SOURCES

Personal Notes

William Grant Still

Born Woodville, Miss., May 11, 1895.

My father was musically inclined, and did some composing. I have no record of any of his work along that line. His instrument was the cornet, and he was a band leader.

My mother leaned toward things of a literary nature. She taught literature in the high school in Little Rock, Ark. She was quite active in N.A.A.C.P. work in Little Rock. As a matter of fact, she was interested in and took an active part in everything of a cultural nature (I have not expressed myself well here. I mean to say in everything that she could take a part in.) She was an excellent public speaker also.

The love affair of my mother and father started in an Alabama school where both were teaching. This was Mr. Council's school. "Normal," they called it.^[1]

My father died when I was three months old. My mother related some unusual occurrences connected with his death. (You need not include these for I am merely telling you of them.) One was that an owl

persisted in perching on the roof of the house despite all efforts to drive him away. If I remember correctly the bird remained there for a number of days, and would not leave until my father had died. It would not seem strange were it not for the old superstition concerning owls and death.——My mother also told me of the beautiful vision my father had when he was expiring. I think his ailment was typhus. Just before he passed out he rose in the bed and told those present of an angelic being that he saw approaching him. He described this beautiful entity to them, telling them that it was coming for him and then died.

My mother moved then to Little Rock, Ark. where I spent the earlier part of my life—to be exact—until I was sixteen years of age. I was taken many places of course during the sixteen years.

My mother had high aims for me, and she started working toward them, i.e. molding my method of thought at a very early age. I had to read the books she chose—and I'm grateful to her now for it. She constantly impressed me with the thought that I should achieve something worth while in life. She sought to aid me reach the state of mind that leave one unhappy when he has failed to put forth his best effort.^[2] She wanted me to be a man and, for that reason, dealt with me in a manner that would have seemed strange to some mothers who are inclined to coddle their children. But my mother knew what I needed, and I am thankful for it. She sought at all times to give me every advantage that she possibly could. (I rarely missed passing through a day without a licking. But I needed them. Had my mother not employed that means of teaching me to control myself I don't know what the results would have been. Certainly with such a stubborn will as mine things would have gone wrong somewhere.)

I spent much of time in childhood around my maternal grandmother. I have much to thank her for. She was one of the old fashioned devout Christians. She had been a slave, although she was one of the fortunate ones who did not have to work in the fields. She had seen slaves being herded along the country roads of Georgia on the way to the slave mart. She knew and sang the old songs that voiced the slaves' belief that God would not forget them. Because of her influence I have been enabled to realize the value of things spiritual, and to love them. In me the fleshly tendencies are strong. Were it not for the training I received through contact with my grandmother I could not restrain them. God was good to me to give me such a grandmother. She loved me, Harold.^[3] Each day when I would come home from school she would have something special prepared for me. Pies, cookies, candy or something good that she

had made. Later on her memory became affected. She seemed at times to forget everyone. But she never forgot me. In my memory she and my mother still live. It is they who are largely responsible for what I have been able to accomplish. Would that more of our women of color had high ideals, and sought to instill in their children the thought that they must not be content to stop halfway but to keep right on until they are prepared to cope with any man. (I do not mean to say that I am thus prepared, but I do say that I would probably have followed the line of least resistance if the thought of making good had not [been] drilled into me.)

Later, when I was about nine or ten years of age, my mother married again. Mr. Shepperson, her second husband, was a splendid stepfather. In truth, a father could not have been more considerate. He and I spent many pleasant and profitable moments together. He too liked music. [I] learned at an early age to appreciate the better sort of music through the records he would buy. (It's funny how bad those things sound now, but they seemed fine in those days. Until the year just past I kept the old Victor machine on which I used to play operatic records for hours at a time.)

I attended grammar and high school in Little Rock. Was valedictorian of my class in high school. I had to be because my mother made up her mind that I must be, and she made me study. She would never work out any problems that presented themselves for me but would force me to work them out for myself. I[t] was she who had me begin taking violin lessons after I had entered high school. Just as soon as I learned to read music I began making efforts to compose. After having completed high school I was sent to Wilberforce. There I was thrown in contact with some fellows who were lovers of music. These contacts were helpful.

Upon returning home after my first year at college I begged my mother to send me to Oberlin. But she had mapped out a career for me. I was to finish Wilberforce and then to go to Oxford. That did not interest me. I wanted to study music. And so I wasted time in college just barely making my grades; always in trouble for playing pranks; spending most of my time studying music, attempting to write and playing the violin. Finally in my senior year, just about six weeks before I would have graduated I got mixed up in another prank. This was of a more serious nature—to be exact it appeared serious to others although nothing was [done] by any concerned that was at all wrong. i.e. morally. After this affair I left college and went to Columbus, Ohio to make my own way. Managed to get a job. Made six dollars per week. Finally got a job with an orchestra. Did very well while the job lasted. After that I had to

go a little easy on the eating so that there would be enough to eat a little each day. Nevertheless, in the fall of that year (1915) I got married.^[4] —(entered college in 1911 at the age of sixteen years; made my exit in 1915 and got married)—I will say no more of the marriage other than to mention that my mother was sorely grieved because of it, and to mention the four kiddies of mine. Gee, but I love those kids, Harold. I never fully know how greatly I was wrapped up in them until I was separated from them.

After a brief period I received a small amount of money that my father left me. With a portion of this I began studying at Oberlin. They were very kind to me there. Gave me work in the school assisting the janitor. This helped pay room rent. Dr. and Mrs. Stevens, colored people who kept and boarded some of the colored girls attending the school allowed me to wait table at their place. This provided food. I also played in the moving picture house there on some nights. This brought in a little more. Of course the money I received was little. I often was unable to keep quite as neat as I would have liked to be. It's not easy to stretch a few worn articles of clothing (I had to buy my suits in a second hand store during this period i.e. whenever I was fortunate enough to be able to get a suit). While in Oberlin Prof. Lehman, who taught me theory, seemed impressed with my work in the class. He asked me one day why I did not study composition. I told him that I did not have the money. He then brought the matter to the attention of the theory committee. As a result Dr. Geo. Andrews was asked and consented to teach me composition free of charge.

During the war I came to New York and enlisted in the navy. Was discharged shortly after the armistice.

Worked then in a shipyard over in New Jersey. Working in winter. Had often to go in the double bottoms and bail out water. This did not agree with me.

Went to Kentucky, where my wife and children were, later the same winter. You need not mention the following. Received a wire supposedly sent by my wife's father stating that she was dead. Left hurriedly only to find her alive and perfectly well when I arrived in Kentucky. Remained there a short while, and then went to Columbus hoping to get work.

No work in Columbus. Remained there looking and hoping. Was down to my last dollar. Really I had just one dollar left. That same night some musicians who lived in the same hotel where I stopped knocked on my door and told me that I could go to work with them the follow-

ing night. The violinist who had been playing with them had gotten drunk and thrown them down on the job.

Worked in Columbus for quite a while. Finally had some money ahead and returned to Oberlin. Stayed there for a period. The end of the session. Had written Handy about work in New York.^[5] He had been here about a couple of years then. He agreed to give me a job. (I had worked with him a few years before in Memphis. One summer only.) My wife went back to Kentucky and I came back here.

Worked about two years with Handy. Reverses forced him to dispense with some of his employees. I was one.

Played around town with Deacon Johnson^[6] then for a while. Never stopped studying and attempting to write.

Then Shuffle Along came into being [opened May 23, 1921].^[7] Some of the fellows had heard me play oboe. They wanted an oboist in the orchestra. I was elected. During those days Wm. Service Bell^[8] and I were close friends. He and Revella Hughes sang some of my songs in recital in Harlem. Remained with Shuffle Along for more than a year. Finally left the show when it closed in Boston. I returned to New York to be Recording Mgr. of the Black Swan Phonograph Co. While in Boston with the show I studied with Mr. Chadwick,^[9] who would not accept any money for his services.

My family had come to New York before Shuffle Along closed in New York.

While connected with Black Swan I happened to be talking to a stenographer one day. Glancing down at what he was writing I discovered that he was replying to a letter announcing that Edgard Varèse^[10] was offering a scholarship. (His reply was to the effect that the party for whom he was writing knew of no one to suggest for the scholarship.) I got busy, got the information, and wrote Varèse. In the end I received it. The period of study with Mr. Varèse helped me wonderfully. It taught me to be independent; to break away from the barriers that had repressed—(you fill this in, I can't think now). Any way I began finding myself. I came to the point where I could—(what shall I say? NOTHING.) Well, I liked Varèse, and I still like him. I think he is an exceptional man. He was my friend in the true sense of the word. He stood firmly for me. I shall always be indebted to him.

Black Swan went along for a while, and then went on the rocks. I was again out of a job. Stayed out too for quite a few months. (Orchestrated Runnin' Wild [opened September 2.9, 1923] while with Black Swan.)

Then Luckyeth Roberts came along with a colored show. I orchestrated it. The show lasted about four weeks. I was again out of a job, and had not been paid all that was due me for orchestrating the show. However that was not Roberts' fault.^[11]

Hung on by the hardest over a period of some months and then got a job with Dixie To Broadway [opened September 29, 1924; ran for eight weeks]. Stayed with that show for quite a while. The show closed.

Worked at the Plantation then.^[12] Directed the show. It was during this time when Florence [Mills] sang Levee Land [January 24, 1926].

Leroy Smith offered me a job. The remuneration was greater by far than what I was receiving. So I accepted. Remained with him for about six months. Left him to orchestrate an edition of Earl Carroll's Vanities^[13] [ . . . of 1926; opened August 24, 1926]. This came through Don Voorhees who was Carroll's musical director.^[14] Don had work on the radio and needed arrangements. That caused me to stop playing and to devote myself to writing, i.e. orchestrating principally. Composing whenever I had time. You [Forsythe] came to New York during that period [September 1927].

Remained with Don for about two and one half years. Orchestrated Rain or Shine [opened 2/9/1928. One critical comment: "Stung by the jazzy lash of Dan [sic ] Voorhees and his squealing band, the music sweeps like a breaking wave."],^[15] other Carroll shows [Vanities of 1928, opened August 6, 1928], and an edition of Americana [opened October 30, 1928] that failed. Received a Harmon second award in music [1928]. Clarence White was given the first.

Somewhere along there I trained a special orchestra that I conducted later in a program of Negro music before the Crown Prince of Sweden.

And then the chance came along to go with Whiteman. Not long after that I saw you. The job ended. [Still returned to New York in June 1930.]

I was out of work for about fourteen months. Things often looked critical. But God is good. I am thankful that He brought me through. The job with Willard Robison's Deep River Orchestra [ca. August 1931] came up. At first I merely orchestrated. The program went to WOR. After a short while I was chosen to conduct the orchestra. A group of splendid white musicians. I have never been accorded greater courtesy nor have I ever received greater cooperation than from those fellows. The program succeeded. Was spoken of highly, especially by musicians. The contract expired the early part of this month [December 1932].

The program has gone to WJZ. Unfortunately the folks at NBC are not

broadminded.^[16] They don't want a Negro conductor. So I am now [1933] serving merely as an arranger. But it's OK. Everything will work out.

Scored the Prelude and Entr'Acte of Clarence White's opera for him.^[17] Delivered a lecture on Orchestration at the Eastman School last year [in conjunction with the second performance of the Afro-American Symphony, 1932].

Miscellaneous

Don't forget to say a lot about Dr. [Howard] Hanson.^[18] There is not a finer man in the world than Dr. Hanson. A splendid musician; big hearted; broad minded, and all the other good things thrown in. Even then he is not done justice. He has made it possible for me to hear my efforts. He has encouraged me. He has aided me materially. He has been a FRIEND.

Please mention these:—

Georges Barrère:—For performing some of my efforts.

Quinto Maganini: For placing the second Mov. of Africa on his program.

Olin Downes: For his interest and encouraging remarks.

John Tasker Howard: For mentioning me in Our American Music [New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1931].

Paul Whiteman: For giving me a good job and paying me well. For including the last movement of Africa on his program.

Frank Patterson: For his interest and some nice things he has done in my behalf.

Varèse——(You know)

Lehman and Dr. Andrews and Geo. Chadwick—(You know)

ALSO:

Irving Schwerké: Through his efforts Africa was performed during the Festival of American Music in Germany; Africa was accepted for performance by the Pasdeloup orchestra in Paris; the symphony has been brought to the attention of Weingartner.

I am a firm believer in God, and I certainly have every reason to be so. I am thankful that He has suffered me to go through a troublous period.

It was what I needed. Spiritual development is necessary to one who would compose. Through suffering the ego is overcome; one learns the lesson of humility; when one is humble he can hear the voice of God, and he can learn the lessons that will profit him most.

I have now but one great desire. That is to serve humanity. It matters not if I fail to amass money or to win great esteem. But it does matter if I fail to help others.

You'll have to ask me the rest. My old brain refuses to work any more right now.

[Billy]

Compositions

From the Land of Dreams (For Chamber Orchestra and Three Female Voices Treated Instrumentally)

In three movements—Lento; Allegretto; Allegro Moderato. Completed in 1924.

Performed at a concert of the International Composers' Guild in New York, Feb. 8, 1925.

Conducted by Vladimir Shavitch, who was at that time conductor of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra.

The first of my efforts to be performed in New York. I was so nervous when it was being played that I scarcely heard it.

Press Comments:—

William Grant Still tried the instrumental use of human voices in an incoherent fantasy, From the Land of Dreams, and succeeded in making them sound once or twice like Wagner's Rhine Maidens.

One hoped for better things from Still. . . . Is Mr. Still unaware that the cheapest melody in the revues he has orchestrated has more reality and inspiration than the curious noises he has manufactured? . . . This is music unprofitable to compose or listen to.—Olin Downes

From the Land of Dreams, the work for small harmonic orchestra and voices instrumentally treated by WGS, well known for his orchestration of many Negro revues, adds another member to the company of American musical embryonics. Still has learned much from Edgard Varèse, his instructor, although he has not yet quite learned to speak out freely. . . . But Mr. Still has

a very sensuous approach to music. His employment of his instruments is at once rich and nude and decided. The upper ranges of his high soprano have an original penetrating colour. And the use of jazz motives in the last section of his work is more genuinely musical than any to which they have been put, by Milhaud, Gershwin, or any one else.

—Paul Rosenfeld.

My Personal Opinion: It is not Still but Varèse who speaks in From the Land of Dreams . The realization of this fact enabled me to see that it was necessary for me to find an idiom that would be modern but not so much so that it would fail to be recognized at once as Negroid.

Levee Land (for Soprano Soloist and Chamber Orchestra)

In four parts—"Levee Song"; "Hey-Hey"; "Croon"; "The Backslider."

Completed in 1925.

Performed at a concert of the International Composers' Guild in New York, Jan. 24, 1926.

Sung by Florence Mills.

Conducted by Eugene Goossens.

A very large audience many of whom, in my opinion, came merely to witness Florence Mills in the role of a concert artist.

Press Comments:—

One simply could not help defying the streptococci germs and braving the chill winds of night to see what Miss Mills would do with her numbers and her audience.

Miss Mills sang a group of songs by William Grant Still entitled, Levee Land . Curious and elemental were these songs by this brilliant young Negro composer, plaintive in part, blue, crooning and sparkling with humor, and Miss Mills gave them a perfect interpretation. . . . Now, it's true though possibly a bit rash to come right out and say that Florence Mills packed the house.

—New York World

The interest of the performance, the real interest and value such as it was, came from the performer. . . . She would have made a flatter piece of music amusing by her diction. . . . The "Levee Song" is the best. The last, "The Backslider," is effective when it has Miss Mills to do it. Both of them seem

artificial, neither real jazz, nor real modernism, with forced and sentimental affectation.

—Olin Downes

William Grant Still is a Negro musician with a first rate education. . . . Last year he had a piece performed at an I.C.G. concert which was nothing more or less than a slavish imitation of the noises which Edgard Varèse calls compositions. This year he had safely escaped from that baleful influence and gave the public four foolish jazz jokes—sung by Florence Mills in a true and proper Broadway manner—and greatly enjoyed by the public. These works are so good, healthy, sane—such good musical fooling—that they place this Negro composer on a high plane in the super-jazz field just now in vogue.

—Musical Courier

William Grant Still has attempted in Levee Land to combine jazz with sophisticated harmony, and the result of the union is not happy.

—Musical America

My Opinion: Levee Land was a step nearer the idiom I was seeking, yet it was still too extreme.^[19]

Levee Land was also performed in Germany. Sung by Juan Harrison over the radio, Frankfurt-on-the-Main.

From the Journal of a Wanderer (Symphonic Suite)

Completed 1925.

Performed by the North Shore Festival Orchestra [Chicago] under the direction of Frederick Stock, 1926.

Performed by the Rochester Symphony under Dr. Howard Hanson, 1928.

Press Comments (North Shore Orchestra):—

From the Journal of a Wanderer, five short pieces of futile instrumental vagaries without much rime or reason.

—Maurice Rosenfield

Press Comments (Rochester):—

Mr. Still's Darker America interested this writer when it was played here. . . . His suite yesterday was more versatilely written; more spectacularly conceived; in it was instrumental and harmonic invention of originality and at times of appeal.

—Stewart R. Sabin

Darker America (Symphonic Poem)

Completed 1924.

Performed first at a concert of the International Composers Guild, New York, 1926, with Eugene Goossens conducting.

Press Comments (I.C.G. performance):—

With respect to the works of Messrs. McPhee, Goossens and Still there is hardly a choice between saying a great deal or nothing at all.

—New York Telegram

The best music last night was that of Darker America . . . . It communicates an atmosphere. What is lacking is actual development and organic growth of the ideas. This music, however, has direction and feeling in it, qualities usually lacking in contemporaneous music.

—Olin Downes

The actual high spot was a new work by that greatly gifted Negro composer, William Grant Still. . . . This composer is still slightly under the influence of his teacher, Edgard Varèse. Some day he will escape entirely from this influence and when that day comes he will blossom forth as one of America's really great composers. He already has a splendid technic and is obviously full of ideas. Just at present his ideas are clouded by modernistic harmonies (i.e. dissonances) which spoil them. However, there is no doubting the man's power, and his music on this particular occasion was like a bright spot amid a lot of muddy grime.

—Musical Courier

Mr. Still has progressed notably in his mastery of expression since his Levee Land . . . . In Darker America he has essayed to voice some phases of the spiritual life of his race. . . . The harmonic influence of Varèse is apparent in the treatment of Negro themes, and the work is weak in development. But the earnestness of the writing, the driving energy of the rhythmic movement and the ingenious scoring are worthy of praise. The music has a powerful emotional urge and convincing sincerity.

—Musical America

Press Comments (Rochester):—

A large audience and a jury of six musicians and music critics attended a concert tonight in Kilbourn Hall, at which four manuscript orchestral works by American composers were played. Audience and jury, voting jointly, designated two of the four works for early publication. . . . The composers whose works were selected for this purpose tonight were Douglass Moore, [whose] Pageant of P. T. Barnum received the unanimous vote of the jury and a ma-

jority vote of the audience, and William Grant Still, whose Darker America was given second place by the jury.

—New York Times

Program Notes: Darker America is representative of the American Negro, and suggests triumph over sorrows through fervent prayer.

My Opinion: Darker America has quite a few faults, viz. lack of consistency in form; too much material for such a short composition; faulty harmonization in places.

From the Black Belt (Suite of Miniatures for Chamber Orchestra)

This is a group of short, humorous pieces.

Performances:

Barrère Little Symphony, 1927, New York

Barrère Little Symphony 1932, New York

Press Comments:—

Mr. Still's opening "Dance" closed at about the sixth measure. The ensuing music proved tuneful and showed skill in the use of instrumental sonorities. . . . The last section, "Des Keep on Shovin'," was another fragment, closing a likeable piece.

—Herald Tribune

My Opinion: This group was conceived with view to amusing the audience. It has done that, for the audience did laugh each time it was performed in New York. Mr. Barrère told me that the same thing occurred when he performed it in Washington.

"The Breath of a Rose" (Setting of Langston Hughes' Poem) / "Winter's Approach" (Setting of Paul Laurence Dunbar's Poem)

These two songs are not important. I mention them because they were completed in 1927, and heard for the first time in public. These are the songs published by [G.] Schirmer.

"The Breath of a Rose" was written for a proposed stage production that never got beyond the period of planning.

"Winter's Approach" was written for Madam Marya Freund, a European singer.

Log Cabin Ballads (Suite for Chamber Orchestra)

Completed 1927

Performed by Barrère Little Symphony, 1928, in New York

The press comments were favorable. I will not include them for this is not an important work. The three pieces composing the suite are, "Long To'ds Night," "Beneaf De Willers," and "Miss Malindy." Florence Mills was particularly fond of "Miss Malindy," and wanted me to have lyrics set to the tune so she could sing it.

Puritan Epic (Symphonic Poem)

Completed 1928.

This has never been performed, and will probably never be heard because I don't like it. I had intended calling it, "From the Heart Of A Believer." But I decided to change the title after the Victor Contest was announced and to enter the piece in the contest.^[20]

Africa (Poem for Orchestra in Three Movements)

i-Land of Peace. ii-Land of Romance. iii-Land of Superstition.

Completed 1930.

Performances:

1930—special arrangement—Barrère Little Symphony in New York.

1930—Rochester Symphony under Dr. Hanson

1931—Festival of American Music—Bad Homburg, Germany under Dr. Holger.

Third movement to be played by Paul Whiteman's group in Carnegie Hall, Jan. 25, 1933.

Second movement to be played by the New York Sinfonietta in Town Hall, March 1933.

The entire work to be performed by the Pasdeloup Orchestra in Paris this season, under Rhené Baton.

Press Comments (Rochester):-

Mr. Still's Africa was heard by the writer with genuine pleasure. . . . The finale hints at something that one believes comes individually in conception to a composer.—Stewart R. Sabin

Judging by the applause the greatest approval of the audience went to the Africa Suite . . . . The music of the suite is impressionistic, strongly marked in rhythm, with passages that are richly harmonious alternating with others of barbaric discord.—Amy H. Croughton

To my mind the highlight of the evening came in the superb playing of W.G.S.'s third movement entitled "Land of Superstition" of his suite Africa .—Samuel Shulsky

I have many clippings from German papers concerning the Bad Homburg performance. I can't read them, and I have forgotten what the German fellow who read them to me said. But Irving Schwerké wrote me that Africa was the sensation of the festival. I did not believe him, thinking that he merely wanted to make me feel good. But this year I met Marvin Wessel, a young composer who has been living in Vienna. He knows Schwerké (and does not like him so well . . . that's confidential mark you . . .). He told me that Schwerké told him the same thing.

Now, let me tell you a few things about Africa . I have never worked on any composition as long as I have worked on Africa . This period of work has extended over five years. The entire structure of Africa has changed in that time. Harmonizations, developments and instrumental colours have been altered. And now I am making the final score. When that is done Africa will at last be completed. If one should hear this last version, and then hear the first he would not recognize the latter. [See Arvey monograph for additional revision.] I believe Africa will endure. Here is the explanation of (I mean program notes). . . . (Gee!)

An American Negro has formed a concept of the land of his ancestors based largely on its folklore, and influenced by his contact with American civilization. He beholds in his mind's eye not the Africa of reality but an Africa mirrored in fancy, and radiantly ideal.

I —He views it first as a land of peace; peace that is partly pastoral in nature and partly spiritual.

II —It is to him also a land of fanciful and mysterious romance; romance tinged with ineffable sorrow.

III —Contact with American civilization has not enabled him to completely overcome his inherent superstitious nature. It is that heritage of his forebears binding him irrevocably to the past, and making it possible for him to form the most accurate (or definite?) concept of Africa.

Sahdji (For Corps De Ballet, Chorus and Bass Soloist; Text by Richard Bruce and Alain Locke)

Produced at the Eastman Theatre, Rochester, N.Y., May 1931. Choreography by Thelma Biracree. Chorus trained by Herman Genhart. Scenery by Clarence Hall. Costumes by Mrs. Alice Couch. Conducted by Dr. Hanson. (The work is also dedicated to Dr. [Howard] Hanson. Don't forget this.)

The story is of Sahdjl, favorite wife of Konombju, chieftain of the tribe, who betrays the chief through infatuation for his nephew and heir, Mrabo. Konombju is killed while on a hunting expedition. Mrabo, intimidated by the attitude of the Medicine Man and Counselors, repudiates Sahdji who then stabs herself with a sacrificial dagger.—(Very poorly told. If you can get the book of Negro Plays by Locke you will find the story of Sahdji in it.)^[21]

The story of Sahdji is told in pantomime by the dancers. The chorus, in addition to being used in the customary manner, is used in a sort of percussive way. The form approximates that of the old Greek dramatic model. The Chanter (bass soloist) recites (or chants) African proverbs which are both in comment on and explanation of the action.

Press Comments:—

The choral ballet is a vividly impressive work. Mr. Still . . . has written a musical score that appeals as one of the most direct and lucid in dramatic suggestion of recent compositions of its sort. . . . Mr. Still gives evidence of an excellent sense of dramatic appeal in stage music, and he wastes no time or measures on music that does not count in the drama.—Stewart R. Sabin

Mr. Still's score is a most interesting one, dramatically effective and having distinct racial quatities.—Amy S. Croughton

In Sahdji Mr. Still, whose symphonic works have aroused favorable comment here, again offers music of a direct nature. His composition seemed to fit in perfectly with the character of the people portrayed on the stage and thus much was gained for the work's unity.—Samuel Shulsky

Mr. Still is a composer of marked talent. . . . The ballet Sahdji is fully as racial in content as the former work, and it appears clearer and not less rich in style. It is not so effective on the stage, or was not so effective on the stage tonight, as it is when the music is examined or heard by itself. The reason for this lay partly in the problem of presentation. It also lay in Mr. Still's rapidly growing but not complete mastery, as yet, of his medium and his necessary state as a composer for the theatre. But this is real music, music of a composer of exotic talent and temperament, who has a keen sense of beauty, sensuousness which is controlled by taste, and incipient aptitude for the theatre.—Olin Downes, New York Times

Before attempting to answer these queries, it must be admitted at the outset that too few Negro composers have composed music which is worthy of presentation in concert-halls. But one of these, a William Grant Still, for example, with a ballet entitled Sahdji , represented his race at the concerts of the recent May Festival of American Music at Rochester, N.Y. . . . Yet Still's score, which the critic Olin Downes reported as showing "unmistakable talent, etc.," probably is no more a token of the spirit which any group of our authorities would agree upon as being essentially American than the music of Koscak Yamada.—An excerpt from "The Negro in American Music" by Carl E. Gehring in Procession, Feb. 1932.

My Opinion: I was pleased with the outcome of Sahdji although there were some spots in the orchestration that were not quite right. I plan to rescore the work, and probably change the last dance, i.e. to write a new dance.

Sergei Radamsky took a score of Sahdji to Russia with him last year. Shortly afterwards an article appeared in the New York Times stating that the work would be performed in Russia. I have never learned whether or not it was done.

It was quite interesting to have a white man from Mississippi in replying to an article bemoaning the dearth of ballet music by American composers mention Sahdji .

Neither Locke nor Bruce attended the performance. However, I can truthfully say that I bear neither of them any ill will. They would surely have come if they had been able.

Sahdji was started in June 1930 and completed by August.^[22] The composition of this work was comparatively easy.

Afro-American Symphony—Moderato Assai; Adagio; Animato; Lento Con Resoluzione

Completed 1931.

First Performance—Rochester Symphony, Oct. 28, 1931.

The entire work is based on a simple little blues theme. This theme plays an important part in each movement except the scherzo, where it appears merely as an accompanying figure. The four movements present successively the pathetic, sorrowful, humorous and sincere (or noble) sides of the American Negro.

Press Comments (1st performance):—

This headline appeared in the Rochester Evening Journal, "NEW SYMPHONIC WORK ACCLAIMED AT FIRST PLAYING IN AMERICAN COMPOSER'S CONCERT." Following are excerpts from the article under the above headline.

Interest in the program, however, centered chiefly in Arthur Farwell's "Gods of the Mountain" Suite and William Grant Still's "Afro-American Symphony." Both rank among the best constructed and most provocative compositions heard in the history of these concerts. Mr. Still's symphony was especially intriguing. . . . Throughout the symphony has life and sparkle when needed and a deep haunting beauty that aids in conveying a picture of the mercurial temperament of the Negro. The symphony sometimes shuffles its feet, at other times dances. It laughs unrestrainedly, it mourns dolefully and sways often in the barbaric rhythm of its subject. And always it sings. . . . Finally, Mr. Still has succeeded in being original without any self conscious effort.—David Kessler

Mr. Still's symphony is by far the most direct in appeal to a general audience of any of his music heard here. . . . Mr. Still has done his work well in this new composition, but to some extent he has replaced that arresting vigor one has admired by deft sophistication.—Stewart R. Sabin

Mr. Still's Afro-American Symphony is built up from a "Blues" theme which he develops into a composition of poignant beauty through which one feels intense . . . emotion held within bounds by a fine intelligence. There is not a cheap or banal passage in the entire composition, and none which impresses one as having been set down merely for the sake of keeping the instruments busy or covering a set amount of manuscript paper. To give one such composer as Mr. Still an opportunity to have his compositions heard and to hear

them himself would justify the entire American Composers' Movement.—Amy H. Croughton

2nd performance—Rochester Symphony—Mar. 3, 1932

Press Comments (2nd performance):—

It is honest, sincere music . . . etc. . . . Mr. Still and his music were given an ovation by the audience.—Amy H. Croughton

[See also critical comments in the introduction, above.]

(Let me explain here that I was present at this concert. I missed the first because Dr. Hanson's secretary failed to notify me in time. As is characteristic of Dr. Hanson, when he discovered that it would be too late for me to get there in time by train he wired me to come by airplane at the expense of the school. But the day was so bad that the companies operating planes would not take passengers. . . . When Sahdji was produced I was broke, and did not have the money to get to Rochester. Dr. Hanson sent me $100.00 to make the trip. Do you see now why I admire him so much when, in addition to encouraging as me does, he offers me material aid of that sort?)

Let's get back to the subject.

He has written a symphonic piece that will be heard with pleasure by audiences at large.—Stewart R. Sabin

The Afro-American Symphony seemed a much more important work on second hearing than it did the first time it was played in this series.—David Kessler

Press Comments (3rd performance):—

Some explanation is necessary here. After this second performance the Scherzo of the symphony was broadcast in a special broadcast to Germany. Now to get to the third performance. In December Dr. Hanson sailed to Germany to conduct the Berlin Philharmonic in a special concert of American music. The Scherzo of the symphony was included on the program. The following is an excerpt from an article that ap-

peared in the New York Times concerning the concert: "The audience demanded a repetition of Still's scherzo."

My Opinion: This symphony approaches but does not attain to the profound symphonic work I hope to write; a work presenting a great truth that will be of value to mankind in general. I have good reasons to expect its performance in Switzerland soon, and probably in England.^[23]

William Grant Still and Irving Schwerké:
Documents from a Long-Distance Friendship

Edited by Wayne D. Shirley

"He does not dedicate music lightly," said Verna Arvey of William Grant Still.^[1] And indeed Still's works are dedicated to major cultural figures who were helpful to him—Edgard Varèse, Howard Hanson, Georges Barrère, Henry Allen Moe of the Guggenheim Foundation, Leopold Stokowski. Still's Afro-American Symphony is dedicated "to my friend, Irving Schwerké."^[2] Who is Irving Schwerké, who bears the most prestigious of Still's dedications?

Looking in Amerigrove, we find that Irving Schwerké (1893–1975), "pianist, teacher, and writer on music," was music and drama critic for "the Paris Tribune " (i.e., the Paris edition of the Chicago Tribune ) from 1921 to 1934. He was Paris correspondent for the New York periodical Musical Digest for the years 1922–1929 and for the Musical Courier for the years 1932–1941. He returned to the United States in 1941 (fleeing from the Nazi occupation of France, we correctly guess) and settled in his hometown of Appleton, Wisconsin, "to teach and write."^[3]

We find out more about Schwerké from his papers, which he bequeathed to the Music Division of the Library of Congress. In them we see the latter years of Schwerké's life, spent as a well-loved piano teacher; we also see him as a collector of autographs (film as well as music and stage), photographer, and champion of American music. The Schwerké Collection contains significant correspondence with many composers, American and European; yet it is the letters of William Grant Still, running from 1930 to 1964, that are the unquestioned glory of the

collection. Two further items, given by Schwerké to the Library of Congress in 1966, add to its importance: the holograph manuscripts of the original versions of Still's Africa and Afro-American Symphony .

One fact neither the Amerigrove article nor the Schwerké Collection tells us: Still and Schwerké never met.^[4] Their friendship developed entirely through correspondence, a correspondence that is now preserved in the Irving Schwerké Collection in the Library of Congress and the William Grant Still-Verna Arvey Collection in the Department of Special Collections of the Fulbright Library at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. For the early years we have few of Schwerké's letters—the young Still, unlike Schwerké, was not a systematic organizer of his correspondence, and he may have left much of his correspondence behind when he moved to California in 1934. From 1937 on we have both sides of the correspondence.^[5]

The correspondence as we now possess it begins in 1930. The opening letters invoke two figures important in Still's life during the 1920s but are otherwise unremarkable:^[6]

[July 17, 1930?]^[7]

108–15 172nd St.,
Jamaica, N.Y., U.S.A.

Dear Mr. Schwerke:—

Kindly allow Mr. Varese, c/o Morgan & Co., 14 Place Vendome, Paris, to see the sketch by Bruce Forsythe before you return it to me.

Sincerely,^[8]

William Grant Still

(Forsythe's "sketch," we can infer from Schwerké's later interest in Darker America, is probably a draft of "A Study in Contradictions," which appears below in this volume.^[9] Varèse lived in Paris from fall 1928 to summer 1933.)

18, rue Juliette Lamber
Paris, Oct. 9, 1930

Dear Mr. Still,

Yours of July 17th has followed me all over Europe—I have at last received it and hasten to thank you for your kindness. The Forsyth study has helped me much, and I am now writing our friend Varese, to give it to him—I should have done so before, had I known your wishes in the matter. I hope you will send me another example of your MS, similar to the one you sent me some time ago, as I shall want to decorate my article with two facsimile^[10] —if I have them! And for my personal vanity, please don't forget to

Figure 13.
Irving Schwerké with singer Sophie Tucker, for whom Still made arrangements. 
From the collections of the Music Division, Library of Congress. 
Courtesy of Library of Congress.

send me some time, your photo with dedicace and also one of your compositions with inscription. If I had something for piano or voice, I could easily place it on programmes here. With good wishes and again my thanks, believe me,

Faithfully yours,

Irving Schwerké

P.S. Re Osgood's "So This is Jazz," I tried to obtain a copy of this book for review in the Chicago Tribune, but no luck. I too hope to have the pleasure to meet you sometime.

Still replied on October 29:

Dear Mr. Schwerke:

Your letter was indeed welcome. Hence the prompt though brief response.

Let me pause here to thank you for sending Forsythe's account to Mr. Varese.

Here are copies of two songs, a snapshot and an example of my poor manuscript.^[11] Am more than glad to send them.

Please pardon the appearance of the songs. I want to get them off today. They are the only copies I have here and the inclement weather makes it inconvenient to get to New York.

As soon as I can get the nerve I will have some photographs made and send them to you.

Please drop me a line when you find time. Shall look forward to it.

Yours sincerely,
William Grant Still

A pleasant and enjoyable correspondence, but not a remarkable one. Still's next letter is very different in tone: Schwerké is suddenly Still's confidant, the "sympathetic ear" to whom he can tell his troubles. (Had Schwerké, in a letter to Still, assured the young composer that the writer had "a sympathetic ear" for his troubles? Still's use of the phrase suggests that he is responding to a statement by Schwerké.) This remarkable letter is worth quoting in extenso:

Jan. 9, 1931

Mr. Irving Schwerke,
18 rue Juliette Lamber,
Paris, France.

My dear Mr. Schwerke:

Greetings and sincere wishes for your happiness and prosperity during this year to which we have so recently been introduced.

The first of this week saw the completion of my latest effort. Its title, Afro-American Symphony, is self explanatory. I believe that the use of a theme in Blues idiom in a work of this sort for the purpose of welding it together is absolutely unique. And its rhythmic interest should prove to be equally as great as its melodic interest. But I must not bore you with more details.

The reaction has set in. This, as well as present conditions, has served to bring on a spell of depression. A sympathetic ear is indeed the most effective relief for such an ailment. Please do not think hard of me for becoming confidential. Strange to say, considering that we have had no personal contact, I have felt from the first that in you I have a friend.

It is unfortunate for a man of color who is ambitious to live in America. True (and I gladly admit it) there are many splendid people here; broad minded; unselfish; judging a man from the standpoint of his worth rather than his color. Such men as Dr. Howard Hanson, Frank Patterson and many others. Such a man as my friend Varese proved to be when he was here. But there is a preponderance of those who are exactly the opposite. And the views of the former must, of necessity, conform more or less to those of the latter.

I have never felt this so keenly as in the past few months. Friends who would lend me a helping hand, who would make it possible for me to make a living for my family[,] are unable to do anything because of those who are opposed to placing a colored man in any position of prominence. That is stating it mildly.

As for my people . . . well, there are many who have allowed themselves to become bitter over conditions. But, thank God, there are those who have sufficient wisdom to refrain from becoming bitter; who long for and labor to attain the day when the two racial groups may reach a state of perfect harmony or merge into a new group. With the latter I am in perfect accord.

Unless there is a change soon I will be forced to abandon my aspirations and look to other means of gaining a livlihood [sic ] or to go where such conditions do not exist.

I shall look forward to hearing from you[,] for your letters are always welcome.

Forgive me if I have taken too great a liberty. I would not have done so had I not felt assured that you would understand with that sympathetic understanding born of friendship.

Yours sincerely,
William Grant Still

Schwerké was duly moved by Still's letter.

Paris, Feb. 6, 1931

Dear Mr. Still,

How friendly of you to write me that nice letter! It certainly was pleasant to receive it, and what you express therein, I assure you, is quite mutual. I am

glad you feel we are friends, I believe we are. My letter has to be short, for I am not yet over a long siege of the flu, and have to watch my strength. Another time I'll write at length. This is, however, sufficient to bring you my good wishes and to say I am happy you feel the undersigned is a friend to whom you can talk as if to yourself!

Yours,
Irving Schwerké

Before he received this letter Still wrote apologizing for the letter that had so moved Schwerké:

Feb. 10, 1931

Dear Mr. Schwerke:

My present happiness exceeds by far the depression I experienced when I last wrote you.

Probably I told you of having written a work last summer for ballet, chorus and bass soloist. Sahdji is its title.^[12]

Through the kindness of Dr. Howard Hanson, to whom it is dedicated, Sahdji will be produced in May.[ . . . ]

I am sorry now that I burdened you with my woes in that letter, and I wish that I could recall it. Won't you forgive me?

Please drop me a line.

Yours very sincerely,
William Grant Still

As Still was writing this letter, Schwerké was planning a three-day festival of American music to be held in Bad Homburg, Germany, that July. On February 16, 1931, he wrote Still asking him for a score of Darker America . It would be, said Schwerké, "the only composition by a Negro composer to be heard at the Festival." Still replied on February 27:

Dear Mr. Schwerke:

I know not how to begin thanking you for your great kindness to me. There is appreciation that causes one to be effusive in giving thanks, and there is that appreciation born in the heart of one's soul. The latter sort is not expressed with ease.[ . . .]

I will send you score of DARKER AMERICA and score and parts of AFRICA. Please, if it be possible, program AFRICA instead of DARKER AMERICA.[ . . . ]

DARKER AMERICA, being an earlier work, has many faults. Lack of continuity, harmonization not altogether characteristic, insufficient development as well as other defects. AFRICA is a far more consistent work. It was performed this season by the Rochester Symphony.[ . . . ]In addition it will be easier for me to supply the parts [of AFRICA]. Finally the latter

[i.e., AFRICA] is an unpublished work and it will not be necessary to pay a fee for performing it.

I plan, D.V.,^[13] to go through the extra score of AFRICA I have here for the purpose of eliminating any errors it may contain, and I hope to mail both scores to you before the end of the coming week. I am writing today for the parts of AFRICA and will forward them as soon as they corne.[ . . . ]

Bruce Forsythe's enthusiasm for Darker America was beginning to pose problems for Still, who felt he had moved beyond that work. Schwerké telegraphed Still to send the score of Africa only—a telegram that did not arrive in time to save Still from a fracas with the post office, which looked at the printed score of Darker America as a "book" and therefore unacceptable to French customs.^[14] Still was still planning to send both scores when he wrote a letter giving instructions for the performance of Africa:^{[ 15]}

If you decide in favor of "AFRICA" (and I sincerely hope you do) I suggest a cut from No. 17 to No. 20. On page two of the score you will find indicated a special pizzicato. F.N. Pizz. (Finger Nail pizzicato) is an invention of mine and has proved effective. It is produced by plucking the string as near as possible to the place where it is stopped. The plucking is to be done with the tip of the finger nail. Please call the conductor's attention to this, and to the Harmon and Fiber Mutes for Trumpets and Trombones. The Harmon Mute seems to contribute flexibility and is unusually good for delicate brass effects. It is rare now in this country to find trumpeters and trombonists who do not use this mute (with the exception of those in the symphony orchestras. They seem to be satisfied with the terrible [erased: metal] pear shaped mutes.) The Fiber Mutes produce a very pleasing tone and are, I believe[,] better for playing staccato passages. Where the three tom-toms are employed one player should be assigned to the 15 inch tomtom and one player to the 12 inch and 10 inch tom-toms[ . . . ]from No. 3 on through the remainder of the composition only the normal pizzicato is to be employed.

In March Schwerké wrote Still suggesting that they drop the formal salutations "Dear Mr. Still" and "Dear Mr. Schwerke."^[16] Still replied:

My dear Irving:

I am happy that we may dispense with formality. May our friendship ever grow, and may that day come when I may prove to you the deep regard I have for you.

From now on they are "Dear Still" and "Dear Irving"—and often "Dear Friend."

Friendship did not, alas, make the problems of international communication any easier: several letters of this period deal with the details of getting a work in a new style, in manuscript, with a set of revisions to be entered, ready for performance:

Paris, May 25, 1931

Dear Still:

It seems impossible to procure the Harmon and Fiber mutes for Trumpets and Trombones, in Europe. Will you have the proper number of these sent to

Dr. Oskar Holger
Ludwigstrasse 14
Bad Homburg Germany,

upon receipt of this letter, if possible. The Bad Homburg people are anxious to do AFRICA as you wish, and have exhausted every means of getting these mutes[ . . . ]

June 3, 1931

Dear Irving:

After receiving your letter today I went to purchase the mutes, and to arrange for having them sent. But I discovered that the mutes cost almost fifty dollars, not including duty, etc. I then concluded that, under the circumstances, it will be best to employ ordinary mutes (i.e. the conical kind.)

[ . . . ]When the Rochester Symphony performed AFRICA the trumpeters and trombonists used [conical] mutes and, though the color desired was not exactly obtained, it was approximated.[ . . . ]

Schwerké's reply to this letter notes also the receipt of a photograph of Still to be used in the program:

Paris, June 12, 1931

Mon cher Still:

I am happy and proud to have the photo, it certainly represents a "stunner!" Thanks for sending it. I shall tell the Bad Homburg people what you say re the mutes, and depend upon it they will do their best. The concert is 9:00 o'clock, evening of July 8th, and will be broadcast in America over New York Radio. Watch papers for further details. From nine to nine-fifteen I make a speech! Should like to send you a personal message at that time, but . . . I appreciate your kind words—you know how I feel towards Still and his music. I hope some day to know you personally.

Yours,
[signed] Irving

The Bad Homburg Festival of American Music duly came off on July 6–8, 1931.

Still wrote Schwerké on receiving the handsome and elaborate program book of the festival:

[July 29, 1931]^[17]

My dear Irving:

The programme book came today. Gee, but I am delighted with it! I am truly glad to have your picture and autograph. It may interest and amuse you to learn that the ladies who have seen your picture today have been favorably impressed. Others have remarked as to the kindliness of your expression. I am tempted to remove the picture and frame it.

Your sketch on American music is of great value. I agree with you as to the origin of American Music.^[18] As I see it the music of the American Negro has resulted from the union of the religious songs you mentioned and the primitive songs of Africa.

I noted with great interest the foot-note on page 58 regarding "jazz".^[19] Undoubtedly the word is of French origin for both it and the eccentric style of playing (as it was regarded in those days) to which it was applied were introduced in the Northern section of the United States by Creole musicians.

Although I am at best a poor judge, I know that you deserve great credit for the material contained in the programme book.

Please drop me a line when you have time.

Yours faithfully,
Still

On July 19 Schwerké wrote Still of the results of the Bad Homburg festival, and of his new plans for Africa . It is a long letter, but it deserves quoting at length.

Dear Grant:

Your AFRICA was the sensation of the Festival. It had a success and was comprehended, as I have never before seen. Throughout the length and breadth of Germany it has been written about in the most wonderful manner. Enclosed are a few articles—I wish I could send you the hundreds that have appeared. I wish you had been there—and as I listened to AFRICA I was not only grateful for its composer, but for the fact that he is my friend. No one but a man who has a great capacity for friendship could write like that. The work made such a stir, I see possibility of having it performed elsewhere in Europe, so instead of returning the score & parts to you, I have them with me in Paris, and unless you ask for them back right away, shall keep them here. I hope to place it with some important orchestras—if you wish I should—and naturally, this time, they will pay for the perform-

ing rights. If I hold out for $50.00, is that all right with you? I don't see how, in the face of present conditions, we could ask for more and get it, if that much. I think you have confidence in me in these matters? Other festivals will be under way:—have you, or will you have anything that could be given as a first world performance? Let me know.[ . . . ]

Still answered in a letter dated by Schwerké as July 31, 1931:

Dear Irving:

There is so much I want to say that I scarcely know how or where to begin. Your letter and the clippings came today. I feel exactly like a small child on Christmas morning. I am happy to learn that AFRICA was received favorably, but the happiness aroused by your expression of commendation is far greater.[ . . . ] Truly you are a friend, Irving. Indeed I will be glad for you to keep the score and parts. Any arrangements you make for other performances will be agreeable to me. However, it would be neither friendly nor fair for me to be the only one to profit. I insist that whatever sum is paid for performing rights be divided equally between us.

The letter goes on—without even a paragraph break—to a topic of greater importance:

I have a composition here that has not yet been performed. It is the "Afro-American Symphony". In it I have sought to portray the American Negro as he is. Dr. Damrosch has the score. I have been trying to get it back from his secretary. As soon as she returns it I will send it to you.[ . . .]

What Still did not tell Schwerké in this letter is that the score already bore the dedication "Dedicated to my friend, Irving Schwerke." This was to be a surprise for Schwerké. Like many surprises, this one was plagued by unforeseen problems—Still forgot to put enough postage on the package; Schwerké had to pay an extra fee and wrote Still what seems to have been a somewhat peeved letter.^[20] But when he examined the score in detail and saw the dedication, Schwerké was much moved. (Perhaps he sensed that he was now immortal.) Still answered Schwerké's letter of thanks:

Sept. 5, 1931
My dear Irving,

I am more than glad to have your letter. I felt that you had not yet examined the score when I received the first letter you sent after having gotten it. In truth, Irving, the dedication can only feebly express my regard for you. May the ties of friendship that bind us ever grow stronger.

Faithfully,^[21]

A further letter talks about Still's further plans and encloses a brief analysis of the symphony:

[October 5(?), 1931]

My dear Irving:

Your friend greets you, and hopes that you have returned from your vacation happier and in better physical condition than ever before. At last the parts of the symphony have been completed. I am sending them to you. They are, I believe, correct. More string parts will be needed. It will be undoubtedly best to have these made in Europe. By all means send me the bill. I will feel hurt if you fail to do so for it would be an imposition to expect you to bear this expense. Please don't fail me in this matter, Irving. You have undoubtedly received the score ere this. That was sent about ten days ago. The brief sketch enclosed will prove valuable for program notes. I hope that my next effort will be a stage work. Have applied for a Guggenheim Fellowship. If I receive it I intend to spend the period it affords in writing an African opera.^[22] I have what I believe is a good libretto. Can tell better after a professional librettist has examined it. Shall look forward to a letter soon.

Your friend,
Still

[Enclosure]

The Afro-American Symphony is not a tone picture of the "New Negro." It portrays that class of American Negroes who still cling to the old standards and traditions; those sons of the soil who differ but little, if at all, from their forebears of ante-bellum days.

These are an humble people. Their wants are few and are generally child-like. Theirs are lives of utter simplicity. Therefore no complex or elaborate scheme of harmonization would prove befitting in a musical picture of them. 'Tis only the simpler harmonies, such as those employed, that can accurately portray them.

From the hearts of these people sprang Blues, plaintive songs reminiscent of African tribal chants. I do not hesitate to assert that Blues are more purely Negroid in character than very many spirituals. And I have employed as the basic theme of the symphony a melody in the Blues style. This theme appears in each movement as follows:

Even before receiving the score of the Afro-American Symphony Schwerké had been busy promoting Still's music in other places than Bad Homburg. He had written Wilhelm Furtwängler in June or July 1931 about the score of Africa ;^[23] now he sent Furtwdngler the score of the Afro-American Symphony . (In the event, Furtwängler's reply was courteous but gave no indication that he would be interested in performing the work.)^[24]

While Schwerké waited for Furtwängler's reaction to the Afro-American Symphony, he sent the manuscript of Africa to Rhené-Baton, then conductor of the prestigious Concerts Pasdeloup in Paris. In May Rhené-Baton borrowed the manuscript scores of both Africa and the Afro-American; by fall he had decided to perform Africa at the Concerts Pasdeloup.^[25]

Sometime early in 1932 Schwerké wrote to Still, describing his work for Still's music and relaying Rhené-Baton's enthusiasm for Africa . Schwerké seems to have written more than one letter on this subject. To the first of these^[26] Still replied with a letter giving details of his current project:

My dear Irving:

How can I begin to tell you of my joy. AFRICA to be performed in Paris. . . . . well. . . . . . somehow it seems like a dream. Irving, I am so grateful to you. Yours is indeed true friendship.

I am working now on the score of La Guiablesse. The scenario is based on a legend of Martinique. In fact, it is the legend. As the story goes—the devilish spirit, La Guiablesse, comes down from the mountains into a village in the guise of a beautiful woman and lures Adou, the lover of Yzore, to follow her back up the mountain side. Just as he approaches her to embrace her she is transformed into a fiendish hag. He, shocked into unconsciousness[,] falls backward over the cliff. Ruth Page prepared the scenario. Dr. Hanson plans to produce it at the Eastman theatre next May.^[27]

Must get back now to the music paper. Will write you again soon.

Faithfully,
Still

Still's other letter replying to the news of an impending Paris performance of Africa, a letter dated February 28, 1932, was to be fateful for their friendship:

My dear Irving:

There is so much I want to say. There is so much I should say.——I would say it if I but knew how to begin.

Your letters always bring me happiness, and the last one ——!!! Well, I have not yet gotten back to earth.

How can I thank you enough? It can't be done. You have accomplished something not at all easy; something requiring the courage of a pioneer. And I am so grateful.

I will make inquiry concerning the mutes without delay, and inform you in the near future. I will also have some photographs made right away. If there is something else I may do be sure to let me know. And please thank M. Baton for me, and assure him that I am delighted over his opinion of AFRICA and his decision to perform it.

Yesterday I sent you a money order for two hundred and fifty francs. I have wanted for a long time to repay you for what you spent when the symphony was delivered[,] but had to wait until I got to work.^[28] Things now (thank God) are going well. Now let us return to the money order. If possible I want to get three or four program books of the Bad Homburg Festival. Some friends have asked for them.

Won't it be great if Mr. Furtwangler decides to perform the symphony? I believe that God is with us, and that He will bless us unusually in this particular instance. Despite my great unworthiness He has shown me clearly that He hears my prayers by answering them. Moreover, He has even shown me that He has great blessings in store if I but obey in a certain work He has given me to do.^[29] These assertions may sound strange to you, Irving, but they are absolutely true. Some miraculous things have been experienced by me in the past year.

I pray for you each day, and I shall continue doing so.

Write again when you can get to it. In the meantime I will look forward to a letter.

Faithfully,
Still

Under the spell of this self-revealing letter Schwerké replied:

Paris, March 7, 1932

My dear Grant:

Those first two words in no way express it! No, what you say does not sound strange to me. I, too, believe, and my faith and conviction are great, but I pray constantly that they become greater. And I know that you and I have been directed to each other to accomplish some purpose—we do not know what it is, but one day we will. Tell me some of the miraculous things that have happened to you this past year, so I can share the joy and wonder of them with you.

The books have gone forward, and I'll be glad to have the photos. And among the photos you send me, will there be one for your friend (my ambition, to be the friend) with an inscription you can write only to him? Unless some catastrophe happens, Furtwangler and Rhene-Baton will play the Symphony and AFRICA, and yesterday, in Brussels (I went to hear a new work by Tansman), I prepared the way for Still with the wonderful orchestra there. I am praying to find some way to have some copies made of both works—if I could, then I could get a number working at the same time. But all that will come if we but remain true to the faith and the guidance we know we have. I did not want you to send me that money, but since you have, thanks. All good wishes, dear Grant, and let me hear from you often.

Faithfully and with love,
Irving

Still's letter is inarticulate gratitude; Schwerké's' is something like courtship. Still replied in the time-honored way of those receiving unwanted advances from a friend—answering the outward message warmly while ignoring the subtext. Still's own subtext comes through in the obsessive and embarrassed reassurances of friendship in this paragraphless letter:

My dear Irving:

Finally!! . . . The photographs and a letter that should have been written long since.^[30] I waited until I had the pictures made to write. How can I tell you how grateful I am to you? What words can I use to describe the happiness you have brought me? Truly you are a friend, for your friendship is the genuine sort that expresses itself in deeds of kindness.

(The door is closed—kindly but very firmly—on Schwerké's hopes of being "the friend.") Still continues:

I pray for you daily, my dear friend, and I sincerely hope that God will bestow on you the greatest blessings that man can receive. God alone is able to reward such kindness as you have shown me. And I believe that He is going to reward you. I look forward to the day when I may see you and endeavor to tell you how dearly I prize your friendship. Please pardon such rambling expressions. Under such circumstances one cannot easily express himself coherently.

Still's letter then—without even a new paragraph—shifts to current news:

Dr. Hanson evidently forgot to autograph the photo I sent him. I am sending him another. The Rochester Orchestra repeated the symphony last month. The critics agreed that it seemed more worth while on second hearing. The job^[31] is going along well even though it is exacting. Am rewriting La Guiablesse. Will tell you more of it later. Have not forgotten the mutes. Probably it will be best for me to purchase them here and send them to you. The books^[32] came. Thanks so much for sending them. Must get ready now to work. Remember that I hold nothing but good wishes for you, and write as soon as you can.

Sincerely,
Still

That July Still reported to Schwerké his reactions to his work on the "Deep River Hour":

[July 1932]^[33]

My dear Irving:

[ . . . ] The days between this and my last letter have held for me nothing more than the usual routine. . . . . the broadcasts of one week leading immediately into preparation for those of the next week. But there is some fun in it[,] to say nothing of the valuable experience I am gaining. Truly, Irving, God has never suffered anything to occur in my life that has not been profitable.[ . . . ]

Creative work is at a standstill for the present. This is a period of study and reflection. I believe it is a turning point leading me to a more thorough technical knowledge and a deeper spiritual understanding.[ . . . ]

In the event, it was not Rhené-Baton who conducted Africa at the Concerts Pasdeloup. Rhené-Baton, facing a revolt by the orchestra, resigned his conductorship late in October. He returned the score of

Africa to Schwerké on January 15, 1933; on that same day Schwerké made sure that it was received by Richard Lert, the young Austrian conductor who was to take over some of the conducting of the Concerts Pasdeloup orchestra. Lert agreed to program Africa, which was duly performed on February 4.^[34] The photograph of Still in front of a framed poster for that program is one of the iconic photographs of Still.

Schwerké wrote to Still of these maneuvers and of the performance, cautiously grading his opening salutation:

Paris, February 10, 1933

My dear Composer:

What joy it was to have AFRICA performed in Paris! It was a prayer answered. I am sure you would like to hear the story. Rhené-Baton had taken the composition for performance with the Pasdeloup Orchestra; but he resigned and being without an orchestra, could do nothing. Then I met Lert, and the first thing he said, when we talked over his Paris programs, [was] "I wish I had a real novelty for Paris." I said "I have exactly the score you want!" So I rushed home, got the score, and Lert fell in love with it on the spot, and immediately announced it for performance. Since Paris, he has, I believe, also done it in Austria, and maybe Germany. At any rate, he is all for you and you have another staunch supporter in him. In Paris AFRICA had an overwhelming public success—I have heard thousands of concerts here, but seldom a first performance that so gripped a Parisian audience. Under separate cover, by registered mail, I am sending you a collection of papers, etc. on this performance,^[35] so you can have a complete record for your scrap book of your introduction to the "capital of the world," and so you can see the publicity I did, etc.,—in case you ever come here and have to do things alone, you will thus have some idea of the local technic. Some of the criticisms are not good, but that need not trouble you in the least; you do not write for critics, but for the human heart, and the way your audience responded was proof of your success. In no case would or should I ever expect the French critics to do justice to an American work, for a number of reasons. Among them 1) they are down on all American musicians and composers, and cannot abide the thought that we have anything that is worthwhile; of course there are some exceptions, but I am speaking of French critics as a class. 2) most of them are composers themselves, and this in advance condemns any new composition that is successful artistically and with the public. In spite of this, however, your criticisms tend to the good side, and withal I am heartily happy over the whole venture.

I hope this finds you well and happy, and that you will go on composing more of your much-needed music. Best wishes and love from

Irving

[in ink]: Other articles will be sent as I find them—if there are more.

The reply to this letter is classic Still:

My dear Irving:

Again you have befriended me. I am so grateful. Could you but know what great happiness your kindness has brought me you would feel repaid. I scarcely know what to say concerning the reaction of the audience to AFRICA. Your reference to it made me think again of a vision I once had of AFRICA.

In the dream I stood in the rear of a large concert hall where a symphony orchestra was rehearsing. My attention was centered on the orchestra until it was suddenly directed to one of the seats in the rear of the hall. On it I saw the score of AFRICA bound in a handsome red cover on which the title had been stamped in letters of gold.

I am sure this was a prophetic vision. The red cover was a symbol of happiness and the gold letters a symbol of success.

A person of a practical trend would surely scoff at such a conclusion. But I know God will direct, protect, and disclose to those who believe, events that lie in the future. Things of that sort have happened so often in my life. At times I have been shown symbols, the meanings of which were explained to me by an unseen entity. At others I have viewed coming events prior to their advent in the actual sequence (and with the same persons appearing in the dream who played a part in the events themselves) in which they occurred later. You can understand why I feel as I do about such things. They are facts, and important ones too. God will surely lead us steadily toward good ends if we but let Him.

Recently I have been led to make a new score of AFRICA. This is the final version. Errors of form, orchestration etc. that were present in former versions have been corrected.

I shall certainly be glad to receive the articles. Truly, Irving, you leave nothing undone. I thank you so much.

I am enclosing a note to Dr. Lertz [i.e., Richard Lert]. If I knew where to reach him I would not annoy you in this way. But circumstances force me to do so. I will be very grateful to you if you will forward this to him.

Affairs are progressing rather slowly here at the present. I believe the time is near when I will be called abroad to complete the work I must do on earth. So is it written.

LA GUIABLESSE is to be performed in May. I will let you know its outcome.

I pray that God will bless you, and will write you again in the near future.

Still^[36]

After 1933 the correspondence lapses temporarily. Two letters of 1935 are useful for documenting Still's activities and for giving his ini-

tial reaction to a major American work that he is generally seen as standing in opposition to:

[1935]

1604 W. 35th. Place,
Los Angeles, Cal.

My dear Irving:

I can blame you not at all if you see fit to ignore this letter, for I have been exceedingly negligent.

The interim between this and my last letter to you has been literally crowded with activity. A Guggenheim Fellowship, that has just been renewed for six months, enabled me to compose the opera, BLUE STEEL, and two pieces for piano and orchestra, THE BLACK MAN DANCES, and KAINTUCK'. Truly, Irving, I had not realized the amount of work required to write an opera. For over one and one half years it demanded practically all of my attention and time.

I do hope you won't judge me too severely for having failed to write you. I want to hear from you very much, and promise that I will not again be guilty of my error of omission.

Sincerely,
Still

[October 1935]^[37]

My dear Irving:

Several good things have happened since I wrote you last. Pro Musica hears a two piano version of KAINTUCK', my poem for piano and orchestra, on Oct. 28. The Cincinnati Symphony will play the same piece this season. The New York Philharmonic is playing the AFRO-AMERICAN SYMPHONY this season. Since I sent you the score of this piece I have revised it, and it has been published. A new ballet, CENTRAL AVENUE, is almost ready. As a matter of fact, completing the extraction of the string parts is all that remains to be done. This is a humorous ballet. Although it bears the name of the main thoroughfare in the Negro District of Los Angeles' east side, it typifies the main streets in the Negro Districts of many American cities. Both Ruth Page and Zemach have asked for it.[ . . . ]

Your picture hangs on one of the walls of my living room. Many people see it, and ask me about you. In each instance a sales talk follows in which your virtues are enlarged upon.

The Chicago Opera Co. has done nothing about BLUE STEEL. In the interim I submitted it to the Metropolitan. Nothing happened. Unless something happens soon new plans will have to be laid out. It shall be produced.

PORGY met with success in New York, and I am glad. I felt all along that Gershwin would achieve splendid results.

Please drop me a line when you find time. Best wishes.

Sincerely,
Still

The correspondence resumes in 1937. Schwerké remains his cultured and amiable self; Still has shed the awkwardness of the young composer and writes with a new confidence in his stature. We do not have the opening letter of the correspondence—Still's letter ordering a copy of Schwerké's recently published book, Views and Interviews .^[38] The first four extant letters run as follows:

March 1, 1937

Dear friend William:

Many thanks for yours of Feb. 5, 1937, and the check for a copy of VIEWS AND INTERVIEWS which has been mailed to you to-day (registered). I hope it reaches you in good condition—if not, let me know—and that you will find some virtue in it. Shall be mighty pleased to hear your candid opinion.

Will you please let me know if AFRICA and the AFRO-AMERICAN SYMPHONY have been published? I have had various opportunities of late to place them with certain conductors over here, but the copies which you sent me some time ago are now so used (I have had so many people study them!) that I do not think it safe to pass them on any more. The instrumental parts are, of course, still in good condition. The other day at The Hague, for instance, I told George Szell about you—he is up and coming and wants something fine from America; and if he found your works suitable to his feeling (for he does not undertake works that are contrary to his nature) he would do same in Scotland, Holland, Prague, etc. I am certain he would love your music, as anyone must who knows it. Also let me know if you are protected by the Society of Composers for any performing rights that might be due you. You might also send me notes about yourself to bring my file of you up to date. You see, I am always working for you whenever I have the chance—I love your music and esteem the author as friend. Has my symphony been done in America? The one dedicated to me? If so, I'd be thrilled to have the program.

Best of everything to you, and as ever,

Irving

1604 West 35 Place
Los Angeles, California

March 17, 1937

Dear Irving:

Your letter arrived safely, and the book today, in excellent condition. I spent some time cutting the pages, and looking over the contents, and

I assure you that I think it is splendid. I don't see how you manage to do so many things, and to do them all so well! I'm so happy that you autographed my copy—I shall prize that most of all.

No, Africa has not been published, although it has been in the hands of one for the past few years.^[39] He is not at all energetic, and therefore, I am trying to push the Afro-American Symphony most of all, since that has been published by a most sympathetic, energetic, and intelligent man: George Fischer, at 119 West 40th Street New York. He has done a great deal to help this along, and I have written to tell him of your great interest in my music. Perhaps then, he will communicate with you—or would you rather communicate with him?

Don't you remember—this Afro-American Symphony is the one I dedicated to you? Before publishing it, it was necessary to revise it extensively, and in the resultant confusion, your name was left off the printed copy. However, I have always thought of it as being dedicated to you, and have agreed with the publisher that whenever a new edition is made, your name will appear on it as it should have done in the first place. I have also revised Africa, and for that reason, the parts that you possess for each of these compositions are no longer any good .^[40] I think the new versions are much better than the old, and will be anxious to know what you think about them.

Yes, I am a member of ASCAP, and I am sending you the notes about me, as you asked.^[41] Believe me, it is hard to tell you how very much your continued interest in my music means to me, I am grateful for everything you have done, and for everything you wish to do in my behalf. I would be most proud and happy if George Szell were to like my Afro-American Symphony well enough to do it.

It has been most successful since Stokowski and Hans Lange played it last year. Lange gave it a New York performance with the Philharmonic Orchestra, and Stokowski played the final movement on his tour across the United States. Then, when Lange played it twice in Chicago a few months ago, the ovation on each occasion was so tremendous that he had to repeat it a third time. Perhaps you read the account of that in the Musical Courier. Rene Devries was most enthusiastic, I thought. And did I tell you that I conducted the Philharmonic Orchestra here in the Hollywood Bowl in two of my compositions last summer? It was quite an occasion, as it was the first time in the history of the United States that such a thing had happened. It pleased me very much, I can assure you.

You asked me for some comments and a program of the symphony dedicated to you: one critic in New York said that the Scherzo of the Symphony crashes through the melancholy of the preceding movements with such verve and rhythmic gaiety that Carnegie Hall was electrified. In Chicago, Mr. Eugene Stinson said that "all lovers of music who are touched with the wonderful qualities of his race will rejoice to find in this work a simple, straightforward, unpretentious but extremely beautiful account of how the composer, from a decidedly superior viewpoint, beholds the world that is

open to the Negro in the United States." I'm sorry the original clippings are pasted securely in my scrapbook, or I'd send them to you.

I wish you could find time to write and let me know what you are doing. I read you in the Musical Courier, of course, and I've especially enjoyed the little quips to Leonard Liebling for Variations—that you send from time to time.^[42] They are very clever, and, on looking through the new book, I find that you have brightened it with many such pithy paragraphs: witty, but full of truth.

I'll be looking forward to hearing from you whenever you have a chance to write, and I surely thank you for the book and for the autograph! I value them highly. With best wishes always, I am

Sincerely,

Still

P.S. Did I tell you that Richard Lert is out here, and that I like him very much? Ernst Toch is here too. He is certainly a fine fellow.

April 10, 1937

William Grant Still
1604 West 35th Place
Los Angeles.

Dear Still,

Thanks for your good letter and all the nice things you say about my new book. I am happy you like it—and the autograph.

I shall look forward to seeing my name on the revised copy of the Afro-American Symphony. I am very happy to have this honor and thank you sincerely. In regard to the matter of the revised edition: shall I destroy the old orchestral parts which I have? I hope that you will not fall to send me score and parts of both the Symphony and Africa, as, if you still want that I should have these works played here in Europe, I must have entire new sets of the compositions. Please let me know as soon as possible so that I shall know what to do in regard to these matters.

I rejoice that everything goes so well with your work and am indeed happy to hear all the fine things said in your behalf. Write again soon, and believe me,

Yours sincerely,

Irving

May 5, 1937

Dear Irving:

I was surely glad to receive your letter—the more so since I have been spending the hours just before retiring in the pleasant pastime of reading your book. As I must have told you before, I'm enjoying it very much indeed. It is instructive and interesting. Even the title is very well chosen. I

heartily agree with what you expressed about modern music—that chapter is marked in my copy. I, too, feel that there are very few people today who are attempting to write sincere music, that is, music that stems from the Divine Source rather than from a limited human mind.^[43] Not long ago, I gathered from one of Mr. Stokowski's letters that he also shares this view of modern music.^[44]

I'm surprised that my publisher has not yet gotten in touch with you about the Afro-American Symphony, and I shall write soon to remind him of it. Yes, since the old orchestral parts of this symphony are now useless, I wish you would destroy them. I think you will agree with me that the new version is far better than the old.

Instead of sending you a new version of Africa, would you not prefer that I send you the score of a new tone poem? This one, "Dismal Swamp", lasts about fifteen minutes and should be off the press quite soon now. This afternoon I telephoned to inquire about it, and was told that in a very few days I may have a copy to give to you.

Last week, Langston Hughes (the poet) arrived in Los Angeles to collaborate with me on a new opera. We are both enthused over the subject, and by the musical possibilities inherent in the libretto that has been sketched. Langston plans to pass through Paris briefly in a few months, and I am going to ask him to see you meanwhile.^[45] I think you will enjoy knowing each other. Have you read any of his books?

I have been unusually busy for the past few months. There is so much work to do, and the studio work has to be done so very rapidly that it keeps me rushing about. I'm trying, however, to complete a new Symphony.^[46]

You know, I do appreciate more than I can tell you all that you are doing for me and my music, and all that you have done. I hope that you will have time to drop me a line occasionally to let me know of your own activities, for I missed your letters during those months when I did not hear from you, though I realized how busy you were.

Always with my very best wishes, I am

Sincerely,

Still

Schwerké's next letter to Still was to put a strain on their friendship. Views and Interviews had contained studies of four composers: Paul Dukas, Manuel de Falla, George Migot, and Serge Prokofieff. It had not, however, mentioned Still.^[47] Schwerké had also, in 1931, published a monograph on Alexandre Tansman,^[48] which had been the first detailed study of the composer (and which remains a useful book). Schwerké now proposed to do a "comprehensive" article on Still: perhaps (though this idea remained unarticulated) it might even become a book—William Grant Still, compositeur américain .

One fact Schwerké had not considered. His previous major writing on composers—the book on Tansman and the articles in Views and Interviews —had been to a significant extent the result of interviews carried on face-to-face.^[49] Composer and writer could talk together; questions the composer thought of little importance could be quickly turned away ("You don't want to talk about my Third Quartet"). The book on Still, on the other hand, would involve intercontinental correspondence: anything Schwerké was to know, Still would have to send him. And a question becomes an assignment ("Dear Irving: You ask about my third string quartet. It's not a work I'm particularly proud of . . .").^[50] Schwerké's letter proposing the book reads, in fact, distressingly like the letters sincere graduate students in search of a dissertation topic write to composers:

May 12, 1937

William Grant Still
Los Angeles

Dear Still,

I am preparing to write a comprehensive article about you and your work, for publication in Europe, and as I want this to be as complete and up to date as possible, I am writing to you to ask for the following information. If, when you have read over my request, you find that you do not have the time to prepare the data, please tell me quite frankly, and I shall understand.

What I need is:—

1) detailed biographical notes; indications of personal traits of character, likes, dislikes, important influences in your life, important friendships, first (childhood) experiences in music, and so on. Any data that will help me to present Still the human being.

2) complete catalogue of your compositions, with titles, genre, date of composition; names of persons to whom the works are dedicated; dates of first world performance of each work, together with complete names of performers, name of hall, etc.

3) detailed description of each work (also, if possible, give inception of work) pointing out for what instruments it is written, any peculiarities in harmony, rhythm, melodic line, form; pointing out any qualities which make the work distinctly American in sentiment, meaning, and aesthetics.

4) as many press notices as you can send, about each work, be those notices pro or con.

5) until such time as the article shall go to press, keep me informed of unfinished works, giving detailed information as above, so it will be complete down to the time of publication.

Do not try to be short in all this, but give me as much as possible. The article must be such so that, when once published, it will never have to be done again, and so that people can ever after refer to it again.

Other points on which you must think and send me information are:—

6) what is the effect in America of your work, what is the peculiar uniqueness of your work;

7) what are the determining causes of this sensibility, what are the relevant circumstances of your life which determined it?

8) what is the sensibility which necessitated this expression?

9) by what means was this sensibility given expression; give a technical examination of your style.

10) give close examination of some perfectly characteristic passages in which your sensibility is completely expressed.

This, of course, means work, but unless we do it, nothing serious can be achieved. After I have all this material from you, provided you can see your way to sending it to me, I shall get to work and make a serious and complete study of you and your work, one which will be definite and able to serve you and those interested in your art. Hoping to hear from you very soon, and with all best wishes, I am

Sincerely yours,

Irving

A large-scale request! But Schwerké had done much for Still, and his name was powerful. And for an American composer to have "a comprehensive article" published about him in Europe was rare. Still was willing to cooperate, but there was a complication, which he explained in his reply:

May 27, 1937

Your letter arrived yesterday, and your proposed article fills me with a deep sense of gratitude, for I fully realize all that this will mean to me in my work, and to my future. The more I read your own book, the more I admire your writing and your approach to your subjects, so you know that I feel honored to have you wish to write such an article about me.

Now, there is a rather strange situation in regard to this—one in which I will rely upon your unfailing tact to set everything right.

Do you recall reading articles by Verna Arvey in the Musical Courier? I believe that she had one called Italian Piano Music, Contemporary and Past—as well as one on South American and Cuban Music^[51] —in maga-

zines in which articles by you also appeared, so perhaps you did see them. At any rate, for the past year Miss Arvey has been gathering material about me for a book she will write, and she has also lectured about me and played my music in various cities here. You can well imagine that I have given her all the available material about myself and my work. However, I have now asked her if she will answer your questions fully for me from the material I've already given her. She has promised to do this, also to add some details about the reactions of the public that I couldn't very well give as well as she—and then I will tell her a few facts which are especially for you, and will give her some clippings that may be of service.

She has done this for me because she admires your writing, but I think it would be nice if you were to acknowledge her help in some way when your article is finally printed. The manner of doing this would be up to you, and I know that you will devise some way to do this so that everyone will be happy over it. She would ask nothing except the public acknowledgement, which it seems right that she should have so that later, when her book comes out, it will not appear that she has copied her own data. On the other hand, you can manage to say such a thing so graciously and tactfully that it will not seem as though you had copied either, and then you have had enough experience with my music to write in much that neither one of us could possibly send you, for your sensitive reaction to music is one of your finest features.

What do you think about this? Of course, I am going to supervise whatever Miss Arvey sends, so you can be assured that there will be no inaccuracies.

Again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your good, helpful thoughts in my behalf and I hope to hear from you very soon.

Sincerely,

Still

Arvey's involvement with the project had both benefits and drawbacks. The major benefit was that she had already done the in-person interviewing necessary for such an article (who can sit down and write a letter giving "indications of personal traits of character, likes, dislikes, important influences, . . . important friendships, first [childhood] experiences in music, and so on"?) and had gathered much of the necessary data. The drawback was much greater: here was another work on Still already in progress, and one being written by someone in whom Still had already considerable personal interest. Still's asking Arvey to share her work with Schwerké shows Still's admiration for his old friend-by-correspondence—and possibly his consciousness that "a comprehensive article" on him in a major European journal would be a great help to his career.

Arvey wrote to Schwerké agreeing to cooperate:

[May? 1937]

Dear Mr. Schwerké:

Mr. Still has asked me to write and to send you this information about him.^[52] He has given me some information which is especially for you, and then has asked me to add some of my own reactions gained through several years' association with his music. The clippings are, I think, duplicates of some that are pasted in his scrapbook.

He has also promised to write to you to inquire if you wish to acknowledge my help in some way—for that is indeed all I would ask. He has from time to time spoken of you with great affection and esteem, and I know that you must admire him in order to have done the wonderful things for him that you have done. Thus we surely must have a mutual admiration, and I feel as if that establishes a sort of bond between us. If this information does not satisfy you, or if I ever can be of service to you, do not hesitate to ask.

I know that Still has dedicated to you one of his most important works—and he does not dedicate music lightly. He has also shown me your new book, which I admire very much—and of course I've read most of your Paris dispatches in the Musical Courier, as well as the longer articles you write occasionally.[ . . . ]

With best wishes for your project and for all your endeavors, I am

Sincerely,

Verna Arvey

P.S. It is not worthwhile to mention "Central Avenue" which appears in some of the notices because it has been completely destroyed, and I think Mr. Still would rather not have it given even a passing notice. VA.^[53]

Schwerké responded to Still and Arvey on June 12:

[ . . . ]

I[ . . . ]had a cordial letter from Miss Arvey, and now have yours of May 27, 1937. The reason why I have always gone directly to the composers about whom I write, is just to avoid such situations as has now seemingly arisen. I cannot as yet quite make up my mind what to do. You have no doubt noticed that in my articles I never lean on others—I collaborate with the composers, but do not lean upon my confreres. I quite understand and appreciate the situation, and I certainly do not want to be unjust to any one. . . . . But as I say, I have not yet really gone through the material, and cannot say definitely until I have done so. However, we won't worry and let us hope all will be right in the end. In the

meantime, I appreciate the trouble Miss Arvey went to, and hope you will thank her for me.

With all good wishes I am,

Sincerely yours,

Irving

Schwerké and Arvey managed to maintain a semblance of friendship during this difficult time. Arvey even agreed to let Schwerké use her material without credit:

[June 1937?]^[54] "

Dear Mr. Schwerke:

Mr. Still has just shown me your recent letter (you notice that I am writing this on his typewriter) and I want to assure you that you may use the material I've sent you without mentioning my name in connection with it if you wish. He feels that your article will be a splendid thing for him (and so do I) and I would not like to think that any action of mine had taken an opportunity from one who is so talented and who deserves all the help we can give.

Although some of the thoughts are my own, the greater part of the material stems directly from Mr. Still, as you will see when you read through it, so that you need have no fear as to its being authentic. He okayed it before I sent it to you. Moreover, knowing his reticence and modesty on matters concerning himself, I am sure that you have far more material in what I have sent than if he had written it out himself.

Please do use what you will need, and ask me for more information if you need it.

Sincerely,

Verna Arvey

Other correspondence of this busy year touched on other subjects. One of the more awkward was the omission of the dedication to Schwerké in the published edition of the Afro-American Symphony . Still had mentioned this in his letter of March 17. Schwerké alludes to it in his letter acknowledging the receipt of the score of the symphony:

Paris, May 21, 1937

Dear William,

Just a word in reply to yours of the 5th. By now you have no doubt received my letter saying that I received the scores from Fisher,^[55] for which many, many thanks. The first person to whom I showed the symphony opined I must be a very untruthful person: I had told him the symphony

was dedicated to me, and when he did not see my name on it, he called my bluff! Of course, I'll be happy to have the DISMAL SWAMP and to do all I can for it, as well as the others.

Should be happy to meet Langston Hughes and to do anything in my power to make his sojourn agreeable—this also applies to any other friends or acquaintances of yours who may be coming this way.

[ . . . ]

Still explained the circumstances again in his letter of June 8:

[ . . . ]

About the Afro-American Symphony: didn't I explain to you how it happened that the dedication was left off in the revision? It is dedicated to you, and to none other,—and the second printing, when it comes, will carry the printed acknowledgement. Those were my instructions to the publisher, and if the friend to whom you showed the Symphony still thinks you untruthful because the name doesn't appear, you have only to show him this letter and to tell him that it was on the original copy.

[ . . . ]

Despite Still's assurance, the dedication to Schwerké never appeared on any published edition of the Afro-American Symphony; a writer today, like Schwerké in 1937, can only follow Still's advice and "show [the doubters] this letter" to verify that Schwerké is the dedicatee.^[56] This writer has, at least, one further resource: when I asked Verna Arvey late in her life whether Still might have withdrawn the dedication to Schwerké, she replied, "Certainly not! The work was dedicated to Schwerké and that dedication stands." It was as definite a statement as I heard that very definite lady make.

The year 1938 started with a final exchange of letters on the subject of Schwerké's proposed "comprehensive article."

Paris, February 25, 1938

Dear William,

I am working on a big study on my favorite STILL, but I do not progress very fast, for the principal reason, that I do not have much information about your compositions. I am enclosing a list of works on which I have only the merest fragments of hints, if anything at all, and hope that, sooner or later, you can let me have the material. Naturally, not having the scores and never having heard them performed, I can't say much about them, can I, hence must turn to you. I want this to be a "historical" study, one that people can turn to for information on any one of your works, and which

will be authoritative from every point of view. Thanks in advance, and with best wishes and affectionate greetings,

Yours,

Irving

The enclosed list began with a request for an analysis of Darker America —Bruce Forsythe's article was still on Schwerké's mind—and went on to ask general questions about a number of works. Still's answer, which ran to two and a half pages of single-spaced typing, attempted to answer all of these questions.^[57] It is here given complete, preceded by my attempt to reconstruct the now-lost enclosure with themes of Darker America that accompanied Still's letter.

[Reconstructed enclosure:]

First, you ask for an analysis of "Darker America". I am enclosing some themes, the lettering on which will correspond to the letters in the following description. "Darker America" was my first serious effort in a larger form and I now realize that it has many weaknesses. As its title suggests, it represents the American Negro. The introductory material is furnished by theme A on the separate sheet (presented at the outset by unison strings) and by theme C. At the 16th measure, theme B commences, given to English horn: this represents the sorrow of the American Negro. After 21 measures, theme C appears. Then follows a brief development built on themes A and C. After this, the episodic theme D appears, later leading back to a new treatment of theme B, interspersed with repetitions of theme D in various forms. After a brief development, theme E, which is a transformation of theme C, appears. This leads to theme F which is also a transformation of theme C. Following this comes a 3/4 section that I now wish I had omitted, for it seems forced. Then theme B, transformed, reappears, accompanied by theme D. This leads to a combination of themes A and C, with D appearing at intervals. This combination of themes A and C are shoWn at D.^[59] That leads to the end. Now I know that I could have built a stronger composition with only two of these themes. As it is, it's fragmentary.

On the following points, my memory may be a little dim, but I'll try to cover everything you requested. "From the Land of Dreams" is dedicated to Edgar[d] Varese. It is for three voices and chamber orchestra and was first performed by the International Composers Guild Inc. in N.Y. on February 8, 1925, conducted by Vladimir Shavitz. I have now lost the score, so cannot analyse it further. "From the Journal of a Wanderer" is dedicated to Edgar[d] Varese and was first performed by the Chicago Symphony under Frederick Stock in 1926. It is an orchestral suite. "Levee Land" has no dedication. It was first performed in N.Y. in 1926 by the International Composers' Guild with Florence Mills as soloist and Eugene Goossens conducting. It is a humorous suite for soprano and chamber orchestra. "From the Black Belt" has no dedication. It is a suite for chamber orchestra composed of the following sections: Lil' Scamp, Honeysuckle, Dance, Blue, Brown Girl, Mah Bones Is Creakin', Clap Yo' Hands. "Log Cabin Ballads" has no dedication. It was first performed in 1928 by Georges Barrere and is 3 nostalgic pieces for chamber orchestra, entitled: Long To'ds Night, Beneaf de Willers, Miss Malindy.

"La Gulablesse" has no dedication. It is a ballet based on a Martinique legend, on which Ruth Page based her scenario. The legend speaks of the she-devil who assumes the guise of a beautiful woman in order to lure a susceptible village youth to his death. It was first performed at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester with Dr. Howard Hanson conducting in 1933.

I have destroyed "Puritan Epic."^[60] "Sahdji" is an African ballet with a chorus and a chanter, a bass soloist who from time to time sings African proverbs to emphasize the meaning of the action. This chanter also sings a Prologue to the ballet, though this Prologue is a comparatively recent addition, added during the revision of the ballet. In this ballet Sahdji's dance before the chieftain, Sahdji's fire dance, and Sahdji's dance of death are the outstanding numbers. The first is the most exciting of them all. "Blue Steel" was composed in 1934–35, and is dedicated to the Founders of the Guggenheim Fellowships. It is an opera, the scene a mythical swamp, showing a man from a modern city who goes into a primitive Negro tribe and attempts to carry away with him the high priest's daughter—he does not love her, but he simply wishes another conquest.^[61] In the end, he dies. The opera has never been performed in its entirety, but excerpts from 'it have been given.

"Kaintuck'" is dedicated to Verna Arvey, and is a tone poem for piano and orchestra depicting my emotions as I passed through a certain section of Kentucky on a misty summer day. It was first performed on two pianos at a Los Angeles Pro Musica concert in 1935 with Verna Arvey as soloist, [and] Robert V. Edwards at the second piano. I think it would be well not to speak of the first orchestral performances of this work, for two very good friends of mine—Dr. Hanson and Eugene Goossens—played it in their respective cities within a few weeks of each other, and each claimed credit for a first performance. So, in order not to hurt either of these men whom I admire So much, perhaps it would be as well not to mention either

performance as being the first orchestral one. Since then, of course, I have conducted it on several occasions with Miss Arvey as soloist.

"Three Visions" has no dedication, though I have mentally dedicated it to my friends who have departed this life. It is a group of three compositions for piano in the modern (not ultra-modern) idiom. First played in concert in Los Angeles in the Spring of 1936 by Verna Arvey. I have since made an arrangement of the second one, "Summerland", for small radio orchestra. The first one is called "Dark Horsemen" and the third "Radiant Pinnacle".

"Dismal Swamp" is a poem for orchestra with piano solos, and is largely built on a single theme. It is sombre, for the most part, and moves slowly. (Didn't I send you a score of this? If so, the poem at the beginning will express what I was trying to say musically.)

"Lenox Avenue" is a series of ten episodes and Finale for orchestra, chorus and announcer, with a short piano solo. It was especially designed for radio performance and was first performed over the Columbia Network on May 23, 1937 with Howard Barlow conducting. The continuity for this performance was by Verna Arvey, as is the scenario for the ballet version that was made of it later and will soon be produced in Los Angeles. The whole thing is a musician's view of Lenox Avenue, the street that cuts through Harlem, and all the events seen there.

"Great Day" was changed by the publisher into the book of Spirituals I sent you.

"Deserted Plantation" has no dedication and was first performed by Paul Whiteman at the Metropolitan Operahouse in N.Y. in 1933. I do not consider this work representative enough to require a complete analysis.

Now, you ask about songs, piano pieces and violin pieces, etc. I've already described the three piano pieces. There are no pieces for violin, although my arrangement of "Summerland" for radio orchestra is fixed so that a violin and piano might play it. There are two songs, both published by Schirmer. One is "Winter's Approach", a humorous song to Words of Paul Lawrence [sic ] Dunbar, and the other is "Breath of a Rose" to words of Langston Hughes. The first is rollicking, the second pensive and more or less ultra-modern in style.

I think I've covered everything you asked for now. Please forgive this very careless typing. I became enthusiastic over getting details correct, and perhaps started going too fast. And please let me know if there is anything else I can do.

Always, gratefully—

Sincerely,

Still

Early in 1939 Verna Arvey's monograph "William Grant Still," a volume in the series Studies of Contemporary American Composers, was published by J. Fischer & Bro. Irving Schwerké thanked Arvey for his

copy on February 28. Schwerké's own "comprehensive article" was never finished: probably he came to the conclusion that a genial correspondence with a composer and a deep involvement with a few pieces was not a sufficient substitute for the personal contact that had informed his other large-scale articles on composers.

Schwerké left Paris in mid-1940—his last dispatches to the Musical Courier were published in their issue of June 15. When he left Paris he put his material in storage; by the end of the war, when he could retrieve it, Still's career had moved substantially past what Schwerké's material documented. Schwerké never again raised the possibility of collaborating on a detailed article on Still: his postwar life was that of a teacher, not of a journalist.

One incident of Schwerké's flight prompted an entertaining response from Still. While Schwerké was in Lisbon he was interviewed by a local music critic, and declared that Still and Roger Vuataz were "duas maiores revelaçoes da vanguarda."^[62] Schwerké enclosed a clipping of the interview in his letter to Still announcing his arrival in America ("Just a word to say, here I am!"). Still replied:

March 25, 1941

Dear Irving:

Many thanks for your note, and for sending me the clipping from Portugal. I hope you meant for me to keep it, as it made me very proud and I've already pasted it into my scrapbook. Incidentally, if you really do consider me America's outstanding composer, you might find yourself very unpopular with a few other American creators who have settled it in their own minds and among their friends that they and they alone deserve that honor!!!!

[ . . . ]

The Still-Schwerké correspondence for the years after 1941 is pleasant and enjoyable—if this were a Complete Correspondence it could be reprinted without apology—but it is not particularly revealing. Composer and writer say hello, apologize for the amount of time it has been since they have written each other, congratulate each other on triumphs (Schwerké is particularly happy to hear of the success of Troubled Island ), and in general write like old friends who cannot think of anything particular to say.

What, finally, was Schwerké's significance to Still's career? It was chiefly as Still's European representative in the early 1930s, securing performances of Still's orchestral works—notably of Africa, which as a

shorter work than the Afro-American Symphony had more appeal to a European conductor looking for a single American work. We should not exaggerate the importance of these performances. Schwerké, a single person with single copies of two works (and those in versions that by 1937 had been superseded), could do only a limited amount for the composer: only a publisher with good European connections could have done much to establish Still in Europe in the 1930s.^[63] Still's European reputation had to be built afresh in the 1940s—largely by conductor Rudolph Dunbar; it must be built again today.

But we should not underestimate the value of Schwerké's work for Still either. The performances Schwerké arranged—coming at a time when nonexpatriate Americans had few opportunities for European performance—must have seemed to the young composer like a voice ratifying his importance as a composer and his ability to speak to a general audience of the cultured. And when the conductors to whom Schwerké showed Still's work in the early 1930s came to America in later years, Still's name was already familiar to them. Nor should we underestimate the value of Schwerké's "sympathetic ear": here was a man on another continent, knowing and known to Still only by words and notes on paper, willing to believe in the importance of his music. Nor, finally, should we see Schwerké entirely in terms of Still: the article on Schwerké in Amerigrove, a just if brief summary of his importance, makes do without mentioning Still at all.

For the Still scholar the letters are extremely valuable. We tend to see Still principally from the Arvey years, when he had a skilled journalist, publicist, and organizer as his helpmeet. It is valuable for us to hear his voice in his earlier years: already confident of his musical ability, but less sure in his dealings with others. The Still-Arvey collections in Fayetteville and Flagstaff are rich in letters to Still of this period,^[64] but Still's own letters, save for the few represented by carbons, must be looked for elsewhere. We have only begun to look beyond the Still collections for Still letters: perhaps this sample from what can be found in a single collection will inspire researchers to look further.

We can even be grateful to Schwerké for being available as a dedicatee for the Afro-American Symphony . What would we make of an Afro-American Symphony dedicated to Hanson or Varèse? Even a dedication to a major black cultural figure such as Alain Locke would tempt listeners to hear the Afro-American Symphony in the light of that figure's ideas of Afro-American culture. Dedicated to someone whom Still knew only as a disembodied "sympathetic ear," the Afro-American Symphony

stands splendidly on its own, a work that helps to define American culture rather than a work defined by it.

William Grant Still:
A Study in Contradictions

Harold Bruce Forsythe

This is the earliest-known commentary on Still's work that extends beyond the a few sentences to be found in reviews of concerts at which his music was performed. It is also the only extended contemporary explication of Still's music from a New Negro, Africanist position. Both because of its specificity and because of the positions its author takes, it is far from the generalized New Negro positions on the music of African Americans taken by W. E. B. Du Bois or Alain Locke, described by Gayle Murchison in her chapter, above. Forsythe, who was twenty-two when he wrote this essay, drew on his training as a pianist and composer in the European and jazz traditions as well as his familiarity with the writers of the New Negro movement and the issues that occupied them. Both because he had long been aware of Still's work—ironic that he, raised in Los Angeles, knew more about the concert works of a composer who was based in New York than did eastern critics—and because of his own involvement as a composer who aspired to write concert music that honored his racial and national inheritance, his insights are compelling.

Forsythe's sweeping judgments about Still and his work were made on the basis of music now thought of as Still's "early" work, very little of it known today except by name. At the time Forsythe wrote the first surviving draft of this essay (February 1930), Still was just completing the score of Africa . It appears that Forsythe saw the score to From the Land of Dreams, but it has since been listed as lost and, though recently located,

has yet to be heard a second time. Portraits is entirely unknown except for its mention here. The two ballets, La Guiablesse and Sahdji, were still unfulfilled dreams, although a version of the former existed. The Afro-American Symphony, the Songs of Separation, the opera Troubled Island, and the choral ballad And They Lynched Him on a Tree all lay in the future. By the time of the final draft (October), Forsythe had obtained the score to Darker America, but the newly completed Sahdji was out of reach in New York, as were the first performances of Africa . The virtual abandonment of this part of Still's production along with the vicissitudes of his later career (including Forsythe's estrangement from both Still and Verna Arvey and Still's changed position on Darker America ) at least raise the question of whether Forsythe's judgments are valid for Still's later career. That they will remain stimulating and germane to discussions of Still's work seems certain. Forsythe's passionate interest in Still's work to 1930 strongly suggests that a real reexamination of Still's music should include these now-forgotten works.^[1]

After a short preface and a rather pompous opening paragraph suggesting that most composers are misunderstood in their lifetimes, Forsythe launches into the meat of his essay. He offers a description of Still's unique talent and of Still's physical appearance, conversational manner, and pronouncements on other composers. A great deal of this detail is unique to this essay. After some discussion of earlier works, he then addresses the one substantial Still score to which Forsythe had access at that time, Darker America, composed in 1924 and published in 1928.

Still's Darker America has a large role in this essay and is discussed in the other sources published here as well. Therefore, some information about it is given here. Still provided this program note for the 1928 performance:

Darker America, as its title suggests, is representative of the American Negro. His serious side is presented and is intended to suggest the triumph of a people over their sorrows through fervent prayer. At the beginning the theme of the American Negro is announced by the strings in unison. Following a short development of this, the English horn announces the sorrow theme which is followed immediately by the theme of hope, given to muted brass accompanied by strings and woodwind. The sorrow theme returns treated differently, indicative of more intense sorrow as contrasted to passive sorrow indicated at the initial appearance of the theme. Again hope appears and the people seem about to rise above their troubles. But sorrow triumphs. Then the prayer is heard (given to oboe); the prayer of numbed rather than anguished

souls. Strongly contrasted moods follow, leading up to the triumph of the people near the end, at which point the three principal themes are combined.^[2]

Carol Oja describes the work as one "that synthesized black idioms with areas of intense chromaticism . . . by employing planes—or whole areas—that evoked African-American traditions and juxtaposing them, either vertically or horizontally, with a dissonant fabric." She points out his use of call-and-response technique: "The music for the 'call' imitates black vernacular idioms of uptown New York, and that for the 'response' is a dissonant crash from downtown."

Forsythe's judgment of the work is substantially different from that given later by Still in his "Personal Notes," his letters to Schwerké, and in Arvey's monograph, "William Grant Still." By the time Forsythe wrote about it so eloquently, Still had become dissatisfied with Darker America . "My opinion: Darker America has quite a few faults, viz. lack of consistency in form; too much material for such a short composition; faulty harmonization in places."^[3] Oja observes a similarity between the sectional structure of Darker America and that of "the potpourri of hit tunes that make up the overture to a musical comedy." Although the critics admired its energy and originality, they also commented on its "lack of development." Thus they "ignored the possibility that this kind of discontinuous formal structure might have grown out of Still's work as an arranger and that such a source could be credible."^[4] Still himself would likely have rejected the overture-medley structure of Darker America on the grounds that in practice it did not work as well as he wanted; he needed the broader symphonic structure to allow his themes enough space to speak effectively.

This is the second and later version of the manuscript, located in the Still-Arvey Papers; Judith Anne Still called my attention to it. Another, earlier version is now in the Forsythe Papers at The Huntington Library.^[5]

1930

. . . For there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion . . .

Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici^[6]

To M. Edgard Varèse & Mr. Charles E. Pemberton:^[7]

Without the one, there would
Perhaps have been no necessity

For this book; and without the
Other, it could never have
Been written . . .

PREFACE . . .

This little book does not pretend to be a full appreciation or even a just criticism of the man with whom it is concerned. It no doubt suffers all the faults and disadvantages of a pioneer work, since it is, to my knowledge, the first that has yet been written concerning the peculiar gifts of Mr. Still. Biographical details are necessarily fragmentary and Darker America is the only work discussed at great length, for the reason that space prohibited discussion of but one work, and that composition seems to be the most representative production of the composer.

Holding no exemption from the common infirmities of human nature, I have fallen into the customary deceptions and errors, but possessed of an opinion, not rapidly or carefully nourished, but an opinion that burst forth surreptitiously and slowly spread its foliage until it became an obsession, it has seemed necessary to parade that thought before the world, and to listen with interest to the conflicting echoes that ring in answer. . . .

Bruce Forsythe '30

I

A few years ago, in a letter to Katherine Ruth Willoughby Heyman, I poured another decanter into the distilled ocean of tears already shed over the senile fact that the artist is doomed to years of misunderstanding, even from the otherwise judicious, and to eternal damnation as far as the masses are concerned.^[8] After lavishing the customary complimentary adjectives upon the Yahoos, I proceeded to lament that the only recourse the harassed artist has at his command is to make himself so incomprehensible that all and sundry will let him severely alone. Afflicted at that time with the seriousness of youth, it seemed very strange that many of our major critical voices were so bound in traditional technicalities and dogmas that they were, (and still are), unable to see that one may love the clear daylight of Mozart and at the same time intelligently appreciate the significance of Debussy, Stravinsky, Varèse, and all the other men who have had something to say but have confounded the unimaginative by saying it in voices that sing somewhat out of tune with

the accepted Bibles of theory. Whereupon, the author of The Relation of Ultra-Modern to Archaic Music, wisely realizing all the unpleasant truths unseen by my optimistic eyes, answered that the artist is nothing more or less than a sort of glorified radio broadcasting station, sending out his "message" to all those who have receiving sets capable of "tuning in." It is apparent, even to a musician, that if a man followed Mrs. Heyman's advice, he would automatically make himself a disciple of my somewhat ancient suggestion.

This is the tragedy of the man whom nature has graced with ideas, and who has taken the trouble to equip himself with the mechanical means necessary for their logical development. Such a man is far removed from his immediate surroundings and from his friends. Physically he is among them. He eats, drinks, talks, rides or sleeps with them, but his feet at times trudge gingerly up steep precipices that are glass hills to them, broad fields that to them are barren he finds arable, his eyes are on dim and distant horizons that are mere strips of froth to them, ideas that to them are dead he flings into the marmoreal catafalque of his consciousness where, Phoenix-like, they spring to life dripping with the yeasty beauties of his soul, he hears soundless sounds, sees with blinding clarity invisible patterns, his hands are up to the elbows in effervescent urns from which his friends "flee howling in terror." Even when this man of talent sees an equal in a friend, or when he is working seemingly in the company of disinterested people, the wall is still existent. He will, perhaps, enthusiastically discuss his art. But when he feels the mysterious ferments working deep within him, and realizes that an idea is about to burst like a bud into a full blown rose, he flees man as he would flee the plague. Not for fear of bees that might suck from the rose its perfumes, but from plebeian nostrils without the delicacy necessary for the appreciation of its scent, and hands that might sully the flower with careless handling. When the first flush has gone he will share it. Jealously, and with perhaps no little suspicion and caution. He then feels a bit like "broadcasting," partly out of pride, partly from the urges of an inferiority complex, partly from healthy egotism, but no doubt largely from a profound conviction that he has said something worth saying and that someone else might benefit from the hearing of it. This, upon a high plane, is called talent. Upon an infinitely higher perch, so lofty at times that it is not clearly visible, it is called genius.

It is increasingly difficult to write of a Negro of talent. The Negro press itself is impossible. Each day there appears in its columns lengthy accounts of tea-party musicales at which "Prof." J. Wilson Holmes pre-

sented an "original composition which was a great delight to the audience," and Evelyn Mae Smith "charmed the audience with a beautiful trombone solo." These quite dreadful lucubrations are the work either of dunces, or of clever journalists out for larger circulations and advertising sections. Another class of writers, however, has done even greater damage. An intensely serious class of musician, functioning "critically" on weekly sheets, has overworked the words "beautiful," "talent," "genius," and "wonderful" until they have little meaning. Of course all sober men know that this is so much whim-wham. The Negro is not the prodigiously talented individual his sheets assure him that he is, as he is not so downtrodden and forlorn as these same rags contend. Quite to the contrary he seems to be a race of harmless and polite mediocrities. In every field he has practitioners, but the best of these men would be forced to accept third or fourth place on an interracial list. Some men, Cullen, Hughes, Thurman, McKay, Walrond, Douglass; have done excellent work.^[9] Perhaps in Jean Toomer he has a genius, as in Walrond, Hayes and Robeson he has men of very exceptional talent; but in the art with which we have to deal, he has very little to offer on the creative side.^[10] Mr. Burleigh has written some polite and polished things, and gained a reputation quite out of proportion with his artistic output.^[11] Dett, Diton, R. Johnson, Hall Johnson and many others have done good work.^[12] The latter has done some exquisite things in arranging spiritual melodies for his inimitable choir, and he has made some striking songs, notably his vigorous and resonant setting of Langston Hughes' "Fyah Lawd!" Freeman and others have written very dreadful things, even more dreadful than certain of Mr. Burleigh's songs.^[13] But these men for the most part have remained safely and sanely academic: their personalities are without color, and their occasional dabblings into intellectual seas have not been happy.

The intelligent white press is of course suspicious of Aframerican composers. They suspect, and rightly, that each new name ballyhooed will turn out to be a new conductor of spiritual arrangements, vocal confectionery and dishwatery compositions for the piano. They perhaps suspect what has long been a patent fact, that the Negro has little inclination or aptitude for music. A facile and fundamental sense of rhythm and harmony, and a group of excellent folk songs have given rise to the absurd nonsense about the Aframerican's "inherent musical genius." Of course it will be understood that what is meant by music is the ebb and flow of the polyphony of Bach and the cosmic sweep of Wagner's instrumentation and not the weeping of blues singers or the croon of plan-

tation darkies. In Los Angeles, my home city, the situation is grotesque. Among the Aframericans there is a handful of honest and serious students, but they are overwhelmed by the most complete, ambidextrous and pyrotechnical mob of charlatans ever created.

But for the inevitable exception. As usual, he is the least known, and, if we except a small and select circle, the least honored. His name is ignored on the lists of Negro artists, issued in the press during the past year. The Journal of the fraternity of which he is a member ignores him in a long lucubration on contemporary Negro composers. Dr. Moton has evidently never heard of him and Carl Diton has recently printed a longwinded essay in which my subject does not receive the insult of bare mention, among men who are by no means his equals.^[14] This man of whom I speak is a wildly colored flower, headily perfumed and exotic in contour, blooming alone but without loneliness in a vast and uncompromising desert. There is something poisonous about this perfume, to be true, but that has only tended to destroy the banalities of the common run of Negro composers. And to chuck their musty souls into the academic barrels where they belong. This man, William Grant Still, is without doubt the most talented Negro ever to compose music in America, and the only man of his race to abandon the past on one hand, to cling to it successfully on the other, and to make a successful and original artistic cohesion of the two. He has his hands in assorted dishes. He has written From the Land of Dreams, a strange, inchoate but brilliant fantasy, in which he takes the hand of that modern intellectual circle to which no other Negro, save only Jean Toomer has ever been admitted; he can write Levee Land, in which he brews the familiar racial stews in exotic kettles; he arranges American jazz well enough to work as running mate with Ferde Grofé;^[15] and he has written Darker America, the most significant and thoroughly artistic tonal work ever written by a man of African descent. These are unusual feats, suggesting a plastic intelligence and a sound education, to say nothing of a singularly resilient talent.

He has hidden behind his position as an arranger of popular music. Most of his closest associates receive with surprise the news that he is an artist. A lady once made a remark that instantly recalled the cry of Heine's inamorata: "They tell me my Heinrich is a great poet. Is it true?" Having suffered all the neglect and misunderstanding that inflicts such exquisite pain upon the man of talent, and having in his hide the pointed barbs of narrow-visioned critics, to say nothing of the even more painful arrows of patronization, he has constructed about himself that fortress

erected by all men who have something new to say and have had trouble in saying it to people who are incapable or unwilling to understand it. I knew him for months before I had the first inkling of his significance and before he showed me one of his orchestral scores.

Still is handsome in a languid Latin manner, inclined to portliness, and with eyes that glow with an unholy and unhealthy light when working, or when a beautiful woman interests him. It is curious that the flash is identical. The most revolutionary Negro composer ever heard of, and seemingly the quintessence of Paganism, he exhibits an outward display of religious devotion that is nothing so much as amusing. He has repeatedly warned me that unless I recant, repent, and mend my ways, I shall wake up one day in hell. To which I retorted that if he said verbally what he wrote in Darker America, he would be kicked out of Church. I am not here interested in religious discussions; there exists a vast literature of criticism to which I can add nothing. I note these facts because they are simply manifestations of the bundle of contradictory elements in this man's personality. He is singularly charming. It is significant that a sophisticated lady once remarked that he resembles a "bad little boy who has been caught stealing jam." He is equally at home in the company of jazz piano players, lady nondescripts, seers, bores, cabaret entertainers and society matrons. It is only when he is assailed by Intellectuals that he begins to fidget. However, I have seen him sit unmoved and without facial expression while intellectual imbeciles grew misty-eyed over the beauties of Bizet, and endure without facial expression the ordeal of a discourse on Beethoven by a local attorney. These feats at first greatly puzzled me. I soon found that he is the least intellectual of artists. He has little reverence for the very large men of his craft. He remarks without passion that Tristan is not so good, and that he prefers Italian opera; a moment later sneers at Mozart in such a manner that my ears fairly burn with anger; and causes one to fairly howl for his blood by refusing to be moved by Beethoven, Scriabin or anyone else, save only Bach. Sebastian he deems the greatest of composers, a fact for which we may pardon him his other sins. Since he has admitted that Bach has for him almost a purely intellectual appeal, it is perhaps logical that the mighty emotional storms of the Master [i.e., Beethoven] escape him. This seeming insensitiveness is very misleading, and will create a paradox when we come to consider his extraordinary feeling for orchestral color. Then too, we always take these opinions with a grain of salt. I for one, think Still is spoofing, and refuse to believe that he sees beauties in Leoncavallo, Mascagni and Verdi that he cannot see in Beethoven,

Mozart and Wagner.^[16] He does not know himself as yet, and it is a credit to his honesty that he does not pose.

His ideas on music are terse and brief. He believes that music is "primarily an appeal to the ear," and that the composer "who attempts to offer concrete theories" is posing, and that "the theories of certain composers, notably Rebikov,^[17] are nothing but attempts to explain away their musical shortcomings." He believes in tossing Jadassohn, Prout, Goetschius, and Richter into the desk drawer forevermore.^[18] (Always granting that one knows their contents, of course!) The only text he keeps at hand is Cecil Forsyth's splendid treatise on orchestration.^[19] He is pointed in his opinions, very honest, and cares little for justice where his own prejudices are concerned. He denounces other men's work without giving them any examination whatever, possibly because he has suffered the same fate.^[20]

He is a connoisseur in liqueurs, an epicure, and is fond of clothing. He is not interested in the world of ideas, outside of music, reads only time killing fiction, but betrays little of this one-sidedness in his compositions.

He has a gift of attraction that makes it impossible to regard him with indifference; you either like him immensely or dislike him. He has uncritically and with no examination, disparaged my own work, my "not much praised but altogether satisfactory lady" has become sweet on him, and I feel but a mild if slightly bitter amusement.^[21] The voice of the soothsayer has for him great truth.^[22] I would hate for a haruspice to tell him that I was hatching a foul plot against his life. He is not interested in the fact that he is a Republican, a Kappa Alpha Psi and a Negro, and I wish he would lose interest in the fact that he is a Presbyterian. He carries large tone cathedrals behind a skull embellished by raven-black locks and masked by a face radiating "good fellowship," artlessness and a baffling lack of profundity.

But underneath there is a nervous sensuality, a psychic unscrupulousness, a fitful spurting of moods that is like a vast fingerprint in his works. We shall see how Paul Rosenfeld, with his customary insight, saw this in Still's very first work to receive performance, and how it follows in nearly all his subsequent compositions. It is not altogether a physical sensuality, though that plays a large part, but a certain androgyne-like conception of creation dwelling in a man who is at once normal and devout. He is a perfect model of a pagan consciousness, a nihilistic entity without regard for the troubles and aspirations of other men, completely smothered under a mass of traditional hocus-pocus that refuses to allow him a moment of rational concrete speculation. His music, as usual, is

the safety valve. There his nervous energy and his unconscious revolt against the false mass of dogma under which his true person sleeps takes expression. Great slabs of sound in Darker America spit forth the sincerity of spirit many do not believe him to possess.^[23] He notes that it is his intention in this work to suggest the "triumph of a people over their sorrow through intense prayer," and that "The Backslider" is not a parody on religion. The exalted recesses of his unconscious spirit, immune from dogma and the pettiness so characteristic of artists, as well as conscience, flutter like an orchid hued but tinged with sable out of the dank cellars of apparent paradox.

He is not without sadism; a mental pleasure in mentally inflicting pain upon those who are fond of him. It is not the gross gloating of a successful suitor over a vanquished rival. He is harsh at times, as his music is harsh, for the pleasure received in rubbing the bruises with a disarming balsam. Sometimes it is with an innocent chord of the ninth, again it is with a "wisecrack." Sincerity at times hangs in the balance, but we cannot say that he is excused on artistic grounds, for he is forgiven by those for whom his music cannot possibly have any appeal or meaning. Such a man is a living argument both for and against himself. As mentioned above, he is not full of windy ideas that he is incapable of putting into practice. He is the only Negro composer with the instincts and heart of the artist (though totally devoid of any outward marks), a wealth of genuinely new and arresting ideas, and the technical training necessary to present them logically. He spurts out his compositions as abstract manifestations of feelings he cannot express concretely and proofs of an innate nobility of spirit that outwardly some would deny him. This is the dominant characteristic of genuine musical genius.

II

William Grant Still was born at Woodville, Mississippi, on May 11, 1895, but much of his early life was spent in Little Rock, Arkansas. Those who knew him as a child remark concerning the exceptional shyness and reserve of his manner, and his stubborn resolution. He was fortunate in having a mother of exceptional culture who wished to see him well educated. A monkey wrench was thrown in the family machinery, however, when the young William announced that he had decided to study music. The highly respectable family was scandalized. Perhaps it is necessary to explain that better-class Negro families of the very adjacent past lifted their skirts in holy horror of music as a profession (of

course they had no conception of it as an art), listing it with the theatre and with bank-robbery as snares set by a wily and ever alert devil to ensnare the young, lead astray the middle aged, and charm the footsteps of centenarians from the grave. The family pooh-poohed the boy's declaration and decided that he should become a doctor. Still laughs ironically at the very imagined picture of himself cutting out tonsils or prescribing for the baby's colic.

Openly defying parental authority, as he now defies the musty authority of textbook compilers, he followed his general studies at Wilber-force University with serious musical courses at Oberlin and at the New England Conservatory, where he had Mr. Chadwick as professor in composition. It is significant of his nervous haste that he completed a year's course in harmony in three months or less.^[24] About this time the most important event in Still's artistic development took place. Edgard Varèse, the brilliant French-American whose audacious compositions have been so deeply damned and highly praised, saw a potential anarch in young Still. Varèse is a very vivid personality, even to one who has never heard his works. Still has explained them to me so vividly that it seems that the shivering of percussion instruments has assailed my own ears. There are those who have tried to sneer at the composer of Octandre, Integrales and Hyperprism with the characteristic charge that the composer thinks "he can express the fourth dimension and the Einstein theory in music." Well, for all we know, perhaps it can be done! On the other hand M. Varèse has been called "the man destined to lead the art of music onward from Stravinsky's fresh virgin realms of sound." The remark of the Parisian newspaper, Comoedie that "Sa personalite lui vaut des admirateurs enthouslastes et des adversaires acharnes. C'est l'indice certain d'une force creatrice," is the best summary of the matter for one as unfamiliar with his scores as I am.^[25]

Still has been criticized for submitting himself to the influence of Varèse; well-meaning critics asserting that his virgin talent has been perverted by the revolutionary doctrines of the Frenchman. This, I think, is so much buncombe. It is possible that Still might have followed the same paths had he never met M. Varèse, but it is not likely that he would have followed them so well. Quite to the contrary of many critics of Levee Land, Varèse has put Still in possession of the materials that he needed. From him Still has learned how to be individual and free of the academic remnants of the New England Conservatory. I shudder to think of the young Negro writing consonant barcaroles for the pianoforte and Burleighesque songs. Examination of some choruses written during

student days makes the shudder more pronounced. Varèse has been the guide into uncharted paths of modern music, and after all influence has been shaken off and his spiritual forces thoroughly orientated to his method, the composer may express himself in a work of major consideration.^[26] It is perhaps regrettable that Still has not interested himself in literature, for the unconscious influence of some modern poet would undoubtedly have been of great inspiration, and not without a power of liberation from the astringency of his subjects and the unpoetic quality of his titles and programs.

In October, 1915, Still married Grace Bundy,^[27] and since has become the father of four children, to whom he is sentimentally attached. This streak of sentiment is perhaps the greatest handicap he has to overcome if he would become a major composer. It sticks to his fingers like soft taffy in the Portraits, one of his latest works; and a composition that notwithstanding is beautiful and imaginative. It is not always a dishwatery sentimentality, however, but has savage and even vicious undercurrents. I have spoken of the unholy flash of his eye, and immediately after the short indulgence in confection, he writes an atavistic sketch above a pounding ground bass that ends in a thrilling crash.

With his unusual success as an arranger of jazz I do not intend to dwell here, save to note that his arrangements for Runnin' Wild, Earl Carroll's Vanities, Shuffle Along, Dixie to Broadway, Don Voorhees and Paul Whiteman's orchestra stamp him with Grofé and Challis as a leader in the field, helped him to useful publicity and colored to a large extent his serious composition.^[28] Whether he has been more successful than Gershwin in utilizing jazz motives I will not opine, but it seems that the Rhapsody in Blue is a failure in that it is either one thing or the other successively, while Still has succeeded in writing, in Darker America, jazz rhythms that seem a logical and smooth part of the whole.^[29]

From the Land of Dreams, the first serious work of Still to receive public performance, (though Three Fantastic Dances for chamber orchestra, and From the Black Belt, for full orchestra as well as numerous songs, were already in manuscript,) was played at a concert given by the now defunct International Composers' Guild, an organization founded by Edgard Varèse for the advancement and presentation of new music, on February 8, 1925. The work appeared in company with Bartok's Sonatina, the Three Preludes of Acario Cotapos, and works by Carlos Chavez, the young Mexican who directs the National Conservatory at Mexico City, and who has lately received much recognition for his ballets, Four Suns and New Fire, Carlos Salzedo and Anton von Webern,

the protege of Schoenberg.^[30] The concert was conducted by Vladimir Shavitch.

From the Land of Dreams is scored for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn, viola, cello, double-bass, bells, triangle and three voices (high soprano, soprano and mezzo soprano), used instrumentally. It is in three movements, Lento, Allegretto, Allegro moderato. The composer excuses his introduction of jazz motives in the last movement on the ground that "there are dreams with clearly defined and very vivid outlines." The composition seems to have astonished the critics, although it is well known that most metropolitan writers carry an attitude with them to such concerts. One reviewer called forth the gods of tradition to witness that "William Grant Still . . . tried the instrumental use of human voices in an incoherent fantasy . . . and succeeded once or twice in making them sound like Wagner's Rhine Maidens." A clever phrase signifying nothing.

Olin Downes wrote: "One hoped for better things from Mr. Still . . . for he knows the rollicking and often original and entertaining music performed in Negro reviews. But Mr. Varèse, Mr. Still's teacher, has driven all of that out of him. Is Mr. Still aware that the cheapest music in the reviews that he has orchestrated has more reality and inspiration than the curious noises he has manufactured?"^[31] Mr. Downes proceeded to announce that the three voices did little but howl, and wound up with the remark that "this is music unprofitable to compose or listen to." It will seem that Mr. Downes has added his name to the long list of well-meaning but patronizing Nordics who have kindly taken it upon themselves to attempt to guide young Negroes out of forbidden territories. He is absurd in saying that there is more "inspiration" in burlesque-show music than in the shattering dissonances of this strange composition, although he is perhaps right about the "reality." He seems to expect Still to write like Walter Donaldson or Harry Burleigh, as others expect Roland Hayes to sing like Al Jolson.^[32] M. Varèse has by no means driven the jazz spirit away, or so far as I can make out, ever tried. Mr. Downes should have listened a bit more attentively to the last movement, and to the Fantasy on the St. Louis Blues, of which the New Yorker said: "The composer has prodigious gifts. The Fantasy  . . . is the best blues transcription that we have ever heard. . . ." The Jungle episode since written for Whiteman indicates that jazz is still very much with our composer. If the voices in the Dream "howl," so does the voice in Medtner's Vocal Sonata, and most of the coloratura soprano solos I have yet heard.^[33] No genuine idea of a sensuous and iridescent charac-

ter such as Still's is either unprofitable to compose or, indeed, to listen to. The half forgotten radio-leitmotif re-enters.

Among American critics, aside from James Huneker, Paul Rosenfeld, with his sympathetic insight, his broad catholicity of taste, and his breadth of knowledge, speaks with the greatest authority on musical subjects.^[34] Van Vechten is a mere surface polisher and wise-cracker, Mencken (the greatest of American men of letters and a profound music lover) is hopelessly archaic in his musical tastes and opinions, and most of the others, especially the academics, are negligible.^[35] Some are scared to death of a chord of the thirteenth, and some of a Mozart sonata. Edgard Varèse has written of Rosenfeld in the same French newspaper already quoted: "Cette vie Americaine a crée pareillement une litterature nationale. Celle-ci se divise en deux groupes: a la tete, du premier sont Paul Rosenfeld, le plus brillant essayiste Americain, remarquable par sa largeur de vues, par l'interet qu'il porte a tout ce qui est nouveau et par la generosite de sa pensee. . . ."^[36] What he goes [on] to say about Kreymborg is not important.^[37] But it is of great importance that this same Paul Rosenfeld wrote in the Musical Chronicle of From the Land of Dreams:

W.G.S . . . adds another member to the growing company of American musical embryonics. Still has learned a great deal from Edgard Varèse . . . although he has not yet quite learned to speak out freely: a certain absence of freedom in the use of his ideas limit one's enjoyment, and the material of the first two sections of his composition is insufficiently contrasted. But Mr. Still has a very sensuous (italics mine) approach to music. His employment of his instruments is at once rich and nude and decided. The upper ranges of his high soprano have an original penetrating color. And the use of jazz motives in the last movement of his work is more genuinely musical than any to which they have been put, by Milhaud, Gershwin, or any one else  . . . (italics mine).

Aside from the interesting circumstance that Mr. Rosenfeld pricked the Gershwinian bubble just when it seemed to be the thing to blow, it is remarkable how one of the dominant traits of Still's work struck him at this single hearing. The composer admits that From the Land of Dreams was little more than a tentative experiment in harmonic and orchestral color, and that in the writing of it his own personality was colored in a large manner by that of Varèse, but he violently denies that he is simply indulging here in strange noises for the mere sake of appearing ultra-modern. It is pleasing that one man saw the germ in this first of-

fering, and that man was Paul Rosenfeld himself. Alain Locke wrote the composer in compliment, and noted the work in his The New Negro, a fact that deserves mention because other than this, and letters from Charles S. Johnson, Still has been either abused or ignored by the intellectuals of his race.

Levee Land, a group of four songs with orchestral accompaniment, was performed at an I.C.G. concert at Aeolian Hall on January 24, 1926. The late Florence Mills sang them in an inimitable manner and a great deal of the applause went to the little entertainer. The performance was no mean feat for her since she read no music, and had to be taught the difficult scores entirely by ear. The first song, "Levee Song," is a blues poem in the Langston Hughes manner, treated modernistically, while the second, "Hey Hey," is broadly humorous and without words, as is the third, "Oroon." The composer, with rather comical care, has noted that the fourth number, "The Backslider," is not a satire on religion, as one would naturally think, from the words and music. It tells the old tale of the good sister who means well but:

"Wen dat banjo go plunk-plunk
An' foller up wid brrrunk
Ah felt religion goin'" . . .

Still has further proved his skill in writing richly humorous music in his setting of Dunbar's quaint little poem, "Winter's Approach," that has a droll hum that brings a contagious smile to the lips, and a highly characteristic rhythm. Of course there were the customary smart-alecky, superficial press comments on Levee Land . One writer, borrowing the ancient platitude concerning Varèse, said that Levee Land sounded like the Einstein theory and the fourth dimension applied to the blues. A compliment, perhaps. One may read, in Osgood's So this is Jazz,^[38] intelligent and favorable remarks on the work, and the Musical Courier, after digging up dry bones long enough to again denounce From the Land of Dreams as a "slavish imitation of the noises that Edgard Varèse calls compositions," admitted that the Levee songs are "good, healthy and sane," and that the composer belongs on a high plane of the super jazz fiend. It is not at all curious, but noteworthy that the Nordic is so willing to grant recognition to a Negro in this particular field, but denounces him as an invader the moment he feels himself too broad for confining racial fetters. Nobody complains when Julia Peterkin, Waldo Frank, Haldane McFall, W. B. Seabrook, Covarrubias and Du Bose Heyward take Negroid material and do vastly more with it than Ne-

groes themselves, but the moment a Negro steps nakedly into the symphonic field and speaks as a pure artist, howls of protest are heard.^[39]

Still's career has not been without either encouragement or rebuke. Black Bottom and Three Negro Songs for Orchestra were returned to him by Stokowski with the excuse that he had no time for their examination, and with a promise of future consideration that has never been kept.^[40] Still once high-handedly set about orchestrating Norman Peterkin's Dreamer's Tales, because both Dunsany and the little piano pieces appealed to him, and was severely reprimanded by Gustave Schirmer, whose firm owned the copyright.^[41] The group of symphonic sketches, From the Journal of a Wanderer, was submitted to a contest conducted in 1926 by the Chicago North Shore Festival Association, and although attaining to the distinction of being one of the five compositions selected for public rehearsal by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, under Frederick Stock, the contest was won by a Tragic Overture by Edward Collins. Maurice Rosenfeld wrote of the Journal that it was a series of five pieces "without rime or reason." In the spring of 1929, however, it was played by Dr. Howard Hanson and the Rochester Symphony with great success. The five pieces in the suite are: "Phantom Trail," "Magic Bells," "The Valley of Echoes," "Mystic Moon," and "Devil's Hollow." They display without doubt Still's consummate skill in instrumentation, and his knowledge of the resources of the orchestra, and are of astonishing rhythmic interest and harmonic ingenuity. One misses in this work the stark directness of Darker America, or the mysticism of Africa, but when considering the diverse subjects, it is perhaps a compliment to the composer's versatility. The Eastman School of Music has added a copy of the score to their library.

Of great interest is the ballet Still next undertook to write, at the instigation of Adolph Bolm, the distinguished dancer of the Russian Imperial Ballet, Diaghilev Ballet Russe, and the Chicago and Metropolitan grand opera companies. It was to have appeared on a series of ballets and music for small orchestra presented by the Chicago Allied Arts, Inc., in company with new compositions by Carpenter, Milhaud, Williams, and Alexander Tansman.^[42] Something happened, and the work was never produced. Bolm, to judge from his letters, had much praise and much censure for Still's score, and after a somewhat lengthy correspondence it was finally decided to dispense with the ballet, although it had been extensively advertised. The music was written to a legend of the isle of Martinique, La Guiablesse adapted by Ruth Page. There is much that is beautiful in the musical score. "The Dance of the Yzore" is particularly

delicate. This exquisitely fragile little piece offers another paradox in the work of a man who is a bundle of contradictions.^[43]

Shortly after the performance of From the Land of Dreams, Alain Locke had written to Still suggesting Richard Bruce's libretto for an African ballet "Sahdji" as a subject. Bruce's work had grown out of a very good sketch of the same name, printed in The New Negro . One wishes for time to dwell on this vivid personality, for of the myriad of young Negro "intellectuals," he is the most interesting, and has accomplished many beauties both with the pen and the brush. Still became interested in "Sahdji" but soon found that the poetry found little response in his own nature, and abandoned the project entirely. Bruce told me that he was rather pleased at this, since he would prefer to have his verse set by a "more modern" composer. "Sahdji" may be read in Locke's collection of Plays of Negro Life .

From the Black Belt, in six orchestral sketches, "Dance," "Honeysuckle," "Dance," "Des' Keep on Shovin'," "Blue," and "Serenade" was played by Georges Barrère's Little Symphony, and later, at one of John Murray Anderson's Sunday Nights at the Park Avenue Theatre, by a Negro orchestra conducted by Mr. Still himself. Log Cabin Ballads was played by the same organization. The witty Barrère has been very sympathetic to the composer, and the several letters, which Still treasures, are of a blunt kindliness, and show admiration for the gifts of the young Negro. O. G. Sonneck would not publish the Log Cabin Ballads in the orchestral version, although he seems to have liked them.^[44]

Jesse Zachary sang the three Dialect Songs at a concert at the New School for Social Research auditorium in 1927, during the same season, I believe, that Gorham Munson gave his lectures that have culminated in his splendid book Style and Form in American Prose .^[45] The concert was arranged by Paul Rosenfeld. One of the numbers, "Winter's Approach," has already been mentioned.^[46] The "Breath of a Rose" is a setting of a sentimental poem of Langston Hughes and bears the same relation to Still's best work that Debussy's banal and lovely "Romance" bears to his best songs. It is better than most of the songs of Negro composers, but it is by no means so good as the songs in the same idiom written by Frenchmen. The vague melodic outlines and the harmonic style seems affected with the little poem. On paper it looks positively rococo, when sung it is not without loveliness, which is a quite different thing from beauty. All of Still's work for piano, that is, songs with pianoforte accompaniment (he writes no piano solos) seem like diminu-

tions of orchestral scores. Keith Corelli and other pianists have expressed willingness to play the compositions of Still, and many believe that with effort, he could produce not inconsiderable work for that instrument. The piano plays a prominent part in the scores of Darker America and in Africa .

Darker America, the finest of Still's works to date, (Africa, completed a few days before this was written, will not as yet be considered) received its debut in 1926 under the auspices of the same association that has been so consistently kind to new composers. Of this extraordinary composition, Olin Downes, writing in the New York Times, said "The best music last night was that of Darker America  . . . the polyharmonic treatment of the theme in the opening and closing measures is more than ingenious. In communicates an atmosphere. . . . This music . . . has direction and feeling in it, qualities usually lacking in contemporaneous music." Samuel Chotzinoff and others were too busy with their flippant attitude to give an adequate review, but both the Musical Courier and Musical America saw that a great development had taken place in the composer since From the Land of Dreams, and that Darker America is something more than a groping but a broad free and logical form. The writer in the Musical Courier was bold enough to declare that Still is destined to "blossom forth as one of America's really great composers." (!) Far back, commenting on the Dreams, Still had warned that he was not trying to depict, uplift, or glorify anything, and when referring to Darker America, always uses the word "suggest." This did not stop a number of critics from denouncing him for not simply and straightforwardly expressing the life of the Negro. The composer explains that it was part of his intention to "suggest the triumph of a people over their sorrows through intense prayer." But the material got out of his control, stuffs get into it unawares, and Mr. Downes was right, but very incomplete.

Darker America is music devoid of sentimentality and attitudinizing. It is direct, vigorous, decided, at times harsh and rugged; with edges sharply out and with no rounded contours. Its formlessness is its form. It is the formlessness of the chaotic impulses and desires and rebellions of all of us. There is no French fluidity, no Debussian revelry in silken sensuousness, no dreamlike fantasy, no American chauvinism, blowing of racial trumpets, glorification of concrete ideals. It is music that awakens an indefinable thrill of recognition of some spiritual battle we have fought with ourselves, and from which we have emerged with our faith

in the gods a bit shattered. It is the battle of a man with himself; the rebellion not against man-created prejudices, but an unconscious revolt against the unseen forces that dog our footsteps from cradle to grave.

There are three themes in the work, two of which are of major importance.^[47] Mr. Downes was quite right in speaking of the theme that appears at the opening and closing. He might have added that it appears, in some guise or other, all the way through the work, and that it is intensely interesting to follow it as it serpentines its way along, changing hue with the versatility of the chameleon and disguising itself behind ingenious developments. This theme, of a bald nudity, and of great simplicity and directness, is announced in unison by the violins, viola and cello in G minor. It comprises simply the G minor triad, with a curt upbeat at the close. It is followed immediately by a unison passage in the woodwinds that accentuates the cutting rising inflection. A muffled pizzicato in the strings supported by the piano ushers in a plaintive answering motif in the flutes. The generative theme is then repeated, as decidedly as before, but this time the upbeat is replaced by a sinister drop of an augmented fourth. The ensuing development, intensification and colouring of these ideas, with the masterly and economical introduction of new material is more than remarkable. One is astonished, after study of the score, to read criticisms in which men charge that it is fragmentary, chaotic, pointless and other nonsensical things. Blocklike slabs of sound are sometimes vomited from the orchestra. There are no pretty patterns, neat little furbelows of harmonic or contrapuntal cleverness. The work has about it an elemental roughness and vigour. It is the work of a potential master of musical architectonics. There are spurts of nervousness, as the passage that ushers in the jazz theme; in quite Dettesque fourths. The rhythm, however, is not ordinary, nor is the colouring. Against this jazz motif, the woodwinds sing one of the three principal motifs of the piece. The composition is not without beauty. The passage in which the opening theme is sung in A-flat minor, below a sustained sixth in the horn and trombone, and a plaintive downbeat in the English horn, while the piano, with dampers against the strings, plucks sonorous chords of the ninth, is beautiful, if somewhat grotesque.

On page 41 of the printed score, the opening theme reappears FFF in the pianoforte, reinforced by the basses, cellos and bassoons, with the second subject appearing polyharmonically against it. This example of Still's polytonality is particularly biting and has an almost mystic modal flavour. The pompous inexorability of the principal theme is broken by a nervous ascending passage in the piano and flutes that is nothing so

much as the harassed gesture of a man feverishly trying to wipe away unpleasant thoughts with the back of his hand. But the gesture is fruitless. The bald, naked theme crashes forth again—again the flickering wave of the hand—but now more brutally than ever the uncompromising figure returns, this time in B-flat minor, where it is greatly intensified. Quickly it makes a final, irrefutable statement in the original key, where, as if nature has said the last, pitiless word, the spirit, with a rattling sigh accepts the final edict and is quiet. Whispers in the woodwinds, held up by a quietly tense pulse in the cymbal, close the composition.

Darker America was later awarded second prize in a contest conducted by the Eastman Foundation in Rochester, where Dr. Hanson played it with the Rochester orchestra. Dr. Hanson has been more than generous with young Still. The jury that awarded the prizes was composed of Olin Downes, Eugene Goossens, Howard Hanson, Edward Royce, Bernard Kaun and Stuart Sabin, who has written as favorably of the Journal of a Wanderer .

III

Still definitely severed the already strained lines uniting him with racial classification when the Pan-American Association of Composers, at their second meeting, held at Birchard Hall February 9th, 1928, voted him a member. Those present were Edgard Varèse, Henry Cowell, Emerson Whithorne, Carlos Chavez, Adolph Weiss, Miss Armitage and Louis Mesam. Most of the representative modern composers were invited to join, Chavez wiring invitations to Cubans and F. F. Fabini to composers in South America.

Between Still and the other Aframerican composers no possible comparison can be made. He overtops them too simply and completely. He is, of course, a rank modernist, in the purest sense of that much abused word. As stated above, he is quite without windy theories concerning modernity, or anything else, though one may receive with surprise his spoken word that: "Music is nothing more than an appeal to the ear." But it is important that he does not make noise for the mere sake of causing vibrations. The same is true of many so-called "cacophonous" composers. They are called "crazy" by the same class that held Mr. Joyce thought it "was smart" to drop punctuation marks in the final chapter of Ulysses . Inherently sincere, Still writes nothing that does not sound well to his own extraordinarily sensitized ears. He pretends to dis-

like Scriabin, Mozart and Wagner, attitudes that are of no importance. He has not entirely escaped Debussy, as the first of the three Portraits affirms.

Although Darker America and other works are largely polytonal, Still is gradually falling into atonality. The first of the Portraits is supposedly in B flat, although that tonality scarcely appears in it from stem to stern. Rhythmically as above stated, he is astonishingly fertile. He flings out sprays of notes as a cowboy flings a lasso, coils them about an idea, and yanks them into the consciousness of the auditor, and (granting the commensurate radio set) makes it simmer and glisten in brilliant flickers of orchestral colour. In Darker America he hammers the eternal hopelessness of mankind into us and adds an ironically pious footnote. Pessimism with overtones of jazz and with a dogmatic tag! Looking at some of his scores, one seems to feel the rhythms tripping over one another, and laughing heartily as they fall into a crotchet, bruising their glittering backsides.

The newly completed Africa is claimed by the composer to be his major work. It is an imposing work, growing out of a later and arresting generative motif into a vast architecture. Space makes it impossible to discuss it in this little paper. No doubt it has by now been performed by Georges Barrère's orchestra, as has been planned.

In December, 1926, Comoedia noted that "William Grant Still, orchestrateur prestigeux, qui vient d'ecrire un opera, dont le livret fut connu par un poète de sa race, Countee Cullen."^[48] This opera, "Rashana," a fantastic story well suited to the gifts of the composer, has not yet been written, and bids fair never to be. Countee Cullen did not finish the libretto. In 1929 it passed into the hands of the writer, and my efforts have met with no musical response from the composer. It is possible that "Rashana" may go the way of La Guiablesse and Sadhji, which would be a pity, considering the beauty of the story and the abundant sketches he has made for it.

With the Journal of a Wanderer recently played, Three Portraits and Africa completed, and "Rashana" an unknown quantity, there can be no question as to whether or not Still is industrious, or whether or not he is written out. He is the contented and doting father of four children, and the sympathetic cousin of Charles Lawrence, whom I believe will be heard from musically in the future, since he complements his coldly searching intelligence with a genuine harmonic sense.^[49]

William Grant Still is, with Jean Toomer, one of the very first artists of his group. Both of these men have a touch of the divine spark, and are

no more to be classed as Negro artists than as Eskimos. Each time I read "Kabnis" or the scores of Darker America, Africa, or the sketchbooks of "Rashana," I am more convinced of it.^[50] Despite Still's name, he is destined to make a great noise in the world, when he has completely oriented himself, and when the spiritual stuffs, already sending out incipient flaShes of smoke and flame, burst forth in a fiery efflorescence. . . .

Bruce Forsythe
Los Angeles
October, 1930

Plan for a Biography of Still

Harold Bruce Forsythe

In answer to this letter, Still provided Forsythe with twelve single-spaced pages of notes on his life and works, reproduced in this volume as "Personal Notes." Forsythe did not produce the projected four-volume work, but the questions he raises as essential to a biography of Still remain relevant. Ellipses are Forsythe's.

1432. West 36th Street
1433. Los Angeles, Cal.

[1933]

Dear Billy:

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your letters, and assure you that procrastination is the only reason for my tardy answer. I was a bit piqued, naturally when no response greeted my frantic appeals for cooperation on the Biography. I have always been more or less intense, and at that time was passionately interested in doing this work, but I could do nothing without an enormous amount of information concerning you . . . dates, facts of residence, crucial periods of your life, little human-interest stories of childhood and youth, accounts of your school days, teachers, letters . . . also some atmospheric snapshots, early programs . . . and MOST ESPECIALLY, THE SCORES OF FROM THE LAND OF DREAMS, AFRO-AMERICAN SYMPHONY , . . . etc.

. . . this is a great deal, but this book IS A GREAT DEAL . I want it to really amount to something. IT WILL NOT BE A GREAT BOOK , but IT WILL BE A GOOD BOOK . You will absolutely be a historical character. After long seances over the scores I have, due consideration, fasting and prayer, I am persuaded of that. Future and more able biographers will find themselves materially aided by my book for material and facts. They will be compelled to continually quote it.

Having now written about six books, the last Blue Brooms, composed of critical essays, I feel a slight preparation for this task. William Grant Still: A Study will not be completed for a few years, for it is rounding out in my mind as a very hefty volume, and not the short one. I am going to completely canvass the history of American Music and also give much study to the sociological aspects of the Negro, as well as aesthetics, for I shall seek to rationalize your position in American music as well as your peculiar isolation from your Race. I will attempt to show that this isolation is only apparent, but that underneath there are significant ties. I am sending you my essay, "Basalt," which I shall ask you to read carefully and return, as it contains the kernel of a thought I shall develop at great length in the book. Or, frankly, if, with your wider acquaintance, and position in the big city, you could suggest a possible publisher for the essay, you know my appreciation would be enormous.

For myself, I am still combatting ill health and poverty, with glittering periods of exhilaration and fervent happiness. Have been passionately in love with an extraordinarily charming woman, the gift of whose body at first amazed and then utterly delighted me. To hear that you have not always been happy in the immediate past has not contributed to my serenity, to be sure.

. . . I am continuing, of course, my study of counterpoint and the song. Last week made settings of Thoreau's "Smoke" and "Mist" . . . cannot get in the proper frame of mind to revise and complete my strangest and most original work, a long monody to be called "Garden Magic" . . . for one figure, and a very small orchestra . . . My long Symphonic Poem, finished last July, has been read by Leonard Walker [an English-born conductor then in Los Angeles] and Pemberton . . . my old teacher was astonished for the song has for years been my love . . . neither of us could understand the sudden coruscation that made this work imperative . . . for myself, I can only say that during the months of its composition I lived in a sort of trance, and as I read it over now, I almost believe in God, for I cannot imagine how the

devil the stuff got down on the paper . . . The orchestra is a somewhat heavy one, but its full strength utilized only a few climactic moments.

I know you will survive any seemingly important minor troubles. For Billy, I must tell you that to you only music is important, and anything that interferes with the unfolding of your talents should and must be ruthlessly cast aside. Life is strange and has no meaning. We only know that some of us are somehow different from others in that we MUST DO SOMETHING. You must compose . . . At your age you are just rounding out and your future work is to be watched with great attention.

My only regret is that I cannot live close to you, for I really believe that I see deeper into you than most others, and have not yet seen anybody else who sees as clearly as I the beauty of the music on your pages of paper . . . not having yet heard a note of your music. How wonderful it would be to live in New York now, near you and Reginald, of whom I am extremely fond.

. . . By the way Eugene Page is on the way to N.Y. and will no doubt call on you. He is a terrible ass, but be kind to him.

. . . The old gang has drifted apart and my associates are mostly people you do not know. Verna Arvey, the girl who played for us that time, frequently asks about you. I seem to go to more Ofay affairs now than ever before, and never fail, at these intellectual gatherings, to expound to them the music of W.G.S.

. . . Please do not hold against me my procrastination, and write at once.

Harold

Now Billy, this is serious business, son. I am really begging, that now, when the wind is in the sails, and all seems fair, you in turn will not be angry and refuse the help that is absolutely necessary for the writing of this book. This letter was written some time ago . . . a good month . . . but I too have had a slightly stony time, and wished to wait, before beginning serious work on this great matter.

I am sure you will understand, and be guided entirely by your own conscience. I believe you are a great musician, and that book should be written. I believe I am the man to write it. Already plans are laid. The books I must read for a general historical and chronological background are decided upon. I will not list them, but believe me boy, I have mapped out one helluva list.

I will explain the form of the book. The first part will follow somewhat the outline of the present little essay; that is become a broad discussion on you as a whole . . . as a composite personality. By this means, the reader early in this book will get a general idea of the man with whom they have to deal.

Part Two will be biographical, containing all the material you send me, plus the good old "fillers in" that good journalists can add to even a small amount of actual facts. But boy, we want a LARGE AMOUNT OF ACTUAL FACTS!

Part Three will be a very serious and learned section, embracing historical, philosophical, sociological aspects of genius in general and in America in particular. I intend a profound analysis of Negro Folk material, as well as the pure African folk materials. This part, largely based on the essay "Basalt," before referred to, may be termed a digression by the unintelligent, but the careful reader will see that the gist of the book will be here. I AM HERE TRYING TO ACCOUNT FOR THIS PHENOMENON, W.G.S. WHAT HE IS, HOW HE GOT THERE, HIS RELATIONS TO HIS BLOOD ROOTS, AND HIS HISTORICAL AND FOLK HERITAGE.

The concluding section will be devoted to a discussion of the music itself. Read over what I said of Darker America, years ago, after a superficial reading of it. I honestly think I came near to the heart of this music, even then, and like the little paragraphs written upon it.

Now Billy, as I said before, I don't know how this book will come out, but passionately wish to work on it, and sincerely ask that you cooperate. Read over the little one, allow for maturing and further study, and if you think my intellect is equal to my love and understanding, please answer by return mail with as much stuff as you can send.

Above all, please tell me if you are still willing to cooperate, for already I have digested several source books, and you can see that the book has not taken complete form in my mind, and I am impatient to begin.

And so, not only for the profound admiration I have for you as an artist, but despite your sometime brusqueness, I have always felt affection for you as a man, I ask that you aid a brother in distress with this biography, and even if the book is never "published," we will have it for our own possession. And we will make it beautiful.

Sincerely in great haste, H

William Grant Still

by Verna Arvey

The following essay on Still, with an introduction by John Tasker Howard, was published as a brochure by J. Fischer and Bro., in 1939, as part of its promotional effort on behalf of Still's music. Its source is very likely an early, incomplete biography whose remnants are at WGSM, very severely cut and edited to fit the publisher's needs. Long out of print, its usefulness in reflecting Still's thoughts about his own compositions and in reporting some recollections about his early career is evident. In particular, its information about the Afro-American Symphony and Darker America should be compared with other discussions of the same works elsewhere in the Sources section of this volume and in "The Afro-American Symphony and Its Scherzo," above.

The sectional subdivisions that are present in the initial publication have been assigned titles. The music examples, taken from works published by Fischer, remain unchanged. Capitalizations, spelling, and punctuation are unchanged except to correct obvious errors.^[1] The use of italics and quotation marks for titles is changed to conform with standard current practice.

Introduction

The music of William Grant Still has commanded attention in recent years as one of the truly significant contributions to our native music.

Embodying some of the raciest elements of our current music of the people, as well as a background of the southern Negro, it has been elevated by its composer to a dignity that renders it of lasting value.

It is interesting to read, in the following pages, of the successive steps which led to the ultimate flowering of Still's extraordinary talent. Verna Arvey treats her subject with discernment, and her enthusiasm is infectious because of its sincerity. She has made an important addition to the literature on American music: one which may well have a place in the library of every music lover and student.

It is therefore a pleasure to welcome Miss Arvey's interesting addition to the series of Studies of Contemporary American Composers.

John Tasker Howard
January 2nd, 1939

I—
The Elements That Go to Make Up a Real American

The America of tomorrow will be even more of a mixture of races, of creeds and of ideals than the America of today. Moreover, because they will have progressed so far in each other's company, they will have lost some of their identities. Just such a person is William Grant Still: a product of so many different phases of American life that each separate phase is now unrecognizable. It follows that his music is a more accurate expression of that life than any yet conceived.

Speaking on American music over a national broadcast on October 17, 1937 (when the Columbia Broadcasting System held a resumé of its first American Composers' Commission), Still said: "This music should speak to the hearts of every one of you, for it comes from the hearts of the men who wrote it." He meant that. His own music is sincere; he concludes that the music of other American composers is also sincere. More than that, he meant that every American should be as he is: passionately fond of all things American. Other music is lovely: but an American creation—even a Blues song, if it is a good one—thrills him to the core. He expects all Americans to be like that.

Officially, William Grant Still is reckoned a Negro composer, because the laws of the United States say that anyone with a drop of Negro blood in his veins is a Negro, and because some of his ancestors came from Africa where their rhythmic tom-tom beating may have been a forerun-

ner of the primitive simplicity and powerful rhythmic impulse in Still's music today. Many of his ancestors, however, were already on the North American continent when the Negroes arrived. They were Indians, and it may be from them that Still inherited his bizarre harmonies and his almost oriental love of subtlety. There is still another group of ancestors: the European immigrants (mostly Irish) who danced old-world dances and sang the folk songs that had been theirs for generations. Thus, in Still's heritage we find almost all the elements that go to make up a real American.

Musically, he has all the requisites too. A thorough grounding in harmony and theory (the late George W. Chadwick was one of his teachers; he also studied at Oberlin) combined with the freedom that only ultra-modernism can give (the generous but revolutionary Edgar Varese, who taught him, once wittily remarked "You know, some critics think one is writing music only to annoy them!") as well as the determination and will to strike out for himself into new and individual paths, have made him unique in the field of modern music.

II—
Early Life and Study

Born in 1895 (May 11th) in Woodville, Mississippi, William Grant Still had for parents two people who would be ranked as intellectuals even today, when standards are more exacting. Both were accredited teachers; both were musicians; both were talented, brilliant and versatile. The father's musical education was gained at the cost of great effort. Every cornet lesson he took cost him a seventy-five mile trip. Once he had acquired musical knowledge, he started a brass band—the only one in town—and thus became the idol of Woodville. He died when his son was but three months of age. After his death they found scraps of paper on which he'd tried his hand at musical composition! Had he had then the opportunities accorded his son many years later, he might have become equally famed. But he was the product of a different era; the inhabitant of a different, narrower world; the unwilling participant of an entirely different mode of thought.

His wife took the baby son to Little Rock, Arkansas, where she was to teach school until the end of her life, in 1927. It wasn't strange that, as soon as the child realized what music was, his thoughts turned toward it so unerringly that no scoldings, no arguments nor pleadings could shake his desire to be a composer, although on several occasions he in-

dulged in the popular pastime of most young boys, the idea that the most thrilling thing in life was to be a street car conductor, or to raise chickens for a living.

Often, when the boy wished to amuse himself, he made toy violins to play upon. They were varnished and equipped with strings. They even succeeded in producing tones! Later, it was decided that he must have violin lessons. No sooner did he learn to read notes than he wanted to write them. Lacking manuscript paper, he made his own. Immediately, he jotted down little melodies, and even took his new enthusiasm to school. When other students were scratching aimlessly on paper in their spare moments, he scribbled notes.

While his grandmother worked about their house, she sang hymns and spirituals. "Little David, Play on Yo' Harp" was one of her favorites. Thus he grew up with the songs of his people, and grew to love the old hymns, which he plays today with the addition of such exquisite harmonies that they assume unsuspected beauty. A communal habit of the childhood days was that of serenading. It was pleasant to be awakened from slumber by such sweet sounds. He has always deplored the passing of that custom.

He learned to sing, and did not confine his singing to the immediate family. The aisles of trains made a splendid setting for his youthful vocal efforts. He quickly noticed that people gave him money and candy in return, so thenceforth he sang to everybody.

When young Still was about nine or ten years of age, his mother married Charles B. Shepperson, a postal employee who was a lover of operatic music and who spent a large share of his salary to buy a phonograph and the best of the red-seal records that were then on the market. This gave the boy an opportunity to hear music that pleased him more than any he had ever heard before: music that he had thought existed only in his wildest dreams. He used to play each record over and over again, to the utter neglect of whatever work there was to do. Mr. Shepperson also took him to good musical shows and told him stirring stories that fired his romantic imagination. At home, they sang duets together and discussed the plays they had seen and the music they had heard.

His mother's determination, good sense, talent and high moral character influenced his life strongly. She was the sort of vital personality who could command attention merely by entering a room. Her students adored her, and learned more from her than from anyone else; so did her young son, for he too was in her classes at school. Here she was

stricter with him than with anyone else, for she did not want to be accused of favoritism.

William Grant Still was graduated from high school at sixteen. He was first honor bearer and class valedictorian.

Although she was at heart in sympathy with his desire to become a composer, his mother openly avowed her disapproval, simply because she felt that there was then no future for a musician, especially for a colored one. Thus, when he enrolled at Wilberforce University, he worked for a Bachelor of Science degree. Wilberforce statistics today show that he maintained a slightly above average scholastic record.

The mere fact that his mother had insisted that he work for a Bachelor of Science degree did not dampen Still's musical ardor in the least. Wilberforce had a string quartet, which occasioned the first arrangements he ever made. From that, he went on to making arrangements for the Wilberforce band of which he was first a member, then a bandleader. These arrangements were perhaps not perfect, but they had fewer defects than one would expect from a beginner. He made these because he didn't like the instrumental ensembles he heard. Therefore, he automatically set about to remedy their faults, just as the dancer La Argentina once set out to make a beautiful instrument from the castanets she so abhorred.

Every month before his allowance came, the music books he wanted were checked off and as a result, music publishers and dealers practically confiscated all his spending money. When he started to buy opera scores, his first acquisition was Weber's Oberon . The second was Wagner's Flying Dutchman . His French class was enlivened and made more interesting for him when he took into it a music book containing stories of all the famous Symphonies and read it while class was progressing. The teacher never discovered the substitution.

Some of the teachers went with him to operas and concerts in Dayton, Ohio. Other teachers encouraged his efforts at composition, and it was at Wilberforce that his first complete recital of his own compositions (some songs, some band numbers) was given. The approbation accorded him meant much at that time.

In addition to his playing of the violin, he learned how to play the oboe and clarinet. The latter he played in the choir and thus learned to transpose easily, for then no separate parts were written out. Everyone had to read from the same sheet. In his capacity as bandleader, he had to learn to play different instruments such as the piccolo and saxophone

so that he could teach them to other players. The intimate knowledge of all instruments gained in this fashion has meant much to him in later years, and to his career as an orchestrator.

At Wilberforce, Still decided that he wished to emulate Coleridge-Taylor in every way, and spent many months in a fruitless attempt to make his hair grow straight upward, as did that of his hero. That failing, he made a new and important decision: some day he would be greater than Coleridge-Taylor and wear his hair in his own way!

On his summer vacations at home, Still entered several national contests for composers. To avoid his mother's scorn, he used to compose his entries at night, and would beg those who discovered him not to tell his mother. He entered a contest for a three-act opera (and ambitiously mailed out a score totaling twenty pages in length!) and another contest in which the judges wrote to tell him that his music had merit, but that they were afraid they didn't completely understand it!

Within two months of graduation, Still left Wilberforce. However, in 1936, Wilberforce awarded him a diploma of honor and the honorary degree of Master of Music, in recognition of his erudition, usefulness and eminent character.

Lean years followed the Wilberforce days, years in which he married, worked at odd jobs for little money, played oboe and 'cello with various orchestras, starved, froze, joined the U.S. Navy and nearly always wondered how he could crash the business of making music and getting paid for it. It was during those years also that he received a legacy from his father and promptly put it to good use studying privately at Oberlin. When it was exhausted, he worked and made enough money to return for the regular session. He completed one semester's work in theory and violin. Professor Lehmann, impressed by his talent and sincerity, asked him then why he did not go on to study composition. Still replied frankly that it was because he had no money. A few days later, Lehmann informed him that in a meeting of the Theory Committee it had been decided that he was to be given free tuition, and that Dr. George W. Andrews was to teach him composition.^[2] Thus a scholarship was created for him where none had existed before.

III—
Work with Handy; New York

W. C. Handy, Father of the Blues, offered him his first job in New York City as an arranger, and as a musician on the road, traveling through

large and small Southern towns with Handy's Band. Later he accepted a job with Eubie Blake's orchestra for the epoch-making Shuffle Along . While Shuffle Along was playing in Boston, Still became aware that he now could afford to pay for musical instruction, and filed his application at the New England Conservatory of Music. When he returned for his answer, he was told that George W. Chadwick would teach him free of charge. He protested that he could afford to pay, but generous Chadwick refused to take his money.

Back in New York, Still accepted the position of Recording Director for the Black Swan Phonograph Company. There he found a man preparing to write to Edgar Varese to tell him that, in response for his request for a talented young Negro composer to whom he could offer a scholarship in musical composition, he knew of no one suitable. Still said, "I want that scholarship. You can just tear up that letter!" Thus came about his introduction to Edgar Varese, and modernism. Later, Still often declared, "When I was groping blindly in my efforts to compose, it was Varese who pointed out to me the way to individual expression and who gave me the opportunity to hear my music played. I shall never forget his kindness, nor that of George W. Chadwick and the instructors at Oberlin."

For many months, he played in vaudeville and in the pit for many musical shows. He played banjo in the orchestra of the Plantation, a New York night club at Broadway and 50th. When the conductor of this orchestra left, Still advanced to its conductorship.^[3] He went into business as an arranger, and made arrangements for such people as Sophie Tucker, Don Voorhees. He orchestrated several editions of Earl Carroll's Vanities, one edition of J. P. McEvoy's Americana, and Runnin' Wild and Rain or Shine . Later he arranged for Paul Whiteman, who was to play some of his compositions for the first time in public and to commission several notable works from him.

He was the first to arrange and record (with Don Voorhees) a fantasy on the famous "St. Louis Blues." This was in 1927, on a Columbia disc.

The last orchestra with which he ever played professionally was that of LeRoy Smith. So much work as arranger and orchestrator came his way that he was no longer in need of such work to make a living.

When CBS first started, Still was arranging Don Voorhees' music for the network broadcasts. Somewhat later, he was arranging at NBC when Willard Robison was singing on the Maxwell House Hour. Soon Still was making arrangements for Robison's "Deep River" program

and (at WOR) some of the orchestra men quietly suggested to Robison that Still be allowed to conduct their organization. The management agreed, as long as the men were satisfied. In that way, he became the first American colored man to lead a radio orchestra of white men in New York City, and he held the post for many months.

In this way he became intimately acquainted with Jazz, the American musical idiom that has been damned by so many, and praised by so many more. He, too, realizes that Jazz has many faults, but he also realizes that it has many fine points, and he believes that from its elements a great musical form can be built. Today he points out the many things Jazz has given to music as a whole: rhythm, new tone colors, interesting orchestral devices, and a greater fluency in playing almost all of the orchestral instruments. He mentions the amazing things a modern player can do—things that would have caught an old-time symphony man napping. He believes that every composer, to deserve the name of "American", should be thoroughly acquainted with Jazz, no matter whether he uses it much or little in his work. It is one of the few musical idioms developed by America that can be said to belong to no other people on earth!

IV—
Some Popular Songs and Early Concert Music

Still's first published composition is lost today, even the title forgotten. It was published by one of those fly-by-night concerns that will print anything for a monetary consideration. The second published work was a bit more fortunate. It was a popular song called "No Matter What You Do". His wife was the lyricist; W. C. Handy the publisher. Two popular songs by Still were published by the Edward B. Marks Music Corporation under the pseudonym of Willy M. Grant. Their titles were "Brown Baby" and "Memphis Man."

Several of his pieces were played many times on the air and found great favor with the musicians because they were catchy and were saddled with dubious titles. The composer laments today that he has lost the music for these, but is happy over the fact that they were never published and distributed over a wider area.

Three Fantastic Dances for chamber orchestra he never finished; his Death, a choral work for mixed voices a cappella on a Dunbar poem was completed and deliberately thrown away. He also wrote Three Ne -

gro Songs for orchestra (i.e. "Negro Love Song," "Death Song," "Song of the Backwoods") as well as an orchestral composition called Black Bottom which he described as follows: "A swamp where, between the hours of four A.M . and six A.M ., Death and the fiends of darkness revel. Death, disguised as a siren, dances and sings a song which is repeated by the fiends. All join in the revelry which is interrupted at its height by a distant clock striking the hour of six." This work is cast in a decidedly ultra-modern idiom.

There were also several songs. One entitled "Good Night," to words of Dunbar, was dedicated to William Service Bell, baritone. "Mandy Lou" belonged to but did not appear with the set of two songs later published by G. Schirmer, Inc. At last, all these early efforts and smaller compositions were scrapped. Whatever was good in them was incorporated into a larger work. For instance, the "Dance of Love" (played over the radio many times) was put into The Sorcerer ballet which has itself been scrapped and its themes used in other compositions, and the "Dance of the Carnal Flowers" was inserted, with few changes, into the ballet La Guiablesse .

From the Land of Dreams was his first major work to be subjected to critical comment when it was performed by the Composers' Guild in New York February 8, 1925. It was scored for three voices and chamber orchestra, the voices treated as instruments. It occasioned a storm of protest. In it, the composer simply tried to suggest the flimsiness of dreams which fade before they have taken definite form, but Olin Downes wrote sharply: "Is Mr. Still unaware that the cheapest melody in the revues he has orchestrated has more reality and inspiration in it than the curious noises he has manufactured? Mr. Varese has driven his original and entertaining music out of him." On the other hand, Paul Rosenfeld, while admitting Still's limitations at this period of his life and work, spoke more kindly of this composition.

The score of From the Land of Dreams is now lost, much to the composer's delight. He fervently hopes it will never again be played, and now jokingly refers to it as a musical portrait of an owl with a headache. It was, indeed, ultra-modern in style: pure cacophony throughout.^[4] It was not until the moment of performance that Still realized that he was dabbling in an idiom unsuited to him, one that robbed his music of its character, for a harmonic scheme can make or mar the feeling of the music. He thereupon determined to find an idiom of his own, and made known his decision to M. Varese.

Should Varese have felt badly over this decision so flatly announced, it doubtless comforts him today to realize that the fruits of his teaching are evident in Still's music in far more subtle, more logical ways than if the young composer had merely adopted Varese's own individual idiom without question.

Today, from the lesson he learned in his attempts at cacophony, Still will occasionally emit remarks like these: "When a person sets out to write music on the basis of a preconceived scientific idea, something invariably goes wrong. If the counterpoint is smooth, the melody will be imperfect, and so on. The result may be correct, but be entirely lacking in spiritual content. In music, one must think more of what is to be said than how it is to be said."

From the Journal of a Wanderer (written in 1925, performed by the North Shore Festival Orchestra in Evanston, Ill., with Frederick Stock conducting in 1926 and by the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in 1929) is important in this period as a lesson in "what not to do," according to its composer, in spite of the fact that at the time of its performance, it seemed to be a decided step in advance of Darker America (to be discussed later). In a sense, it was more versatilely written, more spectacularly conceived. On this point, critics agreed, though one of them did admit that it savored of stunt writing. The reason Still was personally disappointed in it was simply that the result of his planning (in performance) was quite different than what he expected. Into the score he had written a great many clever orchestral effects. He had gone the limit in the division of his string. It all looked very well on paper. His surprise at the difference in sound can well be imagined. From the Journal of a Wanderer comprised extracts from the musical diary of a globe trotter who had visited far lands and viewed strange scenes. It was in five parts: "Phantom Trail," "Magic Bells," "The Valley of Echoes," "Mystic Moon," "Devil's Hollow." The original manuscript of this score is now in the Sibley Musical Library at the University of Rochester, gift of the composer.

Two comparatively unimportant works may be mentioned here, out of their chronological order: Log Cabin Ballads, consisting of three parts, "Long To'ds Night," "Beneaf de Willers," "Miss Malindy" (written in 1927 and performed by the Barrère Ensemble in New York on March 25, 1928); and Puritan Epic (written in 1928). Both of these are orchestral works.

At the time of their creation or performance (1928), Still was receiv-

ing the second Harmon Award, granted annually by the Harmon Foundation, for the most significant contribution during the year to Negro culture in the United States.

V—
"Negroid" Compositions to 1930

After much thought, Still decided to adopt a Negroid idiom; to use Negroid titles for his compositions. Since that decision, his departures from his original resolve have been rare.

Levee Land was written for the singer, Florence Mills. It consisted of four robust, jazzy, Negroid songs. Critics joyfully lauded his farewell from the peculiar noises comprising Varese's musical idiom when it was performed by the International Composers' Guild at Aeolian Hall on January 24, 1926. The Musical Courier called it "Four foolish jazz jokes: good, healthy, sane music." And the incomparable Florence Mills, veteran of many stage and floor shows, was unreasoningly nervous at this, her first concert venture. She sang beautifully, however. Her vibrant personality was a vital part of the songs. Yet Levee Land was not even perfect of its kind. It simply marked a step toward the goal the composer wished to reach. With the exception of the spontaneous first song, there were many things in Levee Land that were creations of the brain, not of the heart.

At the time it was written (1924) Darker America was his strongest work. The program for it was compiled after the creation of the music. It received an enthusiastic reception on its performances (by the International Composers' Guild at Aeolian Hall in New York on November 28, 1926, by the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in 1927 and in 1930, and for broadcasting by John Tasker Howard in New York in 1933), and was later published by the Eastman School of Music through C. C. Birchard Co., in Boston. The Musical Courier averred that he was less under the influence of Varese than he was a year before, and that the less that influence was felt, the better for his music. It prophesied that on his full liberation, he would blossom forth as one of America's truly great composers. "There is no doubting the man's power!" Another metropolitan periodical remarked that, despite Varese, Mr. Still had been "unable to suppress that rhythmic ingenuity and naive melodic atmosphere which are inherently of the American Negro." But how fortunate for Still that he had the assistance of a man like Varese! Without that, he might still be groping among unexciting, academic methods of

writing music. He might never have had the courage to strike out for himself!

Nevertheless, Still himself does not consider Darker America a good example of his work. It is, he declares, fragmentary. It contains too much material. At the time it was written, he was struggling with musical form. His conception of it was rather hazy. He had not yet learned how to do a great deal with a few themes. He was obsessed with the beginner's idea of using a great deal of material, whether or not it was related.

Darker America was intended to suggest the triumph of a people over their sorrows through fervent prayer. At the outset, the strong theme of the American Negro is announced by the strings in unison. Following a short development of this, the English Horn announces the Sorrow theme which is followed by the theme of Hope, given to muted brass, accompanied by strings and woodwinds. The Sorrow and Hope themes appear intensified, and the prayer is heard, stated by the oboe. Strongly contrasted moods follow. At the end, the three principal themes are combined in triumphant music.

After the performance it was evident that Still's advance as a composer had been tremendous, for the ugly discords were conspicuously absent and the thematic material of Darker America was rich, potent, and served to characterize him as a composer of definite individuality and power.

About 1926, when From the Black Belt was written, Still conceived an idea which has ever since been evident in his works. He began to base each composition on a different harmonic scheme: a scheme that would be an essential part of his own musical individuality, but which would differentiate each composition from the other. He began also to try to express moods, story, even thoughts by means of harmonies.

The same vigorous sense of humor that led the youth to play pranks on other people in College is shown in many of his compositions, especially in From the Black Belt (easily the most racial of all) written for small orchestra, and composed admittedly to please those who hear it. The first section "Lil' Scamp" lasts for eight measures only. It was expected to provoke laughter and it always does, whenever it is performed. Says the composer: "If one were to base his judgment on the volume of sound he would think this little fellow, who delights in playing childish pranks, a big scamp. But the aptness of the title is not determined by volume for it is the brevity of the piece which tells us that he is a 'little scamp.' " The other sections are entitled: "Honeysuckle" (a musical sug-

gestion of the saccharine odor of the honeysuckle), "Dance, Mah Bones Is Creakin' " (An old man, afflicted with rheumatism, complains loudly of his creaking bones), "Blue" (a plaintive melody which suggests the "blues" songs of the southern Negro), "Brown Girl" (a tone picture of a lovely mulatto girl), "Clap Yo' Han's" (the participants in a dancing game for children clap their hands). It was performed by the Barrère Ensemble in New York on March 20, 1927 and by the Eastman School Little Symphony in Rochester in 1933 and 1934. On one of the latter occasions, a Rochester critic wrote: "This genial, soft-spoken Negro has proved himself a leader in the movement to write music that is not merely cerebral, that has no fear of melody, that begins with the definite intention of pleasing his hearers. His suite was of seven short movements, but their ingratiating tunes and rhythms had the audience asking for a repetition, and that at the end of a long concert." This was later arranged by the modernist, Nicholas Slonimsky, for clarinet, violin, 'cello and piano.

Two works of beauty which emerged from this particular period were the songs "Winter's Approach" to words by Paul Laurence Dunbar, and "Breath of a Rose" to a poem by Langston Hughes. The former was written for Marya Freund, the latter for a stage production in which Paul Robeson was to have been featured, though the song was not intended for Robeson to sing. In these two simple songs (published by G. Schirmer, Inc.) Still's scope as a composer and his distinction are evident. Both are unmistakably his own, yet are entirely different in character, their ultimate form having been dictated by the subject. They show the sharp individuality of the music, the lack of monotony, and give evidence that, though he is decidedly a modernist, he is not an ultra-modernist. His writing for the voice is sympathetic, vocally grateful and facile. Throughout both songs, the piano accompaniment plays an important part, for it expresses mood and meaning.

VI—
The Trilogy: Africa, the Afro-American Symphony, and Symphony in G Minor

Africa, the Afro-American Symphony and the Symphony in G Minor comprise a trilogy of works whose composition occupied their creator over a period of years, during which time other works were also written and played.

Perhaps most intellectual young American Negroes think much about their African background. William Grant Still's meditations on this sub-

ject took a musical form. It was in 1930 that he wrote Africa, a symphonic poem in three movements, designed as an American Negro's wholly fanciful concept of the cradle of his Race, formed on the folklore of generations. Because the movements have descriptive titles, one might call Africa a suite, but the composer prefers to describe it as a poem, believing that the unity of the idea justifies it.

Africa, which critics said was "not as inchoate or as desultory as his Darker America and Journal of a Wanderer, " quickly became one of his most highly praised compositions. During five years, four different versions of Africa were scored, three of which were performed. In January of 1933 appeared the fifth and supposedly last version. But in 1935 Still noted a flaw, and a sixth version came into being. This constant revision is not unusual with him. Many things he destroyed completely because, in his own judgment, they "weren't good enough." He constantly criticizes his own work and constantly revises. This results in much extra labor, but he feels that final perfection justifies it.

The three movements of Africa are titled: "Land of Peace," "Land of Romance," "Land of Superstition."^[5] In the first movement, two kinds of peace are portrayed, the first pastoral, the second spiritual. It is an active peace and quietude, not a lethargic slumber. "Land of Romance" is tinged with sadness, intensified by the orchestral treatment of the first part of the movement. It ends on a note of passionate longing. In the final movement, two forms of superstition appear: that of the pagan African and that of the followers of Mohammed. The music abounds in the suggestion of startling unspoken fears, lurking terrors. It subtly conveys the idea that the race has not yet shaken off primitive beliefs, despite the influence of civilization. The opening theme later proceeds into a rather Oriental motif, by which the composer intended to depict the arid Northern part of Africa. Africa places the listener instantly on the soil of the Dark Continent; it is not merely a picture of abstract beauty.

Africa was dedicated to the eminent flautist, Georges Barrère, and was performed by the Barrère ensemble in New York in 1930, by the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in Rochester in 1930, at the Festival of American Music in Bad Homburg in 1931, in Paris by the Pasdeloup Orchestra in 1933, in Rome under the leadership of Werner Janssen, and in part by Paul Whiteman's Orchestra in New York in 1933, by the New York Sinfonietta in 1933, and under the composer's direction by the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra in 1936.

The second composition in the trilogy, the Afro-American Symphony, was composed in 1930, dedicated to Irving Schwerké and performed by

the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in Rochester in 1931 and 1932 and in part under the direction of Dr. Howard Hanson (who introduced it) in Berlin, Stuttgart and Leipzig in 1933. These dates show conclusively that Still's work preceded that of another Negro composer who in 1934 was heralded as having written the first Negro symphony.

This Afro-American Symphony really became widely known through the energy of its publishers who were canny enough not to allow important publications to gather dust on their shelves. From the date the symphony was accepted for publication, and since its performance under Hans Lange and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, this symphony has had many performances. Leopold Stokowski played its last movement in many American cities on his nationwide tour with the Philadelphia Orchestra, thus bringing it to the attention of many American music-lovers.

A reviewer said, "There is not a cheap or banal passage in the entire composition." A Rochester critic opined that it was "by far the most direct in appeal to a general audience than any of his music heard here, and it has a greater technical finish. To some extent he has replaced that arresting vigor one has admired by deft sophistication." Another Rochester critic dubbed it "honest, sincere music . . . developed without recourse to theatrical invention." David Kessler said it "seemed a much more important work on second hearing than it did the first time it was played"—genuine praise, indeed. An audience in Berlin broke a twenty-year tradition to encore the Scherzo from this Symphony when Dr. Howard Hanson conducted it there; several years later, when Karl Krueger conducted it in Budapest, his audience did the same thing.

Of this symphony, Still wrote:

At the time it was written, no thought was given to a program for the Afro-American Symphony, the program being added after the completion of the work. I have regretted this step because in this particular instance a program is decidedly inadequate. The program devised at that time stated that the music portrayed the "sons of the soil," that is that it offered a composite musical portrait of those Afro-Americans who have not responded completely to the cultural influences of today. It is true that an interpretation of that sort may be read into the music. Nevertheless, one who hears it is quite sure to discover other meanings which are probably broader in their scope. He may find that the piece portrays four distinct types of Afro-Americans whose sole relationship is the physical one of dark skins. On the other hand, he may find that the music offers the sorrows and joys, the struggles and achievements of an individual Afro-American. Also it is quite probable that the music will

Example 8.
Principal theme, first movement,  Afro-American Symphony . 
Used by permission.

speak to him of moods peculiar to colored Americans. Unquestionably, various other interpretations may be read into the music.

Each movement of this Symphony presents a definite emotion, excerpts from poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar being included in the score for the purpose of explaining these emotions. Each movement has a suggestive title: the first is Longing, the second Sorrow, the third (or the Scherzo) Humor, and the fourth Sincerity. In it, I have stressed an original motif in the blues idiom, employed as the principal theme of the first movement, and appearing in various forms in the succeeding movements, where I have tried to present it in a characteristic manner.

When judged by the laws of musical form the Symphony is somewhat irregular. This irregularity is in my estimation justified since it has no ill effect on the proportional balance of the composition. Moreover, when one considers that an architect is free to design new forms of buildings, and bears in mind the freedom permitted creators in other fields of art, he can hardly deny a composer the privilege of altering established forms as long as the sense of proportion is justified.

The Moderato Assai, the first movement, departs to an extent from the Sonata Allegro form. The first division might be called the Exposition. This begins with an introduction in A flat Major, derived from the principal theme, and is followed by the principal theme (example 8). Following this, the principal theme reappears in a new treatment, and with a rhythmic counterpoint, which is extended to form a bridge between the repetition of the principal theme and a transition that strongly resembles a development of the principal theme. The subordinate theme is in G Major (the fact that the keys are here unrelated is a departure) and is in the style of a Spiritual (example 9). Then, instead of a Codetta, there is a transitional passage, starting in G Minor and leading to the Development in Division Two, in A Flat Major, the material here derived from the principal theme. Division Three is a Recapitulation,

Example 9.
Subordinate theme, first movement,  Afro-American Symphony . 
Used by permission.

Example 10.
Principal theme, second movement,  Afro-American Symphony .
Used by permission.

Example 11.
Secondary theme, second movement,  Afro-American Symphony .
Used by permission.

in which there is a radical departure. The subordinate theme reappears in A Flat Major, instead of a repetition of the principal theme. There is a re-transition before the final appearance of the principal theme in A Flat Major in a new and rhythmic treatment. The movement ends with a coda.

The second movement is short. There is a six measure introduction, scored entirely for strings and muffled tympani. The material of this introduction is derived from the principal (blues) theme of the first movement. The principal theme of the second movement, however, is played by oboe alone, accompanied by violas and 'celli divisi and by a flute obligato. It is eight measures in length (example 10). This theme is repeated, then extended slightly. The gap between the principal theme of the second movement and its subordinate theme is bridged by four measures of material taken from the introduction to the second movement, and used in transitional fashion. The subordinate theme is given to the flute at the outset, and is derived from the principal theme of the first movement (example 11). Thereafter, appear four-measure blocks of this same melody treated in different ways, a development of an individual sort. This lasts for thirty measures and leads to a repetition of the movement's principal theme, extended and working up to a fermata, and a pause. The movement ends with the introductory material given to muted strings and muffled tympani, here extended to eight measures.

Example 12.
Principal theme, third movement (Scherzo),  Afro-American
Symphony . 
Used by permission.

Example 13.
Transformation of the symphony's main theme, Coda
of third movement. 
Used by permission.

Example 14.
Principal theme, fourth movement,  Afro-American Symphony .
Used by permission.

The form of the third movement, or Scherzo (the humorous aspect of religious fervor) is also unusual. The Introduction, in E Flat Minor, is derived from the principal theme, yet resembles in a general way the episodic material. The principal theme is in A Flat Major (example 12). Just before the Coda there appears a transformation of the blues theme of the first movement, as an accompanying figure (example 13).

The fourth movement, Lento con Risoluzione, has a decidedly free form. The principal theme is announced at the outset by strings accompanied by clarinets, trombones and tuba (example 14). The subordinate theme in A Major is derived from the blues theme (example 15). This theme is presented again in C Major and is then developed, the development being extended and presenting, during its course, the blues theme in a different form. Much later in the score, there is a new development in 6/8 time which enters abruptly. In

Example 15.
Subordinate theme, fourth movement,  Afro-American
Symphony . 
Used by permission.

this, the blues theme reappears in still another form. Just before the coda brings the movement to its close, the principal theme of the movement is re-stated.

The harmonies employed in the Symphony are quite conventional except in a few places. The use of this style of harmonization was necessary in order to attain simplicity and to intensify in the music those qualities which enable the hearers to recognize it as Negro music. The orchestration was planned with a view to the attainment of effective simplicity.^[6]

Third in the trilogy is the Symphony in G Minor which, at the earnest request of Dr. Leopold Stokowski, who introduced it with the Philadelphia Orchestra in Philadelphia in December of 1937 and then played it twice in New York City a few days later, was subtitled Song of a New Race . This music, too, was composed as abstract music, with no thought of a program. Its creation occupied the composer for more than a year. Measure by measure, phrase by phrase, the work grew slowly, until it became one of the finest of his symphonic works to date. The theme of the second movement alone is masterly in its inspiration (example 16).

Of this Symphony (dedicated to Isabel Morse Jones), the composer has written the following:

This Symphony in G Minor is related to my Afro-American Symphony being, in fact, a sort of extension or evolution of the latter. This relationship is implied musically through the affinity of the principal theme of the first movement of the Symphony in G Minor to the principal theme of the fourth, or last, movement of the Afro-American .

It may be said that the purpose of the Symphony in G Minor is to point musically to changes wrought in a people through the progressive and transmuting spirit of America. I prefer to think of it as an abstract piece of music, but, for the benefit of those who like interpretations of their music, I have written the following notes:

The Afro-American Symphony represented the Negro of days not far removed from the Civil War. The Symphony in G Minor represents the

Example 16.
Symphony in G Minor  (No. 2), "Song of a New Race," second
movement, opening. 
Used by permission.

American colored man of today, in so many instances a totally new individual produced through the fusion of White, Indian and Negro bloods.

The four movements in the Afro-American Symphony were subtitled "Longing," "Sorrow," "Humor" (expressed through religious fervor) and "Sincerity," or "Aspiration." In the Symphony in G Minor, longing has progressed beyond a passive state and has been converted into active effort; sorrow has given way to a more philosophic attitude in which the individual has ceased pitying himself, knowing that he can advance only through a desire for spiritual growth and by nobility of purpose; religious fervor and the rough humor of the folk have been replaced by a more mundane form of emotional release that is more closely allied to that of other peoples; and aspiration is now tempered with the desire to give to humanity the best that their African Heritage has given them.

Linton Martin, writing in the Philadelphia Inquirer for December 11, 1937, said "Song of a New Race by the Negro composer, William Grant Still, was of absorbing interest, unmistakably racial in thematic material and rhythms, and triumphantly articulate in expression of moods, ranging from the exuberance of jazz to brooding wistfulness." A few days later, Olin Downes wrote: "It is interesting to perceive how far Mr. Still can go in a purely melodic manner, without resort to many of the traditional symphonic devices to fill out his tonal design." Leopold Stokowski, however, wrote to the composer that the new work was a

Example 17.
Symphony in G Minor , page from the composer's score. 
Used by permission.

tremendous advance over the former symphony, beautiful and vital though that was.

VII—
Ballet Music

Choreographic music has always held a fascination for William Grant Still, and dancers have not failed to take advantage of his willingness to write for them, and to perform his works accordingly. La Guiablesse was begun before Sahdji, but was completed later. Both of these are ballets, with a woman dancer as the central character.

La Guiablesse (a patois word meaning female devil) is based on a scenario by Ruth Page which in turn was based on a legend of Martinique. It was produced in 1933 at the Eastman School in Rochester, also in Chicago; later it was produced thrice in a single season (1934) by the Chicago Grand Opera Company. In later years, Rochester also revived it several times.

This ballet music is not at all superficial, as is most created dance music. Before writing it, Still studied West Indian and Creole musical material, but finally determined to create his own themes as being truer to scene and mood. The scene is laid on the Island of Martinique. The opening theme is that of La Guiablesse. This appears throughout the score, and finally in the funeral march at the end. The she-devil herself is introduced by an offstage contralto solo, a haunting, wordless melody. Sensuous beauty and dramatic intensity mark the music. It progresses from a fairly quiet and atmospheric beginning to a thrilling climax. The story concerns two young lovers, Adou and Yzore, whose tender love is interrupted by the appearance of the greedily sensuous she-devil. She lures Adou away from his village sweetheart. Then, just as he is past returning, the music assumes a horrible tinge as the beautiful woman turns into a demon, and like demoniac laughter it continues as she insists on claiming her prey. Adou, unconscious, falls from her embrace into the pit below.

Herman Devries, writing in the Chicago American, said of it: "It is far above the average ballet music . . . both in quality of invention and in the value of its themes and imagination. It is a highly-colored, vivid, evocative, gorgeous score." Stuart R. Sabin in Rochester wrote: "The music is charming, picturesque and dramatically suggestive, never padded, never divorced from the action, yet with an individual appeal of its own."

The ballet Sahdji, dedicated to Dr. Howard Hanson, is significant for two reasons: it is more important musically than choreographically; it marked the turning point in the regard of critics such as Olin Downes. Downes came to Rochester for the performance (it was done in Rochester in 1931 and in 1934) and wrote at length about it. Other ballets were on the same program, but Downes concentrated his remarks on Sahdji . He commented on the unusual form in which the work was cast, said "Still harks back to more primitive sources (i.e. than Harlem jazz) for brutal, persistent and barbaric rhythms," and acknowledged him as one of America's finest, most promising composers.

Sahdji is elemental: fine music, significant drama. It is a ballet for chorus (singing a text connoting incidents in the action) and bass chanter, interpreting the ballet by reciting African proverbs. A psychological effect is produced by drums. The story is told in pantomime and is built around the faithless favorite wife of the African chieftain Konumbju. The scene is laid in ancestral, central Africa. It is a hunting feast of the Azande tribe. Librettists were Richard Bruce and Alain Locke.

William Grant Still spent about a year and a half preparing to write Sahdji, absorbing African atmosphere so as to be able to write in that idiom without resorting to authentic folk material. The so-called "Invitation Dance," when Sahdji lures Mrabo into the hut, came to him first and around it he built the rest of the ballet. Once begun, his eagerness to complete it knew no bounds. In its form, the old Greek dramatic model is approximated.

In 1936 Sahdji was revised, several minor changes being made, and a prologue to be sung by the Chanter was added. The ballet has never yet been performed in its revised version.

VIII—
Works from the Guggenheim Period and for Paul Whiteman

Both Ebon Chronicle and A Deserted Plantation were commissioned by Paul Whiteman and were scored for Whiteman's instrumental combination, so that when the former was played by Whiteman with a large symphony orchestra it was termed "dull and pretentious" by a critic. With this statement, the composer disagreed slightly, for he had never written it with the idea that it was a major work of art, nor did it pretend to a distinction that was not intended for it. A Deserted Plantation, excerpts from which were later arranged for piano and published by Robbins

Music Corporation, was once recommended to diversion seekers by Walter Winchell. Its prologue is played separately, and the succeeding four movements continue without a break, being linked by interludes for solo piano. It is a musical picture of the meditations of Uncle Josh, an old colored man who is the sole occupant of the dying plantation and who delights in dreaming of its past glory. The music is nostalgic in mood. Every movement has a motto, taken from Dunbar's poem, "The Deserted Plantation." The Spiritual in the (third movement) is an adaptation of the well-known "I Want Jesus to Walk With Me"—the exception to his rigid rule about employing alien themes in his serious works. On its performance in 1933, the critics came out with an interesting disagreement. One said it was not Mr. Still at his best, while another characterized it as "skillfully constructed music" and lauded it from many different standpoints.

Two other symphonic works, written during the period of his Guggenheim Fellowship, and more worthy of serious consideration, are the poems Dismal Swamp (which employs a solo piano at intervals) and Beyond Tomorrow —the latter unperformed as yet.

Beyond Tomorrow is dedicated to Still's four children. It is melodic throughout, and hauntingly beautiful. When it is played in public, Paul Whiteman may be the first to introduce it, for it was written on a commission from him, though it is entirely different in treatment, thought and scope from anything Still had ever done for him before.

Dismal Swamp is a musical portrait of a dreary swampland that assumes a strange wild beauty as the visitor progresses farther into it. It is based on a single theme, moves slowly, and rises to a tremendous climax. This was played by the Orquesta Sinfonica de Yucatan under the direction of Samuel Marti three times in 1938; Dr. Hanson has also programmed it in Rochester. It was dedicated to Quinto Maganini.

IX—
Piano Music

Until 1934, almost all of Still's works were for orchestra, for that was his field. He felt at home in it as he did in no other. True, some piano reductions of his orchestral works had been made, and he had used the piano as a unique addition to the orchestra in several of his symphonic works. The Black Man Dances for piano chiefly, with orchestral accompaniment, came suddenly and was the forerunner of many more interesting and lovely works for that instrument. This suite of dances rep-

resents four characteristic phases in the life of the Race. The first is an African flute serenade. After a short introduction, the flute has the principal and sole theme, which is thereafter embellished with little piano cadenzas. The second is a tribal dance, in which the entire ensemble is used more rhythmically than melodically. The third section is a Barrel-house episode, reminiscent of the blues and of old-time ragtime piano players and player pianos. The last is a Shout, expressing the religious ecstasy of the Negro in rather free and joyous style. It is much fuller for piano than either of the three preceding dances. This suite was commissioned by Paul Whiteman and is as yet unperformed.^[7]

It would be incorrect to class this suite as "great" music, or even to say that it fully utilizes the possibilities of the piano as a solo instrument. However, it is important because it served as a prelude to other piano works by Still that are truly inspired and that not only display a more intimate knowledge of the infinite possibilities of the piano, but utilize those possibilities in hitherto unsuspected ways. For that reason, Still's piano music is difficult for the contemporary pianist to grasp.

Kaintuck', for piano and orchestra, is short and poetic, but equally as strong as Still's previous works. As a matter of fact, a careful study reveals it to be by far the finest work for piano to date of any Negro composer. Its creation came easily. It was written to express musically his inner reactions to the peaceful, shimmering, misty sunlight on the blue grass of Kentucky. It is a subjective not an objective picture, however. Kaintuck' is built chiefly on two themes: everything else grows out of them. The piano opens the poem quietly, then runs into a rhythmic accompaniment to the orchestral statement of the themes. Both the piano and the orchestra are heard in huge, authoritative chords just before the cadenza by the solo instrument. This cadenza, unlike most, does not aim toward the exploitation of the interpreter, but simply and colorfully enhances the thematic and harmonic material that has preceded it. The theme is re-stated, and the piano closes the poem as quietly as it opened it. It is haunting, memorable. It was first played on two pianos at a Los Angeles Pro Musica concert, with Verna Arvey, to whom the work is dedicated, at the solo piano. Since then, Dr. Hanson has played it in Rochester and Eugene Goossens in Cincinnati. The composer has also conducted it in his own orchestral concerts in Northern and Southern California, with Verna Arvey as soloist.

One of the finest groups of piano compositions to be written by any American composer is the Three Visions by William Grant Still, published by J. Fischer and Bro. The harmonies in these Visions are strange.

Example 18.
"Dark Horseman," from Three Visions  for piano. 
Courtesy of William Grant Still Music.

Example 19.
"Summerland," from Three Visions . 
Courtesy of William Grant Still Music.

By them, the listener is aware that the "visions" are real only to the dreamer. As music, they exemplify the scope of Still's musical individuality. Once again, he has given us strongly contrasted moods, unified by his own personal idiom and by his spiritual concept of the music he creates. The first Vision is one of horror. It is entitled "Dark Horsemen," and in it the hoof beats of the horses alternate with the shrieks of anguish they cause by their very presence (example 18). The second Vision is a portrait of promised beauty in the afterlife. It is called "Summerland," after the peaceful Heaven of the Spiritualists (example 19). It has been arranged by the composer for small orchestra, and published. The last Vision is of the radiant future, a vision of aspiration that is ever-climbing, never-ending. It is called "Radiant Pinnacle" (example 20). Its continual rhythmic flow and its final, deceptive cadence leave one with the feeling that there is more to come: that the last word has not been said.

"Quit Dat Fool'nish" was composed as a little encore piece for Kaintuck' . It is for piano alone, as are the Visions . So joyous and effervescent is it that, when played as an encore, it has often been known to be encored on its own account!

Example 20.
"Radiant Pinnacle," from Three Visions . 
Courtesy of William Grant Still Music.

X—
Spiritual Arrangements

Perhaps because, until his time, most Negro composers had won fame purely as arrangers of Spirituals and not on creative efforts, and because a great many people harbored the delusion that their work should stop there, Still made it a point not to arrange Spirituals (except when he was required to do so, in his commercial arranging) for many years. However, during the period of his Guggenheim Fellowship, the talented writer, Ruby Berkeley Goodwin, approached him with several short stories she had built around familiar and unfamiliar Spirituals. She needed new and distinctive arrangements, so Still agreed to make them. He arranged twelve for solo voice and piano; and these, along with the accompanying stories, are now published in two volumes by the Handy Brothers Music Publishing Company. Three of these ("Gwinter Sing All Along de Way," "Keep Me F'om Sinkin' Down" and "Lawd, Ah Wants To Be a Christian") have recently been arranged for chorus by the composer. Others in the group are "All God's Chillun Got Shoes," "Lis'en To De Lam's," "Great Camp Meeting," "Great Day," "Good News," "Peter, Go Ring Dem Bells," "Got a Home in Dat Rock," "Mah Lawd's Gonna Rain down Fire" and "Didn't Mah Lawd Deliver Daniel?"

There is one thing that makes these arrangements unique among Spiritual arrangements: they are as characteristic as the spirituals themselves. Through long years of visiting small Negro churches in search of little-known Spirituals, of hearing groups of people sing them spontaneously in revivals or shouting in ecstasy at basket meetings, Still learned that the usual, conventional arrangement robs the Spiritual of its folk flavor. No wonder people discover Caucasian influences in them, thought he, when often their whole characters are altered by the foreign quality of their arrangements!

If there is a trace of Caucasian influence in the Spirituals themselves, it resolves itself into a case of the music of the white emerging trans-

formed form the soul of the colored man. However, the rhythmic, stirring, emotional Spirituals are purely African in essence. The secular folk music of the American Negro is the Blues, and these are far more Negroid than the Spirituals, on the whole. Still has no delusions as to the triviality of Blues, despite their origin and the homely sentiments of their texts. The pathos of their melodic contents bespeaks the anguish of human hearts and belies the banality of their lyrics. They generally conform to a definite pattern that affects lyrics, form and mood of the music.

Still's high regard for the Blues is shown by the fact that he based his Afro-American Symphony entirely on a blues theme—an original one, not borrowed from an anonymous day-laborer or field-hand, nor yet from any published composition—and made it into a creation of haunting beauty and noble sentiment.

XI—
Blue Steel

By far his most powerful completed work to date is Blue Steel, an opera on a plot by Carlton Moss and libretto by Bruce Forsythe. The subject is Negroid. The scene is a mythical swamp. The protagonists are a Negro from Birmingham (Blue Steel), a young girl of a voodoo cult (Neola), a high priestess of the cult (Doshy), and a high priest (Father Venable), Neola's father. Inevitably there is a conflict between black magic and materialism. Black magic, with the aid of the faith of centuries, is the victor. Musically, Still has used every element possible to bring about a powerful and compelling climax, from the moment the arresting "Blue Steel" motif introduces the opera, to the final chords. His choruses and drum rhythms are thrilling; his melodies unforgettable. The entire first act is made up of lovely arias, melodies that are emotional, facile and even psychological. The second act is made up mainly of exciting rhythmic choruses and a characteristic ballet dancing the sacred rites for the ceremony of renewal. At the end of the act, Blue Steel shoots the high priest who has attempted to dissuade Neola from eloping with the luring stranger. In the last act, Blue Steel and Neola try to escape, but the voodoo chants and drums have their effect on him, and he leaps madly to his death in the quicksands of the river.

Throughout the opera, Still has employed the logical, but seldom as dexterously-used device of indicating musically the mood of the moment. That is, when Blue Steel tells of the bright lights and glories of the cities,

the music assumes a jazz form, harmonically and rhythmically seeking, while the melody remains true to the whole outline of the opera. When Blue Steel becomes terrified and looks toward his own God for aid, the music assumes the outward characteristics of a Negro Spiritual.

Blue Steel was not only the climax to years of study and effort, but the beginning of broader creative conceptions, for since its composition, Still has begun work on a new opera that bids fair to surpass the first one in dramatic intensity and genuine beauty. This one will be called Troubled Island . Its libretto is by the famed Afro-American poet, Langston Hughes, and its plot was taken from Haitian history: the short but tragic career of the ill-fated Emperor Dessalines.

Needless to say, this vehicle is more logical than the preceding, since it is founded on fact, not fantasy. The poet has created lines of great beauty to which the composer has responded with all the intensity of his creative nature.

There may be a little authentic Haitian musical material in it when it is finished, especially in the market scene, but for the most part, the composer will do as he has always done in the past: create his own themes and treatments as being truer to the story.

Troubled Island, like Blue Steel, is built around a baritone soloist in the leading role. Here, too, the music assumes the character of the actors' thoughts, for when Paris is mentioned, the music becomes light, gay and sophisticated. Brutally ugly is the theme for Dessaline's scars; portentous is the revolutionary theme; strongly Negroid and dignified is the theme for Martel, the aged advisor who speaks of the kingly pride of their African forebears.

XII—
Lenox Avenue and Radio Music

William Grant Still often mentions the similarity of the theme of his Lenox Avenue to that of Blue Steel, and insists that he did it on purpose, to ally the voodoo story with the raucous and tender rhythms of modern Negroid life. In fun, he says it happened because Blue Steel used to live on Lenox Avenue and liked it there.

Lenox Avenue is a series of ten orchestral episodes and finale, built on scenes the composer had witnessed in Harlem, for orchestra, chorus and announcer, the narration being written by Verna Arvey. This was commissioned by the Columbia Broadcasting System on the first American Composers' Commission. It received its first performance over a national broadcast under the baton of Howard Barlow on May 23, 1937

and was repeated on October 17, 1937. The composer has since conducted it on many occasions in concert.

The themes had been gathering for many years, and Still had even made a tentative effort to shape them into a composition.^[8] When the commission for CBS, in the shape of a telegram from Deems Taylor, arrived, Still realized that the perfect form for this musical material was at hand, in a symphonic work to be built directly for a radio audience. Still has never asserted that in Lenox Avenue he created a new form. After all, on the Deep River programs long before, the announcer had spoken over musical interludes. Thus Still simply took something old and applied it in a very special way: made a coherent fusion of all the elements. It was, indeed, the first time such a thing had been done in a single musical work.

Out of one hundred and seventeen letters received directly concerning Lenox Avenue after its initial broadcast, not more than six were unfavorable. Those were not all unqualified disapprovals. Some were emphatic in their disapprovals, however, and asked for more nineteenth century music instead. Many of them said they were writing for the first time. One listener wrote: "I tuned in as usual, expecting nothing more than an hour of interesting music, competently played. And then the opening bars of Lenox Avenue! I can only describe the impression it created in me by saying that I felt the same emotion as when for the first time, thirty-seven years ago, I heard Charpentler's Louise . . . . If Charpentier has described in sound the magic of Montmartre, the brief glimpse of happiness love can give to a Parisian coquette before she once more disappears into the anonymous sea of mediocrity, Lenox Avenue has done much the same thing for another type of humanity." Wrote another: "If anything, Lenox Avenue is a bit too authentic. It is truly everybody's music." Another: "I have a difficult time enjoying or understanding most of the modern compositions of our day, but this music impressed me differently . . . from the depth and warmth of the music emerged a soul."

Lenox Avenue was later converted into a ballet, and in this version was introduced by the Dance Theatre Group in Los Angeles in May of 1938, with choreography by Norma Gould and with Charles Teske dancing the leading role of "The Man From Down South."

One of the best liked of all the sections in Lenox Avenue was that of the Philosopher, although, strangely enough, this melody did not come to the composer during the actual creation of the work. It was after he had finished it and had composed an entirely different section that this

Example 21.
"The Philosopher," from Lenox Avennue . 
Courtesy of William Grant Still Music.

Example 22.
"Blues," from Lenox Avenue . 
Courtesy of William Grant Still Music.

bit of inspiration came (example 21). In sharp contrast is the Blues in the House Rent Party Scene, reminiscent of barrel-house piano players (example 22).

When the Theme Committee for the New York World's Fair of 1939 wished to find a truly American composer to write the Theme music for the Fair, it heard records of the works of many American composers without the names of those composers being revealed. Among those records were A Deserted Plantation and Lenox Avenue . On hearing these, the Committee decided that this composer was the man needed to write the six-minute musical background for the City of Tomorrow in the Theme Center. He was, of course, William Grant Still.

On a description by Henry Dreyfuss, designer of the Theme Center, and by Kay Swift, Still set out to compose this music with stopwatch, much as he would have composed film music (for among his many experiences has been that of working in the music departments of Hollywood's studios) although this music was necessarily more inspired than film music could ever be. It is also unique, unlike anything Still has ever written before, for its idiom is more or less universal. There is nothing Negroid about it. It contains two memorable, rhythmic melodies. On its completion, Henry Dreyfuss wrote enthusiastically to Still to thank him for all of his "self" that had gone into the music.

XIII—
Still's Orchestration

It has been justly said of some composers that they are merely skillful orchestrators but are barren creatively, as is shown when their works are reduced to a minimum. This is not true of Still. Though his orchestral works are not as effective in a piano reduction as in the original scoring, they yet retain that harmonic piquancy and thematic originality that are distinctly his own.

Dr. Hanson wrote to him, "I heard a part of some charming selections from your pen over the radio last night. As usual, I was impressed with the highly colorful and original type of orchestration you have developed. Even over the radio it sounds very convincing."

Some people moan that orchestral resources have been exhausted. Still disagrees with that belief. His trouble lies in making a decision between so many fascinating orchestral possibilities.

When he first began to orchestrate, he imitated others, but always tried to choose the best to imitate, not those who were too individual, so that he would not acquire mannerisms. As soon as possible he broke away and began to experiment with different orchestral effects by himself, so that he would have a greater fund of knowledge at his command. To his amazement, he found that many effects which were strictly forbidden were really quite effective and were, when used with modifications and with regard to the limitations of the various instruments, most fascinating. He thus learned that everything is possible when approached in the right way. Now he never accepts statements about impossible instrumental combinations without first trying them out.

The more he scores, the more convinced he becomes that the simplest style gets the best results and is the most effective in the end. Nevertheless, in the art of orchestration, he found that he must include many things that are not actually heard during the performance, but which are absolutely necessary to the general effect. His orchestrations are so carefully worked out that if the exact combination for which he has scored is not available, the music sounds wrong. Similarly if the balance is bad in a broadcast or a recording, and a single instrument is missing or out of proportion, everything is thrown out of line. This sometimes results in the music sounding like Jazz, when it was not intended to sound that way at all.

Copyists comment on the many rests in his scores. He believes that one of the secrets of good orchestration is to know what to leave out,

and when. Only the beginner uses all the instruments constantly, just because they are available.

"In orchestration, art and science must work together," declares Still.

Often a tone color in one's mind will defy actual reproduction through physical means, but it can be approximated. The proper choice of instruments depends on the orchestrator's ability to hear at will the tone of any instrument in any register. In scoring, a tasteful variety of tone-color is necessary. One may define that as "pleasing contrasts that are related," and the relationship should be one of mood. One must choose the instrument that best portrays the desired mood. It follows that one must have an intimate acquaintance with all the instruments. They must assume the importance of personalities to the orchestrator.

The use of certain instruments may entirely change the character of various themes or melodies.

Clarity (where each voice is proportionately distinct) is necessary, and is gained by not over-orchestrating. It is worse to over-orchestrate than to orchestrate thinly, for the ear has limitations. The melody should always stand out. This is what I call a "nude" style of orchestrating. Balance is also necessary, and is gained more by cold calculation than by artistic sensibilities. It has to do with instrumental combinations. Clarity often depends on balance, for a badly balanced orchestration can never be clear.

XIV—
Still's Image and Style

In the musical world of today, Still is a dignified, sophisticated figure. He is far from exemplifying the popular conception of a Negro composer. One recalls the mistaken, but well-meaning lady who scanned a copy of Still's Kaintuck' and asked at what point precisely did the saxophones enter, and who seemed alarmed when the colored composer (who by all rights should have had a battery of saxophones in his score) responded that there were no saxophones in Kaintuck' . "No saxophones?" she queried, in dazed fashion. And then one cannot avoid mentioning the people who have been told that all colored people are imitators and who therefore search Still's music diligently for some evidence of imitation, be it ever so small. Still has been accused of imitating composers who were known plagiarists; he has been accused of imitating men who openly avowed their indebtedness to Negro music; he has also been accused of imitating composers he never heard of. As a matter of fact, his style is so individual and so fascinating, once one is really acquainted with it, that it is as recognizable as Bach's, or as Brahms'.

Still has few recreations. He is not a "social" person. Almost all of his time is spent in steady, feverish work, in an effort to get everything done,

to say all he must say before it is too late. One afternoon a visitor entered. "It's so warm today!" he remarked.

Still looked up from his composing. "Is it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I guess I'd better take off my coat."

It wasn't a pose, that absorption in work. Nor is his modesty a pose. Whenever he feels that he has done something worthwhile, whenever something pleases him, or whenever a new honor is accorded him, he sits down and humbly gives thanks to God, the Source of Inspiration. That is the real clue to his personality: his profound reverence.

People are already beginning to regard him as a great man. He hears the things they say and is grateful for them, but he is never impressed with his own importance. At a meeting of the NAACP, after the speeches had been unusually long, someone noticed that the renowned composer, Mr. William Grant Still, was in the audience. Would Mr. Still consent to speak to them on some matter of moment? The famed Mr. Still arose in an impressive silence. Then, with all eyes focused on him: "I wonder," said he quietly, "whether everyone is as hungry as I am?" Then he sat down, and the meeting was dismissed.

William Grant Still, a genuine American composer, will become world famous. When he does, he will be the last person in the world to know it, or to believe it if the knowledge is thrust upon him!

XV—
Conclusion

As Still made history for the Afro-American when he was first to conduct a white radio orchestra in New York City and first to write a symphony, he also made history when he conducted the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra in two of his own compositions at a Hollywood Bowl summer concert in 1936, for it was the first time in the history of the country that a colored man had ever led a major symphony orchestra.

He is a member of the Pan American Association of Composers and of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP). He is also the recipient of a 1934 Guggenheim Fellowship which was twice renewed for periods of six months each.

He is mentioned in the following books, among others: Composers in America by Claire Reis; Complete Book of Ballets by Cyril W. Beaumont; Ballet Profile by Irving Deakin; Composers of Today by David Ewen; Negro Musicians and Their Music by Maude Cuney-Hare; So This Is Jazz by Henry Osgood; The Negro and His Music by Alain

Locke; American Composers on American Music by Henry Cowell; The Negro Genius by Benjamin Brawley, and in the Fall (1937) issue of the New Challenge, a literary quarterly published in New York City.

Publications [through 1937]^[9]

Darker America . C. C. Birchard Co. for the Eastman School of Music at the University of Rochester, 1928.

"Winter's Approach" and "Breath of a Rose" (songs). G. Schirmer, Inc., 1928.

Afro-American Symphony . J. Fischer and Bro., 1935.

Deserted Plantation, piano arrangement of three sections. Robbins Music Corp., 1936.

Three Visions, for piano solo. J. Fischer and Bro., 1936.

Dismal Swamp . San Francisco: New Music Society of California, January 1937.

Scherzo, from Afro-American Symphony, arranged for small orchestra. J. Fischer and Bro., 1937.

"Summerland," from Three Visions, for small orchestra. J. Fischer and Bro., 1937.

Twelve Negro Spirituals, for solo voice and piano, three of them arranged and published for chorus. New York: Handy Bros. Music Co., Inc., 1937.

"Blues," from Lenox Avenue orchestral score. J. Fischer and Bro., 1938.

Lenox Avenue, piano score. J. Fischer and Bro., 1938.

Quit dat Fool'nish, piano solo. J. Fischer and Bro., 1938.

"Rising Tide," theme song commissioned by the New York World's Fair during 1938. Arrangements (a) for orchestra, (b) for piano solo. J. Fischer and Bro., 1938.

Performances [through 1937]^[10]

From the Land of Dreams, for 3 voices and chamber orchestra, performed by the International Composers' Guild, Inc., in New York on February 8, 1925, under the direction of Vladimir Shavitch.

Levee Land, performed in New York on January 24, 1926, by the International Composers' Guild, Inc., with Florence Mills as soloist and Eugene Goossens conducting.

Darker America, performed by the International Composers' Guild, Inc., in New York on November 28, 1926, with Eugene Goossens conducting.

From the Journal of a Wanderer, played by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Frederick Stock at the Chicago North Shore Festival Association in 1926.

From the Black Belt, for chamber orchestra, played by Georges Barrère and the Barrère Little Symphony at the Henry Miller Theatre in New York on March 20, 1927.

Log Cabin Ballads, played by Georges Barrère and the Barrère Little Symphony at the Booth Theatre in New York on March 25, 1928.

Africa, a symphonic suite, performed by Georges Barrère and the Barrère Little Symphony at the Guild Theatre in New York on April 6, 1930.

Afro-American Symphony, performed at an American Composers' Concert at the Eastman School in Rochester, New York, in 1931 under the direction of Dr. Howard Hanson.

Sahdji, ballet for chorus, orchestra and bass soloist, performed at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester, New York, on May 22, 1931, with Dr. Howard Hanson conducting.

Deserted Plantation, played by Paul Whiteman and Orchestra at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York on December 15, 1933.

La Guiablesse, ballet, performed at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester, New York, on May 5, 1933, with Dr. Howard Hanson conducting.

Blue Steel, excerpts from this opera presented at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, on April 3, 1935, with Karl Van Hoesen conducting.

Kaintuck', commissioned by the League of Composers and first performed on two pianos, though scored for piano soloist and symphony orchestra, at a Pro Musica concert in Los Angeles on October 28, 1935, with Verna Arvey as soloist.

Dismal Swamp, played at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, on October 30, 1936, conducted by Dr. Howard Hanson.

Ebon Chronicle, played on November 3, 1936, by Paul Whiteman and the Fort Worth (Texas) Symphony Orchestra.

Lenox Avenue, played over CBS on May 23, 1937, with Howard Barlow conducting.

Symphony in G Minor, played by Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on December 10, 1937.