upbow staccato/hooked bowing, or as "standing spiccato"-- upbow circle lifts that don't travel. The scalar motion in the outer sections lends itself very nicely to learning note/finger placement in 3rd position, in everyone'a favorite key of D major. The trio spices things up a bit with chromatic 16ths on many downbeats. I used the "modern" chromatic fingering rather than sliding fingers. In several spots, a shift is required from open A or E to the 3rd finger in 3rd position. Students can test their growing feel for the location of 3rd position with these "leaps of faith!" Alternations between forte and piano dynamics about every two measures provides great fodder for work on sound and bow control. For it's 48 measures, Seydel's Bijou Minuet supplies plenty of meaty technique to keep a student satisfied!

Yesterday, while cruising along the lanes of the internet, I stumbled on a website with digitized covers and selected articles from The Etude magazine (etudemagazine.com). For those of you who might not have encountered it, this was an informational and promotional magazine published by Theodore Presser Company. It is a great documentary source for prevailing attitudes towards music, teaching music, and musicians, and was published from 1887 to 1957. After searching “violin” in the articles, I was rewarded with a few early articles pertaining to women and orchestra playing. Chuckling my way through the silly, antiquated opinions on the unsuitability of women’s constitutions for the grueling work of orchestral playing, I thought about how wonderful that these ideas are behind us. Here are a few samples:

Woman’s Position in the Violin World, September. 1901

“Many stern, unyielding critics of to-day refuse to believe that a woman is capable of achieving greatness as a player of the violin. These critics, both professional and amateur, concede woman’s fitness to accomplish agreeable things as players of the king of instruments, but they are unwilling to believe that she possesses either the mental qualifications or the physical strength and endurance to enable her successfully to compete with man in the mastery of violin-technics. Time alone will decide whether these critics are right.

On the other hand, it cannot be denied that, where the higher art of violin-playing is concerned, the average gifted woman labors under certain great disadvantages which too often prove fatal, insurmountable barriers to success. How many are blessed with the physical strength which is necessary to carry them through the long hard years of musical servitude? The limit of their physical endurance is not often commensurate with the demands of their art; and just when the greatest effort is required of them—when their highest musical and instrumental possibilities are dependent upon a continuance, if not an increase, of energy and vitality—they fail to put forth the requisite strength, and stop far short of their aspirations." 

Women As Orchestral Players: An American Point Of View. - October, 1901

“It is freely admitted that women are capable and conscientious workers, and that a certain refining influence would necessarily result from their presence in an orchestral organization. But imagine women undertaking the work entailed by a New York operatic season! Imagine a refined, delicately-constituted young woman enduring the actual hardships which fall to the lot of every individual orchestral member of the Metropolitan Opera! Let any woman who imagines herself capable of performing such work as these men perform acquaint herself with what is required of the orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera House. She will be quickly disillusioned.

In a word, the orchestra is decidedly not woman’s sphere. Nor can she hope to accomplish anything by attempting to make it hers. And, wholly aside from all musical and physical considerations, which of us cares to see a charming young lady frantically struggling with a bass tuba or trombone?—George Lehmann.”

Tee hee. Chortle chortle. People were so foolish then!

After this, I continued wasting time by checking in with Facebook. First thing I saw? A post by my friend Laura Kobayashi* from BBC News entitled, Orchestras ‘still hostile to women’ (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-25881668). Huh. It seems that many of the same arguments used against women playing violin (and other instruments) in orchestras more than a century ago are now being lobbed at female conductors—even established ones like Marin Alsop. To quote: “…several prominent men queried her [Alsop’s] appointment as the first female conductor of the Last Night of the Proms last year. Bruno Mantavani, head of the Paris Conservatoire, said most women would find conducting too ‘physically demanding’. ‘Sometimes women are disheartened by the physical aspect,’ he told France Musique. ‘Conducting, flying, conducting again is quite demanding.’”

Perhaps he neglects to use a plane?

The article continues, “Russian conductor Vasily Petrenko also claimed orchestral musicians could be distracted by a female lead, saying that ‘a cute girl on a podium means that musicians think about other things’.”

And that’s the woman’s fault?

It seems astonishing to me that anyone today would think these things about women conductors, let alone say them out loud to the press. The more things change, the more they stay the same?


*Laura is a wonderful violinist. You should check out her cd of music by women composers, Feminissimo!

I have long been a fan of Mary Cohen’s pedagogical works. Like the music books of Caroline Lumsden, they make me want to grab some children to teach! If you haven’t yet seen them, let me echo the words an older colleague once said to me about another Brit: “Oh, to be young and have all of Dorothy L. Sayers ahead of you!” I promise that the prolific Ms. Cohen will provide you with marvelous discoveries for some time to come.

Mary Cohen is a British violinist who studied at Royal College of Music (piano and composition in addition to violin) and was a member of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. She also plays viola and cello, and is a passionate advocate of chamber music for students from the earliest possible moment. Ms. Cohen has been deeply involved with the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music, especially with their Music Medals program. Her books are full of humor—let me repeat that, FULL of humor-- and opportunities for creativity. She incorporates a wide variety of styles, including jazz, ragtime, 20th century compositional techniques, and many dance forms. Half-string harmonics are introduced early on, as are more “sophisticated” rhythms and bowings. Faber Music publishes her books, and her website, Mary’s Music Cupboard (http://marysmusiccupboard.epartnershub.com/Default.aspx#), offers some free materials in addition to purchased music downloads. 

You can get a good idea of the flavor of Mary’s works in this progression chart of her books:    

Cohen dispenses crucial information to students in ways they won’t forget, such as this list from the first edition of Superstart, Vol. 1:

Seven Useful Tips
(to make you one of the worst pupils in the world)

1.     Always arrive at your lesson with filthy, sticky hands and long fingernails which need cutting.

2.     Forget to put your bow/violin in your case after practicing, so you have a good chance of leaving one of them at home.

3.     Leave all the pieces you are working at on your music-stand after practicing so even if you remember your violin/bow, you will probably forget to bring your music.

4.     Lose your practice notebook the second you arrive home—so you don’t have to read it and you can aim for the world record of the pupil who has the most notebooks with only one page of writing.

5.     Never look in your practice book (if you’re being kind to trees and haven’t lost it yet) to remind you what it is that you are supposed to be working at this week.

6.     Always play pieces with as many of the mistakes you made first time round as possible, and definitely don’t try to remember what it was you worked on in your lesson which solved this week’s problems.

7.     Don’t practice until the day before your next lesson and if possible make sure you’ve left either your violin, bow or music with your teacher.

Have you any other great tips to pass on?


Like those in the "Words and Music" blog posts (January and February 2013), Ms. Cohen is another great advocate for using words to teach rhythms, particularly in the earliest levels of development. Bags of Fun, a book for the “absolute beginner,” is a collection of one-line “pieces” where the rhythm reflects the title. Students also get to play col legno, behind the bridge, and accents; do retakes; and even go up for the half-string harmonic. All four strings are used, fingers are limited to 1 and high 2, time signatures are 2/4, 3/4, and 4/4, and combinations of eighth and quarter notes contribute to the fun. Here are a few examples (apologies for the lag time after hitting record):

Energetic elephants down at the gym.

Sometimes words are used to reinforce concepts instead of rhythms, such as in “The good sound guide” on page 13 of Superstart (“If you grip you’ll make a scritchy scratchy sound,” sung to the tune of The Battle Hymn of the Republic). When low second fingers are introduced (page 40 of Superstart), the tune “All mixed up!” has these words:

Oh.. sometimes I feel happy

And.. sometimes I feel sad.

Oh.. sometime I behave so well

And.. sometimes I’m just bad.

I’m.. all mixed up (I’m a mixed up pup) but I want to be quite or-di-na-ry

So today I’ll just feel happy

And.. then we’ll all be glad (Hooray!)

Here is the D string version of the tune, which the book presents in A string and G string versions as well. The accompaniment is from the cd that comes with the book.

Egbert’s Circus Games manages to be an etude book incorporated into a story! The short studies are similar to the targeted technical work in Sally O’Reilly’s Fiddle Magic. There are several pages of excellent Teacher’s Notes at the end to clarify and elaborate on the exercises. The story is a follow-up to The Adventures of Egbert, telling what happened when (spoiler alert) he joined Mr. Bim Bam’s circus. 

Whew! That’s just some of her beginning repertoire. More to come!

Yes, love was about to find Estelle. Her new traveling partner in concerts and in life was to be the pianist and composer Moritz Lhevinne. In the book Circuit Chautauqua, author John E. Tapia reports that the Gray-Lhevinne duo was a popular circuit feature between 1913 and 1917, and featured "various combinations of piano, violin, song, and dramatic reading." A brochure from 1915 claimed that their performance would be "humorous, pathetic, thrilling and always inspirational."

Lhevinne was a pianist and a composer, who apparently focused on popular songs (more on that later). He was described thusly in their first joint brochure: "Moritz Lhevinne combines a striking, virile personality with his poetical conceptions and his dramatic insight into the very soul of music. His technique is of the brilliant and flawless surety that marks the born master. The critics are unanimous in their praise of his fluent legato runs and brilliant octave passages. He has the faculty of enthusing people who never before have enjoyed piano solos. When he went into the Chautauqua field he created a sensation." What protected young lass wouldn't fall in love with such a musical partner?

The pairing of the two was meant to be a boost to both their careers. This same brochure also stated that "With the increasing demand for the combination of well-known, successful artists, the announcement that Miss Gray and Mr. Lhevinne, the brilliant Russian pianist, will tour together is noteworthy." At this point, Mama still served as their "personal representative", but the young artists would soon take matters into their own hands.

The two wed, perhaps as early as 1915, but without doubt by 1919. They hit on a very successful formula for their concerts, called "Personality Programs." A 1920 account published in "The Crescent," the newspaper of Pacific College in Newburg, Oregon, gives a good description:

"The Gray-Lhevinne concert, given under the auspices of the Monday Music Club at Wood-Mar Hall Friday night, was very successful, for Estelle Gray, violinist, and Mischa Lhevinne, pianist, are very clever entertainers. The concert consisted of story-music which was given originally and simply, in an informal and pleasing manner. Miss Gray, or Mrs. Lhevinne in real life, possesses an unusually pleasing personality and charming stage manner. She told the story of the numbers as they were played, which helped the audience to appreciate their interpretation. 

One of the groups they gave was composed of music depicting rural life in a clever and comical way. Miss Gray also demonstrated her ability to play more classical selections, many of which were written by old French masters of composition. Mr. Lhevinne proved himself a brilliant pianist and competent accompanist. Especially pleasing was his playing of Chopin's beautiful and difficult 'Ocean Etude.' The concert was well-patronized by the people of Newburg and the surrounding towns. Many were personally introduced to the Lhevinnes after the close of their program, and many were interested in inspecting Miss Gray's priceless violin and seeing the picture of 'the only boy in the world' [presumably their son, born the previous year]."

A somewhat less sophisticated review was printed in the Red Oak Express of Red Oak, Iowa, in 1921. 

"Estelle Gray told of the Old Cremona, her own violin, which was made in 1715 and played the 'Italian Elegy' which was composed in the same year. She pointed out that it is the spirit the master breathes into the violin that makes the music and not age and time for wood and strings. Fine music from a violin, she said, comes when the owner treasures the instrument. Some of the most beautiful numbers played by the artists were 'Fantastic Appassionate' by Vieuxtemps, a French composition which won Estelle Gray her reputation in Europe; 'Zephe' by Hubay, delicate and charming; and 'Danse Macabre' by Saint-Saens. 'The Heart of my Opal,' 'My Song," and "Now It's Up To You' were interesting compositions of the artists themselves. Estelle Gray wrote the words and Lhevinne the music."

By all appearances, the Gray-Lhevinnes appeared to be deeply infatuated with each other. Their several joint compositions, published (perhaps self-published) in 1919, are shameless love songs. The lyrics of "My Song," written by Estelle, feature this last verse:

You are my own dear hills, You are my deep blue sea
I look into your eyes-- they fairly transport me.
You're to me, enchantment
You are my sun and star
God has made you-- all things, 
Perfect as you are.

The sheet music for this, and also "Now, It's Up To You," are brought to us by the wonders of the internet and UCLA's Archive of Popular American Music: (http://digital.library.ucla.edu/apam/librarianITEMID=NSO016018 
and 
http://digital.library.ucla.edu/apam/librarian?ITEMID=NSO018010).
 
The couple seems to have anticipated modern practice by hyphenating their names together, and in this case, even became a "Brangelina" item for authorship credit.  

Sadly, this love was not to last... 

When I am in need of inspiration, or perhaps procrastination, I visit a wonderful website, which has been brought to us by our tax dollars. Part of the Library of Congress’s “American Memory” site (memory.loc.gov) is something called “Traveling Culture: Circuit Chautauqua in the 20th Century.” Among other artifacts, the site houses promotional fliers from various artists and acts that traveled the country in the early part of the 20th century. A search of  “women violinists” brings up a number of items, both intriguing (Dorothy DeLay and her sister as 2/3‘s of the Stuyvesant Trio in the 1950‘s) and occasionally hilarious (see the Melody Belles). These violinists had performing careers, numerous glowing press clippings, and management of sorts, yet I’d wager few people would recognize the names (Miss DeLay aside). It seemed a shame, so I thought I’d see what I could find out about some of their lives and careers.

In an oddly linear Google search, a picture emerged of the short life of Estelle Gray, billed in her press kit as “The Violiniste of Inspiration.” Gray was born in California sometime in the early 1890’s (ancestry.com says “about 1892”). She began studying violin at the age of six, and gave a recital two years later at the Alhambra Theater in San Francisco, playing a memorized program to an audience of 1500 people.  Her press biography from the 1920’s adds, “It was at this time she was gaining inspiration from her habit of practicing in the open, among the wonderful mountains of California.”  Teddy Roosevelt said of her, “You have absorbed the message of your big West; it shows in the strength and virility of your bowing.” 

The University of the Pacific gave her “the offer of a cap and gown” at age eleven, and soon afterwards she turned down a scholarship at the University of California in order to study in New York. Gray began giving concerts in New York at age 15, including a series at the Waldorf Astoria, the Plaza, the Astor, and in Aeolian Hall. Playing her way across the U.S. at age 17, Gray ended with a recital at the University of California’s Greek Theater, which seated 8,000 (though the report neglects to say how many seats were filled). A tour of Europe followed this success. More dubious compliments came her way, such as this by Henri Marteau, Joachim’s successor at the Berlin Hochschule: “ Her bow arm is truly remarkable for its freedom and strength. She has the best bowing of any woman I have ever known."

Gray was fairly unique for her time in that her training was accomplished entirely in America, though I haven't been able to find any mention of with whom she studied. This native training was frequently pointed out in her publicity, and after her European tour, Gray was “besieged” by New York newspapers for interviews on “why American training is best for our girls.” Press blurbs included on her post-European brochure reveal interesting perceptions of and attitudes towards “girl violinistes” of the time. For example:

Nuremberg, Bavaria, The Musical Zeitung: “We were amazed to find ourselves so won by the little American artist; the very walls that for centuries have been penetrated with German music , seemed to rejoice at the fresh melodies of the girl from the other world.”

London, The Times: “The young American violiniste, Estelle Gray, is quite extraordinary; her charming winsomeness won before she played a note, and she plays with the vigor of a man.”

Ostend, Belgium. Ciro Patimo, of the Grand Opera Company, said of Miss Gray’s playing: “So feminine and graceful, yet the strength and force of a man. She is the most brilliant of artists.”

San Francisco Examiner: “Miss Gray’s tones are warm and virile. Her manner on the platform instantly enchants with its simplicity and unaffected, unconscious ease... She is equally charming in a lullaby, a gypsy dance, or the heavier work.”

New Haven, Conn. Register: “It was brilliant and thrilling and almost set the audience wild. For an encore she played a sweet lullaby that made one think of home and all the sweetest babies we ever knew.” 

Gray’s mother, Mrs. Margaret Ludgate Gray, served as Estelle’s tour manager and promoter (stage mother, anyone?). She also, likely with little prompting, participated in the programs as a “reader.” An early brochure states, “Mrs. Margaret Ludgate Gray always travels with her daughter. Mrs. Gray has studied the art of interpretation under some of the best masters. She is a character delineator of marked ability, and has won popularity from East to West. Mrs. Gray is a great favorite with audiences, with spoken songs, readings with music and character delineations. Her numbers add greatly to the interest and charm of the program.” Or else?

Mother Gray’s role as performance partner was soon to take a back seat with the advent of a new collaborative pianist-- one Mr. Moritz Lhevinne. Stay tuned for the rest of the story...

Research is cool. There, I said it. I am firmly in the class of the tortoise-shell glasses wearing, notebook and pencil carrying, geeks that you see populating research libraries. One of my favorite places in the world is the British Library. The three stories of glassed-in books in the center of the building give me chills, the exhibits are awe-inspiring (where else can you stand six inches and a pane of glass away from Mozart's thematic catalog and Paul McCartney's scribbled words for Yesterday?), and the hushed reading rooms are my idea of paradise. I treasure my reader's card. I love the snack bar. I bought the souvenir picture book. It is hopeless.

That having been said, this post seeks to explain to you the wonders and magic of research as a hobby. Come with me to visit this enchanted land...

1. It's like shopping, without the expense.

I have always considered shopping to be a blood sport, the equivalent of football in my world. It's the thrill of the hunt, the endless possibilities in the next shoe store, the occasional pilgrimage to an outlet mall... With research, the same single-minded focus needed to find just the right dress for an event can be used in searching library catalogs. The thrill of new discoveries found tangentially when you're on the trail of something is like finding the perfect pair of jeans in a rack of polyester pants at 70% off. And you can look at the books or music all day in the library for free.

2. When there are expenses, they're fun ones.

When you're serious about doing research, sometimes the only way to get to the material is by going far afield to a major library or archive. That pretty much means a big city somewhere, so if you choose your topic wisely, you can visit some fabulous places. If you're in academia like me, you might even be able to get a little grant to help with the travel costs. Yes, it may be expensive, but didn't you want to go there anyway?

3. You meet cool people.

Like librarians. Librarians are amazing people. They are, for the most part, genuinely interested in helping you, fascinated to hear about your project, well-informed, and willing to go the extra mile for you. A wonderful music librarian at the British Library once personally mailed me a photocopy of an 18th-century sonata because the box it was in couldn't be located before I left the country, and he felt bad. Remember during the Bush years when they wanted to keep tabs on the books people checked out from the library, and librarians pitched a collective fit and stopped them? Remember who stood firm when certain factions were trying to ban various books? Cool people.

4. You can do a lot of research in your jammies.

Now that we have the interwebs and all, you can lie on the couch with "Room Crashers" blaring in the background and have access to more information than could ever be imagined twenty years ago. One of my favorite search databases is WorldCat, which allows you to hunt down pieces or composers in libraries all over the world (which is very helpful in trip planning). And if you really don't want to leave home, it's truly amazing what people will publish on the web (er, case in point...) If there's an arcane interest, doubtless someone will have a website somewhere with information. If not, you could be the first.

5. Unlike practicing the violin, when you write something it will still be in the same shape tomorrow that you left it in today. 

Research is forever. Playing the violin can vary greatly from day to day. While violin is my first love, it is not a forgiving love. Research material will sit patiently in its file and be exactly as you left it when you come back three weeks later. Violin, not so much. With research, I could even go back to something I wrote over a decade ago and post it in the blog! It's nice to have something stable in life, when intonation practice becomes too daunting.  

I could (and would) go on, but by now I hope I've convinced you of merry delights of research. Far from tedious grunt-work, it is a splendid world of opportunity and excitement. Dig in and happy hunting!

Having been a horse-obsessed young girl, it astonishes me that I had never read one of the most famous “horse” books ever, My Friend Flicka—until now. Mary O’Hara, author of this trilogy and other books, is also Mary O’Hara, pianist and composer.

Ms. O’Hara (1885-1980) lived a varied life! Born into a family descended from William Penn, O’Hara grew up as a minister’s daughter in Brooklyn Heights, NY. She married a third cousin (against her father’s wishes) and moved with him to California at the start of the 20th century. They divorced, and she stayed on and worked as a screenwriter in Hollywood in the 1920’s. Marriage again uprooted her, and she moved to Wyoming with husband #2, a man who had worked with horses in the Army. This ranch and her experiences there form the not-so-well-disguised background and characters in the Wyoming trilogy of My Friend Flicka, Thunderhead, and Green Grass of Wyoming, which were written while living there in the 1940’s. Divorcing again in 1947, Ms. O’Hara moved back east and settled in Maryland for the rest of her life.

Wyoming looms large in O’Hara’s musical output. She wrote a musical called  “Oh! Wyoming! : a folk tale of the Western plains with music” in 1959; a song “Green Grass of Wyoming” in 1946 (the words of which are quoted in the novel of the same name),  and another musical, “The Catch Colt” in the 1960’s. The Sunset Dance (which is in the second volume of the anthology) was published in the 1920’s, so it seems clear that her love of nature and the wide-open spaces of the west was long a source of her musical inspiration. After finding this piece and looking into O’Hara’s background for her biography, I decided that I really needed to read her most famous books.

So recently I finished reading the trilogy. One thing that stood out to me throughout was that sunrises, sunsets, and the weather itself almost became characters themselves in the books. My Friend Flicka begins the trilogy with a sunrise: 

“High up on the long hill they called the Saddle Back, behind the ranch and the county road, the boy sat his horse, facing east, his eyes dazzled by the rising sun.
    It seemed like a personage come to visit; appearing all of a sudden over the dark bank of clouds in the east, coming up over the edge of it smiling; bowing right and left; lighting up the whole world so that everything smiled back.”

There are numerous descriptions of sunsets, usually helping to set the mood for the action. In Thunderhead, while Nell and Rob share a strained car ride, O’Hara describes a sunset:

"It was a sunset of blue and silver. The light had gone away from the earth, leaving a sea of darkness beneath a sky as blue as turquoise. The eyes, straining to discover at what far-distant point that dark earth me the jeweled light of the sky, were lost in mystery. That was not all. There was a mile-long, torpedo-shaped lake of quicksilver some distance above the horizon, it’s edges as finely turned as if blown in glass, and below it, thrusting up from behind the earth, the tops of thunderheads burning white, like great alabaster lamps lit from within… The sunset dawned, burned, died at the slow swing of a gigantic, omnipotent arm."

In the last book, Nell writes to her son Howard the “sermon” she was too sick to give him before he left for school. Several threads come together:

"…just one more word about the way LOVE bestows happiness. When you come to think of it, there is nothing that bestows happiness except love. Love is implicit in all praise, in admiration. You know how, in yourself, when you see some glorious thing, a sunset, or a beautiful face, or some of these exquisite scenes of nature that you now and then come upon, a great tide of praise, love and happiness rises in your heart until it seems that it will burst, and tears push up behind your eyes! Or perhaps it is the grandeur of a symphony. Or perhaps it is great courage or a noble, unselfish deed—and again that bursting love fills that heart."

O'Hara delves more into her feelings about music in Green Grass of Wyoming. For me, one of the most striking scenes in the whole trilogy, and some of the most beautiful writing, describes Nell’s reaction to Rob’s gift of a piano:

"She did not know he was there. Her face was rapt. She sat with one elbow on the rack, her head leaning on her hand, the other hand playing that low fifth with a deep, gentle touch, over and over.
    At last he couldn’t help asking her why she kept playing just those two notes, and why there were tears in her eyes…She explained hesitatingly, as if she were feeling her way through the thoughts. ‘I learned to do this when I was a child. By the hour. It is as if we know so small a part of life and of the universe and all that is. The world, all worlds, heaven, hell—whatever there is in the way of worlds and universes and life! How little we knew! We cannot know more. We’re not constituted to know more, and yet we can’t help wishing we could. Well, music hints at all we cannot know but just dream of. If I sit playing one chord over and over, listening with an absolutely blank mind, it does something to me. Deep down. I don’t know what, but it is a marvelous emotion. Everything falls away. And I begin to be aware of the depths of things—I don’t know what to call them. Perhaps beauty. Perhaps love. Perhaps an immensurable longing. Of the final deep and dreadful and marvelous things that would be too much for human beings to bear if they did know of them. Yes—that’s it, through these two notes, I get a message, a promise, a terrible enticement...‘"

Children's books? On some levels, yes. But in addition to the gripping stories of horses, adventure and growing up, O'Hara explores depths of feeling and relationship issues that surprised me as an adult. Reading them, The Sunset Dance became more to me than a cute tune that explores first and third position and is a really great opportunity for left hand octave frame work. It is all that, yes, but in the same way that these are much more than YA books, her awe of nature and love of music are going to stay with me when I play it.

The books explored in this segment are really the reason I chose this topic in the first place! They are some of my favorite works for children, and it is a toss-up as to which wins the award for most adorable illustrations.

The first (chronologically) is Sally O'Reilly's Fiddle Rhythms (originally String Rhythms). For anyone unacquainted with Ms. O'Reilly, her official biography reads as follows: "Sally O'Reilly is known throughout the music world as a soloist, chamber musician, and pedagogue. Professor of Violin at the University of Minnesota School of Music in Minneapolis, she studied with Ivan Galamian at Curtis Institute and with Josef Gingold at Indiana University, where she was his assistant. Later she studied with Andre Gertler and Carlo Van Neste in Brussels, where she was a Fulbright Scholar. Her chamber music coaches included Janos Starker, Gyorgy Sebok, Artur Balsam, William Primrose, and Felix Galimir." (https://music.umn.edu/people/faculty-staff/profile?UID=oreil004) 

While Ms. O'Reilly doesn't use specific lyrics throughout the book, she equates each rhythm with a mouth-watering pie filling as a clever mnemonic device. For example, "apple" (as in apple pie) represents two eighth-notes. Each rhythm has a page devoted to its exploration. First, the rhythm is used by itself to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," and next reappears in a variation of this tune called "I Like _____ Pie." Then two or three short familiar tunes which use the rhythm put the cap on the lesson.

Ms. O'Reilly's pie fillings are often ingenious. "Orange" represents a sixteenth and dotted eighth (she is from Texas-- give it two syllables!), "banana" = 16th-8th-16th, "chocolate" is an eighth-note triplet, and so on. "Mixed fruit pies" are pages with tunes that combine the rhythms, and "Lopsided pies" use asymmetrical meters. A final page has a quiz on the different rhythm types, with the opportunity to compose a little. I love this book, even though it makes me want to head for the nearest diner for coffee and pie.

Next up are two of my all-time favorite books. They make me want to run out and lasso children to teach so I can have the joy of using them. Both are by British violinist and teacher Caroline Lumsden, author of the "Musicland" series, widely used in the UK. Ms. Lumsden studied at the Guildhall School of Music, and has spent much of her career specializing in teaching children. She is the director of the Beauchamp Music Group (named after her house), which is a registered charity that has taught hundreds of young people in Britain. Ms. Lumsden imbues her teaching with a great sense of fun, which is readily apparent in these two books. 

The first, Witches' Brew, is a collection of pieces for open strings and first finger. Yawn, you say? Not with the collection of rhythms, bowings, special effects, jazzy accompaniments, and hilarious words (were you wondering when I'd get to that?) that comprise the music. Put out in 2002, the books got to ride in on the Harry Potter wave, but stand the test of time now that he's all grown up.

Each piece uses words to reinforce the rhythms, and the words  all lie in that range of grossness that delights children so. The first of the tunes, "Witches' Brew" (pictured here; I don't know who stretta music is, but I can't think that they have any copyright claim to this), has the following lyrics:

Witches' brew, witches' brew
do not drink the witches' brew
Tail of rat, eyeballs too
toes of toad and nose of shrew.

Witches' brew, witches' brew
do not drink the witches' brew
Rotten eggs, lumpy goo
nasty odor, smells like stew.

Witches' brew, witches' brew
drink drink drink


Practice suggestions at the top read: 
Whisper and sing along; Clap with time names; Clap and sing note names; Practice the final noise.

The book comes with a cd which includes both performance and accompaniment tracks for each piece. Here is "Witches' Brew":

The second volume, Wizard's Potion, continues the fun with "16 spooky pieces to play and sing." Like the first, it includes a cd, adorable illustrations, and a summary of teaching points for each piece in the piano part. This time the player's range is extended to first and second finger patterns, and chromatic alterations are common. Children are weaned away from the reliance on words to learn rhythms, with only the first five pieces including lyrics. However, the "rhythm" of the title is generally found in the first measure or two of the violin part. One of my favorites, "Melted Mouse & Roasted Rat in Choc'late Sauce," comes off as a delightfully dirty blues. Just to imagine a little cherub getting down and swinging away on this makes me start looking around for younger students again...

I am a huge fan of Ms. Lumsden, if you couldn't tell. Both books are published by Peters, and are also available in a version for cello. Word use is certainly more fun in her hands than it was a century ago!

One final note (and chance to show you another adorable illustration from Wizard's Potion): The covers and illustrations were found online and are used without permission. Ditto with the sound files, which are from the cd's that come with the book. I use them all only with the intent to introduce this wonderful material to others and to sell lots of copies for Ms. O'Reilly and Ms. Lumsden. Hopefully that will keep me out of trouble!  

Long before “Mississippi Hot Dog” became cemented in the violin vocabulary, using words as an aid to teaching music was a common technique. As I gathered material for the anthology, it was interesting to note how the types of language, and how it was used, changed over time. Here are some entirely unscientific observations from my by no means exhaustive study of the topic.

In the early 20th century, Edith Lynwood Winn (1867-1933), that tireless pedagogue with her many How to Study... books (for Kreutzer, Fiorillo, Rode, and Gavinies) used poems as prefaces to the pieces in her compositions for violin and piano. For instance, the three pieces from From the Carolina Hills included in volume one of the anthology have the following poems:

"A Picture"

My summer’s gone—where did it go?
  The land is covered o’er with snow,
  
The air is sharp upon the hill,
  My hands are cold—I feel the chill

Of wintry winds that blow.
  And yet I sit and think, and lo!

The pine within the grate doth glow,
  While down the misty, snow-clad hill, I catch a song of sweet good-will,

And though the summer’s gone I know
  ‘Twill come again.

"The Sunshine Lad"

The Sunshine Lad has a morning song,
  For all the world like a robin’s note,

Clear and true, joyous and free,
  Though the rents are many in cap and coat.

The Sunshine Lad has a basket of pine,
  The long-leaved pine of the Old North State,

The song it sings is a sunshine song,
  As it sputters and sparkles in the grate.

"Buy My Pine"

“Buy my pine! Buy my pine!
  The long-leaved pine—the emerald pine,
  The scrubby pine full of turpentine, 
  For the pine of the hills is mine—all mine.”
    
A child cried out in the early morn,
  A child all dirty and ragged and torn,
  And the pine she bore cried back in turn,
  “I am thine—all thine, let me quickly burn.”

I haven’t found any attribution for the poems, so my assumption is that they were written by Winn herself. Her use of poems in these pieces, as well as in two other collections (Five Playtime Pieces and Six Shadow Pictures), seem to be to set the mood, or perhaps inspire the mind to loftier considerations. I tried singing the words along to the music, and in every case it was a dismal failure.

Jumping ahead to the 1930’s, one of the works that gave me many laughs (but didn’t make it into the anthology) was One String Solos for Violin Beginners, by Kate La Rue Harper. Now, before you La Rue Harper fans get upset with me, there is nothing wrong with the music or the pedagogy here. This set of pieces limits each tune to one string, to better learn the notes and the feel of tone production there. The words do correspond with the rhythms, and are printed as lyrics. But what words! In my mind, I nicknamed these “Songs of Pain and Death.” If more research were to show a shift in society and education from uplifting young minds to moralizing and fear-mongering, it would be in full bloom here. For example, this solo on the A string:

"Kitty Needs a Pill"

Go and call a doctor, Kitty’s very ill.
  Ask him if he’ll hurry, Oh I hope he will!
  Kitty’s had a spill, Now she’s very ill;
  Go and call a doctor, Kitty needs a pill.

And:

"Lazy Little Bug"  (D string Solo)
    
Lazy, lazy, little bug, Lying there asleep
  Warm and snug beneath the rug, Wrapped in slumber deep.
  When your little nap is o’er, And you stretch your legs once more,
  You may find your dream was true, Someone really stepped on you!

Humans also receive their share of trouble (“Bobby cries in bitter woe/Just because he stubbed his toe”). In fairness, not every tune focuses on sickness, pain or death, but enough do that the thought of having a child memorize the words in order to learn the rhythms of the song gives me the heeby-jeebies.

The only other work by La Rue Harper that I've found listed is a one-act juvenile opera called Tomboy Jo’. Tomboy Jo’ is a poor orphan girl who is ostracized by both girls and boys for her gender-inappropriate looks and behavior. Here are the stage directions for her first entrance: “Tomboy Jo’ comes in turning cartwheels, or some other boyish trick. She has short hair and is boyish and unkempt. The boys and girls in chorus exclaim: ’O, here comes Josephine!’ They look at each other as if she were not welcome in either group.” It all comes right in the end when a tramp arrives and turns out to be her long-lost father, who has been stricken with amnesia (and her mother died of a broken heart after he wandered away). Somehow his return allows the others to accept her… I haven’t been able to find any biographical information on La Rue Harper, but I hope her life was more pleasant than all this suggests.

Next, some far happier contributions from contemporary female teachers!

Whether you are frantically searching for a new holiday piece for gigs, or calmly planning next year's festivities, the good people at Prairie Dawg Press have just the right thing for you. They have recently published (for the first time ever) Clarke's Combined Carols in both string quartet and string orchestra versions. The work's subtitle is "Get 'em all over at once," and in it she combines three popular carols contrapuntally: "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful," and "Silent Night." Originally written in 1942 for family members to play as a quartet, Clarke later added a bass part to create the string orchestra version. According to Clarke's musical executor, Christopher Johnson, the piece also became a yearly staple at the Oxford University Press holiday party. Head on over to www.prairiedawgpress.com to order your copy! 

If the name Rebecca Clarke is unknown to you, this tells me that 1) you are not a violist and 2) you have some glorious musical discoveries ahead of you. Christopher Johnson has been kind enough to supply the following biographical sketch:

"Born to a musical family in Harrow, England, in 1886, Rebecca Clarke learned the violin at an early age, and then went to the Royal Academy of Music, London, for further study.  In 1908, she was accepted as Sir 
Charles Stanford’s first female composition student, and entered the Royal College of Music.  Stanford urged her to shift over to the viola because then she would be “right in the middle of the sound, and can 
tell how it’s all done.”

Two years later, when family turmoil forced her to leave the College, she began to support herself as a violist, and soon became a much-sought-after supply player in orchestras and ensembles around London.  In 1912, Sir Henry Wood hired her to play in his Queen’s Hall Orchestra, making her one of the first women to become regular members of a professional orchestra in London.  She played chamber music with many of the greatest artists of the twentieth century, including Schnabel, Casals, Thibaud, Suggia, Rubinstein, Grainger, Hess, and Szell.

Billing herself “Rebecca Clarke, viola player and composer,” she became a fixture of recital halls in England and the United States, gave a concert of her own works at the Wigmore Hall, London, and made an 
around-the-world tour.  In 1919, she wrote one of the greatest extended works for viola: her Sonata, which tied with the Bloch Suite in an anonymous competition sponsored by the American patroness Elizabeth 
Sprague Coolidge.  The Sonata was published in 1921 and rapidly became a cornerstone of the viola literature.  Many of Clarke’s finest songs and chamber works, including her now-classic Piano Trio, were in print by 1930.

Clarke’s output was numerically small—about eighty pieces, excluding early amateur efforts—but its power, brilliance, and poetic depth were widely acknowledged, and as early as 1920 Clarke's name and compositions began to appear in British, American, and European reference-works.  As a performer, she remained a familiar presence in concert halls and recording studios, both in London and in New York, but her composing was disrupted by a painful love-affair in the 1930s, and again by World War II.  With the postwar triumph of serialism, her essentially tonal idiom began to seem "old hat," as she put it, and her published works gradually went out of print.

By the 1970s, however, with tonality making a comeback and the women’s movement stirring up new interest in female composers, Clarke was ideally positioned for a revival.  She allowed her works to be cataloged, and set about revising many of them.  By the time she died in 1979, she had had several major New York performances and had taken part in an extended radio broadcast honoring her ninetieth birthday. The following year saw the first in what became a spate of commercial recordings.  Virtually all of her mature compositions have now been either published, or recorded, or both, and many have become mainstays 
of the concert and recital repertoires."

You can find the slow movement of Clarke's violin sonata, written when she was studying with Stanford, in the fourth volume of the anthology. The sonata, as well as some other works by Clarke, has been recorded by Lorraine McAslan. The full piece will be published by Prairie Dawg Press in the near future.

Happy holidays!