<h2>VIII</h2>
<h3>WITH PADEREWSKI—A MODERN PIANIST ON TOUR</h3></div>
<p>Liszt never was in this country, but we can gain
some idea of the success that would have been
his from the triumphs of Ignace Paderewski.
Other famous pianists have come to this country—Thalberg
in 1856; Rubinstein in 1872; Von B�low,
Joseffy, who took up his residence here; Rosenthal,
Josef Hofmann. But Paderewski’s success has been
greater than any of these. Americans are said to be
fickle; but although Paderewski no longer is a novelty,
his name still is the one with which to fill a concert
hall from floor to roof.</p>
<p>Why this is so is no secret. Hear him and you will
understand the reason. To a technique which does not
hesitate at anything and an industry that flinches at
nothing—no one practices more assiduously than he—he
adds the soul of a poet and the strength of an athlete.
He looks slender and poetical enough as he sits
at the piano on the concert stage; but if you watch
him from near by you will be able to note the great
physical power which he can bring into play when necessary—<em>and
which he never brings into play unless it
is necessary</em>. Therefore he combines poetry with force;
and back of both is thought—intellectual capacity.</p>
<p>In a frame on the wall of a New York trust company
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_156' name='page_156'></SPAN>156</span>
is a check for $171,981.89. It represents the net receipts
of one virtuoso for one concert tour, and is believed
to be the largest actual amount ever earned in
this country by an artist, whether singer or player, in
a single season. This check is drawn to the order of
Ignace J. Paderewski.</p>
<p>An opinion regarding the piano by a man who by
playing it can earn so large a sum, and earn it because
he is the greatest living exponent of pianoforte playing,
would seem worth having. Paderewski believes
that, save in one respect, the pianoforte has reached
perfection and is incapable of further improvement. He
does not think that anything more should be done
to add to its volume of tone. If anything, he considers
this too great and the instrument too loud already. Instead
of more power, rather less would be satisfactory.
Wherein, however, he considers the instrument still
lacking, notwithstanding its wonderful development
during the last century, is in its capacity for sustained
tone—for holding a long-drawn-out tone with the facility
of the violin, for example. He is convinced, however,
that the means of imparting this capacity for sustaining
tone to the pianoforte will be discovered in due
time and that the invention probably will be made in
this country. That increased tone-sustaining power
for the instrument is a great desideratum doubtless is
the opinion of many experts; but that the greatest master
of the pianoforte considers it perfect in other respects
is highly interesting and significant. After all,
it remains the greatest of all solo instruments, because,
within the smallest compass and with the simplest
means of control, it has the range of an orchestra. For
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_157' name='page_157'></SPAN>157</span>
this reason it is the most popular of instruments and,
in its manufacture, extends from the polished dry-goods
box with internal organs of iron, wire and felt
and with a glistening row of celluloid teeth ready to
bite as soon as ever the lid is raised, to the highest-class
concert grand.</p>
<h4>The “Piano Doctor.”</h4>
<p>We who have our pianofortes in our own homes and
are content with an occasional visit from the tuner, little
dream of the care bestowed upon the instrument on
which an artist like Paderewski plays. Instrument? I
should have said instruments; for, when he is on tour,
he has a whole suite of them, no less than four, and
each is coddled as if it were a prima donna fresh from
the hands of Madame Marchesi, instead of a thing of
wood, metal and ivory. True, these pianos do not
have their throats sprayed on the slightest possible occasion,
but they are carefully protected against extremes
of heat and cold, and, while the prima donna consults
her physician only at intervals, a “piano doctor” is in
constant attendance on these instruments.</p>
<p>Paderewski’s “piano doctor” has traveled with him
for several seasons, occupying the same private car and
practically living with him during the entire tour.
He was with him on the tour, in fact at his table at
breakfast with him, when his special train was run
on to an open siding near East Syracuse and left the
track, Paderewski being thrown forward on his hands
against the table and straining the muscles of one arm
so severely that he was obliged to cancel his remaining
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_158' name='page_158'></SPAN>158</span>
engagements. Up to that time, however, his net
receipts from seventy-four concerts had been
$137,012.50, while before this American tour began
he gave thirty-six concerts in Australia with average
receipts of $5,000. His record concert was at Dallas,
Texas, some years ago, when the receipts were $9,000.
It occurred during a Confederate reunion. While he
was at the pianoforte, the various posts marched up to
the hall with bands and fife-and-drum corps playing.
Paderewski, however, kept right on through the blasts
and shrilling. But when one of the posts let out the
famous “rebel yell,” the pianist leaped from his seat
as if he expected a tiger to spring at his throat. Then
he realized what had happened, smiled and continued
amid laughter and applause. He had heard of the
famous “rebel yell,” but this was the first time he had
heard it.</p>
<h4>Pianofortes on Their Travels.</h4>
<p>But to return to the pianofortes on tour. When
Paderewski came to this country from Australia, his
piano doctor met him at San Francisco with four instruments
which had been selected with great care in
New York and been shipped West in charge of the
“doctor.” One of these the virtuoso reserved for his
private car, for he practices en route whenever there is
a stop long enough to make it worth while. He rarely
plays when the car is in motion. Of the other three
instruments, the two he liked best were sent to his
hotel, where during four days preceding his first concert,
he practiced from seven to eight hours a day,
notifying the “doctor” twenty-four hours in advance
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_159' name='page_159'></SPAN>159</span>
which pianoforte he would use. This instrument became,
officially, No. 1; the others No. 2 and No. 3.</p>
<p>The pianist’s route took him from San Francisco to
Oakland, San Jos�, and Portland, Oregon. To make
certain that he always will have a fine instrument to
play on, a method of shipping ahead the instruments
not in use is adopted. Thus, while he was playing on
No. 1 in San Francisco and Oakland, No. 2 was sent
on to San Jos� and No. 3 to Portland. Of course,
none but an expert could detect the slightest difference
in these pianofortes, but a player like Paderewski is
sensitive to the most delicately balanced distinctions or
nuances in tone and action. One of his idiosyncrasies
is that always before going on he asks the “doctor”
which of the three instruments is on the stage, because,
as he himself expresses it, “I don’t want to meet a
stranger.” After each concert, at supper, this conversation
invariably takes place:</p>
<p>Paderewski: “Well, ‘Doctor,’ it sounded all right
to-night, didn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Doctor”: “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>Paderewski: “Well, then, please pass me the bread.”</p>
<p>There never has been occasion to record what would
happen if the “doctor” were to say, “No, sir.” For
he always has been able to answer in the affirmative,
with the most scrupulous regard for veracity.</p>
<p>Paderewski is as careful to play his best in the least
important place in which he gives a concert as he is in
New York. This high sense of duty toward his public
accounts in part for his supremacy among pianists
Paderewski is not a mere virtuoso. He is a man of fine
intellectual gifts who plays the piano like a poet. Paul
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_160' name='page_160'></SPAN>160</span>
Potter, the playwright, who lives in Geneva, Switzerland,
and occasionally has dined there with Paderewski,
tells me that he has conversed with the pianist
on almost every conceivable subject <em>except music</em>
and always found him remarkably well informed.
His knowledge of the history of his native land, Poland,
and of its literature is said to be quite wonderful.
Chopin, also a Pole, he idolizes and regards
as far and away the greatest composer for the piano.
To the fund for the Chopin memorial at Warsaw he
contributes by charging one dollar for his autograph,
and two dollars for his signature and a few bars of
music. From the money received as the proceeds of
one season’s autographs he was able to remit about
$1,300 to the fund.</p>
<p>When the amusing little dialogue at the supper table,
which I have recorded, takes place, the pianoforte
which the virtuoso has used at his concert already will
be on the way to its next destination. For it is part of
the “doctor’s” duty to see it safely out of the hall and
onto the train before rejoining the party on the private
car. The instrument is not boxed. The legs are removed
and then a carefully fitted canvas is drawn over
the body and held in place by straps. The body is slid
out of the hall and slowly let down onto a specially constructed
eight-wheel skid, swung low, so as to be as
nearly as possible on a level with the platform. This
skid is part of the outfit of the tour. The record time
for detaching the legs of the pianoforte, covering the
body, removing the instrument from the stage and
having it on the skid ready to start for the station, is
seven minutes.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_161' name='page_161'></SPAN>161</span></div>
<h4>“Thawing Out” a Pianoforte.</h4>
<p>The instruments never are set up except under the
“doctor’s” personal supervision. Before each concert
the pianoforte on which Paderewski is to play is carefully
gone over and put in perfect condition—tuned
and, if necessary, regulated, and this no matter how
recently he may have used it. Defects so trifling that
neither an ordinary player nor the public would notice
them, would jar on the sensitive ear and nerves of the
virtuoso. Sometimes the instrument has been exposed
to such a low temperature that frost is found to have
formed not only on the lid, but even on the iron plate
inside. In such cases the pianoforte is set up and, after
the film of frost has been scraped off, is allowed to thaw
out slowly and naturally before it is touched for tuning
or regulating.</p>
<p>There was an amusing incident in the handling of
one of the Paderewski instruments at Columbus,
Mississippi, where Paderewski played for seven hundred
girls at the State College, although it was more
exciting than diverting at the time it happened. The
“doctor” relies on local help for getting the pianoforte
from the skid to the stage and back again. Usually
efficient helpers are obtainable, but at Columbus, where
the college hall is upstairs and reached only by a narrow
flight of steps, there was no aid to be had save
from among the negroes lounging on the public square.
The “doctor” went among them.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Nawthin’.”</p>
<p>“Want a job?”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_162' name='page_162'></SPAN>162</span></div>
<p>“Naw, too busy,” was the usual reply.</p>
<p>At last, however, a band of twenty “colored gentlemen”
was secured in the hope that muscle and quantity
would make up for lack of quality. But never before
has a high-grade pianoforte been in such imminent
peril. It was got upstairs well enough, in spite
of the fact that the negroes walked all over each other.
But the descent! The “doctor,” Emil C. Fischer, stood
at the top of the stairs directing; J. E. Francke, the
treasurer of the tour, below. Around the latter fell a
shower of fragments from the wall, the rail, the posts;
and at one time it seemed as if the whole banister would
give way and the pianoforte crash in splinters on the
floor. There were other moments of suspense, for the
pianoforte as well as for the two watchers, who drew a
long breath when the instrument safely was on the
skid.</p>
<p>Fortunately such untoward incidents are forgotten
in the general atmosphere of good-humor which the
pianist diffuses about him. He enjoys his little joke.
During the last tour he handed a photograph of himself
to Mr. Francke inscribed: “To the future Governor
of Hoboken.” At the Auditorium hotel, Chicago,
Millward Adams’ brother, about leaving on a
trip, asked for an autograph. Paderewski, quick as a
flash, wrote:</p>
<p>“For the brother of Mr. <i>Adams</i> on the <i>Eve</i> of his departure
from Chicago.”</p>
<p>Paderewski travels on a special train. With him
usually are his wife, his manager, the treasurer of the
tour, the piano “doctor,” a secretary, valet and maid.
His home is a villa on Lake Geneva, where he has a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_163' name='page_163'></SPAN>163</span>
beautiful garden and vinery, his dogs, his room for
billiards, a game of which he is very fond, and unlimited
opportunity for swimming, his favorite exercise.
Apparently slender and surely most poet-looking
at the piano, he is a man of iron strength as well as
of iron will.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<div class='chsp'>
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_165' name='page_165'></SPAN>165</span>
<SPAN name='HOW_TO_APPRECIATE_AN_ORCHESTRAL_CONCERT' id='HOW_TO_APPRECIATE_AN_ORCHESTRAL_CONCERT'></SPAN>
<h2>HOW TO APPRECIATE AN ORCHESTRAL CONCERT</h2></div>
<div class='chsp'>
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_167' name='page_167'></SPAN>167</span>
<SPAN name='IX_DEVELOPMENT_OF_THE_ORCHESTRA' id='IX_DEVELOPMENT_OF_THE_ORCHESTRA'></SPAN>
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