Geigengeschichten...

There are not that many published stories about the origins and mystery of old violins: Albert Berr's _Geigengeschichten_ is one of them. Prof. Otterstedt at the Musikinstrumentmuseum put me onto it. It's the kind of book that makes me wish my German was better. It is full of storieslike the time Carl Flesch's Strad was stolen, or about the powers of a Tarantelgeiger who could cure spider bites by playing. The paucity of violin literature is not an accurate reflection of the degree of fascination that the topic holds. It is one aspect of classical music culture that regularly makes it into the headlines (Strads left in cabs or train stations) and was even turned into a film ("The Red Violin"). My current research topic being the "aura" of Cremonese instruments, I have been especially interested to follow the case of the fraudulent Geigenbauer Dietmar Machold. The "Madoff of the violin" has made a career swindling banks (and people) of millions of euros under the pretence of dealing in genuine Strads. He used his knowledge and skill to buy a castle and a yellow sports car. I, on the other hand, just write articles about Strads.

The Machold case gives me pause for thought. Here's a guy who took advantage of rarified knowledge -- few people in the world have the expertise to authenticate Stradivaris -- and he would have gotten away with it were it not for honest members of that small circle coming forward. Cheating the banks is one thing but he cheated countless musicians out of their life savings as well.

I'm gonna stick to writing the articles. And playing the Strads too, of course!

Gertrude Clarke Whittall

Gertrude Clarke Whittall (1867-1965): I only came across her name because the Paganini collection at the Library of Congress Music Section is named after her. Her name is all over my footnotes and references, yet I never knew who she was or even what she looked like. Recently when I was going through Boris Schwarz's books, I came across a book by William Dana Orcutt called. The Stradivari Memorial at Washington, the National Capital (NY: Da Capo Press, 1977). Opposite p. 20, who should I find but Gertrude Clarke Whittall, pictured in 1907. Who was this mysterious benefactress and what was her role in getting all those priceless Paganini materials to Washington, D.C.?

Boris Schwarz, Patricia Schwarz

Boris Schwarz was my kind of musicologist. More specifically, he was a violinist. He knew Menuhin, Flesch, and Stern. His father was Leopold Auer's pianist. Schwarz's book _Great Masters of the Violin_ (1983) remains *the* go-to book for information about the greatest violinists from Vivaldi to Perlman. When Schwarz died, shortly after the book's publication, the world lost its greatest authority on violinists and violin playing.
Recently I had the unexpected pleasure of meeting Patricia Schwarz, his widow, in midtown Manhattan. She is a lovely woman who is still active in bringing young Israeli musicians to the U.S. (among them Gil Shaham) and takes an interest in talented Chinese musicians (e.g. Jian Wang). She let me loose in her late husband's personal library. In a score of Beethoven Sonatas presented to the young Boris, I found the following inscription:

"Our greatest violinist, Joseph Joachim,
recently made the following statement:
If I do not practise one day, I notice it,
if I miss three days of practice, my friends notice it,
but if I miss eight practice days, the public notices.
Heed these words, little Boba, and you will surely achieve something worthwhile one day in
the realm of art."

[With thanks to my friend Thomas S. for help with the translation.]

The inscription is signed "Grunewald 1914" by a Julius Sennet or Seunet -- a violinist, I would guess. I'm still trying to figure out who he was while I work my way through the bibliographic minefield I found in Professor Schwarz's collection.