Into Ukraine Via Chop: Euro 2012 and Soviet Art

I traveled in April with Natalia Gajdamaschko from Vienna to Ukraine by train. The itinerary took us to Budapest where we boarded another train to Záhony, a small Hungarian border town. There, we got into a small antique train that carried us a few kilometers to Chop, Ukraine’s border town. Changing trains in Záhony is required because the train tracks in countries of the former Soviet Union are wide gauge while the train tracks in Europe are narrow gauge. (Gauge is the distance between the two parallel rails of a railroad track.) Because track gauges differ, European trains cannot use the train tracks in the former Soviet Union and Ukrainian trains cannot run on European tracks. The explanation for the different gauges is, I have been told, that Stalin did not want railroads used for attacks from Europe or escapes from the Soviet Union. 

This is the train traveling between Zahony and Chop. When we took it,
it had the engine and two train cars

Aside from some anxiety about changing trains in Záhony, the passage into Ukraine went smoothly, if not entirely comfortably. Fortunately, travel into Ukraine has improved greatly since the 1990s when I often traveled there, sometimes in a vehicle and sometimes on a train. I made many trips to Uzhgorod via Chop as part of a project that the University of Georgia had with Uzhgorod State University, and each border crossing was attended by some anxiety.

This is the bridge over the Tisza River that separates
Hungary and Ukraine. The border station lies at the end of the bridge.

In those years, crossing the Hungarian-Ukrainian border was a chaotic and often unnerving experience. Independent Ukraine had only recently been created, and  border officials had been trained to serve the Soviet Union, which meant that they suspected most foreigners entering the country were, at best, smugglers and at worst were spies. Also, the border was very busy. Huge numbers of Ukrainians were traveling into Hungary and Slovakia, and many were smuggling something. They did so to survive horrible economic conditions. The Ukrainian economy collapsed in the early 1990s and the country robbed most people of their wealth through the sharp devaluation of its currency. Many Ukrainians found they could make money by selling cheap Ukrainian goods such as cigarettes and liquor in Hungary and scarce Western goods in Ukraine.

Heavy border traffic offered opportunities for border officials, even border guards, to make some much needed money. For a small payment, a car or small bus could quickly bypass the long line of vehicles waiting for their turn at the border. Also, for a few dollars or hryvnia, customs officials might overlook the extra bags, stuffed with things to be sold, a person was bringing into the country.

The unnerving part of a vehicle crossing into Ukraine in those years was the uncertainty of what was happening. The crossings were often at night, and the dimly lit border stations were dominated by scowling men in strange uniforms. One of them would take away your passport as you sat in silence imagining everything that could go wrong. After an unexpectedly long time, someone would return with the passport, and the car would drive a few feet forward to encounter another uniformed official who would make the driver open the trunk. After some tense conversation with the driver, the customs officer -- with a skeptical look on his face -- would wave on the vehicle. Then passing through a couple of checkpoints manned by young soldiers with rifles, you were relieved to leave the border.


In comparison to crossing the border by vehicle, entering Ukraine by train was more pleasant and less threatening. When you arrived at the Chop station, you joined the rush of people to go through passport control and customs. The first time you did this, you likely ended up at the back of the line because experienced travelers would spring from the train and sprint to the station. Nevertheless, despite the time it took to get through the border checks, entering the country by train seemed much more civilized than by car.

Chop Train Station Mural, Panel 1: The Revolution

Crossing into Ukraine is now much more coherent and less threatening. One reason for this is that fewer Ukrainians now travel regularly to Hungary, so fewer are returning either on the roads or trains. The smaller number of travelers is a result of Hungary joining the European Union. Ukrainians now need visas to enter Hungary, and the visas are not only expensive but difficult to get. The EU guards against Ukrainians who try to enter Hungary to work there or travel to other EU countries to search for work.

Also, fewer Ukrainians travel to Hungary to sell and buy good. The black market is no longer thriving. Fewer Ukrainian goods can be sold abroad because they are no longer a bargain. Also, most Western good available in Hungary can also be purchased in Ukrainian stores, if you can afford them.

Chop Train Station Mural, Panel 2: Building Socialism in the 1930s

The improved border crossing will be welcome by visitors flocking to Ukraine in June to attend Euro Cup soccer matches. The country is co-hosting with Poland the 2012 UEFA European Football Championship. This wildly popular quadrennial event will attract soccer fans from all over Europe. Those visitors will find that Ukraine is still a poor country with inadequate public services. Nevertheless, visitors can expect that Ukrainians will make them feel welcome. Visitors who take the time to see the historical and scenic treasures of the country will be impressed.

Chop Train Station, Mural 3: World War II

When traveling between Hungary and Ukraine by train, visitors will pass through the Chop, as we did in April. There, they will find a train station that looks now much as it did in the 1990s and probably much earlier. It has the design and feel of a Soviet train station. It is cavernous, dark, and unadorned except for a large mural along its interior walls. This huge mural is a relic of the Soviet Union, depicting its history from the revolution to the years before the dissolution of the empire.

Chop Train Station Mural, Panel 4: Space Travel, Modern Socialism

When looking at the mural, one of the few pieces of Soviet propaganda still visible to the public in this part of Ukraine, you can see “socialist realism” art depicting Soviet history as a story of the triumph of workers and a happy march into the future. Viewing the mural, I sometimes wonder what an extension of it would look like: how would the last twenty years of Ukraine be depicted in art form?

Just as it is difficult to find remnants of the Berlin Wall when visiting that city, it now difficult to find examples of Soviet public art and propaganda on display. Most statues of Lenin have been removed from public spaces. The hammer and cycle insignia has been chiseled from walls and fences. Communist Party slogans have been painted over. Thus, we can get a glimpse into this important element of Ukraine’s past only in places like the Chop train station. If you find yourself in the station, it is worth a few moments to step back in history by looking closely at the mural to see what the citizens of Soviet Union saw when they came to this train station during the last years of the empire.

Life and Times of Mr. Tspulich of Uzhgorod, Ukraine

From left: Natalia (daughter), Ivan and Ludmilla Tspulich;
From right: Oxana (daughter) and Danielka (grandson)

On Friday, April 20th, friends and family of Ivan Mikhailovich Tspulich celebrated his 80th birthday. He started receiving calls of congratulations early in the morning, and they continued throughout the day. In the early afternoon, his wife, two daughters (Natalia and Oxana), one of his grandsons (Danielka), plus other relatives and friends attended a lavish birthday lunch in his honor at a restaurant near his apartment on Grushevskoyo Street in Uzhgorod, Ukraine

Mr. Tspulich was born in the Zakarpatska (Transcarpathia) region in 1932. Without leaving the region, he changed citizenship several times. Initially, he was a Czechoslovakian (the region was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until the end of World War I, then was shifted to Czechoslovakia by the Versailles Treaty). In 1939, when he was 7, he was briefly a citizen of a short-lived independent Transcarpathian Republic, but then became a Hungarian when it annexed the region. After WWII ended, the area was incorporated into the Soviet Union, and Mr. Tspulich became a citizen of that empire. Some 45 years later, when the Soviet Union dissolved, he became a citizen of the independent country of Ukraine.

Ivan Tspulich Makes Final Toast of the Meal

Being born in 1932, he was too young to be a soldier in World War II, but as a resident in the “Borderlands,” he  experienced the German invasion and the unimaginable horrors of the German occupation. He does not talk much about those years.

The woman he married, Ludmila Belous, was living in the Vinnitskaya region during the war, and she won official designation as a war hero for her bravery. When the Germans invaded the area, they occupied the house in which her family lived, and the family was required to cook meals for them with provided supplies. Putting themselves at great risk, they smuggled some of those supplies to Ukrainian partisans who lived in the nearby forest. To get the supplies to the partisans, Ludmilla (not yet a teenager) had -- avoiding the watchful eyes of the German guards -- squeezed herself through a kid-sized window in the kitchen to hide the foodstuff outside.

Young Ivan Tsuplich had an academic bent, with some mathematical talent. He also had a great desire to stay out of the Soviet army. After graduation from high school in the end of 1940s, he first earned a technical degree, then a college degree that qualified him to teach mathematics in public schools. He was sent to a rural outpost in the mountains to teach, but after a while there, a local officer in the Soviet Army -- seeing his talent -- took an interest in him and wanted him to be a soldier. After resisting the officer's entreaties to sign on, he was chilled to hear a direct threat: either enlist locally or the officer would make sure that he was drafted and sent to serve in depths of Siberia.  

Ukrainian Cutlet at the Birthday Dinner

Scared, he abruptly departed the village where he was teaching and moved to L'viv to obtain a draft deferral by studying for another degree. However, he arrived on the last day to apply for admittance to a college for the coming academic year, and it was uncertain whether he could gain admittance in the time available. After a couple of rejections, he was able at the very last minute to get on the list of students applying for admittance to the L'viv Agricultural University. In his application and subsequent discussions, he hid the fact that he already had earned a higher education degree, though his stellar performance on the oral entrance exams made some of faculty members suspicious of his background. He seemed to them too well prepared for his studies.

At the agriculture university, student Tsuplich was in his element. He claims that he figured out how to pass oral course examinations without preparing for them, so he rarely studied. To earn a few extra kopecks, he had, for a while, a side business of taking the oral college entrance examinations for less bright applicants. After a short record of success, that enterprise came to an abrupt halt after one day he (bearing the name of another person) came for an entrance examination and found the examiners included teachers whose classes he had taken when enrolled for his (secret) first degree. Barely escaping before he was exposed, he decided to give up that sideline.

He successfully completed his studies at the agricultural university, earning his second degree. By that time, the Soviet army had lost interest in him. He was assigned to an job in the Uzhgorod office of the Transcarpathia Region Ministry of 

Danielka (grandson) and Nazarchik (nephew) eat blinchike

Agriculture, where he worked until his retirement a few years ago. As he started his career, he joined the Communist Party. Settling down, he married Ludmila (a nurse who later became a physician) and fathered two girls, the first in 1961, the second in 1964.

Bureaucrat Tsuplich enjoyed his work for the agricultural office, managing the deployment and maintenance of large equipment used by the collective farms. As part of his job, he traveled often on the dirt roads in the rural areas of the region, for a while riding a motorcycle with a sidecar.  An amiable man, he made good friends with both his colleagues and with many of the farmers he met. These friends were valuable a few years later when he got into some trouble with his boss.

His position had its benefits, as did being a physician. In these positions, Ivan and Ludmila had access to food supplies that might not be available to others, and they sometimes received "gifts" of gratitude that helped feed the family. Another benefit of his position, the Tsuplich family lived for several years in a nice Uzhgorod cottage with a large lot on which they grew such things as strawberries and potatoes. The lot also had a small orchard from which they harvested fruit each year. In the front of the cottage, the family had lavish flower beds.

Comrade Tspulich tells a couple of stories that show the vagaries of belonging to the Communist party. According to him, one of the scariest experiences in his career was losing his Communist Party card. Apparently such a thing was a major transgression that could lead to severe punishment, including prison. Fortunately, after extensive searching and worrying for over a year, his wife Ludmila found the card in a hidden compartment of her purse.

Another story showed the dangers of offending a boss in the Communist Party. His career had a traumatic setback when one day at a staff meeting Mr. Tspulich got very angry at his boss and did something impulsive: he grabbed an ink blotter from the conference table and threw it in the direction of his boss. The punishment for this transgression was a fall from mini-paradise, including the loss of his job and the cottage. The family moved to a high rise apartment, and as his daughter Natalia recalls, had little to eat for a while except eggs, plenty of eggs. Their diet consisted of whatever could be made out of them. Sometimes Mr. Tspulich tried to fool his kids, who were begging for something to eat other than eggs: he would scramble eggs then put the scrambled eggs on a plate and tell them that they were mushrooms.

Natalia Tspulich (Gajdamaschko), High School Graduation, 1979

For a while he was unemployed, which was a precarious situation in the Soviet Union. However,  with the help of a friend, he was hired back at the Agriculture Ministry in another department.
Despite this setback in family circumstances, the Tsupulich family members lived comfortable lives in Uzhgorod, a Transcarpathian city located on the border with Slovakia and just a few kilometers away from Hungary. The Tspulich kids recall happy childhoods attending pioneer camps in the summer and annual family vacations, often going to the Black Sea.

The oldest daughter, Natalia, was a star in the local schools, something she attributes in part to her big eyes and a manner that pleased her teachers. She won all kinds of school awards, medals, and competitions. Her success paid off:  When she finished high school, she was rewarded with the ultimate prize available to students in the USSR, admittance to Moscow State University, the top university in the vast empire. Word of her admittance came near the end of summer as the family was on vacation in Sochi. She had only a few days to get to Moscow for the start of classes. With the help of her father, she made it to Moscow in time to enroll.

Ivan Tsuplich was reluctant to retire, but finally gave up his job when he was in his seventies. He has continued to enjoy life in retirement. He consumes with pleasure the daily grams of vodka that have warmed his throat for more than six decades. He puts on a tie and meets regularly with friends and former colleagues for drinks and conversation at a local cafe or restaurant. He and Ludmila have a dacha on the outskirts of Uzhgorod where they grow potatoes and vegetables and pick fruit from a variety of trees and bushes on the dacha grounds. He often walks the Carpathian mountains in ardent pursuit of prized mushrooms. He enjoys fishing. Though he has given up driving his old automobile, a spiffy, but aging Moskvich, he gets around easily with public transportation and rides from friends.

In the past 22 years, after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, he and Ludmila have done some things that were beyond their wildest imagination when they were Soviet citizens. They have traveled several times to the United States and to Canada, seeing parts of the world that were not accessible to normal folks living in the Soviet Union. They have one daughter and grandson living in Canada and another daughter and grandson living near Moscow, and they have regularly visit both. They are proud of their daughters’ accomplishments and greatly enjoy their grandsons.

I sure that Ivan and Ludmila Tspulich would have been happy to keep most aspects of the good old days of the Soviet Union. The transition from the Soviet Union was turbulent and left many people disillusioned and in poverty. Unfortunately, the political situation in independent Ukraine has not normalized, and the present thuggish regime is unappealing to most folks in Western Ukraine. Nevertheless, Ivan and Ludmila have been luckier than most with their lives after the end of the Soviet Union. Their daily living is now more convenient with appliances, such as a washer, and products from the West. They get better television programs to watch on their improved tv sets. They have traveled the world. Now, if they could just get water every day for more than a few hours, they could enjoy even more being citizens of the world.

Love Locks on the Uzh River Bridge in Uzhgorod, Ukraine

Locks on The Uzh River Pedestrian Bridge

The heart of downtown Uzhgorod, Ukraine, is a large, open square with buildings on three sides and the Uzh River on the fourth. On warm days, vendors bring small horses and kiddie cars to the cobblestone square, and for a small fee, youngsters ride or drive them under the watchful eyes of their parents and the wary eyes of pedestrians. From that bustling square, people can cross the Uzh River on a pedestrian bridge. The other side of the river has a small commercial area with vegetable stands, the best hotel in the city, and several restaurants. This bridge is usually filled with people during the day and early evening.

Walking on the bridge in April, I noted that it had an intriguing new feature that I had not seen in my earlier visits to the city: hundreds of locks had been attached to the bridge's railing along its sides. The locks came in all shapes and sizes. Most had writing on them in paint; some had words etched on them.

Naturally, I asked a local resident why the locks were there. The explanation was that it had become a tradition in Uzhgorod that after a couple got married, they brought a lock to the bridge, fastened it to the railing, and threw the key into the river. This action signified that the couple was bound together in love forever.

Slabid + Diana 

I don't know for sure if this story is true, but it is a touching (and optimist) one, so let's assume it is, accepting that the bridge over the Uzh River is adorned with the love locks of the recently married that bound them together for eternity. The keys to the love locks are deep in the river, never to be retrieved. (I can't help but  imagine the puzzlement of the fish underneath the bridge who have witnessed a blizzard of keys plunking into the water).

More Locks on the Uzh River Bridge

I left Uzhgorod feeling good about its bridge and its love locks. I guess I thought that maybe they are a unique feature of the city. However, I soon found out I was wrong. About a week after seeing the locks on the Uzh River bridge, I was in Salzburg crossing its pedestrian bridge. What did I see? Love locks attached to its railing! The Salzburg bridge has smaller and less distinctive love locks than the ones on the Uzh River Bridge, but it certainly has them.

Love Locks on the Salzburg Pedestrian Bridge

Seeing the love locks in both Uzhgorod and in Salzburg raised some questions that I cannot yet answer. Do all pedestrian bridges in European cities have such locks? Which city started this tradition and when? Do the locks signify different things on different bridges?

Elvis + Zenaida; Udo + Steffi Forever

These and other unanswered questions could easily change the nature of the locks on the Uzh River bridge from a heartwarming story about a symbol of eternal love to a social science research project, from romance to empirical inquiry, from poetry to prose. So, I will choose to ignore these questions and instead simply continue to recall the locks attached to the bridges over the Uzh and Salznach Rivers as interesting and optimist expressions of love.

Spanish Songs in the Basement of Vienna's Mozarthaus

A friend sent an email telling me that a free concert was being held on Wednesday (April 4) at the Bösendorfer Room of the Mozart House, featuring Spanish songs for voice, piano, and guitar. Three things about the concert interested me:  First, it was in a venue that I had never seen. Second, it promised music with which I am unacquainted. Third, it was free. I decided to go.

The concert announcement described it was a “Galaconcert” that was the conclusion of a Master Course for Spanish songs and music. The brochure for this Master Course can be found at this site: http://www.tinteschuermann.org/ism/DOCS/Poster_CEV_black.pdf

Dr. Tintes-Shürmann  

This Master Course featured three instructors:

Dr. Helen Tintes-Shürmann (mezzo-soprano), an experienced opera singer who now teaches at the Vienna Conservatory and heads the International Spanish Music Center. [http://tinteschuermann.org/ism/ ] She has held master courses on Spanish song in the United States and China, as well as Vienna. Born in North Dakoka, she has a Doctor of Music from Northwestern University. She started her study of Spanish music as a pianist at Minnesota State University.  http://tinteschuermann.org/biography/

Jonas Skielboe

Alejandro Picó-Leonis (pianist), who was born in Spain and completed his music education with an MA from Hunter College of CUNY. In 2002, he made his debut at Carnegie Hall and has played at other prestigious venue throughout the world, including Vienna. He has recorded several CDs. Some of his music can be heard at this site: http://www.picoleonis.com/

Jonas Skielboe (guitarist), who was born in Denmark. He has studied guitar with several European masters and now plays professionally throughout Europe. He specializes in the music of Spain and Latin America. See http://jonasskielboe.com/web/Home.html

The concert was performed largely by four women who attended the master class, plus one young pianist. They were accompanied during the first half of the concert by Skielboe on guitar and during the second half by Picó-Leonis on piano (a Bösendorfer).  The concert also had guest appearances by Dr. Tintes-Schürmann and baritone David Robinson, an opera singer and professor from Texas.

The Bösendorfer Room provided an intimate setting for the concert. It is located in the deep basement of the Mozart House, which is a five-story building constructed in the eighteenth century.  The building’s name comes from fact that it contains the only Vienna apartment in which Mozart lived that still exists. He had a large apartment in this building, which is a few steps from Stephenskirche, from 1784 to 1787. The first three floors of the building are now part of a Mozart museum. See more about the Mozarthaus at http://www.mozarthausvienna.at/en/

Bösendorfer Room in the Mozart House

The music venue is located in a deep vaulted basement constructed of brick.  It resembles many of the old Vienna Wine Cellars spread throughout the city. This large cellar has been nicely retrofitted to provide an attractive stage and good acoustics. It has seating for about seventy people. See http://www.boesendorfer.com/en/bosendorferhall.html

Maha Marrawi

The Master Course students were an international group. Their short bios, plus information about each of them on the internet, showed that three of the singers have professional careers with some noteworthy training, impressive accomplishments, and good experience. One of them, Maha Marrawi (mezzo-soprana) is a tousled redhead who was born in Syria. She earned a masters degree at Kunstuniversität Graz and has performed in several operas, including Franz von Suppés “Fatiniza.” This opera was recorded and released as a CD. 

 Two Austrian women, Manuela Leonhartsberger (mezzo-soprana) and Karin Wolf-Bauer (sopran) also are experienced as singers in festivals, concerts, and other events. Leonhartsberger sings at the Vienna Volkopera. This year she is singing the roles of Mercedes in Carmen and Kate Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly.  For more information about these two singers, see these sites: http://www.volksoper.at/Content.Node2/home/ensemble/17085135.php , https://www.facebook.com/manuela.leonhartsberger , and http://www.schubertsolisten.at/karin-biographie.htm .

Manuela Leonhartsberger

The fourth singer, Stephany Peña, from Miami, was a bit younger than the other three. In her early 20s, she is studying solo voice at the Vienna Conservatoriun and has experience singing at venues in the United States, Columbia, and Austria. In Fall 2012, she will be in the Choir of the Vienna State Opera during its tour of Japan.

All four of these singers had some very nice moments in this concert, displaying high quality voices and engaging personalities. It was a pleasure to be hearing them sing in a smaller venue, which, of course, is a wholly difference experience than sitting in the Konzerthaus or Musikverein. In these settings, somehow, the vulnerability of the singers and the complexity of their art are more apparent. Here, singing is not a technical exercise by a distance person, but an individual effort that depends on talent, personality, discipline, and training.

The young pianist, Edwin Zúniga Flores, merits special attention. He is fifteen years old, but has been performing since he was six. He came to Vienna when he was eight and has been studying, playing, and composing since then. His fluent playing of a lyrical excerpt from “La boda de Luis Alonso” by Gerónimo Giménez (1823-1894) was one of the highlights of the evening. This stoic young man seems to have the makings of a major talent.

Edwin Zúniga Flores

In all, twenty different excerpts from longer pieces or songs were sung and played during the concert. The composers included Federico García Lorca (1898-1936), Enrique Granado (1867-1916), Joaquín Rodrigo (1901-1999), Manueal de Falla (1876-1946), Xavier Montsalvatge (1912-2002), Alberto Ginastera (1916-1983), Joaquín Turina (1882-1949), Geróimo Giménez (1854-1923), Francisco Barbieri (1823-1894), José Serrano (1873-1941), Pablo Sorozábal (1897-1988), Federico Moreno Torroba (1891-1982), Ruperto Chapí (1851-1909), and Manuel Penella (1880-1939). I admit that I have never heard of these composers, and as far as I know, have never heard this music before, even though I should have.  

With the lack of wide-spread knowledge of Spanish composers and their music, the work of the International Spanish Music Center to train singers and other musicians to perform this music seems to be valuable. I appreciated the enjoyable evening of Spanish music provided through this Master Class and wish it – and all of the performers at the concert – good fortune in the future. I hope that through their efforts the music they sang becomes more widely appreciated and performed.

Grisly Results as the Song-of-the-Earth Jinx Strikes Again

Loyal readers of this blog will recall from my last post that in the past forty-something years I have attended (or tried to) three performances of Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth) at Vienna’s Musikverein, and three times something has gone badly wrong. I feared that something untoward would also happen the fourth time I went to hear this music on Thursday. My fears were realized. The jinx lives on.

Things went so swimmingly at the beginning of the Thursday night concert that I thought my jinx had, at last, been lifted. At the last moment, I had avoided stehplatz (standing room) by scoring a ticket in the front row of the orchestra right seats. I found myself sitting on the podium directly behind the last row of violinists to the right of the conductor as he faces them. In fact, a couple of the violinists were sitting so close to me that I could reach out and dope slap them if they messed up.

My neighbors at the concert

The first part of the program was played smartly by the Munich Philharmonic with world famous Zubin  Mehta conducting. Mehta had made his Vienna conducting debut in March 1962, and he ranks among the world’s best. It was a treat to be facing the Meister, watching how he used gestures and facial expressions to lead the orchestra. 

The first piece was by Franz Schubert, likely because the Musikverein is celebrating its 200^th anniversary this year, and Schubert was there in its early years. The second piece was the Austrian premier of a composition by German Moritz Eggert (b. 1965), who was present to hear it played. Its title is “‘Puls’ for Grosses Orchester.” The opening of the composition grabs your attention, and it is easy to get caught up in the pulsating, vigorous music that fully uses all parts of the large orchestra. Not only do violinists and brass players work up a sweat, the tuba player, the harpists, and the percussionists are fully engaged in some strenuous playing. This music is a keeper.

The break came and memories of the jinx were fading. As I waited, I read through the lyrics of the six songs that comprise Das Lied von der Erde. With two experienced and highly praised singers engaged to sing these songs, my expectations were rising.

Waiting, Waiting

Then, strange things began to happen. The intermission seemed to stretch out much too long. The audience members came back to their seats, but the orchestra did not take the stage. After five minutes or so, a buzz was rising in the hall. At that point, a sad looking man came on stage to speak to the audience. Sitting behind him, I did not fully understand what he was saying, but the gist was this:  Torsten Kerl, the tenor who was to sing in Das Lied von der Erde, had, a few minutes earlier, a "breakdown" and would be unable to sing.  Dark murmurs arose from the audience.

This man, who I would guess is the manager of the Musikverein, continued to explain what was going to happen. They had contacted a substitute singer who had agreed to take on the role, and he was on his way to the Musikverein.  They had decided to proceed with the playing of Das Lied von der Erde in the following way:  Thomas Hampson, the baritone, would sing the first two songs for baritone, No. 2 Der Einsame in Herbst (The Solitary One in Autumn) and No. 4 Von der Schoenheit (Of Beauty). Then, there would likely be a break until the second singer was ready. He would then sing the songs for tenor, No. 1 Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde (Drinking Song to the Misery of the Earth), No. 3 Von der Jugend (Of Youth) and No. 5. Der Trunkene im Fruehling (The Drunkard in Spring). After that, Hampson would return for the final song, Der Abschied (The Farewell).

The man asked the audience for its patience and understanding. He said that nothing like this had happened before in his twenty-four years at the Musikverein.

The man with bad news speaks

The concert followed the announced plan. Hampson sang The Solitary One in Autumn, including the words:

I weep much in my solitude.
The autumn in my heart has lasted too long.
Sun of love, will you never shine again,
gently to dry my bitter tears?

Then he sang Of Beauty.  

I had been pleased to read in Hampson’s bio that he was born and raised in Washington State and had gone on to have a spectacular career as a concert singer. He had successfully sung Mahler’s work many times, and he was in good form this evening, even amid the turmoil surrounding the performance.

Waiting, waiting

When Hampson finished his first two songs, the sad man came out again to address the audience, saying that it would be at least ten minutes before the concert could resume. In fact, it was more than twenty minutes. Some of the musicians left the stage; others hung around talking, fiddling with their instruments, and reading magazines. A few members of the audience got their umbrellas and left.

After the long delay, the orchestra returned to their chairs and the audience to its seats. The sad man appeared for a third time and introduced the substitute singer, whose name met with the approval of much of the audience. He was Johan Botha, who often sings in Vienna State Operas’ Wagner productions. The sad man said that Botha had not sung the songs of Das Lied von der Erde for many years and had no practice singing them with the Munich Philharmonic. Then he again asked for patience and understanding as he walked, head down, from the stage.

Botha receives thunderous applause

Botha entered. He is a short, rather fat man with long sculptured hair and beard. I would describe him grisly (hint, see the title of this blog entry). He has a powerful, penetrating voice, which came nicely through the outstanding music in Drinking Song to the Misery of the Earth and The Drunkard in Spring. The Drinking Song includes this vivid ending:

Look down there!
In the moonlight, on the graves
crouches a wild, ghostly figure - It is an ape!
Hear how its howls resound piercingly
in the sweet fragrance of life!
Now take the wine! Now is the time - enjoy!
Empty the golden goblet to the bottom!
Dark is life, dark is death!

The drunkard starts:

If life is only a dream,
why then the misery and torment?
I drink until I can drink no more,
the whole, dear day!

And when I can drink no more,
because my stomach and soul are full,
I stagger to my door
and sleep very well!

It was engrossing to watch the old pro Mehta working with Botha to help him enter the music on the right note and at the right time. Mehta’s head was inches from Botha’s as he swung his baton, flicked glances at his musicians, and animatedly mouthed the words to the songs, especially emphasizing the words that followed seconds or minutes of music without words.

Conductor Zubin Mehta smiles at singer Botha

Botha easily won over the crowd with his efforts and the audience, breaking tradition, applauded after each song. Botha’s wonderful voice rewarded those who remained despite their dismay at the changes in the program and the long delays.

The concert ended successfully with the moving music and contemplative lyrics of Der Abschied.  The dark, stirring words of the song were sung well by baritone Hampson, including these:

Weary men go home,
to learn in sleep
forgotten happiness and youth.

He spoke, his voice was choked: My friend,
on this earth, fortune has not been kind to me!
Where do I go? I will go, wander in the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I wander to find my homeland, my home.
I will never stray to foreign lands.
Quiet is my heart, waiting for its hour!

At the end, Hampson led us down the lonely road of eternity:  ewig…ewig…ewig.

Hampson receives the applause of Mehta after The Farewell

The audience rewarded Mehta (who was visibly relieved that disaster had been averted), the two fine signers, and the marvelous Philharmonic orchestra with long and enthusiastic applause. There is no word about how the victim of my jinx, Torsten Kerl, is doing. All I can do is echo the manager of the Musikverein asking for his patience and understanding.  

The "Song of the Earth" Jinx

In the past half century, I have gone three times to hear Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth) played at Vienna’s Musikverein. Each time I have gone, something bad has happened. Tonight, with some trepidation, I am planning to go a fourth time to hear this music performed.  I keep wondering what will go wrong this time.

The first time I went to the Musikverein to hear Das Lied von der Erde (DLvdE) was in 1968 when I was an undergraduate student in Vienna and was able to get tickets to hear the Vienna Philharmonic play the music, conducted by no less than Leonard Bernstein. My seat was on the podium, sitting in a folding chair behind the musicians, facing the conductor.  To maximize seating for the concert, about five rows of such chairs had been placed on the left and right edges of the back of the podium.

The concert was a thrilling event, as you would expect with a world class orchestra, two talented singers, and a world-famous conductor playing some brilliant, though sometimes dark, music. The last movement – quite long – is entitled “Der Abschied,” the farewell. It ends with some very subdued, foreboding music, accompanying one of the singers who repeats the word “ewig” (forever or endless) many times; each time the word sounds more forlorn than the previous time it was sung.

The conclusion is engrossing, as one contemplates eternity with each tortured syllable. Or at least it was at this concert until a guy sitting in front of me on the podium, fell out of his chair, breaking the stillness with a huge clatter.  Initially I was afraid the guy had just gone to eternity; after he hopped up and resumed his seat – hundreds of pairs of eye following his every move, a part of me wished he had.

The second time I went to hear DLvdE performed was in late fall, 1971. I was back in Vienna as a graduate student and felt fortunate that a woman I had known – and dated a few times at the University of Arkansas -- had come to the city to visit for a few months. A blond, free spirited beauty (she was one of the “Razorback beauties” in the university’s 1970 yearbook), she accompanied me to hear a concert featuring DLvdE. This time, the concert went smoothly, featuring a strong team playing and singing the beautiful music. The problem came afterwards, when I and my date, along with a couple friends, went to the Café Hawelka, a hangout for students and intellectuals.

As usual, the café was crowded, and we shared a cramped table with a few other people. At the request of my date, I started translating the words to “Der Abshied,” the conclusion of DLvdE. When it was clear that my translation was not going well, an aristocratic-looking Austrian student sitting nearby offered to help. It didn’t help that he resembled your typical European male model. Soon he was staring into deeply her eyes, translating from German into English these words:

“Fortune was not kind to me in this world! Where do I go? I am departing, I wander in the mountains. I am seeking rest for my lonely heart. I am making my way to my home, my abode. I shall never stray far away. My heart is still and awaits its moment.

The beloved Earth blooms forth everywhere in spring, and becomes green anew! Everywhere and endlessly blue shines the horizon!”

She was lost before he got to the next words: “ewige….ewige…..ewige…….….” I didn’t see too much of her after that. She and the kind translator had a good time together during her remaining weeks in the city.

 It should be understandable why I did not rush back to hear DLvdE again after my 1971 experience. However, last year, forty years after the unfortunate events at Café Hawelka, I decided to give it a try. During my stay in Vienna, the Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester (Youth Orchestra) was scheduled to play both Mahler’s Eighth Symphony and DLvdE. I bought standing room tickets for the concert and went with a former college roommate, recently retired, who I was helping to see Vienna for the first time. 

Unfortunately, the concert was on a warm April night and the standing room area was packed. The first part of the program was the Eighth Symphony, which I don’t find particularly interesting. As the long symphony was coming to an end, I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye: my friend had fallen backwards, fortunately caught by the people behind him, and was lying unconscious. I immediately thought, “How in the heck do you send a body from Austria to the U.S. It must be complicated.” Then I thought, “Xxx (his wife) is going to be mad at me.”

Fortunately, some nearby folks helped my friend regain consciousness, loosening his tie, fanning him, giving him some water. I was preparing to drag him out to the hallway when he was able to get to his feet. A doctor came and insisted that he get fresh air, so we parked ourselves near a window. After observing him a few minutes, she decided he was fine, just overcome by the heat. When he was sufficiently recovered, and just before the orchestra started playing DLvdE, I went with him to make sure he got back to the apartment without difficulty. I read later that the Mahler Jugendorchester was particularly good that night when they performed DLvdE.

Tonight, my fourth occasion to attend a concert that includes DLvdE in its program, is ripe for disaster. It will be performed by a world class orchestra (the Munich Philharmonic) and conducted by Zubin Mehta, one of the best known conductors in the world.  I will be back in the standing room section where last year’s collapse occurred. It will be crowded on this warm day. I’m not sure what will go wrong, but if you read about some strange disturbance in Vienna’s Musikverein on March 29^th, you should see my name in the story somewhere.

Mrs. Wittenberg's Postcard Album

When Mrs. Rose Marie Eichhorn Wittenberg of Little Rock died in 1961, she left her belongings to her son Walter Wittenberg Jr. Among the things he inherited was an album of postcards from the 1890s through the 1930s. Not long after Walter Jr. died in 1976, Mrs. Wittenberg's postcard album was sold at a garage sale held in the Hillcrest area of Little Rock. I purchased it.

I bought the Wittenberg album mainly because the messages on the postcards were in German, and at the time, I was doing some research on German immigration into Arkansas. As expected, this album, like others that are kept together, helps tell the story of the life of the person who collected the postcards. In this case, the story is about a woman who moved from Dresden, Germany to Little Rock in 1911 to marry Walter Wittenberg, one of the city's leading citizens. I have written a paper about Walter and Marie Wittenberg that is posted on Scribd at this link: http://www.scribd.com/doc/83371653/Walter-Wittenberg-and-Marie-Eichhorn-Wittenberg-The-Lives-of-Two-German-Born-Citizens-of-Little-Rock

The short version of their story is this: Walter Wittenberg arrived in Little Rock in 1865 as a soldier in the Union Army's quartermaster service. Born in 1834, he had come to the United States from Germany with his parents in 1849. They had settled in St. Louis, and he had married in Annie Libby in 1856.  After the Civil War, his wife and son (Frank) had joined him in Little Rock, where he made a successful career as an accountant, book keeper, and banker. In 1869, he had helped created the first building and loan association in Arkansas.

Wittenberg, who had a big house at 518 Broadway, lost his wife to illness in 1883. They had six children together, two of whom died at very young ages and one who died as a teenager. His oldest son, Frank, was a successful accountant in Little Rock, and Frank's son, George, started an architectural firm that still exists.

Marie Eichhorn was born in Saxony in 1877 and spent most of her first thirty years in Dresden. She made two trips to the United States (in 1892 and 1908) before moving here permanently in 1911. She and Walter married sometime in 1911 and had a son, Walter Jr. The senior Walter died suddenly on October 11, 1912. Eight years later, in December 1920, Marie married James E. Hogue, a Little Rock lawyer. They divorced in June 1924, and Marie reclaimed Wittenberg as her last name.

She moved from the house on Broadway to a house in the Hillcrest area of Little Rock in the middle 1920s. After a couple more moves, she settled at 412 Palm Street, where she lived until her death in 1961.  For many years, she attended the First Lutheran Church in downtown Little Rock and was secretary of the women's auxiliary group. At the time of her death, she attended Grace Lutheran Church.

The stories of Walter and Marie are small additions to the history of German immigration into Arkansas. The basic facts of Mrs. Wittenberg's life are illuminated and made more interesting by the postcards in her album.  Below are a few of the more interesting cards:

The postcard above celebrates an arts festival held in Dresden in 1905. This postcard shows Marie's address in Dresden in 1905 and her interest in the arts.

 This postcard commemorates a political event that occurred in Dresden on January 1, 1903. Apparently that year a political figure gathered a group of politicians to support him. It was mailed to Marie Eichhorn in 1906.

This unmailed postcard shows the King and Queen of Saxony, which at one time was a kingdom. King Albert held his position from 1873 to 1902. Dresden is located in Saxony and Marie Eichhorn lived there during most of her first three-three years of life.

 This pre-World War I postcard shows the German Kaiser. The postcard is unused.

This postcard apparently was mailed by Marie to herself as a memento of her visit to Paris in 1904. On the front is written: "In remembrance of the last day I was in Paris." At the time, she was living in Leipzig.

 This postcard was sent by a young lady in the United States whom Marie had met during her travels. It is dated 1906.

This postcard is one of two that were given to Marie by Walter Wittenberg. On the back is written: "Received in Dresden from my dear Walter." This card documents the fact that Walter visited Dresden, probably in 1910.

Marie's 1911 trip to the United States is documented in this and another couple of postcards. The writing on the front says that February 1, 1911 was her 13th day on the ocean and the water has been terrible with many storms. She expected to land on February 5th.

Marie had a sister, Hedwig, who lived in Cleveland. She had married Michael Weinhauer in 1895. Hedwig died in Spring, 1912, but Marie kept in touch with her children. Several of Marie's early postcards were sent to her by Hedwig, and several of the later postcards were mailed to her by Hedwig's children. This is an unused postcard.

Several of the postcards in Marie Wittenberg's album have pictures of Arkansas in the 1910's and 1920's. This is an unused postcard in the collection.

The three postcards above are real picture post cards (RPPCs) in Marie Wittenberg's collection. Unfortunately, they are unused (thus, no address) and have no names associated with them. Perhaps the one at the bottom is Walter Wittenberg Jr. as a child.

This final picture is not a postcard, but a photograph that came with them. Perhaps it is a photo of the Wittenberg house at 518 Broadway, Little Rock. No identifying information came with the picture.

Taking Stock II: Eclecticatbest's Most Read Blog Entries

I started this blog in April 2011, mainly as a learning exercise, as an outlet for a bunch of little research projects that I was undertaking, and as encouragement to write with some regularity. With nearly eleven month's experience, I thought it would be interesting to take a look at who is reading the blog and what posts have been the most viewed.

The short answer is that the blog has had over 7,000 page views since its creation. A little over half of the page views were by readers in the United States. The others were by readers in more than twenty different countries. For some reason, Ukraine is the country with the second most number of readers (over 1,000). Canada is third (500 views), and Germany is fourth (266 views).

Before looking to see which individual posts had the greatest number of page views, some background on the blog:  Eclecticatbest.com is hosted by Google blogger. For an extra $25 a year, I pay godaddy.com for my own blog name address. For this payment, I get to use Eclecticatbest.com instead of Eclecticatbest.blogger.com.

The blog is simple to set up and can be customized with no programming knowledge. For example, I wanted my own background for the posts and inserted a picture from my files for that purpose. The picture shows some old Georgia letters on the exterior wall of an ancient church in the Georgia Caucuses. I could do some other things to spiff up the site, but feel no read need to do so.

Posting is simple with blogger.com. Also, it is easy to download pictures into posts. The interface is similar to a word processing program, and you have the ability to preview a post before putting it on-line. It is a good program for people more interested in the content of their posts than in the "look" of their blog.

The blogger site has a "statistics" section that shows the total number of views of the blog by day, week, month, and since the blog's creation. It also shows which browsers were used by readers and, more interestingly, the countries from which readers connected to the blog.  To round out the information, the statistics section shows (1) the website from which readers came to my blog, (2) search words used to find a blog post, and (3) the search engines that were used by readers whose search led them to my blog.

The final information in the statistics section is about the number of page views of each blog entry. A entry is counted as viewed when a reader gets to it by search or by clicking on its title in the blog's index.
Page views of specific entries are not counted when a reader views it on the "landing page" of the blog. The landing page is the page readers get when they type "eclecticatbest.com" to go to the blog. They get a page with the last four or five blog entries. Because lots of blog readers go only to the landing page to read the most recent blogs, the total number of blog page views is much larger than the sum of counted page views of individual entries.

With that caveat, here are the top ten blog entries by number of page views:

305 page views

Austria's Fatherland Front, 1933-1938

August 18, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/08/austrias-fatherland-front-1933-1938.html

188 pageviews

The Assassination of Engelbert Dollfuss, July 25, 1934

August 2, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/08/assassination-of-engelbert-dollfuss.html

160 pageviews

Austrian Anschluss: March 1938

April 18, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/04/austrian-anschluss-march-1938.html

129 page views

Albania for the Adventurous

June 23, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/albania-for-adventurous.html

85 page views

Sand Castle Competition at Birch Bay

June 19, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/sea-castle-competition-at-birch-bay.html

85 page views

Finding M.W. Fodor: Fulbright, Vienna, and Me

September 19, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/09/finding-m-w-fodor-fulbright-vienna-and.html

84 page views

December 2, 1969: The Night We Drove Old Dixie Down (and Didn't Even Know It)

May 24, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/december-2-1969-night-we-drove-ole.html

67 page views

How Birch Bay Celebrates July 4th

July 4, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/07/how-birch-bay-celebrates-july-4th.html

58 page views

Early German and Dutch Immigrants in Humorous Posts

May 5, 2011

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/old-postcards-provide-glimpse-of.html

For a retired professor who was very happy if a couple hundred people read a research paper of mine published in an academic journal, the large numbers of people who read -- or at least view -- the blog is surprising. These numbers are due in large part to the magic of search engines combined with the fact that someone (me) "showed up" to write the blog entries.  I plan to keep on showing up and seeing what happens.