TALLAHASSEE

TALLAHASSEE, FLORIDA 1937-1944

I can remember vividly going to the telegraph office to wire my acceptance of Dean Opperman's offer. This procedure was new to me and I must confess I was inwardly very excited over this, my first position in the realm of higher education. It proved to be the beginning of a long career. The Summer of 1937 was devoted to preparing for our move South. I had graduated from the crutches to a cane during the month of March and by June was free of all such assistance. The doctor had done a good job and my ankle and foot were approaching normal. One of our first concerns that summer was to provide ourselves with "wheels" which we did in the form of a 1932 Ford 8 cylinder 4 door. Don't remember how much it cost, but it couldn't have been very much. Most of the Summer was spent in Toledo with my parents after which we drove to Dayton, Ohio to visit Chris' mother and father. Had we known what would happen within a few weeks, we would have hugged her mother harder. We were soon on our way on the long ride to Tallahassee, Florida. There were no interstate highways those days. The trip was without incident except for getting stuck in a mud hole on a bad road in northeastern Alabama. A farmer was obligingly handy with a team of horses to pull us out for the sum of fifteen dollars. I'm firmly convinced he kept that muddy stretch filled with water to further his "rescue" business. Farther on the way we stopped at Marion, Alabama to see Joe Cunningham, Husband of Bea Moser, Chris' best girl friend and daughter of Reverend Moser who married us. Bea had tragically died of cancer some months before and at the young age of 29. She had been teaching at Judson College in Marion, Alabama. We found Joe in the deepest sorrow to such an extent that we thought he would never accept this loss. He took us to the cemetery where he had erected a memorial to his beloved wife. Great was our surprise then when we heard several years later that he had remarried. Resuming our journey, we finally arrived at our destination and, after a couple of days, rented an apartment on the edge of the campus. It was formally the home of a former Dean of Women which had been turned into apartments. In order to afford the cost we rented a room to a new faculty member in the Demonstration School across the street. We were in the front yard and a man approached for Chris, notifying her that her mother had died of a heart attack. Such devastating news we all try to avoid as much as possible. Her mother was only 62, too young to die. Nevertheless, taking the first train to Dayton, Ohio for Chris was definitely mandated, leaving me to get settled in my new job. Somehow Chris got through the ordeal of her mother's funeral and I weathered the opening days of the Fall semester.

The faculty Trio, in which I was the new member, functioned several times providing the music for the opening faculty reception of the year and also for the opening student convocation. Welcoming Chris back from Dayton was the highlight of those first weeks as we set out to carve a niche in the social fabric of the faculty. We soon made a number of friends, including Marion and Harry Hay, she a professor of Spanish and he a former news correspondent. The 'cellist of our faculty trio, Owen Sellers, was a fellow student with Chris at the Cincinnati Conservatory. His assistance was a great help in getting acclimated to the new surrounding. He and his wife, Helen, soon became our close friends. Dean Ella Opperman who hired me was absent for the first few weeks, having had a major operation in a Birmingham, Alabama hospital. Owen Sellers and I greeted her at the railroad station as she returned to Tallahassee. It was the first time she saw me which prompted her to wonder, as she latter confided to me, what kind of a youngster she had hired. Well, youngster or no youngster we integrated into the life of a college professor in the South pretty neatly. My teaching load consisted of a class in Form and Analysis, one in first year harmony, one in chamber music, one in violin pedagogy plus the private lessons and my activity as a member of the faculty trio. One year I had a class of twenty private violin students, a pretty big load with all the rest of the teaching responsibilities. The faculty trio was quite active in giving concerts throughout the state in response to invitations from the various music clubs where we had good P.R. as in Jacksonville, Sarasota and Miami. In no time it seemed, our first year at Florida State College for Women was over. During the first year we had received sporadic letters from Chris' father, betraying a deep grief he was experiencing over the loss of his dear wife the previous September. Since I had no Summer School to teach, we headed for Dayton to pay a visit to Chris' father and check out his situation. The reality was worse than we had feared. We found him greatly run down from bad eating habits and his all-consuming grief. Chris stepped in and took charge of her father, by then a very sick man. She insisted that I go to Rochester to begin studies toward a Ph.D. at the Eastman School. Just a year previous I had vowed the M. M. degree would be my last. Yet here I was, trying my wings in pursuit of a higher degree. Some time before I had "sounded out" Dr. Hanson regarding this pursuit and he was most encouraging. Therefore, here I was, starting the big up-hill climb which turned out to be time wise, four Summers and two years. Back in Dayton early in the month of August I found that Chris' dad's condition had deteriorated alarmingly. He had lost the will to live and furthermore, the doctor had advised there was no more that could be done, since there was a cancerous condition of the liver. The condition culminated in his death at the age of 68 within several weeks of my return from Rochester. Chris' brothers, Justin and Russell and their wives were present at the funeral and then we were faced with the task of getting the house ready for renting or sale. Fortunately Justin and his wife Anne, were living in Dayton and could look after the renting. This didn't turn out so well so eventually the house was sold at the depressed price of the real estate market at the time. The month of September demanded that I be back in Tallahassee to begin the new semester and rejoin our newly made friends there. Chief among them were Bob and Jan Miller and Christian Heinlein and his wife, Julia. Jan and Bob Miller had their first child, little Rob, during this time. I was honored to be the godfather at the christening ceremony held at the Episcopal church. Julia Gehan was also one of our friends. She ran the Episcopal student house and sponsored many of the cultural discussions connected with the campus live. Christian Heinlein, professor of Psychology, became increasingly alarmed at the Hitlerian events in Europe and his perceived gradual involvement of the United States. Many lengthy social discussions were held, one in the vacation cabin on the banks of the Waukula river a few miles sough of Tallahassee and owned by Freddie Gehan, brother of the aforesaid Julia Gehan. Another time we rowed out to the middle of this river and swan around for a short time, always keeping a sharp eye on any alligators that might show up. This swamp-like terrain reminds me of a trip we took one Armistice Day to the Okefenokee Swamp in South Georgia which was organized by the physical education head at the college. Leaving very early in the morning, we arrived in time to ride a considerable distance on a large row boat with an outboard motor and have lunch on a small island. The guide made a camp fire and baked some hushpuppies. This was the first time I had ever tasted this southern bread made with cornmeal. The meal consisted of hushpuppies and fried fish. The cold air made us hungry enough to enjoy it thoroughly. The weather that particular day was particularly raw and sitting in a boat much of the day was not conducive to bodily comfort. Home felt particularly good that night.

After a two year residency in our first apartment, we moved to another house on Pensacola Street, the other side of side of the campus, but this time without our roomer, Hope Harrin. At this time we were fortunate in securing the services of a black woman to cook the evening meal with a little housekeeping as well, she worked at the Episcopal student house in the mornings and came to us after the noon lunch. Her name was Canady Stevens, married and had several children. She was a jewel of a person and worker. Through her we gained some insight regarding blacks and were grateful for her help. Our friend, Harry Hay, had established a travel agency and one day in May of 1939 we dropped in the pay him a friendly visit only to come out with two round trip tickets on the North German Lloyd boat the "Europa." This was ample evidence of Harry's persuasive "sales pitch." we had been wary of European travel that Summer because of the war scare, so much so that people were boycotting the German ships. Hence the only available space at this late date was aboard German vessels. The die was cast and my wife and I were off on our second European sojourn.

We debarked in France and visited our friends, Andre Pech and his wife Paulette. One of the big reasons for the trip was as godfather to Andre and Paulette's new baby girl, Francoise. The designation was more symbolic than everything else, but none the less a sentimental attachment. From Paris we traveled to Toule where we had a last visit with Mme Simon, my erstwhile 3 rue Bertholet landlady. She plied us with champagne in celebration of this very personal event which resulted in our feeling rather high when departure time arrived. Next we headed for Strassbourg where we hoped to obtain a visa to enter Germany, only to be told we would have to get it in Kehl, the German town directly across the Rhine river from Strassbourg. In New York we were told we could get it in Paris and in Paris the suggestion was, "Try Strassbourg." Now we were at the end of our rope. We didn't know what to do. Finally, we decided to cross over the bridge connecting the two cities and beard the lion in his den, the Nazi lion that is. Accordingly we took a street car to the bridge where we got off and started across on foot, carrying our not-too-light suitcases. The German official at the other end exclaimed, "Aber Sie haben Kein Visum" (But you have no visa). Luckily my German was good enough to explain our dilemma. The day was a Saturday and the time was fifteen minutes before noon, the quitting time for a long week end ahead. The official solved the problem by suggesting that we walk to the customs office on Adolph Hitler street. But hurry said he, "that office closes at noon." Would that we had a candid movie shot of Christine and Karl flying up the street, suit cases and all. We made it just in the nick of time for when we arrived inside they closed the doors. The saga of the long-sought visas ended and we found ourselves in a sense, free agents. At least Nazi Germany didn't object to our entering their tightly controlled country. Now that we had our freedom, where should we go? To answer that we boarded the first train out of town, hoping we could come up with some sort of answer by trusting to chance. On the train we became acquainted with a German couple on their vacation and headed for the nearby Black Forest section, famous as resort territory where they had reservation. They suggested that we go there with them. Luckily there was a room available where we ensconced ourselves for the next few days, enjoying walks in the forest and socializing with new found friends. Our next objective was to travel to Munich where we thought to spend a number of weeks at nearby Starnberger See. There I hoped I might find an appropriate place to do some composing. However, the war scare became more intense and I couldn't think of putting notes on the page especially after Chris engaged in conversation with a German worker who was throwing sticks out into the lake for his dog to swim out and retrieve. He mentioned that, as a reservist, he had orders to go to the Polish border in a few weeks. We put two and two together and came to the logical conclusion that we should be thinking of leaving and making tracks for home. Consequently I took the train into Munich to the North German Lloyd office to change our boat departure to an earlier date. Several days later, we both went to the American Consulate in Munich to ask his opinion regarding the war rumors. In a rather debonair manner he said "Pick any date you wish and someone in the know will have predicted that date for the outbreak of hostilities." That was enough for us and goaded me on to make another visit to the North German Lloyd office, saying to them, "Ich weiss Sie Werden mich verruckt denken" (I know you will think I'm crazy, but I want to change our return passage to a still earlier sailing). They gave us a sailing on the "Europa" for August 12th. Then we went back to Paris for a last visit with Andre and his wife. We had a farewell party at their home during which we tried on gas masks, a reminder that the French took the Nazi upsurge seriously. I remember them accompanying us to the "metro" station down the middle of the street at a late hour and singing lustily. Another reason for our trip to Europe that Summer was to try out a Lupot violin from the collection of Emil Francais, the violin dealer. The instrument was not immediately available as a Paris Conservatory student was playing it on her final jury exam. We could make arrangements to hear her play so we could evaluate the sound of this violin. Unfortunately I wasn't too impressed with the sound and decided not to pay the $900 he wanted for the instrument. Now I wish I had bought it because it would have been a good investment. Instead, I used the money I received from an aunt and uncle for some property I owned to buy our 1940 Hudson sedan for $940. The return trip on the "Europa" was uneventful except for the tension relative to the strained political situation. Whispered gossip spread the rumor that the ship could be recalled to a German port any time half way to the United States. You can imagine with what expectation we awaited that half. When it arrived without incident, the tension broke and one could sense the change to a great spirit of relief and optimism. Back in New York we found a room and "holed up" just waiting for the outbreak of hostilities we knew were just around the corner. that Sunday morning in early September I remember the newsboys shouting "Extra, Extra, Germany invades Poland." The next step for us was to get back to Tallahassee in time for the opening faculty meeting of the new academic year. We hadn't notified anyone there of our early return from Europe so all thought we were marooned there by the outbreak of was. When I attended the meeting, the reaction was akin to one seeing a ghost. Ghost or no ghost, I was ready to begin my third year of teaching at Florida State College for Women. Tallahassee had the women of the state and the University of Florida at Gainesville had the men. Coeducation at these schools didn't start until some years later, around 1945.

The war in Europe was beginning to be noticed in our part of the country what with Dale Mabry field becoming an important training ground for fledgling flyers. Then too the civilians had to make their gas ration stamps last as long as possible. At the college, life continued as usual. The theater department had to depend on faculty men to complete its performances. In the Fall of 1941 I was prevailed upon to take the part of Ed in the play, "You can't take it with you." I found out that theater folk rehearse at all times, Sundays included. I remember distinctly one Sunday rehearsal December 7th 1941 when, during a break, news come over the radio that Pearl Harbor had been bombed by Japanese war planes. Now we were in the war for good!

The year 1940 was notable for the fact that we succeeded in buying a new car, a 1940 Hudson sedan which we used in the Summers of 1940, 41 and 42 to drive to Rochester for the Summer sessions and farther East to attend some of the Tanglewood Boston Symphony concerts and also to prowl around New York City. In the Summer of 1941, we were at Tanglewood and witnessed the clash of personalities between Thor Johnson, the then student conductor and Kousevitsky, the maestro. This was a kind of orchestral reading exam with the Tanglewood student orchestra recruited from the most talented players nationwide. Kousevitsky would stop Johnson frequently and make rather severe criticisms. Finally Johnson completely unnerved, put down his baton and, turning to Kousevitsky said, "Mr. Kousevitsky, I'm doing the best I can. I cannot do more then that." Then he turned and walked off the stage. We didn't know for sure how it all turned out, but a number of years later Johnson was appointed conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. The other young man performing that day was Leonard Bernstein, conducting with his wide, sweeping beats the Tschaikowsky, "Romeo and Juliet" overture to the satisfaction of maestro Kousevitsky. During that time the Boston Symphony orchestra gave a "Bundles for Britain" benefit concert and we were privileged to attend a rehearsal for it. Kousevitsky was rehearsing strenuously the Elgar "Pomp and Circumstance" as if no one had ever heard it before. At one point, he addressed the trumpet section saying, "In this part I vant all vot you got" and then in an aside, "and all vot you haven't got." Later, through the good officer of a 'cellist in the orchestra whom we knew, we visited the private swimming place of orchestra members and the Tanglewood staff where we saw the world renowned composer, Paul Hindemith in his swim suit. We were also able to audit one of his composition classes, a most interesting experience.

While at Tanglewood we found lodging in one of the small towns nearby, a small primitive cottage in a field back of one of the houses. This field became the scene of a string quartet session we had with the Johnsons, a very talented man and wife we met, he, a violist and she, an extra fine 'cellist. While we were playing, the cows in the field became curious enough to come close to examine the sounds ticking their ears. The 'cellist was the former Margaret Aue, a student at Julliard during the years Chris was there. When we visited New York we usually got a room at the Laurelton Hotel on 55th Street, just around the corner from the Wellington hotel where many concert artists stayed.

Back in Tallahassee, the war years rolled by inexorably. Chris found a niche for herself in augmenting the personnel of the faculty trio by one to be able to include in our concerts valuable piano quartet literature with her as violist. She also got interested in art and started taking a few art courses at the College. This interest blossomed in later years into a full fledged major career. This was a natural development because of the arrival on campus of a couple who became our fast friends. They were Gulnar and Gerry Bosch, he a painter and she, an art historian. Gulnar had come to teach the art section of a comparative arts curriculum and Gerry devoted his energies to painting per se. Gullnar was the type who could and would galvanize any community to become art conscious and Tallahassee was no exception. They rented a rustic log house on the Parker plantation on the outskirts of Tallahassee. It was in the midst of a beautiful wooded section and one of the first moves the Bosches made was to organize a sketch group consisting of professionals down to raw beginners like me. The models were girls from the modern dance class of Nelli Bond Dickenson. The group met every Saturday afternoon outdoors which sessions were looked forward to with the greatest anticipation by all. The only rule which guided the group was that there should be no observers. Everyone had to sketch. as the years progressed several soldiers from nearby camps joined the group, among them several who later became professional artists like Stefanelli and Ohrvel Carlson. All in all, this activity proved to be one of the highlights of our Tallahassee experience. Another highlight was the opportunity to meet the artists on the college Concert Series. Among them was the famous violin virtuoso, Josef Szigeti with whom we became rather well acquainted. Later, in the Summer of 1939 when we were in Paris, he invited us to dinner, meeting us at his walkup apartment and then taking us to a charming little well patronized bistro for a memorable time together. Afterward, as we passed the Place de la Concorde in a taxi in a brilliant sunset, he remarked, "I wonder if we shall ever see another sunset as beautiful as this." He too knew that war was to raise its ugly head in the near future.

Mention should be made here of our becoming acquainted with a most interesting couple, Gurney and Lucile Kennedy. Gurney was employed in the state auditor's office in Tallahassee, Florida, and felt disappointed with his lot in life, preferring to be in the music profession. His wife, Lucile, was a sensitive poet and Gurney made musical settings of some of her poems which he brought to me for criticism. These I found extremely well done, exemplifying a very good talent worthy of encouraging. This I did with a result that he changed his life style to a new profession, music. He started with Summer sessions at Eastman and eventually prepared himself for a career in music theory, teaching music theory at the University of Alabama. Later years found him teaching music theory at Jacksonville University in Florida where he remained until his retirement. His intellectual capacity was outstanding.

The school year 1943-44 saw the departure of our friends Gulnar and Gerry Basch, she to take time out and work on a doctorate in Islamic art at the University of Chicago and he, to continue with his painting. The opportunity presented itself to rent their delightful hog house on the Parker plantation. We made the move and continued the sketch club as a natural follow-up of our occupancy. However, with the Baschs out of the picture, it was no longer the same. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our new environment immensely and became well acquainted with Mr. Parker who was a staunch republican and who's pet peeve was that awful Roosevelt. "Big Britches" he called him.

I must record a tragic incident which occurred in the early days of the war before Pearl Harbor and touched all the many friends of Harry and Marian Hay. Harry felt called to do something for the war effort in Britain and joined the British Air Force via the Canadian Air Force training opportunity. His many friends saw him off at the bus station to join the group. After a period of flight training he was sent to England in an ocean transport. However, before the expected arrival, his boat was torpedoed by a German submarine and tragically, our dear friend, Harry, perished at sea. Chris and I played at the memorial service held at the Episcopal church.

The was years were busy ones and we had visits from service men stationed in nearby areas. In addition to those in the sketch club we got to know Leonard Meyer, a New York musician. Our friend from Cincinnati days told him to look us up. He did, and was the impetus for a number of intellectual musical discussions with selected friends at our house. Both Leonard Meyer and Joe Marx had been students of Stefan Volpe in New York whose pedagogical abilities were greatly praised by them. When Leonard was on leave week ends, he would stay with us. One Saturday night we came home to find him in our spare bedroom, reading and relaxing after a hot bath, which must have felt like heaven after a week of army commando training. Another time we ate at the "Three Torches" a tearoom frequented by college faculty and introduced him to two student waitresses. Later at home he decided to call up one of them for a date, but couldn't decide on which one. Finally he made up his mind to ask the first of the two who answered only to find out that she was busy that night but, she said, "I believe my roommate is free, I'll let you talk to her." Accordingly, a date was made which resulted in keeping in touch by letters throughout the war years. After the war, he renewed the dating and one day we received a telegram from Lennie stating, "You started this, now we're finishing it. Getting married to-morrow. Later they sent us a present of fine Degas print which hangs in our home as proof of the event.

Subsequently, they settled in Chicago were he became a member of the University of Chicago music faculty and authored a book which was published in paper back "Emotion and Meaning in Music," a subject of his great interest and ability. During those war years we often ate a the "Three Torches." One of the frequent customers was the head of the local draft board. I always felt he was looking me over as a good possibility for the draft. It gave me that peculiar guilty feeling which was greatly relieved when the news came out that the armed forces were not interested in men over thirty-eight. (I was one of the favored few who were to young for the first world was and too old for World War II.) Having just passed my thirty-ninth birthday, I felt free to make plans for a final onslaught on the doctorate at Eastman. Dean Opperman had kindly granted me a leave of one year. We were loath to leave the log cottage on the Parker plantation and the many good friends we had made during our seven year stay in Tallahassee. We packed all our belongings in our sturdy Hudson and drove off very early in the morning of June 6th, l944, stopping for breakfast at the main hotel in Albany, Georgina. While we were eating, word came over the radio, announcing the D day invasion in France. We continued on to Cincinnati where we had an interesting "aufenhalt" (stayover) for several months before making the remainder of the trip to Rochester, N.Y. Being still a member of the Cincinnati Musicians Union, I enquired regarding the possibility of any playing engagements and found out through our friend, Sigmund Effron, the concertmaster of the Cincinnati Symphony, that there was a job at the Netherland Plaza dining room as a "Stehgeiger" (stand-up violinist) leading a small symphonic ensemble which he couldn't take because of his obligation to be concertmaster of the Zoo opera orchestra for the Summer. That was a playing job I literally fell in to, the money from which would help materially with the coming Rochester expenses. We were both given graduate assistantships, a most important factor in my goal of the Ph.D. degree. A place to live was found upon inquiry at the University of Cincinnati where we were introduced to a professor of women's physical education who wanted to rent her home for the Summer. It was a delightful house in the Clifton area of the City. One of the stipulations of the agreement was to take care of her dog, an adorable black cocker spaniel. There was a fine grand piano in the living room, an inspiration for me to utilize it to complete a composition for accompanied women's chorus I was interested in writing to enter in a competition by the Philadelphia Arts Alliance. I chose the words of the 67th Psalm and submitted the score in time for the deadline at the end of the Summer.