The Violins of Isaac Stern

Among the greatest of 20th century virtuosos, Stern left behind great violins and bows. His estate may have bungled it a bit, but the instruments endure.

Just two years after his death, the auctioning of the fine violins, bows, and memorabilia from the estate of Isaac Stern (1920-2001) set the violin universe on fire – with nearly the energy of Tchiakovsky’s Finale: Allegro vivacissimo movement, inspired by Russian folk themes, in the Violin Concerto in D Major op.35 that was part of Stern’s considerable discography.

The story on why the auction happened unfortunately dimmed Stern’s legacy, an otherwise bright life story of international performance that earned him six Grammy Awards, the US Presidential Medal of Freedom, and being named to the French Legion of Honor. Carnegie Hall in New York has the Isaac Stern Auditorium, so-named in part to honor his musicianship as well as his civic activism in saving the structure from demolition in the 1960s.

A dispute between the attorney handling Stern’s estate, on behalf of the virtuoso’s third wife of five years, against his adult children from his second marriage, led to a premature and perhaps unnecessary dissolution of the valuable property. The sales netted $3.3 million, which was thought to be necessary to pay off debts as they were originally perceived to be at the time. Upon further inquiry, those debts were due to mishandling of Stern’s Manhattan apartment and other estate matters by the attorney, who was ultimately judged to owe the Stern’s children $563,000.

The Stern progeny were particularly incensed that they learned about the auctioning of the fine stringed instruments and bows only after the auction was publicly announced. Those instruments were bequeathed to them in the violinist’s will.

The items that were sold (by the Tarisio auction house) included 30 bows, including a Tourte (sold for $43,125), a Peccatte ($40,250), and a Sartory ($37,375). Among the instruments sold were Stern’s Vuilllaume violin (1850), a modern copy (by Samuel Zygmuntowicz) of a Guarneri violin, and a Steinway & Sons piano.

But the most beloved of his instruments in his lifetime was Stern’s thirty years with the del Gesu (1740) known as the Ysaÿe Guarnerius, which he played from 1965 through 1995, and which was subsequently owned by the Nippon Music Foundation. Other classical violins he played during his illustrious career were:

• "Kruse-Vormbaum" Stradivarius (1728)
• "ex-Stern" Bergonzi (1733)
• "Panette" Guarneri del Gesù (1737)
• Michele Angelo Bergonzi (1739–1757
• "Arma Senkrah" Guadagnini (1750)
• Giovanni Guadagnini (1754)
• J. B. Vuillaume copy of the "Panette" Guarneri del Gesu of 1737 (c.1850)
• "ex-Nicolas I" J.B. Vuillaume (1840)

Among Stern’s contemporary instruments were a second violin by Samuel Zygmuntowicz and a modern Italian, a Jago Peternella violin.

The fact that all these instruments survive the great violinists who once played them, come what may, is testimony to the enduring nature of great craftsmanship and the reverence they hold among instrumentalists and, increasingly, their patrons.

Sears Roebuck and the Violin

Almost everything was sold via the Sears “Wish Books” of the 20^th century. Worth noting is inexpensive instruments that have long been available – and valued.

 

Fundamentally, shopping online via Amazon in the 2020s is an awful lot like shopping by way of the Sears catalog in the early 1900s. The consumer then and now looked for what they wanted – or browsed for things that caught their eye – and placed an order with payment upfront. That order was then and is now delivered to their doorstep.

 

Items you could buy, then and today, included inexpensive violins for sale. Also known as “student violins” – and back in the day of the Sears Roebuck catalog (Roebuck’s involvement in the business was short lived although the name lasted longer than the person), they sold “tenor violins” which were in fact violas – they sold for as little as $2.95. There were higher-priced models, “High Grade Violins” as the catalog copy read, priced at $29.95.

 

And what’s noteworthy about those violins is they carried the names of history’s greatest luthiers: Stradivarius, Maggini, and Stainer among them – always with the phrasing to the effect of “modeled after the celebrated Stradivarius violin,” lest there be any false representation (which didn’t become illegal until the 1914 Federal Trade Commission Act – and besides, “modeled after” is a fair enough warning, although the labels inside the instruments didn’t provide that detail).

 

But marketing and distribution issues aside, the fact that violins were popular enough to be sold to families in rural Kansas via their Sears catalog is indication of something more. This was a time preceding television and for most, the radio. Playing musical instruments was the most accessible forms of musical entertainment, especially outside cities, on a daily basis. One only went to the theater for special occasions, if there was one within reachable distance.

 

Writer Dina Gold penned in Moment Magazine about the phenomenon in both Europe and the US prior to World War 2 (“The Stars of David that Aren’t,” tracing how vintage violins of the era had inlaid mother-of-pearl six-pointed stars, which some mistakenly think today were violins used in concentration camps during the Holocaust):

 

“Advertised widely as ‘fancy violin’” in U.S. mail-order catalogs such as Rudolph Wurlitzer (started in 1856 in Cincinnati, which had a big German population), Sears Roebuck & Co, C.F. Martin & Co., Montgomery Ward and August Gemunder & Sons, these violins cost on average $8, then likely a week’s pay. Buyers could choose from a large array of patterns and designs as decoration, including statues, flags, flowers, artists’ heads, harps, swirls, eagles, Stars and Stripes, as well as four-, six- and eight-pointed mother-of-pearl inlaid stars.”

 

Today, there is not only a collector’s trade in those cheaper violins, but with the pages right out of vintage Sears catalogs themselves. For bid-prices ranging between $7 and $20, it’s possibly to buy the original pages from those “Wish Books,” as they were called. The breathless marketing copy and the illustrations are as much a glimpse into how things were merchandised at the time as well as what one can imagine life was like a century ago.

 

The parallels between the old Sears catalogs and Amazon and other online retail sellers holds true today. It’s possible to buy a student violin for as little as $69.99 (includes case, shoulder rest, bow, rosin and an extra bridge and strings, in the ¼ size). Given the rate of inflation since 1900 – which is a multiple of 32.66 – the original lowest priced $2.95 violin would cost $96.35 today.  

 

From which one can conclude, at the lowest level of quality anyway, that musical instruments are as economically accessible today as they were 120 years ago.

The Primrose International Viola Competition

 

Relegated to the alto voice in most compositions, the viola has risen to greater prominence thanks to William Primrose and those who aspire to his virtuosity.

 

Pity the viola? Not quite a violin, not quite a cello, and a far cry from the double bass. With its lower and deeper sound vis a vis the violin it has largely played the alto voice in most compositions. Audiences rarely attended concerts to hear the viola. At best it was the inner voice in string quartets, an accompaniment (second fiddle?) to the star instrument, the violin.

 

But violists such as William Primrose (1904-1982) saw things differently. A talented but surprisingly disinterested violin player from the age of 4 – his father taught violin and was a member of the Scottish Orchestra from their home in Glasgow – he was encouraged by a teacher in Belgium to pursue the viola, which he did to join the London String Quartet at the age of 26. Some years later he was able to commission a viola concerto from Bela Bartok, who died before it was completed (Tibor Serly managed to complete it by 1949). He of course soloed in the premier of the piece.

 

It was in honor of Primrose’s raising to prominence the viola that the Primrose International Viola Competition was officially instituted in 1986 (a predecessor event in 1979 was adjudicated by Primrose himself). The semi-annual event, often held in conjunction with the North American Viola Congress, is a rigorous competition for violists ages 29 or under.

 

The 16^th Primrose competition semi-final and final rounds will be held at the Colburn School in Los Angeles December 13-18, 2021. But that is the culmination of qualifying stages leading up to that: prescreen videos from competitors (due June 11); live round competitors who make the first cut must submit their repertoire (mid-August); quarter-final rounds (December 13-14); and the semi-final round (December 16).

 

Prizes for winners of the competition are $15,000 for first place, $10,000 for second place, and $5,000 for third place.

 

In 2021, a BIPOC (Black and Indigenous People of Color) prize will be awarded by the American Viola Society to the competitor at the Primrose competition who best performs a work by a BIPOC composer. This is in addition to the “Transcriptions Prize;” both of these are worth $1000.

 

During the competition, it isn’t uncommon for a local Los Angeles violin shop or two to host exhibitions that feature fine violas for sale to those who are attending and competing in the festival. Rarely do so many viola enthusiasts converge on any city as they do the City of Angels.

 

Everything about the viola is bigger than the violin, which means players have to account for the instruments’ longer body and neck, thicker gauge strings, a bow with a wider band of horsehair. While this challenges the players to engage more physically with the instrument, which includes applying more weight to the bow and strings to achieve the appropriate degree of vibration. That is what creates a deeper and, arguably, a mellower tone.

 

Winners of the competition are largely regarded as emerging talent on a global scale, most of whom go on to populate the orchestras, ensembles, and academic institutions of music the world over.

 

Pity the viola? Hardly. It’s a star instrument when in the hands of star players.

The Beginnings of the Cello Endpin

 The parts of the cello start at the floor. But the endpin wasn’t always part of the instrument, and the physicality of that changed music itself.

 

Aspects of the cello that most matter when considering cello accessories and parts: The scroll, pegs, pegbox, neck, fingerboard, strings, upper bout, bridge, F-holes, C-bout, fine tuners, tailpiece (aka the tailgut), and lower bout. Right?

 

Don’t forget the endpin. Even though historically this little peg leg appendage didn’t exist, the addition of the endpin – thought to have been sometime around the early 18^th century, when the Stradivarius version of the cello standardized the modern cello – proved to be more important than its lowly position might suggest. Prior to that, the cello itself was slightly smaller and held horizontally, akin to the violin, or held up from the floor through an artful and asymmetrical (if not awkward) use of the player’s calf, or with a neck strap. It is often referred to as da gamba (between the legs) style.

 

This latter method, propped against the legs, affected the sound, dampening the resonance of the instrument. Luthiers of the latter 17^th century had begun building bigger instruments, largely to transform it by angling the back of the cello to increase string tension. This had the effect of producing more volume. Also, the range of the instrument was further extended by lengthening the fingerboard. This larger instrument became unwieldy to hold by existing methods.

 

So as cellos basically got bigger, players needed some manner of lifting device. They tried resting the instrument on the floor, a short stool, a wooden barrel, or the player’s foot, each of which is depicted in art from the 15^th – 17^th century era. The first endpin has no credited single inventor, but they first appear in the literature and art of the mid-18^th century.

 

The first endpins were likely made of wood, as the oldest surviving versions are just that. Over time they added a rubber tip to increase friction (prevent sliding) and to protect the floor. They’ve subsequently been made of metal and carbon fiber. Added to that are endpin anchors or holders, to further prevent sliding. Other mechanisms to prevent sliding include T-shaped wooden stoppers that are tethered to the player’s chair. Any violin shop that specializes in fine cellos for sale will offer many solutions to stabilize them while performing.

 

Double basses have endpins as well. Due to the weight and playing position of the bass – more perpendicular to the floor than cellos, which meet the floor at an angle – they do not need anchoring devices.

 

Lest anyone consider an endpin a minor component of great music, an academic paper begs to differ. Doctoral candidate William E. Braun wrote his thesis, “The Evolution of the Cello Endpin and its Effect on Technique and Repertoire” (2015, The Graduate College at the University of Nebraska) to discuss how it expanded the range of cellists and compositions alike.

 

Braun’s extensive research and report (132 pages) includes how the endpin has evolved over time, particularly in the types of materials used. It looks at the alternative means of supporting the instrument, and how the endpin became the preferred method because it enhanced the sound. Also, the positioning enabled an evolution of playing techniques. From there, Braun posits the compositions for the instrument advanced as well.

 

To this last point, he cites Luigi Boccherini (1743-1805), perhaps a lesser-known composer but one who himself played the cello and therefore was inclined to compose for the instrument. His eleven cello concertos have technical challenges for the player, described in the paper as “florid passages and virtuosic lines in the high registers of the fingerboard… Boccherini’s virtuosic compositions would not be possible to play well with early cello postures, such as with the instrument held on the floor.”

 

So while it is called an “endpin,” its development and use really was just a beginning for cello lovers everywhere.

The Interesting History of the Pochette

 

A scaled down version of the violin, the pochette was devised for traveling and impromptu performances. And, it helped Scots become Englishmen.

 

The innovation of making things smaller – from furniture size radios in the 1930s to hand-held transistor radios in the 1960s, and “car phones” as big as tissue boxes to slim smartphones of today – has a musical precedent. It was the pochette, the almost-pocket-sized version of a violin that was designed for its portability.

 

The pochette is about 60% neck, with a disproportionately smaller body and the scroll on the end. Pochettes (French for “pocket”) vary from instrument to instrument in size and shape, but only by a little: The overall length averages around 16 inches, with about 8-10 inches for the scale (fingerboard) and 6-8 inches for the body. Most are simply shaped like a fountain pen or thin fish, while others have a streamlined version of the traditional pear-shape of a violin.

 

These were not mainstay creations for most makers of fine violins. They were primarily made for fiddle teachers and those players who were dance masters. Both required some mobility – made easier with a pocket-sized instrument – and one can only imagine the impromptu dances that resulted by having this little fiddle handy when the libations lent to merriment.

 

Importantly, when Scotland was basically annexed by England in 1707, the pochette played a role in helping proper Scots to “English-ize” and be accepted in the larger new society. Knowing how to properly dance (as well as to drop the brogue and sound a little more like their countrymen to the south) was considered a social advantage. So a cottage industry arose among dance teachers, accompanied by their pochette-toting musicians, to teach Scottish nobles and merchants baroque dance moves in duple, triple and compound duple rhythms. The modern day equivalent is the personal fitness trainer who brings a sound system with him or her for a home workout.

 

There were a plethora of other names for the pochette: canino, creytertjes, dancing master’s kit, pochette d’amour, Posch, Tanzmeitergeige, Tashengeige, and Trogl-geige. Pochettes that were a long, slender shape were known as “sardinos” (sardines), while other more closely mimicking a violin were called “kit violins.”

 

The first historical record on the pochette is in the 15^th century, and they were in common use up until the 19^th century. Many still exist and they are still made today. Even the great violin maker Antonio Stradivari made a few, one of which is on display in the Paris Conservatoire Museum.

 

It’s possible to find videos of performances and tutorials on the pochette on YouTube. As the piccolo is to the flute, the sound from a pochette is higher-pitched. In compositions such as an aria in Monteverdi’s opera, L’Orfeo, it is a stand in for a bird’s song. But lacking the sonorous quality of a larger violin body with a sound peg, the instrument is rarely used in symphonic orchestras beyond creating novelty sounds.

 

So while miniaturization of many things create conveniences, the larger and original forms of such things as violins are rarely replaced.

The Gagliano Family of Violinmakers

 

The violins of Cremona and Venice might have the most storied histories, but the Neopolitan Gagliano family instruments have stood the test of time as well.

 

In 20^th century America, the music most popular among immigrants from Italy, and Naples in particular, is lively and very often full of comedy. That includes the Sceneggiata, a stage musical form akin to soap operas performed by Neapolitans Mario Merola, Pino Mauro, and Mario Trevi.

 

But among classical music audiences, and to violinists in particular, Naples is strongly associated with the violins and other fine stringed instruments made by multiple generations of a single family of renowned luthiers, the Gaglianos.

 

The founding patriarch of this family – which made fine violins, cellos and double bass instruments from the early 18^th through the early 20^th centuries – was violin maker Alessandro Gagliano (born in 1640). A native of Naples, he traveled north to Cremona where he trained under none other than Antonio Stradivari and Nicolo Amati. Biographers write that it was with the Cremonese masters that Alessandro Gagliano learned how to select wood that was as beautiful to observe as the music tones it produced.

 

Alessandro worked until the age of 90 (1730), long enough to train two sons, Nicola I and Gennaro, and four grandsons: Ferdinando, Giuseppe, Antonio I, and Giovanni. At least three great grandsons (Nicola II, Raffaele, and Antonio II) came next and continued the tradition of craftsmanship in making fine stringed instruments.

 

How good were the violins of the Gaglianos? It varies, and son Nicola I is considered the best insofar as the prices his violins sell for today attest. A cello by Nicolo sold for $744,178 at auction in 2011; his highest-valued violin sold for $258,600 in 2017. Beyond their market value in the 21^st century, Nicolo’s instruments are described as “as close as you can get to a Cremonese sound, varnish, and modeling without the word ‘fecit Cremonensis’ on the label.”

 

Contemporary virtuoso Rachel Barton Pine plays on a Nicola Gagliano violin for Baroque performances. There are 124 violins, 6 cellos, and 1 viola by Nicolo I known in existence has been sold since 1912 (per data from the Tarisio fine instruments and bows auction house).

 

Other children, grandchildren and great grandchildren of Alessandro Gagliano were prodigious violinmakers, each with their own labels (although switching of labels between instruments, and copiers from outside the family, make precise identification of the specific luthier a little more complicated). Ferdinando in particular was most productive, even if some of his instruments are described as “nondescript.”

 

The contemporary (20^th century) music from Naples that Americans know well – “O Sole mio” and “Funiculi Funicula” among them – actually follow in the footsteps of the great composers that came out of the conservatories of Naples. They include Pergolesi, Puccini, Rossini, Bellini, and Donizetti – names that no doubt knew the instruments from Gagliano well, for generations.

The Füssen School of Violin Making

 

While the Museum of Füssen commemorates its luthier-populated past, much of the violinmaking influence of this Bavarian town ultimately went elsewhere.

 

It’s curious to know what led to the development of great instrument making in Europe hundreds of years ago. Certainly, an appreciation for music is at the center of all the centers of violin-making craft. But in the case of Füssen, Germany, geographic location was critical to making it a center of luthiers engaged in the making of lutes and violins.

 

Füssen sits at the southern border of Bavaria, where modern Germany meets Austria. There, two factors made it a place where noted luthiers Johann Angon Gedler (1725-1790), the Niggel family, including Simpert Niggle (1710-1785), and Josef Alois Stoss (1787-1866) ensconced its reputation in the 16^th through 19^th centuries. They had access to the prolific amount of natural wood in the vicinity of the northern slopes of the Alps. Also, the town was situated on the Via Claudia Augusta, an ancient Roman highway.

 

The mountainous region around Füssen, known as the North Tyrol and the Ammer Mountains, provided the maple, spruce, and yew wood used to make the fine violins and lutes. And with its location on the Via Claudia Augusta, access to larger markets including Augsburg and Venice was relatively easy. Füssen is also on the River Lech, providing boat connections to Budapest and Vienna.

 

A third favorable factor was Füssen had (and still has) a culture heavily influenced by a monastery (St. Mang’s, a Benedictine order). The monastery is now the Museum of Füssen, where a collection of some of the lutes and violins made there are on display.

 

Notably, the onset of the Thirty Years War in 1618, and the arrival in 1628 of the deadly plague in Füssen – reducing its population by more than half – put a damper on the instrument making profession there. But while its reputation for creating great luthiers lived on, the actual makers very often trained there then left to build their instruments in other cities around Europe. Luthier Franz Geissenhof, referred to as “the Viennese Stradivari” for his finely crafted instruments, was actually a Füssen native.

 

Füssen lute and violinmakers were resolutely masters, with each instrument entirely the work of one man. There was no division of labor, which is perhaps a more efficient process and precursor to assembly line manufacturing that came with the Industrial Revolution. The fine violinmakers here presumably built with a greater sense of pride and ownership, knowing their instruments were entirely their product and responsibility.

 

So while the Füssen makers of stringed instruments really were spread out to influence the types of instruments made in other cities, this start-to-finish method also became the downfall of the town’s importance in instrument making. By the 18th century a more efficient assembly line method was serving lower-price markets, making the Füssen instruments too expensive – a factor of labor economics that affected almost every craft ever since.