Toscanini (original 1987; edition 1987)

John W. Freeman
Walfredo Toscanini

Toscanini

Treves, Paperback, 1987.
4to. 75 pp. Portraits of Greatness. Lavishly illustrated.

First published, 1987.

Contents*

I. Modest Beginnings
II. Family Background
III. Student Years
IV. Out Into the World
V. Impromptu Debut
VI. Beginnings of a Career
VII. Apprenticeship
VIII. The Reformer
IX. Coming of Age
X. Two Major Engagements
XI. La Boheme and Marriage
XII. On to La Scala
XIII. Trials of a Nonconformist
XIV. The New Century
XV. Buenos Aires
XVI. Break with La Scala
XVII. Spreading Career in Italy
XVIII. Tribulations
XIX. End of an Era
XX. Off to New York
XXI. Days of Glory in the Met
XXII. Break with the Met
XXIII. Wartime Italy
XXIV. Back at La Scala
XXV. Enter Fascism
XXVI. Peak Years at La Scala
XXVII. Darkness to the North
XXVIII. Salzburg and Palestine
XXIX. Farewell to Europe
XXX. Symbol of Free Italy
XXXI. Return to Italy
XXXII. A Culminating Achievement
XXXIII. The Last Concert
XXXIV. "No Longer Maestro"
XXXV. The Legacy of Toscanini

[Chronology]
Acknowledgements
Picture credits

* For some mysterious reason the book lacks a table of contents. It is given here as it is an excellent overview of what is covered.

=================================================​

So far as I know this slim quarto volume is the only pictorial biography of the legendary Italian conductor Arturo Toscanini (1867-1957). There is, of course, This Was Toscanini, with Samuel Antek's fine text and Robert Hupka's simply magnificent photographs, but this is certainly no pictorial biography; rather, it is a biographical portrait accompanied by a photographic essay of extraordinary depth. The purpose of the pictorial biography is comprehensiveness and high informative value rather than in-depth analyses and brilliance of style. Within these severe limitations the present volume is quite close to perfection.

The layout of the book is simple but very effective. For the most part each two pages consist of one aptly titled column of text and numerous photographs which occupy all other space save small parts in the upper right and left corners where captions are printed. Considering that the illustrations are definitely the more important part, the text is excellent: clear, concise, sensible, entertaining. The accent, of course, is on Toscanini's life, not on his recordings or broadcasts, his rehearsals or his artistry. But it is not often that you find such an excellent balance in something written about Toscanini. Usually when his tenures as music director in famous opera houses are discussed, the most important thing seems to be his countless love affairs with pretty singers (with Rosana Storchio in La Scala; with Geraldine Farrar in Metropolitan; and Carla Toscanini must have been made of steel); and when Toscanini's tenures as chief conductor of the New York Philharmonic (1929-36) and the NBC Symphony (1937-54) are mentioned, the gossip centers on his legendary tantrums at rehearsals (some of these were recorded, can be heard on YouTube and are positively volcanic).

Not so in the text of this book. Toscanini's intense extramarital and rehearsal passions are readily acknowledged, but are never elaborated upon - rightly so. At the expense of this, there is a great deal about Toscanini's momentous opera reforms which are so often badly neglected today. But in those ancient times - 1890s, 1900s - Toscanini, though barely in his thirties, fought fierce battles to establish things we take for granted today. For example, he was the first in Italy (following the example of the Wagner Festival in Bayreuth) to require darkening of the hall during performance and an orchestral pit below the opera stage. Toscanini's determination to abolish the practice of prodigious encores during performance was occasionally even life-threatening: once, when the Maestro did not allow a repetition of beloved aria, a military fellow in the audience challenged him to a duel! Above all, Toscanini changed once and for good (in every sense of the word) the quality of orchestral performance, first in the opera house and later in the concert hall, relentlessly demanding, and receiving, precision and excellency unheard-of before. Did you know - and can you imagine, for I can't - that until 1898, when Toscanini became ''the Boss'' in La Scala, the most famous Italian opera theatre did not even have a permanent orchestra? It had to be recruited every season. The first such orchestra, professional one that is, was actually formed in Turin a few years earlier: Toscanini led it in the world premiere of Puccini's La Boheme.

Today it requires an enormous amount of imagination to obtain some idea about the musical world in which Toscanini cut his teeth. But with this magical book you can literally go back. Try to imagine. Symphonic concerts were far rarer than today, and even prestigious orchestras in great musical capitals were not immune to sloppy execution. Radio and broadcasting did not exist. Recording was in its acoustical infancy; a singer like Caruso could become a superstar thanks to these primitive techniques, but a conductor even of a chamber orchestra had no chance. If the man on the street wanted to hear music, he had to hear it live or play it himself, usually on a clangy upright piano. In such times, when Tchaikovsky, Brahms and Wagner were still contemporary music, was the musical personality of Arturo Toscanini formed. How the son of a modest tailor, but passionate revolutionary under Garibaldi, managed to become one of the greatest legends on the rostrum in Milan, Vienna, Bayreuth and New York, and how he changed opera in Italy and orchestral playing all around the world, is a fantastic and well-nigh unbelievable story. It is told here in a completely compelling manner. The take-home message of utmost importance is that Toscanini's success was the result of musical genius and sheer force of character - neither could have succeeded by itself. The legendary scandals which he created more or less everywhere he went were invariably created out of artistic dissatisfaction (or nasty political ideologies - but that's another story). It is truly difficult today to realise that there were times, a mere century ago, when opera, especially in Italy, was nothing more than a cheap and vulgar display for the crowd, badly in need of elevation to an art form of some refinement. Well, it may be argued that today opera has degenerated to lower depths of stupidity than ever before. But that doesn't change the fact that Toscanini was one of the major forces behind some of the most glorious decades in opera history: the first few of the last century, both in Milan and in New York.

One other point about this spectacularly informative text which must be stressed is that it does discuss, and in detail considering the space, many of Toscanini's world premieres. This is quite a list, and it gives completely the lie to the old myth that Toscanini was averse to contemporary music. This is nonsense. Leaving aside that even in his late and entirely symphonic years Toscanini did conduct a good deal of contemporary, if not modern, music, his operatic career was outstandingly audacious for its time. The world premieres of Puccini's La Boheme (1896), La Fanciulla del West (set in the Wild West and the hottest ticket in New York for 1913) and Turandot (1926) are only the cherry of the cake. Countless now forgotten operas by obscure composers received their world premieres under the baton of the young Toscanini. More importantly, the man had the audacity - or the temerity, some said - to introduce to Italy such appallingly unmusical works (according to the Italian standards at the time) as Wagner's Götterdämmerung or Debussy's Pelleas and Melisande. The American premiere of Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov and the world one of Boito's enormous yet unfinished Nerone (which was in part completed by the conductor) are just two other great achievements of Toscanini which are often neglected by those who are keen on trivial gossip.

Last but not least, this stupendous text, apparently written in close collaboration with Toscanini's grandson, tells us a great deal about the many important friendships in Toscanini's life as well as something about his far from simple personality. The style is consistently anecdotal and altogether delightful. One central thread here is the long but uneasy relationship between the great conductor and Giacomo Puccini. Sometimes it is very funny, as in the famous incident with the panettone (a Christmas raisin cake). Giacomo had apparently forgotten that he was not on speaking terms with Arturo and sent him the cake anyway. Having realised his blunder, the composer immediately dispatched a telegram with explanation: "Panettone sent by mistake", and he promptly got the conductor's reply: "Panettone eaten by mistake". Nevertheless, behind such charming skirmishes, there was a deep respect between these two great man. Another famous, and quite true, anecdote is that Toscanini conducted the world premiere of the unfinished Turandot without the now customary completion of Alfano. When the opera ended abruptly, Toscanini turned to the audience and uttered another legendary sentence: "The opera ends here, because at this point the Maestro died." But it is not only Puccini of course. Toscanini's communication with Verdi, Debussy and Dvorak is also explored: all of them admired him and were grateful for his championing their works; Debussy reportedly even authorised few re-orchestrations suggested by the conductor. Toscanini's complex relationships with mythical singers (Caruso, Shaliapin) and even more mythical opera tycoons (such as Verdi's publisher Ricordi or the Italian king of Metropolitan, Gatti-Gasazza) are discussed in a highly fascinating fashion.

Yet, marvellous and comprehensive and entertaining as it may be, the text is definitely secondary. It is the photographs that really do make this book an amazingly vivid experience. Their staggering number and variety are equaled only by their excellent quality and adroit integration into the story. The first thing that strikes me is that the photos illustrate better than any text one of Toscanini's most impressive achievements: his longevity. Just imagine: that man was born in 1867 and made his legendary debut as conductor when he was just 19 years old, on June 30, 1886. At that time Wagner had been dead for just three years or so, Liszt actually had about a month more to live; Tchaikovsky had 7 years, Brahms - 11. Hard to think about it today when they all are regarded as classics. But longevity, as in other impressive cases such as Bernard Shaw and Bertrand Russell, is the least interesting aspect about great people. There is much more in them than that.

It is difficult to single out highlights among the photographs; the kaleidoscope of people, places and documents is overwhelming. Among the portraits there is one painting of Toscanini's father which I particularly cherish: in his beloved red Garibaldi shirt, looking like he had just stepped out of a novel by Dumas. And of course there is Puccini's famous portrait, bowler on the head and cigarette in the mouth, which captures the bohemian atmosphere of La Boheme better than anything. Contemporary photographs range from one rare shot of Francesco Tamagno, the world's first Otello (in which Toscanini participated as a cellist in the orchestra) to one extraordinary photo of Mussolini with a violin (for publicity's sake). Then there are curiosities such as the street in the front of Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires named after Arturo Toscanini or a wonderful map of the United States showing all towns, dates and halls from the fabulously successful tour of the NBC Symphony in 1950. As far as composers are concerned, a photograph of Dvorak inscribed to the conductor takes the palm for historical importance. But I also like that small photo of the old Brahms giving a warm hug to a pretty young lady and grinning mischievously, the old goat. There are also a marvellous portrait of the young Sibelius and one deeply poignant one of the aged Puccini, shortly before his death from cancer.

There are quite a few important documents reproduced here, too. Two posters stay vividly in my mind. One is Caruso's only performance (in Italian, during a South American tour) of Wagner's Lohengrin (!), and the other is Toscanini's debut concert as a student. The latter is by far the more remarkable thing, for it makes clear that Toscanini appeared as a conductor even before his fabled debut in Rio de Janeiro at the age of 19. More amazing still, in his student concert Toscanini conducted a piece of his own, to say nothing that he also played a virtuoso piece for cello. (Toscanini's justly legendary ''real'' debut is marvellously recounted in the text. After all, it's not every day that a 19 years old cellist takes the baton as a last-moment replacement and leads Verdi's Aida from memory - even if Toscanini's studying the Schubert lieder - for the record at least - with a certain young lady, because of which occupation he was almost late for the performance, is a little over-dramatized.)

The fact that in his youth Toscanini composed a good deal, and some of his compositions were even published, is to my mind of great importance. I am reminded of Horowitz's perceptive observation in an interview that pianists who were also composers - most of those in the old times that is - did have a composer's insight into the works they played, and that was lost in later generations. Same with conducting, I guess. Toscanini's fanatical fidelity to the score was largely - and thankfully - just another myth. In fact, Toscanini had no hesitation to treat Schumann and Tchaikovksy in a manner which today seems outrageous: he re-orchestrated, cut passages here, added cadenzas there. However, first, to judge Toscanini harshly in this respect is to show a complete lack of historical perspective; such things were all but uncommon in his time; and second, we would do well to remember that Toscanini did that with a composer's insight. "Ah, I see what you're going to ask me", Horowitz hastened to add in that charming interview. "It doesn't matter whether the composer is first- or fifth-rate." That's right. He still possesses an insight into compositions which a strictly re-creative artist, so to say, cannot possess at all. Toscanini's youthful attempts in composition are seldom mentioned. It is wonderful to see them here documented.

I have but two minor complaints about the book: one about the text, one about the illustrations. In regard to the former, there is one unpleasant scatological remark that really should have been omitted, namely the young Toscanini being locked up in a room and finally, where there was no other way, using his cello as a receptacle. Now, there is nothing really terrible about that - but I really could have done without it. The caveat about the illustrations is that sometimes there are a little too many of them and some are by necessity printed very small. As a consequence, the captions can occasionally be a little difficult to relate to the photos. But since the quality of printing is, with very few exceptions, very high, and the captions are informative enough without too many repetitions with the main text, this caveat is a minor affair, too.

It's a shame that this book is out of print nowadays. But it's fortunate that second-hand copies are available and cheap. It is an obligatory addition to the shelves of both Toscanini buffs and Toscanini neophytes. The former may skip the text completely, but they sure as heck will find many of the photos compelling. The latter may also benefit greatly from the text as a kind of prelude to Harvey Sachs' full-scale biography (Toscanini), Mortimer Frank's exemplary study of the NBC years (Amadeus Press, 2002) and B. H. Haggin's moderately interesting recollections (Conversations with Toscanini, 1959, 1979 rev. ed.) but perfectly fascinating interviews (Toscanini Musicians Knew, 1969, 1980 rev. ed.). ( )