MEMORIES OF AN IMPRESARIO

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 256, 25 July 1936, Page 24

MEMORIES OF AN IMPRESARIO

Guido Carreras’s Career FRIEND OF BUSONI, DUSE AND ST. SAENS “I am a member of a well-known family of Leghorn, in Italy. Aly father was a doctor, so were my grandfather, great grandfather, and his father before him," said Signor Girfdo Carreras, I.a Meri's impresario, at the Hotel SI. George yesterday. "Why 1 am not a doctor is a long story. I should have been one. I suppose, but wln'ii I was sent to London, I found it to lie a bigger city than Leghorn or I’isa. and I resolved to stay there. So I looked around tor a job. 1 found one. very fascinating it was, too. but producing little or no money. _ If was to translate for Professor Rolfe, of Oxford, some manuscripts about the Borgia family, matter he wanted for his book. ‘The Borgoda,’ which turned out to be something in the nature of a defence of Lucrezia Borgia, of whom you have doubtless beard.

"There was nt that time a coterie of literary people, among them Maurice Hewlett and, occasionally. Thomas Hardy, who used to meet, at the Professor's house at Hampstead Heath and I was the privileged youth of the party. You may not know of Professor Rolfe, but you may have heard of Fredioh Baron Corvo. his penname. Only a few weeks ago I was reading in ‘John o' London some articles ’on this little-known genius Corvo.

‘■However, the Professor knew I livre was still a Cesar Borgia living in Milan fn direct descendant of tlm Pope of that name), and lie directed mo to go tn Italy nml inteltietv Inm. I did so. and found him to be a charming person and n great gentlemanTic supplied me with a wondertu' lot of data about his tamily originally the Borjas, from Spain, who came to Italy in the eleventh century. On my departure Cesar Borgia presented me witli a smalt gold coin issued at the time when his ancestor was Pope. That coin is now in the British Museum. A Tilt at Fashion. .Signor Carreras could not very well subsist on Bcfl’gia memories, so he sought pastures new. For a time lie was engaged in the study of Egyptology in the British Museum, but that proving to be equally unreinuneratite. 'he entered the service of a metal firm. But tlie metal was not gold. Full of creative ideas, his sketches of costumes caught tlie eve of some discerning friends, who advised him to follow it up. “1 went to Pans, and being young, enthusiastic, with a ready pencil. I managed to do well in the circle which evolves the modes of the hour. I was so successful that I had half the beautiful women of Paris at my feet for it is tlie designer who selects tlie model and it means much to Suzotte. Yvonne or Marie to be chosen as Hie figure to display n new idea in dress I do not think perhaps that Parts has such a monopoly of new modes as it had at the beginning of the century. This nationalism has crept into everything—even’iuto fashions. Take Italy, for example. They are now creatinjx their own fashions, because of a certain goveminent insistence. Turin is the creative centre, and each season witnesses great revues produced nt the largest theatre only to display the new fashions. I know because I was the producer there one year. The Greatest Pianist. “Being determined to learn German I then went to Berlin, ami was lucky to get a job in an insurance office,’’ said Signor Carreras. "I was useful there, as I could translate the letters from England, France, or Italy: besides, I had a certain knowledge from my early medical training which was useful. But I was not destined to become an insurance magnate. My passion for music led me into green fields. Busoni, Casals and Ysaye became the three columns in my temple of music. Later I became manager for Busoni, the greatest pianist that ever lived. Greater than ten Paderewskis put together. Paderewski thought sp. too. Let me tell yon a little story to prove that it was so. On the return of Paderewski to New York for his first tour of the United States, after the war he was entertained at a grand dinnor by the Steinways. When Mr. Charles Steinway proposed tin 1 health of ’Hie greatest pianist in tlie world, Paderewski intervened, saying—‘l do not see him here —I am the only pianist present. The greatest pianist in tlie world is not here!’ His reference was to Busoni. What a man! Busoni was not only a magnificent pianist, but he was an apostle of music, a man with a tremendous culture and knowledge, a genius! Though the most powerful of players, he did not like playing in great halls. Rather did he prefer small ones, where he could be in intimate touch with his publie. It was the one thing we fell out about. I wanted tlie largest hall so that f could get the returns to pay Ills fees and still leave me enough for bread and sausage, but there were several occasions on which I had to give in for sheer love of the man.

' "Laniond was another good pianist. He was the first to play all the Beethoven soiiatas in six recitals in Berlin, but though a sound player, I was nlwayo inelined to think (lint Immond owed more Ilian a little of his success to his personal likeness: to pictures of Beethoven. Then there were such artists as Dohnauyi. Joseph Weiss. Teresa Carreno. Godowski and my own sister. Marin Carreras, whor'c name was known all over the world. There is no doubt that from 1904 to 1914 Berlin was the musical centre of the world. ”1 wits, perhaps, the main factor, though my enthusiasm for having heard him at a private gathering, that caused the presentation of Fritz Freisler to Berlin, away back in 1908,” said Signor Carreras. "He had scored quite a success in Vienna, mid lie repeated it in Berlin. The receipts of the first reditu] amounted to 20 marks. No one pays to hear the first recital of a beginner in Berlin.”

Signor ('iirrerns was the personal Irii’tid of ,■■iii'li famous conductors ys Arthur Nikisch mid Arturo Toscanini, ami was Camille S.'iint-S.'iens' impresario, when that great pianist-composer last toured South America. He still has ns a cherished possession a telegram sent him by SaintSaens, after he had returned tn Berlin at the conclusion of that tour. It ended: "What shall I do without you?” Death of Duse.” Signor Carreras was personal manager for Eleonora Duse, the great Italian tragedienne on her last tour of the United States. "We took a complete company of .17 people—the pick of all .Italy—and played such dramas as "The Closed Door,” Ibfien’s "Spectres,” and "Women of the Sea,” and “The Dead City” of Gabriel D’Annunzio. The tour went well. We were in California, enjoying the wonderful climate, when Madanm would persist in going to Pittsburg. which has never been exactly famous for its climate, ft was the middle of winter. After arrival a rehearsal was called for 2.30 p.m- Later for some reason Dust? wanted the time .altered to 11 mm. Now we were to play in the great Freemason's Hail, which stands isolated in a park in upper Pitts-

burg. I told her that it was impossible to alter the time, as the place would hot be open. I thought I had persuaded her to my way of thinking, but what did she do but take a taxi to the hall in bitter rain, in company with her maid. She dismissed the taxi, then found she could not get into the hall, loitered round for twenty minutes in I lie wet, until picked up by someone witli a private car who brought her to the hotel. Next day she developed a violent cough, developed pneumonia—and died. J called it suicide I”

"Duse was 92 when she died," added Signor Carreras, "but she was one of the most curiously fascinating women of the stage who ever lived. There was nothing of her—she was small in figure, with a very lithe body. She never made up on the stage and hud a soft velvety lowpitched voice, which could reach clear to the buck of the Chicago Auditorium when the oilier members of the company were shouting io be heard. She could subjugate anyone to her will without trying to do so—something unexplainable and magnetic in her make-up. She had the same power with audiences. All our plays were done in Italian, but she never failed to arouse enthusiasm.”