Part 17

Reinald Werrenrath was born in Brooklyn, N. Y., August 7, 1883. His father, George Werrenrath, was a distinguished singer, and his mother (nee Aretta Camp) is the daughter of Henry Camp, who was for many years musical director of Plymouth Church during the ministry there of Henry Ward Beecher. George Werrenrath was a Dane, with an unusually rich tenor voice, trained by the best teachers of his time in Germany, Italy, France and England. During his engagement as leading tenor in the Royal Opera House in Wiesbaden, he left Germany by the advice of Adelina Patti, eventually going to England with Maurice Strakosch, who was then his coach. In London Werrenrath had a fine career, and there was formed a warm and ultimate friendship with Charles Gounod, with whom he studied and toured in concerts through England and Belgium. George Werrenrath came to New York in 1876, by the influence of Mme. Antoinette Sterling and of the well-known Dane, General C. T. Christensen. He immediately became well known by his appearance with the Theodore Thomas Orchestra, as well as by his engagement at Plymouth Church, where he was soloist for seven years. He was probably the first artist to give song-recitals in the United States, while his performances in opera are still cherished in the memories of those people who can look back on some of the fine representations given under the baton of Adolph Neuendorf, at the old Academy of Music, which made the way for the later work at the Metropolitan Opera House. His interpretation of _Lohengrin_ was adjudged most wonderfully poetical.

Reinald Werrenrath studied first with his father. At the Boys' High School and at New York University he was leader of musical affairs throughout the eight years spent in those schools. He studied violin with Carl Venth for four years, and had as his vocal teachers Dr. Carl Dufft, Frank King Clark, Dr. Arthur Mees, Percy Rector Stephens and Victor Maurel, giving especial credit for his voice training to years of study with Mr. Stephens whose vocal teaching ideas he sketches in part in the following. He has appeared with immense success in concert and oratorio in all parts of the United States. His talking machine records have been in great demand for years, and his voice is known to thousands who have never seen him. His operatic debut was in _Pagliacci_, as _Silvio_, in the Metropolitan Opera House, February 19, 1919, where he later had specially fine success as _Valentine_ in _Faust_ and as the _Toreador_ in _Carmen_.

NEW ASPECTS OF THE ART OF SINGING IN AMERICA

REINALD WERRENRATH

Every now and then someone asks me whether America is really becoming musical. All I can say is that a year ago I, with my accompanist, traveled over 61,000 miles, touching every part of this country and, during that eight months, singing almost nightly when the transit facilities would permit, found everywhere the very greatest enthusiasm for the very best music. Of course, Americans want some numbers on the program with the so-called "human" element; but at the same time they court the best in vocal art and seem never to get enough of it. All of my instruction has been received in America. All of my teachers, with the exception of my father and Victor Maurel, were born in America; so I may be called very much of an American product.

Just why Americans should ever have been obsessed with the idea that it was impossible to teach voice successfully on this side of the Atlantic is hard to tell. I have a suspicion that many like the adventure of foreign travel far more than the labor of study. Probably ninety-five per cent. of the pupils who went over did so for the fascinating experience of living in a European environment rather than for the downright purpose of coming back great artists. Therefore, we should not blame the European teachers altogether for the countless failures that have floated back to us almost on every tide. I have recently heard a report that many of the highest-priced and most efficient voice teachers in Italy are Americans who have Italianized their names. Certainly the most successful voice teachers in Berlin were George Ferguson and Frank King Clark, who was at the top of the list also in Paris when he was there.

The American singer should remember in these days that, first of all, he must sing in America and in the English language more than in any other. I am not one of those who decry singing in foreign languages. Certain songs, it is true, cannot be translated so that their meaning can be completely understood in English; yet, if the reader will think for a moment, how is the American auditor to understand a single thought of a poem in a language of which he knows nothing?

The Italian is a glorious language for the singer, and with it English cannot be compared, with its thirty-one vowel sounds and its many coughing, sputtering consonants. Training in Italian solfeggios is very fine for creating a free, flowing style. Many of the Italian teachers were obsessed with the idea of the big tone. The audiences fired back volleys of "Bravos!" and "Da Capos" when the tenor took off his plumed hat, stood on his toes and howled a high C. That was part of his stock in trade. Naturally, he forced his voice, and most of the men singers quit at the age of fifty. I hope to be in my prime at that time, as my voice seems to grow better each year. Battistini, who was born in 1857, is an exception. His voice, I am told, is remarkably preserved.

CLIMATIC CONDITIONS A SERIOUS HANDICAP

Climatic conditions in many parts of America prove a serious handicap to the singer. At the same time, according to the law of the survival of the fittest, American singers must take care of themselves much better than the Italians, for instance. The salubrious, balmy climate of most of Italy is ideal for the throat. On our Eastern seaboard I find that fifty per cent. of my audiences in winter seem to have colds and bronchitis. The singer who is obliged to tour must, of course, take every possible precaution against catching cold; and that means becoming infected from exposure to colds when the system is run down. I attempt to avoid colds by securing plenty of outdoor exercise. I always walk to my hotel and to the station when I have time; and I walk as much as I can during the day. When I am not singing I immediately start to play--to fish, swim or hunt in the woods if I can make an opportunity.

OPERATIC STUDY

In one respect Europe is unquestionably superior to America for the vocal student. The student who wants to sing in opera will find in Europe ten opportunities for gaining experience to one here. While we have a few more opera companies than twenty-five years ago, it is still a great task to secure even an opening. Americans, outside of the great cities, do not seem to be especially inclined toward opera. They will accept a little of it when it is given to them by a superb company like the Metropolitan. In New York we find a public more cosmopolitan than in any other city of the world, with the possible exception of London. In immediate ancestry it is more European than American, and naturally opera becomes a great public demand. Seats sell at fabulous prices and the houses are crowded. Next comes opera at popular prices; and we have one or two very good companies giving that with success. Then there is the opera in America's other cosmopolitan center, Chicago, where many world-famed artists appear. After that, opera in America is hardly worth mentioning. What chance has the student? Only one who for years has been uniformed in a black dress suit and backed into the curve of the grand piano in a recital hall can know what it means to get out on the operatic stage, in those fantastic clothes, walk around, act, sing and at the same time watch the conductor with his ninety men. Only he can know what the difference between singing in concert and on the operatic stage really is. Yet old opera singers who enter the recital field invariably say that it is far harder to get up alone in a large hall and become the whole performance, aided and abetted only by an able accompanist, than it is to sing in opera.

The recital has the effect of preserving the fineness of many operatic voices. Modern opera has ruined dozens of fine vocal organs because of the tremendous strain made upon them and the tendency to neglect vocal art for dramatic impression.

If there were more of the better _singing_ in opera, such as one hears from Mr. Caruso, there would be less comment upon opera as a bastard art. Operatic work is very exhilarating. The difference between concert and opera for the singer is that between oatmeal porridge and an old vintage champagne. There is no time at the Metropolitan for raw singers. The works in the repertoire must be known so well in the singing and the acting that they may be put on perfectly with the least possible rehearsals. Therefore, the singer has no time for routine. The lack of a foreign name will keep no American singer out of the Metropolitan; but the lack of the ability to save the company hundreds of dollars through needless waits at rehearsals will.

NATURAL METHODS OF SINGING

Certainly no country in recent years has produced so many "corking" good singers as America. Our voices are fresh, virile, pure and rich; when the teaching is right. Our singers are for the most part finely educated and know how to interpret the texts intelligently. Mr. W. J. Henderson, the eminent New York critic, in his "Art of Singing," gave the following definition, which my former teacher, the late Dr. Carl Dufft, endorsed very highly: "Singing is the expression of a text by means of tones made by the human voice." More and more the truth of this comes to me. Singing is not merely vocalizing but always a means of communication in which the artist must convey the message of the two great minds of the poet and the composer to his fellow man. In this the voice must be as natural as possible, as human as possible, and not merely a sugary tone. The German, the Frenchman, the Englishman and the American strive first for an intelligent interpretation of the text. The Italian thinks of tone first and the text afterward, except in the modern Italian school of realistic singing. For this one must consider the voice normally and sensibly.

I owe my treatment of my voice largely to Mr. Stephens, with whom I have studied for the last eight years, taking a lesson every day I am in New York. This is advisable, I believe, because no matter how well one may think one sings, another trained mind with other ears may detect defects that might lead to serious difficulties later. His methods are difficult to describe; but a few main principles may be very interesting to vocalists.

My daily work in practice is commenced by stretching exercises, in which I aim to free the muscles covering the upper part of the abdomen and the intercostal muscles at the side and back--all by stretching upward and writhing around, as it were, so that there cannot possibly be any constriction. Then, with my elbows bent and my fists over my head, I stretch the muscles over my shoulders and shoulder blades. Finally, I rotate my head upward and around, so that the muscles of the neck are freed and become very easy and flexible. While I am finishing with the last exercise I begin speaking in a fairly moderate tone such vowel combinations as "OH-AH," "OH-AH," "EE-AY," "EE-AY," "EE-AY-EE-AY-EE-AY," etc. While doing this I walk about the room so that there will not be any suggestion of stiltedness or vocal or muscular interference. At first this is done without the addition of any attempted nasal resonance. Gradually nasal resonance is introduced with different spoken vowels, while at the same time every effort is made to preserve ease and flexibility of the entire body. Then, when it seems as though the right vocal quality is coming, pitch is introduced at the most convenient range and exercises with pitch are taken through the range of the voice. The whole idea is to make the tones as natural and free and pure as possible with the least effort. I am opposed to the old idea of tone placing, in which the pupil toed a mark, set the throat at some prescribed angle, adjusted the tongue in some approved design, and then, gripped like the unfortunate victim in the old-fashioned photographer's irons, attempted to sing a sustained tone or a rapid scale. What was the result--consciousness and stiltedness and, as a rule, a tired throat and a ruined singer. These ideas may seem revolutionary to many. They are only a few of Mr. Stephens' very numerous devices; but for many years they have been of more benefit than anything else in keeping me vocally fit.

We in the New World should be on the outlook for advance along all lines. Our American composers have held far too close to European ideals and done too little real thinking for themselves. Our vocal teachers and, for that matter, teachers in all branches of musical art in America have been most progressive in devising new ways and better methods. There will never be an American method of singing because we are too wise not to realize that every pupil needs different and special treatment. What is fine for one might be injurious to the next one.

EVAN WILLIAMS

BIOGRAPHICAL

Evan Williams, as his name suggests, was of Welsh ancestry, although born in Trumbull County, Ohio, Sept. 7, 1867. As a boy his singing attracted the attention of his friends and neighbors. When a young man he went to Mme. Louise von Fielitsen, in Cleveland, and studied under her for four years. At the end of this time it became necessary for him to earn money immediately, as he had married at the age of twenty. Accordingly he went with the "Primrose and West" minstrels for one season. Everywhere he appeared his voice attracted enthusiastic attention. This aroused his ambition and in 1894 he went to New York where he was engaged at All Angels Church at a yearly salary of $1000.00. Six months later the Marble Collegiate Church took him over at $1500.00 which was shortly raised to $2000.00. In 1896 he appeared at the Worcester Festival with great success and then went to New York to study with James Sauvage for three years.

Notwithstanding his long terms of instruction with teachers of high reputation, Mr. Williams felt that he had still much to learn, as he would find himself singing finely one night and so badly on the next that he would resolve never to sing again. Accordingly he studied with Meehan for three years more. Then he retired from the concert stage for three years in order to improve himself. Deciding to appear in public again he went to London where he sang for three years with popular success. However, he was still dissatisfied with his voice. Mr. Williams' personal narrative tells how he got his voice back. His death, May 24, 1918, prevented him from carrying out his project to become a teacher and thus introduce his discoveries. The following, therefore, becomes of interesting historical significance.

HOW I REGAINED A LOST VOICE

EVAN WILLIAMS

There is nothing so disquieting to the singer as the feeling that his voice, upon which his artistic hopes, to say nothing of his livelihood, depend, is not a reliable organ, but a fickle thing which to-day may be in splendid condition but to-morrow may be gone. Time and again I have been driven to the verge of desperation by my own voice. While I am grateful to all of my excellent teachers for the many valuable things they taught me, I had a strong feeling that there was something which I must know and which only I myself could find out for myself. After a very wide experience here and in England I found myself with so little confidence in my ability to produce uniformly excellent results when on the concert stage, that I retired to Akron, Ohio, resolving to spend the rest of my life in teaching. There I remained for four years, thinking out the great problem that confronted me. It is only during the last year that I have become convinced that I have solved it. My musical work has made me well-to-do and I want now to give my ideas to the world so that others may profit if they find them valuable. I have nothing to sell--but I trust that I can put into words, without inventing a new and bewildering nomenclature, something that will prove of practical assistance to young singers as it has been to me.

AN INDISPUTABLE RECORD

In 1908 I left Akron and resolved to try to reinstate myself in New York as a singer. I also made talking machine records, only to find that seldom could I make a record at the first attempt that was up to the very high standard maintained by the company in the case of all records placed upon the market for sale. This meant a great waste of my time and the company's material and services. It naturally set me thinking. If I could do it one time--why couldn't I do it all the time? There was no contradicting the talking machine record. The machine records the slightest blemish as well as the most perfect tone. There was no getting away from the fact that sometimes my singing was far from what I wished it to be.

The strange thing about it all was that my singing did not seem to depend upon the physical condition or feeling of my throat. Some days when my throat felt at its very best the records would come back in a way that I was ashamed of. It is a strange feeling to hear one's own voice from the talking machine. It sounds quite differently from the impression one gets while singing. I began to ponder, why were some of my records poor and others good?

After deep thought for a very long period of time, I commenced to make certain postulates which I believe I have since proved (to my own satisfaction at least) to be reasonable and true. They not only resulted in an improvement in my voice, but they enabled me to do at command what I had previously been able to do only occasionally. They are:

I. Tone creates its own support.

II. Much of the time spent in elaborate breathing exercises (while excellent for the health and valuable to the singer, in a way) do not produce the results that are expected.

III. The singer's first studies should be with his brain and ear, rather than through an attempt at muscular control of the breathing muscles.

IV. Vocal resonance can be developed through a proper understanding of tone color (vocal timbre), so that uniformly excellent production of tones will result.

TONE CREATES ITS OWN SUPPORT

The first two postulates can be discussed as one. Tone creates its own support. How does a bird learn to sing? How does the animal learn to cry? How does the lion learn to roar? Or the donkey learn to bray? By practicing breathing exercises? Most certainly not. I have known many, many singers with splendid voices who have never heard of breathing exercises. Go out into the Welsh mining districts and listen to the voices. They learn to breathe by learning how to sing, and by singing. These men have lungs that the average vocal student would give a fortune to possess. By singing correctly they acquire all the lung control that any vocal composition could demand.

As a matter of fact, one does not need such a huge amount of breath to sing. The average singer uses entirely too much. A goose has lungs ten times as large as a nightingale but that doesn't make the goose's song lovely to listen to. I have known men with lungs big enough to work a blast furnace who yet had little bits of voices, so small that they were ridiculous. It would be better for most vocal students to emit the breath for five seconds before attacking the tone. One of the reasons for much vocal forcing is too much breath. Maybe I haven't thought about these things! I have spent hours in silence making up my mind. It is my firm conviction that the average person (entirely without instruction in breathing of a special kind) has enough breath to sing any phrase one might be called upon to sing. I think, without question, that teachers and singers have all been working their heads off to develop strength in the wrong direction. Mind you--this is not a sermon against breathing. I believe in plenty of breathing exercises for the sake of one's health.

A GOOD POSITION

Singers study breathing as though they were trying to learn how to push out the voice or pull it out by suction. By standing in a sensible position with the chest high (but not forced up) the lung capacity of the average individual is quite surprising. A good position can be secured through the old Delsarte exercise which is as follows:

I. Stand on the balls of your feet, heels just touching the floor.

II. Hold your arms at your side in a relaxed condition.

III. Move your arms forward until they form an angle of forty-five degrees with the body. Press the palms down until the chest is up comfortably.

IV. Now let your arms drop back without letting your chest fall. Feel a sense of ease and freedom over the whole body. Breathe naturally and deeply.

In other words, to "poise" the breath, stand erect, at attention. Most people when called to this "attention" posture stiffen themselves so that they are in a position of resistance. When I say _attention_,--I mean the position in which you have alertness but at the same time complete freedom,--when you can freely smile, sigh, scowl and sneer,--the attention that will permit expansion of the chest with every change of mood. Then, open the mouth without inhaling. Let the breath out for five seconds, close the mouth and inhale through the nostrils. I keep the fact that I breathe into the lungs through the nostrils before me all the time. Again open the mouth without allowing the air to pass in. Practice this until a comfortable stretch is felt in the flesh of the face, the top of the head, the back, the chest and the abdomen. If you stretch violently you will not experience this feeling.

SENSATIONS

I fully realize that much of what I have said will not be in accord with what is preached, practiced and taught by many vocal teachers and I cannot attempt to reply to any critics. I merely know what sensations and experiences I have had after a lifetime of practical work in a profession which has brought me a fortune. Furthermore I know that anything anyone might say on the subject of the human voice would be at variance with the opinions of others. There is probably no subject in human ken in which there is such a marked difference of opinion. I can merely try to describe my own sensations and vocal experiences. In trying to represent the course of the sensation I experience in producing a good tone, I have employed the following illustration. Imagine two pieces of whip cord. Tie the ends together. Place the knot immediately under the upper lip directly beneath the center bone of the nose, run the strings straight back for an inch, then up over the cheek bones, then down around the uvula, thence down the large cords inside the neck. At a point in the center between the shoulders the cords would split in order to let one set go down the back and the other toward the chest, meeting again under the arm-pits, thence down the short ribs, thence down and joining in another knot slightly back of the pelvic bone. Laugh, if you will, but this is actually the sensation I have repeatedly felt in producing what the talking machine has shown to be a good tone. Remember that there were plenty to laugh at Columbus, Gallileo and even Darius Green of the Flying Machine.