Juilliard String Quartet. - A passionate journey: a memoir

A PASSIONATE JOURNEY

Copyright 2018 by Robert Mann

All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published by

EAST END PRESS

Bridgehampton, NY

ISBN: 978-0-9975304-4-5

Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9975304-5-2

First Edition

Book Design by Pauline Neuwirth, Neuwirth & Associates

Cover Design by Stephen Viksjo

Manufactured in the United States of America

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I dedicate this memoir to the most influential and meaningful individual in the composition of my life, Lucy Rowan Mann. Strange that she does not appear until my twenty-seventh year, but there cannot be one doubt that from then on she shapes my development and the recapitulation of a long and fulfilling existence. Even now in the coda as I write, she is still the composer. Thank you, Lucia.

While our father, at ninety-seven years old, no longer plays his violin, he was an active musician through his ninety-first year, concertizing, teaching, and coaching. This book is a collection of both spoken and written words in the form of essays, letters, lectures, and transcribed interviews from various times in his life. Together they record a remarkable life in music; his experience and philosophy. They offer a glimpse into a life filled with musical milestones and the fascinating mind of a musical giant. When he was in his early twenties he wrote, (I have) a will to study and a will to seek the truth of things, in myself, in music, and in the world that surrounds me. These writings reflect his passionate journey.

Lisa Mann Marotta

Nicholas Mann

LEAVING THE JUILLIARD STRING
QUARTET AFTER 51 YEARS

I t was 1961. I looked out my New York apartment window. The world outside was gray and wet. I felt lousy, depressed, coming home from a bad rehearsal. To all of you who have never been a member of a serious string quartet, I must confess that at this moment I was damn tired of the constant struggles. Struggles that four human beings playing two violins, a viola, and a violoncello must survive to keep such an ensemble alive. Always, you ask? Well, almost always.

There are exceptions, as in a rare, harmonious marriage. The inescapable reality of a string quartet life encompasses the unrelenting pressure of earning four separate livelihoods; the incessant clash between four personalities, each possessing a well-fortified, inflexible ego; the compelling desire to perform new music that demands a difficult learning process and, when played, will not be easily digestible to the listeners. The frustrating efforts to build a sound career, capture a loyal following, win critical acclaim while keeping abreast of the burgeoning competition in the string quartet field, accepting the sonorous audiences, of course over groups that will have nothing to do with a string quartet at all. Did I possess a tough enough spirit? Could I gather the inhuman patience required to survive?

On this gray, wet day in the sixteenth year of the Juilliard String Quartets existence, I was unsuccessfully trying to recover from the previous days explosive rehearsal. To be honest, this talented but flawed group of young musicians didnt like each other, yet had to rehearse and perform in public as if we did. My wife Lucys words, What the hell do you need this kind of life for? raged like a brushfire through my brain. Perhaps she was right!

Then the telephone rang. Should I let it ring or answer it?

Hello.

Robert, this is Harold Spivacke.

I perked up. Dr. Spivacke was head of the music division in the Library of Congress in Washington, D. C. On a few special occasions he had invited our quartet to play in his hall, the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Auditorium. We would play difficult modern pieces that the Budapest Quartet would not even touch.

Hi, Dr. Spivacke, whats on your mind?

Robert, please answer me, are you standing up or sitting down right now? What a peculiar question , I thought.

Im standing.

Well, young man, sit down, because I want to tell you something that requires sitting down to be heard and responded to.

Completely baffled and uneasy, I said, Yes?

The Library of Congress has a strong commissioning program of young composers or outstanding composers of new works. The Budapest never plays these works. Can you guess what I have decided?

Come on, Dr. Spivacke, I havent the slightest idea.

Well, after a long, difficult, internal debate and a most guilty conscience, I am letting my dear friends, the Budapest String Quartet, go. I have to have a quartet in residence that will play these new works. I know that you guys will play them. I am asking you, the Juilliards, to replace them as the quartet in residence at the Library of Congress. Whats your answer?

I was speechless. I was struck dumb. Any response at that precise moment to Dr. Spivackes words would have been inadequate to describe the raging storm of emotions battering my mental and physical consciousness.

Robert warming up backstage, Coolidge Auditorium, Library of Congress

Yes, there was an enormous wave of exhilaration that instantly swept away the pain of yesterdays crises and all previous pains, but an equal backlash of trepidation numbed my senses. How could the young, much less experienced Juilliard Quartet replace one of the greatest quartets of all time, the Budapest, functioning in the most prestigious chamber music residency in the musical world? Even as these storm waves crashed and subsided, there still remained deep questionable currents flowing below the surface.

How could Robert Mann, at best an adequate violin player, lead his quartet as Mr. Roisman of the Budapest led his? Even now, so many years later, I still ask this question.

Holding the telephone in shock, I traveled instantly back in time to another dreary afternoon long ago in Portland, Oregon, listening to a static-impaired radio broadcast of a Library of Congress concert from the Coolidge Auditorium played by the Budapest String Quartet. Was it possible? Could my lifelong dream become a reality? The Juilliard String Quartet playing twenty-four concerts a season in one of the most perfect acoustical chamber music halls on the Library of Congress-owned Stradivarius instruments? Heaven on Earth.

Dr. Spivacke was not a patient man.

Robert, are you still on the line? Would my vocal chords fail me now? Whats your answer?