THE ETUDE MARCH 1920 Page 151 Th e Musical Aftermath of the Great Wa r An Interview Secured Especially for THE ETUDE with the Distinguished Conductor DR. WALTE R DAMROSCH Director of the New York Symphony Orchestra [EDITOR'S NOTE.—When Dr. Leopold Damrosch. the illus-trious musician, who came to America in 1871, established the New York Symphony Society in 1878, his son Walter was a boy in his teens. It may thus be said that the present conductor of the organization literally grew up "MANY warmly colored statements appeared during the war as to the wonderful stimulative effects of the world upheaval up<?n art. Just how and why this should be never seemed to be explained. Because the world was turned upside down, the arts were supposed to benefit in some mysterious manner. The truth reallj is that art has been suffering a sad eclipse. War is the monopoly of monopolies. When a country is engaged in war there is one paramount thought, and that is to win the war. Everything else must be brushed aside. Every art is valuable at such a time only in its relation to the war, and the composers and executive musicians lying in the trenches cannot serve their art. Fortu-nately music at this time was able to do something. It could assist in stimulating enthusiasm; it could assist in raising funds for war needs; it could relieve anxiety at home, stimulate courage among the men on their way to the front and lessen the ennui of those behind the lines. This much it did, and did won-derfully. It must have proved to all but the most obtuse people that, although music is perhaps the most spiritual of arts, its material value in the great crisis was very great. But after all is said and done, music will not fire bullets, fly aeroplanes, or run battleships; and since war demands, first of all, those things which contribute directly to war, music, considerable as was its part, naturally suffered during the war. Creative Work Difficult in Wartime "Composers may have been fired by the great inci-dents of the war, but it was literally impossible for the creative worker to get his mind down to things. In my own case, I found myself past fifty and rather unhappy because I was too old to get in line with the boys who went to the front; but nevertheless I felt that I must make myself of service in some way. War monopo-lized me as it was monopolizing Americans of all classes. Good luck sent me to France in June, 1918, at the very height of the war. Mr. Harry Harkness Flagler, the generous President of the New York Sym-phony Orchestra, had supplied me with a liberal check, with which I was to engage a French symphony orchestra and take them through our American rest camps in France for the purpose of giving orchestral concerts for our soldiers. I arrived in Paris at perhaps the darkest moment, when the Germans were so near that we expected to have to evacuate that city. Millions of its citizens had already fled, air raids were almost daily occurrences, and even the Big Berthas recommenced their bombardment on the 19th of July, just after I had given a big symphony concert for the French Croix Rouge, at the historic old Salle du Conservatoire, al-though I do not believe that the bombardment was the direct result of my concert! At that time every inch of available space on the railroads was needed for the transportation of soldiers and munitions of war, and as there were very few of our soldiers in rest camps— they were all either training feverishly or already at the front—our plan of traveling around with an or-chestra would have been extremely foolish. I had again begun to speculate on the uselessness of a middle-aged musician in war time, when, like a ray of sun-shine, I suddenly received a visit from Colonel Dawes, a friend of our Commander-in-Chief, General Pershing, with a message from him asking me if I would come to General Headquarters, at Chaumont, and consult with him regarding possible improvements of the army bands of the American Expeditionary Force, which were not in particularly good condition, owing to the haste in which they had been assembled, and, above all, the scarcity of routined and competent bandmasters. "Consider this for a moment. The commanding gen-eral of the American Army thought so highly of the with the orchestra,*whose conductor he became in 1885, at the death of his father. In 1892 he made the New York Symphony Orchestra a permanent organization, and liter-ally all of its work for thirty-five years has been done under his experienced baton. This year the orchestra is under-taking a tour of Europe with its full complement of 100 value of music as to stop long enough to'take steps for its betterment in the American forces. "General Pershing, with the splendid vision that has characterized him as a remarkable man and leader, realized the importance of keeping up the morale of the soldiers during times of stress, and he knew that music could do at times what nothing else could ac-complish. Colonel Dawes brought me this message on the morning of July 14th, and I agreed to go to Chau-mont to meet General Pershing on the following-Wednesday, July 18th. You can imagine with what feelings of elation and happiness I looked forward to this meeting. But I must digress and tell you of an occurrence on July 4th, which had an important bear-ing on my experiences with the Commander-in-Chief. "For months the citizens who had remained in Paris had been continually driven to their cellars for fear of raids from the skies; and for months rumors of pos-sible defeat had been mysteriously afloat, and rumors of overwhelming German war machinery like the huge guns which had been terrorizing the city. Then came the parade of the American boys who had fought like fiends at Seicheprey. Do you wonder that Paris went wild when they heard that an American parade was to be held there on July 4th? Can you imagine the scene? Emotionally this was the most remarkable thing I have ever witnessed. Along the Champs Elysee everybody was in tears, some women actually sobbing from very joy. An Old Army Custom "As I stood among the crowd on that great day an American bandmaster stood beside me, hollow-eyed and trembling with excitement. It was quite evident from his appearance and from his nervous state that he had gone through some terrific strain. He happened to recognize me, and immediately asked me to use my influence to do something with General Pershing for the bandsmen with the American Expeditionary Force. It is an old American army custom to send bandsmen to the front in time of battle as stretcher bearers, with no weapons and with only Red Cross bands around their arms, which, alas, in only too many instances proved no protection whatever from the unscrupulous enemy. This bandmaster told me that he had trained a band of twenty-eight men in America and had taken them overseas, where they had done a great work in inspiring the regiment and keeping up the morale. They had a distinct and valuable service to perform which none of the other men in the regiment could do. They were the spirit of the men—the pep, the mental relief, in fact so many things that only the soldier can tell you what they are. These bandsmen had gone through months of special training to do one specific thing. Yet at the battle of Seicheprey they were sent to the front as stretcher bearers. Of the twenty-eight, nine were killed outright, two were wounded, two were shell-shocked, and the band was thus put out of commission and months of valuable training were wasted. That these men did a noble thing in the service of their country, that they made the supreme sacrifice, entitles them to an immortal place; but at the same time there were thousands of other men who were deprived entirely of music because of this. The camp became a cheerless, silent camp, and the men, deprived of music to which they had been ac-customed every day, felt the need woefully. The band-master was sent to Paris to be a purchasing agent of musical instruments. I was deeply moved by this story, but it seemed at that time well-nigh hopeless that I, a civilian, could do anything to change such a useless and wasteful tradition. "But to go back to my story. On July 18th I traveled men by special invitation from the governments of France, Italy and Belgium. A tour upon such a scale is unprec-edented and indicates in a remarkable manner the new position of America in the world of music. No better testi-mony of Dr. Damrosch's efficiency and ability could be desired than this.] to Chaumont, was there most politely received by Colonel Collins, Secretary of the 'Staff, and invited to dine with General Pershing at his chateau, a few miles outside of the town. The other guest was Gen-eral Omar Bundy, and together we motored through the lovely country surrounding Chaumont in the ex-quisite twilight of a French July evening, amid scenes so peaceful and beautiful that it seemed hard to imagine that grim war was stalking only a-fe w miles away. A solitary sentinel guarded the chateau. General Pershing had been at the front all day and had not yet returned. And so General Bundy and I wandered among the lovely gardens awaiting his return. As he drove up in his motor, he welcomed me with great simplicity and courtesy, and altogether made an im-pression of such dignity and strength that my heart glowed with patriotic pride that such a man should have been found to represent us in the great war. We sat down to dinner almost immediately, the party con-sisting, besides ourselves, of all the officers of the General Staff (charming men, all of them). "Although this was the evening of the famous day when Foch made his first great advance, driving the Germans back six miles, the talk at table was not of battles, but of music, its influence on the soldier and how it could best serve, its purpose. General Pershing, at whose left I sat, plunged immediately into the needs of the Army for better training and general improve-ment of the Army bands. Congress had authorized that a lieutenant's commission be given to the band-masters, but General Pershing felt that many of them needed further training before they were deserving of a commission, and after some discussion I agreed to examine all the bandmasters in France—some 200 of them—and the General said he would send them all to Paris for this purpose. A Significant Opportunity "Suddenly, as I sat there, the picture of the hollow-cheeked bandmaster of the Fourth of July parade and his tragic story came into my mind, and I thought to myself that here was an opportunity to do something practical towards improving the position of the mu-sicians in the Army. I watched my opportunity and told General Pershing the story of the little band at Seicheprey, and how it had virtually been destroyed and its usefulness ended because of these men being used as stretcher-bearers. I assured the General that I did not claim for a minute that a life of a musician was more sacred than that of any other soldier in the service, but that their duty in the Army was not to fight, but to cheer the fighters, and that for such pur-poses as stretcher-bearers other men could perhaps be found who were not so necessary for special work. General Bundy heartily agreed with my standpoint, but General Pershing did not say anything, and I felt that perhaps I had talked too passionately, although I com-forted myself with the reflection that, as I had talked only as a civilian, the General would not punish me by ordering to have me put up against a wall at sunrise and shot! "Next morning, while I was at headquarters discus-sing the details of my duties with Colonel Collins, an orderly brought in an envelope and, as Colonel Col-lins read its contents, he smiled and handed it to me, saying, "This will interest you, Dr. Damrosch." It was a general order from General Pershing to the effect that "From now on bandsmen shall not be used as stretcher-bearers, except in cases of extreme military urgency." "I returned to Paris and immediately organized the examination of all the band masters of the American Expeditionary Force who were sent to me, to Paris,
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