MUSIC MEMORIES

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 220, 13 June 1936, Page 7

MUSIC MEMORIES

Gifted Pianist and Magician

HERR BENNO SCHEREK

Link With Mendelssohn and Weber

This is the seventh article written by Mr G. A. Kennedy, of Hataitai, dealing with his memories of music and musicians of the last century in New Zealand. The previous articles appeared on the following dates: April 23 and 29; May 6, 19 and 2G, and June

In 18S6 I was transferred for several months to the Dunedin branch of our office, and while there I made the acquaintance of one of the most remarkable musicians it has been my fortune to meet. I refer to Herr Benno Scherek. Herr Scherek, who was settled in Dunedin at that time, had a small choral society or glee club, also a small, orchestra, besides a large teaching connection. He was living at St. Clair, but had a teaching room in town, and when he had an evening engagement he used to come into dinner to the City Hotel, where I was staying. I was introduced to him there by a mutual friend, and thereafter we three used to occupy the same table. Dinner over, we used to adjourn to Court’s another well-known hostel in those days, celebrated for its brew of coffee. There Scherek would entertain us with card and sleight-of-hand tricks, until suddenly remembering the time, and the probability of a pupil waiting outside his room for a lesson, he would make a mad dash for his hat and coat, and, without waiting to get either properly on, would disappear down the stairway. Clever at Tricks. Benno Scherek was an accomplished pianist, in fact, was a wizard on the pianoforte in every sense of the word. He delighted in practical jokes of all kinds. “Play something!” I would say when I got him by himself in his teaching room, and he would sit down at the piano and play some delightful little morceau. “Lovely,” I w'ould say on its completion, “what is it?” “Don’t you know?” he would ask. “Why, don’t know ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’?” Then, omitting the embellishments he had given it, he would play that classic, now easily recognisable, as the theme of his former effort.

‘’Take a card,” he would say, holding out a pack as we sat over our coffee at Court’s. “Now, if you’re sure you know what it is, put it in your pocket.” I would do as desired. “Now, ring up my wife at St. Clair and ask her what card you have in your pocket.” “Ace of spades” came the voice over the telephone, and sure enough I had to take the ace of spades out of my pocket. As illustrating the wonderful keenness of his ear for sounds the following trick is, I think, unique. He would ask me to play every note of an octave on the piano but one; then, bring all the other notes down in a crash simultaneously, while he, standing with his back to the piano, would tell which note I had omitted to play. But this was equalled in another direction by his amazing memory. He would ask me to read out a paragraph from the newspaper, say, eight or ten times. This was done, clearly and distinctly. Then he would start and spell the paragraph out letter by letter —backwards !

Scherek’s thirst for knowledge of all kinds was insatiable. He spoke six or seven languages, but was always ready to take on a fresh one. He was reading up English literature with a friend who specialised in that pursuit, and was- studying Dorsett’s memory system. Needless to say, he found no

difficulty in mastering this last system, and we thought it rather a joke that he should bother over any system W’hen without it he was capable of such prodigious feats of memory. But Scherek took a keen interest in the system, and went through all the exercises in the text book with the greatest enthusiasm. Scherek organised a series of Saturday afternoon chamber concerts while I -was in Dunedin, and I was rather proud at being asked to take a humble part in two of them. He was rather a rolling stone, and did not remain long in Dunedin after I left, but I often came across him subsequently in Wellington, when lie was acting as entrepreneur to touring artists, opera companies and so on. Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony. A very fine programme was presented at Mr. Parker’s eighth annual concert on November 14, ISB7, the piece de resistance being Beethoven’s “Pastoral” symphony, played then for the first time in Wellington. There happened to be living in Wellington at the time a very old musician, pianist and organist named Worgan. He used, to tell us of having watched Weber conduct his opera “Dor Freischutz,” and had listened to Mendelssohn play his G Minor Concerto. Mr. Worgan was an interested member of the audience when his health would allow it at the concerts in those days. He would always sit in one of the front rows, and we could all hear his “Bravo” at the finish of every item which met with his approval. Time and again he said to Mr. Parker: “Do let me hear the ‘Pastoral’ symphony again before I die,” but for obvious reasons it had not been possible to comply 7 with his wishes. Then came the opportunity and there was the old man occupying his usual seat in the front row. At the conclusion he came up and, seizing Mr. Parker by the hand, exclaimed: “Now I can sing the ‘Nunc Dimittus!’ ” Mr. Worgan was an enthusiastic whist player and, my’ father being the same, a four was frequently arranged at our house. If my sisters, brother or myself were at home, nothing delighted the old man more than we s/hould play’ quartets or trios while their game was going on. It always puzzled me how they could give their attention to such a serious game as whist, and at the same time listen to the chamber music, but the fact remains that the music was always asked for when it was available.